Glenn Beck - The Eye of Moloch

“I’d like to talk to him.”

“Good. He’s actually right down the hall.”

“What a coincidence,” Virginia said.

“I have to confess, it’s my doing. Noah got caught in the cross fire in that firefight in Wyoming I mentioned. It’s a long story, but when they told me earlier that you needed a checkup after your mission I suggested that they bring you here, just in the hopes that we all could get together and save some time.”

“I understand.”

“He’s a good kid. They really got into his head, though”—Landers briefly twirled a finger by his ear—“Stockholm syndrome kind of stuff, especially with this girl. She slept with him, apparently, convinced him to help her with some corporate espionage, and it went downhill from there. He’s probably still got feelings for her, despite the fact that she almost got him killed. And I’d expect him to sound a little paranoid after all he’s been through.”

“Okay, then. I’ll go see him right now.”

Landers checked his watch. “Now?”

“If he’s awake. There’s no time like the present. Do you want to come along? It sounds like you two are close.”

“No, no, no, I’m a . . .” Landers seemed to struggle for a moment with exactly how to characterize himself. “I’m just a friend of the family. It’s probably better if we keep this all between the two of you.”

“Fine.” She held out her hand and he shook it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed.”

“He’s in room 306, just a few doors down. And you’ve got my number,” Landers said. With that he put on his jacket, subtly checked himself in the full-length mirror by the window, and left her with a plastic smile.

She met a lot of people in her line of work, and generally not by choice. Experience had taught her that the worthiness of the mission often had very little to do with any high moral virtues of the people requesting the job.

On his way out, this Landers person had said that she had his number, and he was dead right about that. In fact, she’d gotten that man’s number pretty much the minute he’d walked in her door.

Chapter 25

The leg that Virginia had worn to Arizona was a prototype and hadn’t really been intended for the rigorous shakedown it received. And if anyone was back in the lab wondering, it clearly wasn’t bulletproof, either.

She looked it over again, now nestled in its fitted recharging case against the wall, as she dressed herself in frayed denim cutoffs and a comfortable old T-shirt from her bag. They’d constructed this leg to be a photographic match of her natural limb, and as such it resembled the shapely and graceful lower-left appendage of a runway model. If David Beckham’s real legs were insured for $70 million, this single artificial one probably beat them both in its replacement value—especially since it had been made under a government contract. When she returned it to Cambridge the bionics engineers there would learn a lot from the data it had collected, but they’d also have a few hundred hours of repair work ahead.

By contrast, the piece she now put on was much like her first prosthetic ever, the leg she’d worn when taking those first unsteady steps in the months after the combat injuries that had nearly killed her. As a prosthetic it was a portrait of utility, just carbon fiber and stainless steel and plastic with a wool-padded sleeve, a wide black Velcro harness, and an old Converse high-top laced up to its unisex foot. This was the only spare she’d brought along and it fit her very well, in more ways than one. There were no pretenses about it, no apologies, and yet in its very lack of adornments it held a certain kind of beauty that not everyone might pause to appreciate.

When Virginia checked the clock after her guest had departed she found it was later than she’d thought. If the subject of her upcoming interview was already asleep she’d just catch him in the morning. Meanwhile, the short stroll might do some good for her fresh aches and pains.

In the middle of the night the hallway was perfectly still, as were the Marine sentries stationed outside her own private suite and one other nearby. A few steps farther down she paused and looked past the guards into the room where the members of the Dell family were safely housed. Cots had been rolled in and the space well prepared so mother and children could stay together in comfort.

The boy was the only one awake when she peeked inside. Ronny was his name, she’d later learned. He sat up a bit when he saw her, she gave him a small wave, and with very little movement he waved back, though he didn’t manage to smile. That was okay; we do these things one step at a time.

When she arrived at Noah Gardner’s room she found him reading by a solitary light at the side of the bed. Before she could knock he’d put aside his book and motioned her inside.

“You’re up,” Virginia said.

“Yeah. They’ve had me knocked out for so long I don’t know if I’ll ever need to sleep again.”

“I’m Virginia Ward.”

He nodded. “They told me you’d be coming by.”

“Do you feel like a chat now?”

“Sure,” he said.

Rather than pulling up one of the low chairs, she came to the foot of his hospital bed, lowered the railing, and hopped up to sit and face him from near that end. “Do you know what I’m here to talk to you about?”

“Yes. You want to talk about Molly.”

“Do you know why?”

“I was told there’s a chance she can be brought in safely, and that you might give her that chance.”

She nodded. “Where do you think we should start?”

“I think we should start with you telling me if that’s a fact.”

“If I get involved in this, Noah, I’m going to do what’s right, for my country first and then for everyone else after that. That’s what I do, and that’s all I can promise you at this point.”

“Fair enough, I guess.”

“And I need to say, right now it doesn’t look so good for her.” She opened the background folder that Landers had given her. “She’s gotten mixed up with some very bad guys, militant white supremacists—”

“Oh, get serious, now.”

“. . . and one man you might have come in contact with. A big guy named Thom Hollis.”

“Hollis?” He laughed. “I never actually knew his first name, but you’re saying Thom Hollis is one of these very bad guys she’s mixed up with? The man’s a teddy bear; he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He had seventy-seven confirmed kills as a sniper in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She handed over a summary of the service record. “His longest shot was just over a mile.”

For almost a minute Noah studied the papers and looked through the old photos of the man. “So he was a soldier, and a good one. Surely you’re not saying that makes him some kind of a lunatic.”

“Of course not. It seemed like you were saying he was harmless, and I wanted to show you that maybe that was only an impression you’d been given. How long were you actually around these people?”

“A very short time. Just a few days.”

“And would you say that while you were with them, they were honest and open with you about what they were doing?”

He thought for a while before he answered quietly. “No. No, they weren’t.”

“Let me tell you what it says here,” Virginia began. “It says Molly Ross and her mother and these Founders’ Keepers descended on New York City late last year, in part to recruit new members and to stir up some trouble in lower Manhattan. They had a rally and they sponsored some counterprotests on Wall Street and a similar scuffle at an international financial summit. Things got out of hand at the rally, shots were fired, and they got arrested. Then you pulled some strings and managed to get Molly and the rest of them out of jail, and then you slept with her that night.