Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

Jamison said to Dawson, “You’re selling out to McClellan, aren’t you?”

Dawson eyed McClellan. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Stu.”

“We don’t care what you’re doing with McClellan,” said Decker. “And this will go no further,” he added when McClellan looked like he was about to erupt in anger.

Dawson slipped his hands into his pants’ pockets. “Then what do you care about?”

“I’ve got two murders, one suicide, and a missing person.”

“Suicide?” said McClellan.

“Walt Southern ate a bullet.”

McClellan looked at him goggle-eyed. “Walt? Why?”

“We don’t know yet. Maybe a guilty conscience. Did you know him well?”

“I knew him. But we weren’t close or anything.”

Decker eyed Dawson, who changed expression when he caught Decker’s gaze. “Guilty conscience?” said Dawson. “What for?”

“Can you think of a reason?”

“No. And I didn’t really know the man well enough to have knowledge of any demons that might have led to his killing himself.”

“Surely he would have done your wife’s funeral.”

Dawson’s eyes narrowed at this provocative statement. “So what if he did? That wouldn’t make us best friends.”

“So Walt Southern did the autopsy on her?”

“Yes. And it was confirmed that she died from carbon monoxide poisoning. And—” Dawson stopped and stared at Decker. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. And what did Alice Pritchard die of?”

“Exposure. She apparently tried to make it to her car when Maddie didn’t show up. They found her outside, frozen stiff.”

“And the text your wife sent you?”

“I was in France with Caroline. We didn’t see it until the following morning. By then, it was too late.” He looked away.

Jamison said, “That’s what Caroline told us.”

“How is Liz Southern?” asked Dawson slowly.

“Shaken, distraught, as you would imagine,” answered Jamison.

“You know her?” asked Decker.

“Walt moved here about twenty years ago and started his business. But Liz is from London. Our families knew each other. Her parents are dead now, and she and Walt live, well, now she lives in town. But she still has her parents’ farmhouse about ten miles outside of town. And she and Caroline have become good friends over the years. Liz is older than Caroline, of course, doesn’t have any siblings, and never had any children. I think she sees Caroline as a younger sister.”

McClellan interjected, “So now can you get on with your investigation and leave us to our business?”

Decker eyed Dawson. “Caroline is very proud of her new restaurant. Does that get sold to this guy, too?”

McClellan said sharply, “This is private business.”

“Again, an answer in itself.”

Dawson said, “Don’t worry. Caroline will be just fine.”

“I wouldn’t bet the farm on it,” replied Decker.

Long-range night optics were Will Robie’s best friend. He was lying prone, sighting through one of his favorite pieces of surveillance hardware. It didn’t match the “eyesight” of the radar array facility he was watching currently, but it was more than good enough for his purposes.

He’d been here for an hour and during that time had barely moved. Being able to lie motionless and intensely focused on his target for inordinately long periods of time was Robie’s bread and butter. Without it, he couldn’t do his job.

Vector guards continued to make their rounds. A small jet had landed about an hour before. He couldn’t see who had gotten off. Before that, two choppers had lifted off the ground and one had returned. A few vehicles had left the facility through the main gate but all had returned.

He watched another car head toward the front gate. He zeroed in on Colonel Mark Sumter as the driver. Robie had been briefed on him and seen multiple photos of the man. Sumter was alone in the vehicle, and he was not in uniform.

Where might the colonel be going at this late hour?

Robie collapsed the tripod holding his scope and sprinted to his electric scooter. He timed it so he would hit the road Sumter was on about ten seconds after the man passed that spot.

He pulled in behind Sumter with his lights off. He had slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles, enabling him to see clearly without exposing himself by using his headlight. Sumter drove straight down the road, not turning off at any intersection until he was about five miles from downtown London. Then he hung a left down a windy gravel road. In the distance, as he rounded a sharp curve, Robie could see a small house with a light on. There was a large tree out front.

Robie pulled off the road and set his scooter down on its side in some tall grass. He made the rest of his way to the house on foot. He performed a sweep of the property looking for sentries but saw none. He took up a surveillance position behind the tree, which was set about ten feet from the front door. There was no other vehicle in front of the house other than Sumter’s car. A minute later Robie quietly made his way to the front window where the light was shining through.

The window was closed, but the curtains were not fully shut. Through a sliver of an opening, Robie could see the profile of a man. He was in his late sixties, jowly and gray haired, and dressed in a conservative dark suit with a blue-and-red unknotted tie.

Robie took the man’s picture with a thumb-sized camera and next pulled from his pocket a device that looked like an extra-long pen with a wired earbud attached to one end. He pressed the other end, which had a small suction cup attached, against the glass and inserted the bud in his ear.

Voices filtered into his ear.

“The intrusion is concerning, Colonel,” said the older man. “It’s not something that was anticipated.”

Robie next heard Sumter’s response. “We don’t know what they wanted. The SUV was untraceable. It’s not just concerning. It’s my ass on the line after all.”

“Don’t let your nerves run away with you. It’ll be fine.”

“Again, my ass is on the line.”

“ All of our asses are on the line. But what we’re doing is for the greater good. You agree with that, don’t you? National security and all?”

“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then we just have to redouble our security efforts and keep our heads down. I can run interference for you in Washington. You have our full backing.”

“And Vector?”

“They do their job and they do it well. Enough said.”

“But what if someone’s found who can, well, blow everything up?”

“It’s true there is not complete alignment on this issue, but I think even if the American people found out they would not be troubled.”

“Jesus, we can’t go take a poll. This is all classified. Maybe the most classified thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

“The same could be said for me, although I’ve been in this business far longer than you. Now, the FBI came to see you with questions?”

“I’m executive-lagging that. And in the end I won’t get back to them. I’ll blame it on DoD security protocols.”

“I think that’s wise. I can help with that as well. I have high-up contacts at the Bureau. Whatever got that tail wagging, I can put the kibosh on it.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.” Sumter paused. “You know we could have just spoken on the phone. These late-night meetings could raise suspicion.”

“No, we could not talk on the phone, no matter how secure it might be. Emails, texts, phone calls, all of that can be captured and then used against someone. These meetings, face-to-face, no record exists.” The man paused. “Except in the memories of each of us.”