David Baldacci - The Last Mile

“So you’re staying?”

“Yes, I am.”

Mars sighed and looked around the small room, as though all the answers he needed would be there.

“Well, then I’m staying too.”

“You’re not going to do that, Melvin. You lost twenty years of your life. I’m not going to be the reason you lose the rest.”

“Well, like you said, it’s a choice. They already tried to kill us once. And that pissed me off. And when I got pissed off on the field I played my best ball. I called it controlled chaos.”

“You must have had it when you played us.”

“I did. Second play of the game your nose tackle told me I ran like a girl.”

“He always was an idiot.”

“I’m staying, Decker. I walk away now and something happens to you, I’ve got to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“So? It’s not like we’re lifelong friends.”

“But you’ve risked your life for me. You discovered truths about my past that I never would have known. I can’t walk away from you now.”

Decker nodded slowly. “Jamison and Oliver aren’t going to take this well.”

“They will if you tell them that Bogart wants them to come to D.C. to work on the case from another angle while we keep looking here.”

“And you think they’ll buy that?”

“If you tell Bogart what happened to you tonight I think he’ll be able to sell the deal. Maybe Mary goes back to Texas to work on my stuff. Perfectly natural for her to do that. And Jamison heads to D.C. We can go with her initially so she won’t get suspicious.”

“Sounds like a game plan. And if things get hairy, bring your controlled chaos tactic.”

“In my back pocket and ready to go.”

“It’s the fourth quarter, Melvin.”

“Where I always played my best ball.”

“I think we’re going to need everything you can bring to the table,” replied Decker.

“And it’s not like anyone would want to swap places with me. Not even you, I bet.”

Decker stared at him for a long moment.

“What?” asked Mars.

“That word again. The waitress back at the restaurant used it too.”

“What word?”

“Swap.”

“Swap? How does that help us?”

“Believe me, it does. In fact, it pretty much changes everything.”

What the hell are we doing here, Decker?” said Jamison.

They had flown into D.C. and were in a spare office at the FBI’s Washington Field Office.

He pointed to the binders spread over the desk. “Working on another case,” he replied.

“But why?”

“Because we ran into a dead end on the other one. I’m not saying we won’t pick it back up, but for now, we focus on something else.”

“What about Mary Oliver?”

“She’s back in Texas working on Melvin’s legal claims. There’s more paperwork to be filed. And he needs that money. Otherwise, he has nothing.”

“And Melvin? Where is he?”

“He’s around, just laying low for now.”

She slumped back in her chair, her arms folded over her chest, her features stubborn. “I can’t believe you’re just giving up.”

“I’m not giving up.” He paused, looked resigned, and said, “I got threatened, in my hotel room back in Mississippi. Masked guy with a gun. He said if we didn’t back off, they would take out everybody. You, me, Melvin, Davenport, Oliver, the Montgomery kid, everybody. Dead.”

Jamison sat forward. “Holy shit. So these people have Davenport? Did you tell Bogart?”

“Yes, but his hands are tied. Huey has seen to that. He’s stuck here.”

“So we just do, what, nothing?”

“Nothing now. But maybe something in the future.”

She looked at the briefing books in front of them. “None of these cases are as interesting as the one we were working on.”

“I agree. But we have to be smart about this.”

She shot him a glance. “If you’re worried about me, I can take care of myself. I have a gun.”

“The fact is, I’m more worried about Melvin and Mary Oliver.”

“So the criminals win, that’s what you’re saying?”

“For now they do. But it’s a long game, Jamison. And I always play for the long game.”

Decker met with Bogart later that day.

Bogart said, “I’ll be here preparing our senior people for Hill testimony for several weeks. I have officially been taken out of the field during that time.”

“So Huey is nervous?”

“Which may not be a good thing.”

“It is a good thing if they think we can prove murder charges against them.”

“You were threatened in your hotel room, Decker. These people are not messing around.”

“Agreed, but we still have no proof.”

“You may never have any proof.”

“If we can get to Roy Mars we might.”

“He’s probably in a country with no extradition back here.”

“We still have a chance.”

“You have a far better chance of dying. My advice to you is to lay low and let this whole thing cool off. I can’t offer you any protection.” Bogart stared keenly across at Decker. “But of course you’re not going to take my advice.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not good advice or that I’m not grateful, because it is and I am. But, no, I can’t do that. These guys are killers. They need to go down for it. Simple as that.”

“And if you die in the process?”

“What law enforcement officer doesn’t have to answer that question every day? And they still put on the uniform and walk out the door.”

“But you’re no longer a cop.”

“I still feel like one.”

“And Mars?”

“He’s along for the ride.”

“You’re sure that’s smart?”

“He’s a big boy. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. And we might be safer together than apart. Two old helmet heads blocking for each other.”

“Your original plan for us to track McClellan if he tried to contact the others won’t work now that we’ve been pulled from the case.”

“I know. We’ll have to go at it from another angle.”

“And you want me to keep Jamison here?”

“I’d appreciate it. She knows nothing of what I’m planning.”

“While you two go off into harm’s way? Sounds very 1950s. Jamison is hardly a damsel in distress.”

“No, she’s not.”

“So?”

“So it’s the way I want to play it. Jamison, despite her street creds, is not a cop.”

“Neither is Mars.”

“And he’s tougher than you and me put together. I can’t say I don’t feel better having him next to me on this. And he has a bigger stake in this than anyone. And he’s determined to be there at the end.”

“Muscle against guns? Which do you think wins?”

“Muscle against brains? Which do you think wins?”

“So you have a plan?”

“I have a plan.”

“Care to share, just in case something goes wrong?”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s not exactly legal and I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Can you at least tell me what it’s based on?”

“Yes. It’s based on a swap that took place.”

Bogart eyed him suspiciously. “Meaning what precisely?”

“Meaning that , precisely.”

The three musketeers were all accounted for.

On a private plane no less.

It was owned by Danny Eastland. Or, rather, by the company he’d built largely with government defense contracts. It used to be primarily the land of thousand-dollar wing nuts and million-dollar tires. Now it was more often software and counterintelligence platforms at a billion bucks a pop.

Eastland’s plane had gotten bigger now that he dealt more with cyber than guns. The manufacturing costs were a lot lower and the ability to gouge Uncle Sam under a trillion bytes of bullshit was even higher.