Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

“I spoke to you earlier,” she said to Kelly when he explained what they wanted. “We don’t have anyone here named Bud.”

“That’s probably a nickname,” said Kelly.

“So what’s his full name?” she said.

“Well, if we knew that, I would have given it to you already.”

“Did you ever have an Irene Cramer work here?” asked Decker.

“Cramer? Irene Cramer, no I don’t believe so. Look, what is this all about?”

Kelly took out a copy of Cramer’s driver’s license and showed it to the woman. “This is Irene Cramer.”

The woman put on a pair of glasses and looked closely at the photo. “Why, that’s Mary Rice. At least that was her name when she worked here.”

“When was that?” asked Decker.

“Come to my office.”

They followed her down the hall to a small, windowless room with drab furniture. She sat down at her desk and logged on to her desktop computer.

“Her last paycheck was issued about fourteen months ago.”

“What did she do here?” asked Jamison.

“She worked with our residents. She did physical therapy with them.”

“And she was certified to do that?” asked Decker.

“Yes, she had all the proper paperwork.”

“And you checked on all that, her references and all?”

“Yes, that’s our proper procedure. Everything was aboveboard.”

“Can we get copies of all that?” asked Kelly.

“Not without a warrant. I’m not looking to bring a lawsuit down on this place. Now, I don’t know what she’s involved in, but if Mary were to find out—”

“Mary is dead,” said Decker. “So she won’t be doing any suing.”

“Dead!”

“She was murdered. Which is the reason we’re here.”

“Oh my God.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have anyone here named Bud?” said Jamison.

“Quite sure. I know all the residents. There’s no one here with that name or nickname.”

Decker interjected, “But what about with those initials , B-U-D?”

The woman started to peck on the computer keyboard. A few minutes passed as she scrolled through some screens. Then she stopped and smiled. “It’s Brad. Bradley Unger Daniels. That’s B-U-D, right?”

“Yes it is,” said Decker.

“Mary?” said Brad Daniels. He was old and shrunken and seated in a wheelchair in the tiny, antiseptic room he would call home for the remainder of his life.

Decker, Jamison, and Kelly were seated across from him, pretty much filling up the small space.

Jamison nodded. “Yes, Mary Rice. She worked here a little over a year ago as a physical therapist.”

Daniels’s arthritic fingers clutched the head of his cane. “Mary, okay, yeah. I knew her.”

They had been told that Daniels was in his nineties and had been at the facility for ten years. His wife was dead; he had outlived his siblings and even both his children. His grandchildren lived out of state and came once a year at Christmas to visit him.

Kelly had tried to show him the picture of Cramer but Daniels shook his head. “Can’t really see no more.”

Decker looked around the room. Next to the bed on a small shelf were some pictures of little kids, and what looked to be birthday cards. On the nightstand was a ballcap. It was one worn by people who had served in World War II and denoted their branch of service.

“You were in the Air Force in World War II?” said Decker, glancing at the hat.

“Called it the Army Air Forces back then,” said Daniels, smiling feebly. “Was the Army Air Corps before that. Didn’t come to be the U.S. Air Force till later.”

“Were you a pilot?” asked Jamison.

“No. A navigator.” He perked up. “Flew on the B-17, -24, and the big boy, the B-29 Superfortress. Boy, those were some exciting times.”

“Navigator, huh?” said Kelly.

Daniels slowly nodded. “Always liked that stuff. Signals, radio waves. Radar, which was new back then. Got us where we were going and then got us back. Did a lot of bombing runs. Thought I was gonna die every time. Never managed to.” He chuckled softly.

“What’d you do after the war? Did you leave the service?” asked Decker.

“No, I stuck around and worked for the government.”

“What did you do?” asked Jamison.

Now the man’s weakened eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?” he said, his tone suddenly sharp.

Decker squatted down in front of the man. “Did you talk to Mary about some of the things you’d done?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet, so why should I answer yours?”

“You liked Mary?”

“She was a nice gal. Patient. Pushed me to do my therapy, but she did it in a way that wasn’t too overbearing like some of them can be here. I liked her. Too bad when she left. Where’d she get to?”

“Would it surprise you to learn that she moved to London, North Dakota?”

The old man flinched. “London?”

“Yes. It’s where the Douglas S. George Defense Complex is located.”

“Well, I know that.”

“Because you worked there? A long time ago?” said Decker.

“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. But if I did, it’s classified,” said Daniels. He closed his eyes and gripped the head of his cane tighter.

“But you talked to Mary about it?”

“How do you know that?” said Daniels. “Did she say I did?”

“No. But why else would she have moved up there? I mean, otherwise it’s a really big coincidence.”

“I got nothing to say on the subject.”

“Did you know that the Air Force sold most of the land around the radar facility?”

“Sold the land?” said Daniels sharply. “To who?”

“A religious organization called the Brothers. Ever heard of them?”

Daniels shook his head.

“And they in turn leased some of the land to frackers.”

“Frackers?”

“Companies that drill down for oil and gas.”

“They’re drilling on that land?” asked Daniels.

“Yes.” Decker glanced at Kelly and then Jamison. He turned back to Daniels. The old man was staring directly at him. “The thing is, we unfortunately can’t talk to Mary.”

“Don’t know where she is, then?” Daniels said.

“No, we do.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Someone murdered her.”

The old man seized up. For a moment Decker thought he might be having a stroke.

“Get out of here,” he suddenly roared, blinking away tears. “You just get out of here, right now. Leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone.”

A uniformed nurse rushed into the room.

“Mr. Daniels?” she said frantically. “What’s wrong?”

He pointed at the others. “These people are harassing me. I want them to leave.”

The nurse looked sternly at the three.

Jamison held out her FBI badge and said, “We had to ask him some difficult questions because of a police investigation.”

“Oh, I see. But he’s upset now. I... I think you should leave. He’s not in the best of health.”

Jamison tugged on Decker’s arm. “I think you’re right. We’re going.”

They left the room.

As they walked down the hall Decker said, “He knows. He told Cramer something that made her quit her job here, change her name, and move to London.”

“We just don’t know what,” said Kelly.

“He worked at the Air Force station,” said Jamison. “That has to be the connection. He said he was a navigator and was into radar and radio waves and all. That’s what they do up in London.”

“We need to find out when he was there, exactly,” said Decker. “It’s been around since the fifties, you said?”

“That’s right,” said Kelly. “I don’t know the exact date when it opened.”