David Baldacci - The Sixth Man

She put her cup down. “I came very close to accepting. For a number of reasons. Eddie was with the IRS by then. He seemed happy and challenged. Well, to the extent anything can actually challenge him. But our mother had just died.”

“And he’d be all alone?”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure that he could cut it all by himself. This job would allow me to spend more time with him, become more of a presence in his life.”

“So what happened? It seemed perfect.”

“At the end I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t prepared for what would amount to a desk job. I’d also gotten used to being my own boss, running my own show. Bunting had the rep of being a micromanager. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And maybe you weren’t ready to be a caretaker for your brother either.”

“Maybe I wasn’t,” she admitted. “In retrospect it was astonishingly selfish of me. I put my career wants over my brother’s needs. I guess maybe I’d always done that.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person.”

“Small comfort.” She hesitated. “I had been his protector when he was young.”

“Against his father?” asked Sean quietly.

Paul rose and walked to the window, looked out at the stormy night.

She said, “He was just a little boy. Couldn’t take care of himself.”

“But you did.”

“I did what was right.”

“Your stepfather’s death?”

She turned to look at him. “I have probably more regrets than most. That is not one of them.”

“So you recommended your brother for the program years later?”

Paul seemed relieved by the change in the direction of the conversation. She sat back down. “There was no one to touch him in the very skill sets the program required. He was so good they designated him an E-Six, the first ever.” There was sisterly pride in her voice.

“And Bunting and you?”

“What about it?”

“You and your brother were both vetted for positions with the E-Program. Bunting must know you two are related.”

“So? I seriously doubt Bunting thinks I framed my own brother for murder.”

“But he may think you’re working from behind the scenes to help him.”

“Well, I am. But again, I don’t think Bunting will perceive that as a threat. If Eddie is cleared Bunting gets him back.”

“At Cutter’s your brother just stares at the ceiling, never says a word, never moves a muscle. Is he pretending?”

“Yes and no. It’s hard to explain. Eddie can lose himself in his mind like few others. He did that as a child, too.”

“Because of his father?”

“Sometimes.”

“So now your brother has withdrawn into his own mind as a form of protection?”

“He’s afraid.”

“Well, if they convict him for those murders they can execute him. And what’s more dangerous than facing lethal injection?”

“Yes, but at least lethal injection is painless. The people we’re up against won’t be that generous. I can guarantee you that.”

CHAPTER

48

THE PLACE MURDOCK WANTED to meet at turned out to be a post office building set two miles off the main cut-through between Eastport and Machias. It was one-story, all brick and glass with an asphalt parking lot. In front of the building an American flag flapped in the breeze atop a thirty-foot stainless steel pole.

There was one car in the parking lot, next to the mailbox drop-off.

Even from a distance Michelle could see the man in the driver’s seat. As her headlights hit the car, she saw the government plates. And she saw the man stir in the front seat. She pulled up beside the car, killed her engine and lights, and got out.

She looked around, studying the topography. The building was on one acre of cleared land with some grass, poured concrete sidewalks and curbs, and good old American-made asphalt to park your wheels on. Besides that there was nothing but wilderness.

She wondered what position Dobkin had taken up. He had several to choose from. She would have posted to the left of the building right near the tree line. That provided for decent cover and optimal sight lines.

“Thanks for coming,” Murdock said, as he got out of his ride and joined her.

“You made it sound important.”

“It is.”

She leaned against her truck and folded her arms. “One preliminary question.”

Murdock frowned. “What?”

“Sean and I have pretty much been on your shit list from the moment you met us. Now, you want to work together?”

Murdock drew out a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. “I flew off the handle. I tend to do that more than I probably should.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“This case is giving me ulcers.”

“You’re not alone on that.”

“Every time I think I’m close something else happens.”

“And something tells me none of us have really been close to solving this.”

“You’re probably right,” admitted Murdock.

“So your change in tactics? You said you couldn’t trust your own side?”

“Let’s just say I’m getting paranoid from the chatter on my own end. And you can also put it down to wanting to get results. I’ve got my boss screaming at me every five minutes. If I waste any more time fighting with you and King and don’t solve this thing, it won’t matter. I’ll be cradled around a cubicle buried in some Bureau outpost and wondering where the hell my career went.”

“Sean was right about you and national security, wasn’t he?”

“Not that I like to broadcast that, but yeah, I am. Counterterrorism unit.”

“So national security and Edgar Roy. The connection?”

“All I can tell you is that when he was arrested and got sent up here the FBI received an order from very high up to put a tag on him. He was a special person of interest and we were to keep a close eye on him. There, I said it. Now what can you tell me?”

“We have some things in play, but nothing definitive.”

“Care to share?”

“No. You called me. You said you had some things to tell me. I’m listening. If you wanted this to be a two-way I wouldn’t be here.”

“Okay, okay, fair enough.” He spit out the gum. “I went to see Edgar Roy today.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just to talk to him.”

“And did he talk back?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Not so much?”

“Okay, nothing, nada. Guy never made a sound.”

“So?”

“So I never expected him to. He’s a genius. So smart, in fact, that he’s a very valuable asset of the federal government.”

“Is that right?”

He cocked his head. “Why do I think I’m preaching to the choir?”

“On the contrary. This is fascinating stuff.”

He stepped closer. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. I did some hard digging. Called in a few favors and finally hit the mother lode. I know what Roy was doing for Uncle Sam. And I also found out that there are persons in D.C. who might have reason to wish Mr. Roy harm.”

“Who?”

Murdock drew closer. Only a few inches separated the two. “You ever heard of the E-Pro—”

Michelle felt like she’d been slapped. She tasted the liquid that had appeared on her face and then spit it out. The pain in her arm was mildly annoying. When Murdock fell into her two seconds later, she realized what was happening. She gripped him by the shoulders and jerked both of them behind her truck. The next shot hit twenty feet behind where she had been standing. It cracked the asphalt, sending pieces spiraling off into the grass. One shard hit the mailbox and left a deep gouge in the blue-painted metal. If she hadn’t moved, Michelle’s brain matter would have collided with the mailbox instead of the asphalt.