by L. T. Ryan
Keller continued. "They will hunt you down, Jack. The Marines, CIA, local authorities. Hell, even the FBI will get in on the action. Everyone will want a piece of you."
"Yeah, to take the fall for the murders you committed."
"In a round-about way, yeah, Jack. The murders are all on me. I ordered them all. But it was for a reason, Jack. A damn good reason. We have to take this fight to them, Jack. Don't you see?"
He stood ten feet from me. His head cocked to the side. The smile had left his face. He held his arms outstretched to the side.
I shifted the gun to one arm and reached inside my jacket. "Only problem, Keller," I pulled my hand out and showed him the digital recorder that had been running the entire time, "is that I got you admitting it on tape."
I stopped the recorder, hit rewind for a second and then hit play. "The murders are all on me." I clicked the stop button.
"Without a doubt, one hundred percent your voice, sir."
His face went pale and he backed into the wall. He shook his head and muttered something indecipherable under his breath.
I pulled the magazine from the rifle and dropped the gun on the floor. Looked around the room and soaked in the carnage. I turned and opened the door. Bear and Jessie had pulled the car to the curb and were waiting for me. I cut across the yard and got in the front seat. Bear pulled away without saying a word.
Chapter 20
We drove north on I-95. Washington, D.C. was our destination. I'd wait for Marlowe by his house. Turn over the evidence and find out what he had planned for Keller. We stopped and picked up the cheapest laptop we could find. Jessie transferred the audio file to the computer and burned it onto a CD.
It turned out to be a good thing she had been held hostage by Martinez, notwithstanding the emotional scarring and baggage the ordeal would leave her with. She kept her spirits up, though, and regularly made jokes at my expense from the back seat.
We crossed the state line into Virginia. The topic of what her next steps were hadn't been discussed yet. I turned in the passenger seat and looked back at her.
"Do you want to go back home, Jess?"
"Do you think it's safe now?"
I shook my head. "Probably not."
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
"I can take you with me to New-"
"Dulles, Jack." She looked out the window to her side. "Take me to Dulles when we get to D.C."
"Where do you plan to go?"
"I don't know." She shook her head slightly. "I don't know."
I cleared my throat and turned back to the front and stared out the window for a moment.
"What about you, Bear?"
"What do you mean?"
"Pretty sure with everything that's happened we can convince Marlowe to give you an honorable discharge."
He shrugged and didn't say anything.
I waited a moment and then continued. "You're thinking about staying in?" The thought hadn't occurred to me. I figured he was as antsy to get out as I was.
"What else am I going to do, Jack?" He placed both his hands on the steering wheel. Gripped it so tight his knuckles turned white. "I've got two years left. I'm going to finish out those two years."
Bear had principles, and the commitment he made meant a lot to him. I knew that. But what about the commitment they made to us and the fact that they broke that commitment? I don't recall reading anything on my contract that stated permission to terminate at will. I brushed the thought aside.
"You know, even if they don't scrap the program, there's no way you're going back to it."
He shrugged and looked at me for a second, then back toward the road. He quickly scanned the cars. "That's fine with me. I'll take a desk job for a couple years."
I laughed. Bear behind a desk? The big man would go crazy.
"Where the hell are they going to find a chair and desk big enough for you?"
A few seconds passed and then Bear broke out into laughter.
"I know, right. What the hell am I thinking?"
"Why don't you leave? We'll go into business together."
"Doing what? Crime scene creation?"
Doing what?
The words hung in the air above me. I hadn't given any thought to it. I had a few hopes. I hoped that Jessie would be part of my own "doing what." I hoped that I could travel for a couple months before my official retirement while using up my accrued leave pay. I hoped that something would just turn up. I'd only known the Marines, and more specifically, the joint program with the CIA. The actual Marines were a mystery to me. Before that, my future had been planned by my father and high school football coach. I tried not to think about either of them, nor the future I had left behind.
"What about you, Jack?" Bear said, interrupting my thoughts.
"I've got three months leave built up."
"So you're done?"
"Yeah, Bear," I said. "I'm done. This is it. I'm giving this tape to Marlowe and getting him to put my honorable discharge in writing, effective the last day of my leave. Then I'm going to do-" I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Then I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll figure it out at some point in the next three months."
He opened his mouth to say something and must have thought better of it. His grip had loosened on the steering wheel. A smile crept up on his face. He seemed relaxed. At peace. I hadn't even thought about the possibility that our partnership stressed him out.
"Bear, does being around-" I stopped mid-sentence, deciding not to go down that road. "Never mind."
"Never minded."
* * *
We drove straight into the city. Bear dropped me off a couple blocks from Marlowe's place. He wanted to wait with me. I insisted that he take Jessie and find somewhere else to be in case something happened. I still didn't know if I could trust Marlowe. Sure, he gave up Keller, but he might have done it to protect himself. The fact that I returned might spur him into additional action. He might decide to get rid of me. I had no doubt that he had that power. If that happened, I didn't want Bear and Jessie in the middle. Plus, they had the backup files on the computer and the audio CD that implicated Keller behind everything.
