Джозеф Файндер - The Switch

“Isn’t that the one where the hero gets into a nasty fight with his guard and ends up spitting out the guard’s tongue?”

Tanner nodded.

“Won’t be anything like that here, I promise. Just between you and me and... the table, I think they did torture Mr. Jose Padilla. But those were tough times for the country. Compared to him, you’re being treated like a king.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I’d call it. Treated like a king.”

“The problem is, Michael, that you’ve broken the law, and a damned serious law it is. The Espionage Act. Whether you know it or not, it’s against the law to possess classified information without the proper authorization.”

“I don’t possess it. It’s not my laptop, it’s...” He thought a moment. “Someone else’s.”

“Whose?”

Tanner shook his head. They didn’t know the laptop belonged to a US senator. That was a fact he might be able to use as leverage. Something to hold on to, at least for now.

And then it came to him, like two puzzle pieces clicking perfectly together. They didn’t know it was Senator Susan Robbins’s laptop because they weren’t working with the senator’s chief of staff, Will Abbott.

They don’t know about him. “I’d feel a lot more talkative,” Tanner said, “if I was back home, in my own house.”

Earle crossed his arms, gave a crooked smile. He wasn’t buying. “Check out 18 USC 793. About the ‘willful retention of information relating to the national defense.’” He made little scare quotes, two fingers on each hand twitching in the air. “Whoever has unauthorized possession of information relating to the national defense and blah blah blah. That’s you, pal. You also knowingly passed classified information to a reporter.”

Tanner shook his head but didn’t argue.

“Maybe we should talk about your friend Lanford Roth.”

“Landon.”

“I always screw that up. Landon. We know he had documents on a whaddayacallit, a mini-thumb-drive thingo. Meaning you made a copy of those top secret documents and gave them to a reporter. To the news media. So please don’t feed me this line about You didn’t know what you have and you didn’t even look at it. You knew you had top secret national security documents, and clearly you read through them enough to decide to notify the press.” He shrugged. “I mean, you see where I’m coming from, right? And then there you are, playing Let’s Make a Deal with someone from the Russian GRU over flapjacks and coffee. You beginning to see why we might be concerned?”

“I didn’t know that guy was a Russian until—”

“I know, I know, I know. We heard it all. But it’s not going to look good to a grand jury, I don’t think.”

“I wasn’t even arrested or charged!” Tanner said.

“We’re back to that? There’s no shortage of lawyers in the national security division of the DOJ. We’ll get you arrested when the time is right.”

“Are we in a police state now? Is that what’s happened?”

“Lucky for you we’re not a police agency or we’d get you for killing a man. On Mayfield Street in Boston, right?”

Tanner smiled furiously. “Yeah, the man you sent to kill me.”

Earle looked as if Tanner had slapped him suddenly. “Aw, now, come on. ”

“You sent that guy to kill me.”

“No, sir, we did not. Most certainly did not. What you’re suggesting is an affront. We are a highly professional operation with a headcount of sixty-five thousand and about that many contract employees. You think we’re going to outsource to some Boston hit man? With a goddamned police record? You don’t seriously think we’d hire some third-rate mobster, now, do you?”

Tanner just looked at him. He had a point. Maybe it wasn’t the NSA that had tried to have him killed.

“I mean, hell. That’s crazy. I got people on staff that’d do this. We send somebody to take you out, you’ll be out. ” He folded his arms, sat back again. “No, sirree, if we sent somebody to kill you, we’d be meeting at a cemetery and you wouldn’t be doing much talking.”

“And Lanny Roth?”

Tanner waited for the inevitable denial and was surprised when Earle offered, after a few seconds, “The reporter.”

“His murder set up to look like a suicide,” Tanner said. “Pills and booze all around him when he died. Probably in his bloodstream too.”

Earle looked thoughtful, maybe even a little distraught. “Yeah, that sounds like something the Theta team would do.” He said it matter-of-factly, but not approvingly. Almost as if he were processing it. “Which is not a confirmation of anything. It’s a hypothetical surmise about a hypothetical entity.”

“Theta?”

“Never mind. Can’t change the past. Let’s talk about your future.”

“I demand to see a lawyer immediately.”

“Sure. All in good time. You got a problem with this? Welcome to life after 9/11.”

“I’ll tell you something else,” Tanner said. “I’m supposed to e-mail a buddy of mine every day by two o’clock in the afternoon. If he doesn’t get any e-mails from me after four days, he’s going to start e-mailing documents to a list of people. Including The New York Times. ”

“Ye olde dead-man switch. Right? Clever. But I’m calling your bluff.” Earle smiled delightedly, a kid playing a game. “We’re keeping a pretty close watch on a whole lot of people you know. Including people you forgot you knew. You’ve got a lot of friends, I’ll give you that.”

Tanner shrugged as if it didn’t make a difference whether Earle believed him or not. Unfortunately, Earle had called it right.

“So that’s where we are, Michael. Without that laptop, there’s really nothing I can do to help.”

“Are you at least going to give me one phone call?” Tanner said.

“You want a phone call? I’ll give you one phone call, ’cause I like your coffee.” Earle looked up and spoke to the wall. “Please bring in a landline for my friend here.” Turning back to Tanner, he said, “Mobile phone signals are jammed in here, sorry.”

The door opened about a minute later, and a large bulky black touch-tone phone on a cord was brought in by one of the bullet-headed guards. He placed it on the table in front of Tanner. Its wire ran across the floor of the cell and into the hallway. Then the guard left, closing the heavy-sounding door behind him.

Tanner looked at the phone, picked it up, heard the dial tone, then replaced the handset in its cradle. Calling Jamie North was pointless; the lawyer had made it clear he would never represent Tanner. Call The New York Times or the Associated Press or something? His call would be ignored. He wanted to call Sarah, wanted to talk to her, hear her voice. But he knew there was one call that could get him out of here.

Earle saw Tanner looking at the phone. “You want a phone number, we’ll get it for you in a jiffy. No shortage of computers here. You remember when they used to give out those big thick phone books? Man, those days are gone, huh?”

“Yeah, I need a phone number,” Tanner said.

“What’s that?”

“There’s a guy I know in Washington, went to school with a friend of mine.” He spoke mostly to himself. “What’s his name?... I met him a few times... He’s the chief of staff to Senator Roberts — Robbins, that’s it. Chief of staff to Senator Robbins. I don’t remember his name, but I bet he could sort this out. Just connect me to the senator’s office.”

This is Senator Robbins’s office.”

“William Abbott, please.”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Michael Tanner.”