Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

“Oh, okay.”

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No, I told no one.”

“Nine o’clock then at El Tovar. I’ll explain what I can then.”

Before Priest could say anything, the line went dead.

He clicked off the phone and set it down. As though he’d been holding his breath, Priest blew air out of his mouth and slumped back in the chair.

Pine rose from her chair and poured another cup of coffee.

“So, we do nothing until tonight?” he said.

“ You do nothing until tonight. I have things to accomplish.”

“Do I just stay here then?”

“You do, but not by yourself. I’m having a local buddy of mine come over to look after you.”

“You mean to make sure I don’t hightail it out of here.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. He’s a retired cop. A Hopi police ranger. The Hopis are traditionally known as respectful of the Earth and peace-loving. But you try anything with my friend and he’ll lay your ass out so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

“Thanks a lot,” snarled Priest.

“You’re welcome, a lot.”

The El Tovar Hotel had opened in 1905 and was located at the Grand Canyon’s South Rim. Named after an early Spanish explorer, it was one of a chain of hotels originally owned and operated by the Fred Harvey Company. It was only twenty feet from the rim of the Canyon and constructed in a rustic style using Oregon pine and local limestone. There was a pyramidal roof, turrets, verandas, dorms, and gables. The interior was a mash-up of the arts and crafts movement, southwestern Indian design, and Swiss-inspired woodwork. The rear dining room had sweeping views of the canyon beyond.

Ed Priest walked up the broad front steps into the hotel. It was a minute after nine o’clock, but it was still quite warm outside, even though the sun had long since melted into the west.

He walked swiftly through the lobby and to the dining room at the rear.

He gave his name to the maître d’ and was escorted to a table far in the back. The hour was late for dinner, and the room was nearly empty.

There was no one at the table, which was set for two people.

Priest sat down and looked around.

He checked his watch and fiddled with his napkin.

The waitress came over to take his drink order, but he deferred until his guest arrived.

Another ten minutes went by, and Priest’s anxiety grew. He bit his nails, constantly surveyed the dining area, and absentmindedly clinked his fork against his knife.

“Eddie?”

Priest looked up to see the tall woman staring down at him.

At first, he looked confused, but when he gazed more closely at the woman, his jaw slackened.

“Ben?”

“Keep it down, Eddie, I have excellent hearing.”

Benjamin Priest was dressed in blue slacks, a long-sleeved white blouse, a beige linen jacket, and low pumps. A dark wig covered his head, and his face was modestly covered with makeup. Tinted glasses covered his eyes.

He sat down and placed his purse in the seat next to him.

“When you said a disguise, I didn’t know you meant this,” hissed Ed.

“That’s the point. To be unpredictable.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Pine as she slid into a seat across from Ben.

He jerked and started to rise until Pine set her FBI shield on the table and slid open her jacket, revealing her holstered pistol.

“Let’s not create a scene, Ben,” said Pine, and he slowly resumed his seat.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Your friendly neighborhood FBI agent. So now that we’re past that, you need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I can’t. You’re not cleared for it.”

“If I’m not cleared for it, then I doubt your brother is. So if you can’t tell him, why are you here?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I never doubted that.”

“Look, I can’t get into all this here.”

“Then where? You were the one who arranged to meet here.”

Ben looked around nervously. “Outside. I have a truck. But you need to understand that you don’t know what you’re involved in.”

“I completely agree. That’s why I’m here. To understand.”

“You’re really with the FBI?”

She held up her badge with one hand and slipped her ID pack out with the other.

Ben scrutinized both and said, “Outside.”

As they headed toward the front entrance, Ben’s and Pine’s gazes were constantly swiveling. Pine was looking for anyone who seemed to be paying them even a bit of attention. But there were only a few guests coming and going, and a handful of hotel workers. Ed Priest, by contrast, kept his gaze straight ahead.

They reached the front doors and Pine took the lead. She opened the door, stepped out, took a sweep of the area, and nodded to the two men.

“Where’s your ride?” she asked Ben Priest.

“In the parking lot over there. The light green Explorer.”

“We’ll take your truck and come back later for mine. Give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

“Where are we going?” asked Ben.

“For a little ride and a lot of talk. From you.”

Ben rode shotgun and Ed was in the back.

“Start from the beginning,” said Pine as she steered them out of the parking lot and onto the road heading out of the park. “Capricorn Consultants?”

“It doesn’t exist.”

Ed said, “But you told me that’s where you worked, Ben.”

Ben swiveled around to look at his older brother. “I’m sorry, Eddie. It comes with the territory.”

“Which is what, exactly?” said Pine. “Are you in the intelligence field?”

“I used to be,” replied Ben.

“For our side?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Pine said, “It is for me. If you’re a spy for another country, we’re going to have a big problem.”

“Shit, Ben, please tell me that’s not true,” exclaimed Ed.

“I can work for interests outside this country without working against this country. But allies are allies until they become enemies. And sometimes our enemies can be allies. It’s a fluid situation.”

“So, do you work for one of our allies or one of our enemies?”

“I work for myself after working for Uncle Sam and others. And doing it well and honorably.”

“Okay, go on,” prompted Pine.

“I put out my own shingle.”

“Doing what?”

“I help arrange things.”

“Like what? The guy on the mule pretending to be you?”

“You’ve no doubt heard of money laundering?”

Pine said, “Not only have I heard of it, I’ve investigated cases dealing with it.”

“Well, money is not the only thing that can be laundered. You can launder people , too.”

“You mean switching their identities? Making them disappear?”

“Something like that,” answered Priest.

Pine could sense he was lying but decided to move on. She said, “Talk about the guy on the mule. He disappeared and left behind a dead animal with the letters j and k carved on it.”

Ben let out a long breath. “I don’t know what that means.”

Pine thought he might be telling the truth on that one. “Was it part of the plan that the guy would head out at night on a mule?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, what was the plan?”

Ben shook his head. “I can’t get into that.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

Ben shook his head again. “I haven’t heard from him.”

“Does our government know about whatever he’s doing?”

No answer.

Pine said, “The FBI’s National Security Division is very interested in all this. Did you know that?”

Ben took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “I’m not unaware of it.”