Keller's confession was one reason I trusted Marlowe. Keller didn't mention him. Maybe he did it on purpose, though, in the event that I walked out of his house alive.
For a moment I doubted my decision to just leave Keller's house. My rational side told me he knew he was beaten. Despite his recent horrible decision making, he had once been an honorable man. I'd only known him for eight years. He had been a good man most of those years. Those who knew him longer than that held him in high esteem. Maybe I was reaching. Maybe I was letting the fact that he had known and served with my father influence me.
I crossed the street and stood in front of Marlowe's house. I walked up the six steps to his front porch and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. I took a seat on the third step and enjoyed the warm breeze.
The upscale neighborhood was quiet. That made it easy to hear Marlowe and his assigned agents approaching before they realized I was there. I thought about hiding on the other side of the stairwell. Instead, I sat still and kept my hands in plain view.
The agent who stared me down outside the pizzeria my first day in D.C. was the first to notice me. He drew his gun and barked orders at me. I looked past him. The second agent stood in front of Marlowe. Marlowe peered around the agent and nodded at me.
"I'm unarmed," I said. I had left my gun with Bear. Risky move, but I was over it at this point. The recording held the truth. The police could arrest me. Secret Service or the DoD could detain me. CIA and FBI could fight over who would detain me. In the end, I'd be set free by Keller's words.
"Hands up," the agent said.
"They're in plain view," I said. "Get your damn gun out of my face. OK?"
"It's OK, Gerard," Marlowe said.
The two agents relaxed a bit. Well, relaxed as much as uptight Defense Department agents could. Those guys were hard wire
d for action. They found it in everything they did. I bet even brushing their teeth turned into an anxiety inducing event. I wondered what the heart attack rate was for guys in their line of work within their first five years of retirement.
Marlowe pushed past the men entrusted with his life and stood on the sidewalk a few feet in front of me.
"Jack, let's go inside and talk."
I looked between him and the two men in dark suits behind him. "They have to come in with us?"
"Yes, unfortunately they have to go with me everywhere during working hours." He climbed a single step. "But they'll be well behaved. Won't you boys?" He turned and smiled at the men.
They didn't smile back.
I stood and followed Marlowe inside. It was nice going in through the front door. He led the way to the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee and pulled two beers from the refrigerator. The Defense Department agents tried to follow us in. Marlowe sent one outside out through the back door, and made the other wait in the living room, telling him to stay at least ten feet from the swinging door.
He cracked open a beer and handed it to me. I took it and put it to my lips without checking the label. A few sips later I was exhaling with contentment at the refreshing beverage.
He smiled, his eyebrows rising into his forehead as he poured his beer into a tall glass.
"It's local, a craft beer. Excellent stuff. Brewer is a friend of mine."
I nodded and took another pull from the brown bottle. Still hadn't checked the label.
"Anyway, Mr. Noble," he said, "I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss local breweries."
I shook my head and didn't correct him for calling me Mister instead of Sergeant.
"I take it you confronted Keller?"
"I did."
"How did it go?"
I reached into my inside pocket and noticed Marlowe tense for a second, the smile fading from his face.
"Relax," I said as I pulled the small digital recorder from my pocket. "It's all on here."
He smiled and walked in front of me and took a seat at the table. He crossed his legs and took a long pull on his beer, then set the bottle down on the table.
"Play it."
I hit play and placed the digital recorder on the table. Marlowe listened intently, nodding and making eye contact with me occasionally.
"That's some pretty damning evidence," he said.
"I've got copies."
He smiled and reached for the recorder. "Don't worry, Jack. I'll handle this."
I grabbed the recorder and pulled it closer. "What will happen to Keller?"
He took another pull from his bottle of beer and stared at me for a moment. "Worst case is a dishonorable discharge."
"No jail time?"
"I hope so, but you know there are many parties involved in this. It's up to them how they want to pursue the matter. Implicating Keller might implicate them."
I shook my head. "He's responsible for the deaths of at least ten people."
"I know that and you know that. Hell, the person responsible for making this decision will know it." He got up and went to the fridge and came back with two more beers, already opened. "This is the dark side of these operations, Jack."
I nodded. I knew. I knew when I was in his house that it might end up like this. I wanted to kick myself for not taking him out when I had the chance.
"What about me?" I said.
"What about you?" he said.
"I want out."
"Jack, I'm pretty sure that even if the program is continued, you won't be invited back in."
"Not just the program. I want out of the Marines. My enlistment is up in September. I've got three months leave accrued. I'm taking my leave and I want my official retirement to be the last day of my leave."
"I don't have the power to-"
"Bullshit, Marlowe."
He shifted in his seat. Crossed his arms over his chest and looked me over.
"Ok, Jack."
He pulled a cell phone from his coat and placed a call. Five minutes later I had my freedom. He also instructed whoever he spoke with to remove me and Bear from any federal, state and local suspect lists.
