The Death Trust
Page 38
“The situation was delicate. We didn’t want him to know he was under suspicion until we had something solid. It would have been too easy for him to just lie low.”
“And then General Scott died,” I said.
General Gruyere nodded. “Yes. The Vice President’s interest in the case was immediate. I shouldn’t have been surprised—Scott was his son-in-law. But, I have to admit, his insistence on you taking the case did intrigue me. As you know, you weren’t my first choice. Or my second or fifth, for that matter. On the strength of your current performance review, you weren’t up to something like this. Cutter gambled on you fucking up, and lost.” Gruyere had her back to me as she gazed out the window, her arthritic hands clasped behind her.
“Why did you take me off the case when it looked like I was getting somewhere?”
“You and I both know you work best under pressure. I simply applied some.”
Okay, there was some truth in that.
“It’s safe to say a little redemption is due to come your way as the result of all this, Vin.”
Oh, oh, first names. Run for cover.
“That bullet you picked up in Iraq. There’s another Purple Heart in it for you. You’re assembling quite a collection.”
I felt like giving the morphine ball a squeeze.
“The business about the First Convention finding its way into the public domain isn’t so great, but that storm will pass. The convention works for the military—it has to be that way. We can’t afford the latest and greatest unless private enterprise is prepared to take the investment risk. And no one wants our men and women at arms to have to use second-rate equipment—stuff that doesn’t work when and where it’s supposed to. Call it a warranty.”
That was another way to look at it. I changed the subject. I wanted to talk about her membership in a certain club. “You’re part of The Establishment.”
Gruyere turned. “What, as in the status quo?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” I noticed my BPM had come way down. I was calm.
The general regarded me over those half-moon spectacles of hers for several moments before speaking. Then she said, “By The Establishment, I take it you mean a secret society that conspires to manipulate world events for the benefit of America’s coffers.”
Close enough. I nodded.
“No such entity exists, Vin. You and I need to be straight on that point.”
“And, if I’m not?” I heard myself saying.
“You sound like someone fending off a threat.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“No, Vin. I’m not going to threaten you. Hypothetically speaking, if there was such a group, my guess is that it’d have to be governed by a pretty strict set of rules. One of those rules would surely have to be that its members didn’t embark on individual, unsanctioned projects. If that were to happen, I believe such a group would act to protect the very institutions it was brought into existence to serve.”
The effects of the morphine were wearing off. My mind was sharper. So was the pain. My arm felt like it had been chewed on, and my other arm, the one that’d received the bullet hole in Baghdad, didn’t feel much better. Jesus—I saw it. I suddenly realized what Gruyere’s—The Establishment’s—end game had been all along. “Which is why I was manipulated into killing the Vice President for you.”
Gruyere gave me a thin, sympathetic smile. “Whatever anyone wanted is now, thankfully, immaterial. The fact is that the fates took a hand and tidied some loose ends—hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Radakov. I was right: Cutter wasn’t the one who fingered him.
I looked at Gruyere and she at me. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. I had not one shred of evidence that The Establishment existed, let alone that she or anyone else was a member. Cutter and von Koeppen were dead. No one else would come forward, certainly not Alu Radakov. Not anymore. And Harmony Scott knew what she knew, but like me, I doubted she had evidence to back up any claims. There was Scott’s Dungeon, of course, but there was nothing on it about The Establishment, and, if there had been any evidence in Scott’s files, I doubted it would still be there.
“It’s over, Vin. You did your job and now it’s time to stand down,” she said.
I found my mind wandering back to Cutter’s study. What had really happened there? I remembered the two Secret Service types coming through the door, their pistols raised and in the shooting position. Those guys do not miss, especially not at the range they were shooting from. If they thought I’d shot Cutter, or was about to, they’d have whacked me but good, no question. Except I was still alive and the Toe Cutter was down in hell standing on his hands in a room full of excrement. That meant the pair who came through the door were not Secret Service. It also meant I doubted the Vice President had been killed by an accidental ricochet.
“I know what you’re thinking, Vin, and you need to move on. Also, you should know that I have retired. It has already been announced. Effective from today, actually. I have grandchildren I want to spend more time with.”
I nodded. “Sorry to hear that, ma’am,” I said perfunctorily. In fact, the only people I felt sorry for were those grandkids.
“Something you may not be aware of, Vin,” she said. “Abraham Scott and I were friends. When we were younger, we were more than friends. We stayed in touch over the years. He came to see me after Peyton was killed, after he’d been to Baghdad. He told me he believed his son had been murdered and that the autopsy report had been altered. For reasons of his own, he chose not to tell me what the motive for that murder was. I believe that, at the time, he didn’t know, or wasn’t sure. I checked into the autopsy issue quietly, but couldn’t see how the records had been tampered with. Now, thanks to your investigation, we know what Cutter was up to.”
