Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fix

Thompson came back a half hour later with a flash drive. She handed it to Decker. “Please understand that we want you to treat this information with the highest level of confidentiality.”

“We understand that,” said Jamison. “And we will.”

Thompson kept her gaze on Decker. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, but I was talking about him .”

Decker rose and left the room.

Thompson eyed Jamison. “How do you stand that guy?”

“He’s excellent at what he does,” she said defensively.

Thompson snorted. “Well, he would have to be, wouldn’t he? To put up with the rest of the prick.”

Jamison scurried after Decker, who was striding down the hall to the exit. She caught up to him midway and fell in step beside him.

She eyed the flash drive. “Probably a lot to sort through.”

“Probably.”

“Hey, maybe we can have dinner with Melvin tonight. We can go out.”

He didn’t respond.

“Decker, I said—”

“I heard you, Alex. That sounds fine.”

“Great. Say seven-thirty at Cotton’s? It’s on Fourteenth Street. I’ll make a reservation.”

“Yep. Got it.

She hesitated. “I’m sure you’re glad to see Melvin.”

“I am.”

“I mean, after all, he is your best friend.”

“Yes, he is.”

Jamison stuffed her hands into her pockets and marched along, her features rigid.

They printed off the files from the flash drive and spent the rest of the day going through them at the WFO. Bogart and Milligan had joined them.

“They have a lot of clients, big and small,” observed Milligan.

Bogart added, “And most of them have been with Dabney for decades, which doesn’t make it easy to separate the wheat from the chaff.”

“Maybe it’s one of the partners,” suggested Jamison, as she went over some pages. “A number of them have been with Dabney since nearly the beginning. He told his daughter you think you know someone but really don’t. That might apply more to a fellow partner you see every day rather than a client.”

Decker said nothing. He kept going over the files, imprinting all of the information onto his memory.

Bogart said, “If we interview each of these people and companies, it could take months, maybe a year. And by then whatever intel was stolen could be used to attack us.”

Decker still said nothing. He was hearing everything that was being said, but his focus was on the files. Bogart was right. They had to cut this list down somehow. The answer might not even lie in these pages. Dabney might have been referring to someone outside his business. And while Decker believed that the comment Dabney had made to his daughter was connected to all this, he couldn’t be absolutely certain of that either.

Milligan dropped a file, sat back, and said, “I hope we’re not whistling in the wind here.”

Decker glanced over at him, then abruptly rose and left the room. The others didn’t notice right away.

A few moments later Bogart said, “Wait a minute, where did he go?”

Jamison just looked toward the doorway and shook her head.

“You know I can’t really come running every time you call me.”

Harper Brown was staring at Decker across the front seat of her BMW.

“You tend to show up when you want to show up,” said Decker, who was in the passenger seat.

She ran her fingers over the steering wheel. “Your call was intriguing, I have to admit.”

Decker just stared at her, making no move to speak.

“You have quite the gift of patience, waiting for the other person to speak, and maybe slip up.”

Decker put his hands over his belly. “Do you want to slip up?”

“Why in the world would you say that?”

“You seem to have been skirting around the edges ever since you showed up in the middle of this investigation.”

“It’s dinner time. You hungry?”

“Look at me. I’m always hungry.”

“I know a burger place,” she said.

“You don’t strike me as a burger sort of person.”

“You don’t really know me yet.”

They drove to the place, parked, and walked in. It was a dive, and Decker could smell the lard coming from the kitchen before he passed the first table in the small dining area.

They found a semi-private spot near the hall to the bathrooms. When the waitress came, Brown said, “Number Twelves for the table. And two Especials. Just the bottles, save the dishwashers some work.”

The woman nodded and walked off. A moment later they could hear her calling out the order to the cooks in the back.

“Number Twelve?” said Decker.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” She leaned back in her chair, stretched out her long, jean-clad legs, and looked at him. “Slip-ups?”

“You open the tap and then turn it off. You tease. You play bad, then good. You sort of agree to help, but pull back. You threaten to kick us off the case, but won’t or can’t make good on it.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to do my job.”

“Bogart checked on you with a buddy of his at DIA.”

“Good for him.”

“He didn’t know you. Never heard of you.”

“Where is this ‘buddy’ assigned at DIA? We operate in over one hundred and forty locations overseas in addition to a big footprint here.”

“DISC in Reston.”

“Defense Intelligence Support Center. He’s probably a civvie and a paper pusher. I’m neither. And are you somehow implying that I don’t work at DIA?”

“Your badge and creds look real.”

“That’s because they are .”

“I’m not saying you’re a phony. They never would have allowed you inside Hoover if your creds were fake.”

“So what exactly are you saying?” snapped Brown.

“That you’re interesting, and I still don’t know what you’re actually after.”

“I thought I made that perfectly clear. Whoever Dabney sold the secrets to. That’s who I’m after.”

“Made any progress?” asked Decker.

“What, you’re here to try to ride my coattails?”

“Just interagency cooperation.”

She smiled and said demurely, “I’m sorry, and I know you’ve been dancing around this issue, but I don’t remember saying that I needed your help.”

“Everybody needs help once in a while.”

Their beers came and they each took a long sip.

“So you’re here to help me?” she asked, setting her bottle down. “How generous of you.”

“I don’t really care how I get to the truth, so long as I get there. I figured if we combined resources we might get there faster, instead of running on parallel tracks. Hell, you’re the one saying this could lead to an apocalypse. Excuse me for taking you at your word.”

She took another sip of her beer and then rubbed her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I get the point. But I did try to explain why I was reluctant to bring others into the loop.”

“I’m not a damn spy, Brown! I just got to this town a few months ago. Your world is stranger to me than living on Mars would be, but I just want to get to the truth. That’s all.”

She considered this and said, “Okay, where do things stand with your investigation?”

“We have two angles to exploit: Dabney’s end and Berkshire’s background.”

“I told you I’m only interested in Dabney.”

“But you might be interested in Berkshire. Or at least you should be.”

She looked intrigued. “And why is that?”

“If someone blackmailed Dabney to kill Berkshire, they could be the same people he sold the secrets to, or someone who knew about it and used it to manipulate Dabney. If that’s correct, then that party is looped into this whole espionage circle and could be a national security threat. That’s right up your alley.”