"You're free, Mr. Noble."
I slid the digital recorder across the table. Marlowe picked it up, studied it and then dropped it into his glass of beer.
"Why?" I tried to appear angry, but felt confused. He knew I had a backup. Did he expect me to push this further or in a different direction? Was this his way of telling me he wasn't going to do anything?
"Political suicide, Jack. On top of that, imagine when the media gets a hold of this information. A Marine General ordering the deaths of his own men and another commanding officer? It's best to leave it be, Jack. I'll take care of Keller in my own way."
So that was it. He was going to take the political route. He could squeeze anyone I presented the evidence to. I felt like reaching out and striking him. I didn't. I'd still present the CD to a few contacts and see where we could take it.
I nodded and stood and grabbed the bottle of beer off the table and finished it one pull. I spun the bottle in my hand and the label caught my eye, a coat of arms with two broadswords crossing one another. Double Crossed Breweries. Perfect.
"You did the right thing, Jack. No matter what happens to Keller. Who knows how many lives you saved?"
"Not enough," I said. "One question, though. If you knew, why didn't you come down on Keller?"
"I didn't know. Not one hundred percent. It made sense. Evidence pointed that way. But I would have never got the confession that you did."
"Not that the confession matters." I turned and pushed through the door without saying another word.
* * *
Two hours later I stood outside Dulles airport with Bear and Jessie. Bear leaned against a glass wall ten yards away while I talked to Jessie. The sound of planes taking off and landing roared through the air with a rhythmic beat.
"Don't go, Jess."
She smiled and leaned forward. "It won't work, Jack, at least not now."
"Why?"
"You need time. I need time. We both need-"
"Time," I said. "Yeah, I got it."
I turned my head and tried to think of something to say, anything to stop her from leaving.
"What about the other night? I thought that we made, you know, a connection."
"I think that was just the surprise of seeing you after so long. It's true I haven't stopped loving you, Jack. But that doesn't mean we're meant to be together."
"I'm taking three months and getting away. Doing some traveling. I'm going to get my head straight. Back to who I was."
"You are who you were. And you can't change who you are now."
She glanced at her watch.
"Let's give it a month or so, then. What do you say, Jess?"
She placed a finger to my mouth. Leaned forward and kissed me.
"I have to go now."
She placed a folded piece of paper in my hand. "That's my email address." She turned and walked through the door, into the main terminal.
Bear pushed off the wall and walked toward me, his hand extended. I grabbed it and shook.
"Don't know what I'm going to do without you around, brother."
He smiled and wrapped his arm around me. We patted at each other's backs for a few seconds and then took a step back. He reached down and picked up his bag and gave me a wink. We didn't say another word. He turned and disappeared through the same set of doors as Jessie.
I stood in the middle of the walkway for five minutes, nearly every fiber of my being told me to follow her. I didn't, though. Instead, I returned to the rental car and left the airport. Inside the car, I popped the CD that had the recording of Keller's confession into the car's CD player. All that came through the speakers was silence. The CD was blank. It contained no confession and no evidence. Jessie had the laptop that held the original file. I had a feeling the track was gone. I cursed under my breath and slammed my fis
ts into the dashboard. I pulled the car over onto the emergency shoulder and tried to call Bear. No answer. He had already turned his phone off. I thought about who else to call, but came up with no names. I had nowhere to go. In the end I decided to let it go. It didn't matter. I'd check in on Keller's status, and if I wasn't satisfied, I'd take care of it myself one day.
I found my way to the interstate and headed north for New York City. Bear hit up a few of his contacts and found Abbot's daughter using the number I swiped from his phone. I promised him I'd look out for her, and I'd start by letting her know her father had passed. According to Bear's contact, no next of kin had been informed yet.
It took just under three hours to make it to the city. I found a parking garage within a few miles of her apartment and ditched the car. She had a place in the Village on Bedford Street. I walked from the parking lot to her apartment building. The air was cooler here than in D.C. Still, not too bad for six in the evening. The sun was setting and streetlights were kicking on. I passed a coffee shop and stopped in for a cup, partly because I needed the burst of caffeine, and partly because I dreaded giving Clarissa the news.
I took my time drinking the coffee and reading a few pages of the newspaper that had been left on the table. It revealed that there was nothing new in the world. It had been six months since the attacks on the Twin Towers. I wondered if life was truly back to normal here in the city. I knew it wasn't for me. I wondered if it ever would be.
I assumed the teams were still operating in Afghanistan. I hoped that the combined power of the CIA and Armed Forces Spec Ops teams would bring Bin Laden and all those involved to justice, no matter how long it took. Our involvement in Iraq worried me. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that the work we were doing there would lead to more conflict.
The waitress interrupted my thoughts and asked if I'd like anything else. I smiled and told her no. I dropped a twenty on the table and left before she brought the check.
Clarissa's apartment was only a few blocks from the coffee shop. Despite its close proximity, it took me half an hour to reach it. I stood in front of the cracked green painted door for another five minutes before knocking.