That explained why Gruyere had treated Scott’s fatal glider crash as a homicide from the first. She already had suspicions planted by the victim himself. It also resolved for me where Abraham Scott had gone after his trip to Iraq and before he went to Riga. He’d looked up an old flame, to see if she could apply some heat to get some answers. “Was Cutter a member of The Establishment?” I asked.
“I won’t comment on whether the Vice President was or wasn’t a member of any hypothetical group or organization of that name. I will say, though, that Jefferson Cutter had spent a lot of time in the former Soviet Union. He believed a strong and stable Russia was in America’s best interests. Let’s just say he was out of step.”
Exhaustion was beginning to creep over me. I wanted to retreat to the warmth of a morphine-induced slumber. I also wanted to get out of bed and give the general officer a good shake. She’d been manipulating me from the get-go. My eyelids had become as heavy as sheet lead. After a few minutes of lucidity, it was getting difficult to concentrate. Had I dreamed all this? No, there was one inescapable fact: Anna Masters was dead. That reminded me. I said, “Why was Anna in von Koeppen’s vehicle?”
Gruyere almost smiled, damn her. “From her notes, I gather she intended to question the general about the missing CAC cards. Perhaps Anna caught him leaving to go somewhere—her Mercedes was parked outside the Ramstein administration block—and so, to save time, she chose to go with him.”
I closed my eyes. So Anna had figured it out, tied the CAC cards to von Koeppen. “Has she been buried yet, ma’am? If not, I’d like to go to the funeral.”
“No, you can’t, I’m afraid.”
Of course. Anna had been dead almost a week. She’d have been laid to rest by now and—
“Anna’s not dead, Vin.”
It took several heartbeats for my brain to register what Gruyere had just told me. Not dead? The room was silent except for the beep, beep, beep of the machine, which was suddenly racing. “But th—”
“Special Agent Masters was pretty banged up after the crash. When I heard what had happened, I flew straight to Ramstein to get her out of there safely. Her death was announced to remove her from the attention
of people who may have wanted to do her an injury. I had her repatriated immediately to the safety of this facility.”
“She’s…here?”
General Gruyere pulled back the curtain separating my bed from the one beside it. “It looks worse than it is. Anna’s out of immediate danger now. The doctors had her in an induced coma for several days. She’s sleeping. Her injuries are extensive: punctured lung, fractured skull, broken ribs, and she has lost a toe. But Masters is fit and strong. The doctors expect her to make a full recovery.”
That shake I wanted to give Gruyere? I could now happily exchange it for a hug. Like me, the person in the next bed was full of tubes. I couldn’t recognize her—her head was heavily bandaged and what I could see of her face was badly bruised. Anna? A wave of relief crashed over me. No, not relief. Joy. Anna? Alive?
“I’ll be leaving now, Vin. I doubt that our paths will cross again. I have to say that it has been interesting working with you. There’s a handpicked security detail on this room. I don’t think you’ll need them but their presence might make you feel more…comfortable. Get some rest and get well—both of you.”
Gruyere turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, and this came for you today.” She removed a card from her breast pocket and put it in my fingers. It was a postcard. It showed a picture of the Sydney Opera House. A couple of giant-sized, tanned, naked girls rode on the building’s sails. A speech bubble coming from one of the women announced suggestively, We love it down under!
There had to be a mistake here. I didn’t know anyone in Sydney, Australia. I turned the card over and read the scrawl. It said, “Please take care of my cat” and was signed “V.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to recognize and thank a few people without whose help and/or expertise this story would have died.
Lieutenant Colonel Keith, not his real name, is currently serving with the U.S. Army somewhere in Asia. He has also served in the army’s CID, its criminal investigation division. I pestered LTC Keith for clarification on a range of issues and details on a daily basis for over a year.
Second on the list is Major Woody, also not his real name, USAF (retired). The major flew F-16s out of Ramstein, one of the key settings in the novel, and made sure the narrative pertaining to the base wasn’t wildly off-course.
Allan has a couple of important contracts with the U.S. Department of Defense, which is why you’re not getting his full name. Allan read drafts and pointed me in a few interesting directions.
About the Author
DAVID ROLLINS is a former advertising creative director who lives in Sydney, Australia. He is the author of The Death Trust and Knife Edge, both international bestsellers. Bantam Books will publish Knife Edge in 2008. Visit his website at www.davidarollins.net.
THE DEATH TRUST
A Bantam Book / October 2007
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2005 by David Rollins
Bantam Books is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rollins, David
The death trust / David Rollins.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90421-5
1. United States. Air Force. Office of Special Investigations—Fiction. 2. Government investigators—Fiction. 3. Generals—Crimes against—Fiction. 4. Germany—Fiction. I. Title.
PR9619.4.R66D43 2007
823'.92—dc22
2007010271
www.bantamdell.com
v1.0
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
EPIGRAPH
TWELVE MONTHS AGO
A WEEK AGO
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT