“This would be Kirby Gant,” the chairman interjected. “Also known as Rothchild. An ex-felon whom you decided to trust.”
They’d already decided to cast her as some sort of villain, but what they really wanted was for her to grovel before them. To admit to gross errors in judgment.
To hell with that…
“Mr. Gant was there to help when everyone else was more concerned with how to continue exploiting Simon Lynch,” Emily fired back. “Including some members of this committee who approved the NSA program to do so long before anyone except Art Jefferson gave a damn.”
The chairman glared silently at Emily for a moment. In his head she could imagine him seizing on the fact that she was done as an FBI special agent, and assuming that was punishment enough. His failure was understanding that she didn’t give a damn about that. Not one bit.
“Go on, Miss LaGrange,” the chairman prompted her.
“Simon noticed that something had fallen from Traeger’s pocket,” Emily said. “A pair of cell phones. He was particularly interested in one, and after he examined it he was certain it was dangerous.”
“Miss LaGrange, we now know that Damian Traeger had dealings with Stanislaw Venn, among other unsavory individuals, but at that moment there was no such knowledge available,” the chairman said.
“Your point being?” Emily challenged the man.
“The point, Miss LaGrange, is how did Mr. Lynch know that the cell phone Mr. Traeger possessed was, in fact, a dangerous device identical to the one used in the Markham Tower attack?”
Emily smiled. It was for effect. To bolster the story. But it was also because what she was about to say was true.
“He knew because he was special. He worked things out. He calculated. Threads that connected unrelated events and people were actually usable information to Simon.”
“So, your answer is simply ‘he knew’?”
“I have no better answer, Mr. Chairman,” Emily said. “And, as it turns out, we now know he was right. That was his motivation from the moment I secured his release from The Ranch. He was worried that Stanislaw Venn had constructed a number of devices. He felt responsible.”
“He was,” the chairman interjected. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Bite me…
“Simon believed he was,” Emily said. “He wanted to work toward a solution once he was safely at the hideout which Agent Jefferson and Kirby Gant had arranged for.”
“You believe that Agent Jefferson knew about Simon’s alleged fears? His fears about Stanislaw Venn?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said, sticking to the basic script conceived by Ezekiel Sanders. “Simon never shared what he told Agent Jefferson, but it’s reasonable to assume that he was aware of what Venn was attempting.”
“So, Simon saw this, with his magical foresight,” the chairman said. “What happened next?”
“Mr. Gant was badly injured, and there was the device to deal with. I told Simon to wait with Mr. Gant while I went into town to get help.”
“You decide to leave,” the chairman said, doubt plain in his tone.
“There was no phone at the house,” Emily explained. “No cell phones. Landlines. Nothing electronic. That was by design, according to Mr. Gant. Both he and Agent Jefferson had agreed upon those measures for security.”
“And Mr. Traeger’s cell phone,” the chairman said. “The one that wasn’t some miniature nuclear explosive.”
“Locked with a code,” Emily said. “I had no choice but to leave.”
“Of course,” the chairman said, outright disbelief flavoring his reaction now.
Emily ignored the biting response and continued.
“It was difficult reaching out after all I’d been through. After all we’d been through. But stopping Stanislaw Venn had been Simon’s overriding desire since he was freed from the autism which had imprisoned him, and since he was freed from the people who had confined him at The Ranch. With his certainty that Venn’s device was now in our possession, I felt free to bring in the authorities, regardless of any personal consequences I might face.”
The chairman leaned forward on the wood dais, openly grinning with disbelief. “And then, when this device goes boom, you disappear. You’re off doing God knows what for three days.”
“Three and a half days,” Emily corrected. “I was in shock, Mr. Chairman. I felt guilty for leaving him, even though it was the only choice I had. He must have tried to do something to make the device safe when it…”
“Boom,” the chairman repeated for effect. He sat back and slipped a piece of paper from a red folder, feigning some intense perusal of the document he’d clearly read before. “Now about this body, Miss LaGrange. There was a gentleman found in military style clothing with an automatic rifle at his side. He’d been shot dead. This was on the other side of the hill from where the device exploded.”
The chairman stopped, looking up from the piece of paper to Emily as he waited for an answer. She waited along with him.
“Is there a question, Mr. Chairman?”
“Yes Miss LaGrange, there is—who is he? How did he get there? Who shot him?”
The rapid-fire volley of questions didn’t surprise her. She and Sanders had discussed every possibly avenue of inquiry, including the current one.
“I have no direct knowledge of who this man was,” Emily replied. “I do understand there had been discussion that he, and possibly another individual, were providing some perimeter security for Damian Traeger so that we could not escape out the back through the woods. Perhaps there was some incident between them. One refusing to follow some order. I don’t know.”
“I see,” the chairman said. “But Mr. Traeger wasn’t concerned with, say, you slipping right out the front and down the driveway like you did. Is that what you believe?”
“I don’t know what Mr. Traeger did or didn’t do,” Emily explained. “I didn’t know who he was, or what he was capable of.”
The chairman considered her reply and conferred quietly with the committee members to his right and left. As he did, Emily sat at the table, alone, no counsel allowed during this classified questioning. The truth was, she didn’t have a lawyer and didn’t want one. More than that, she knew she didn’t need one. This was political theater. If they were going to crucify her, some high-priced legal type wasn’t going to save her ass.
“All right, Miss LaGrange,” the chairman began, “we have just one more question.”
Emily waited, folding her statement over and tucking it inside her suit coat.
“Where is Simon Lynch?”
It was odd. She hadn’t actually expected that question. Neither Sanders nor she had anticipated that doubt might flavor any inquiry to the level that she wasn’t believed. All evidence pointed to the logical conclusion that he’d been obliterated in the detonation of Venn’s device. But, she wouldn’t know that. Not for certain.
“I don’t know, Mr. Chairman,” she said. “I wasn’t there when the device exploded. All I can imagine is that he is dead along with Mr. Gant.”
“You don’t think it’s possible that he took off with Mr. Traeger’s weapon, shot the man on the far side of the hill, and disappeared? All after setting the device to go off after a specified time?”
It was an interesting scenario, and Emily had to admit to herself that the mechanics of it were plausible. But there was one glaring flaw in the suggestion.
“You didn’t know Simon Lynch, Mr. Chairman. None of you did. What you describe is something he was incapable of.”
“He shot and killed Keiko Kimura when he was sixteen, Miss LaGrange. You don’t think that the Simon Lynch you knew, the one who was basically cured of his autism, would be just as capable of killing as his younger, more disabled self?”
Emily absorbed the question, then shook her head. “No.”
The chairman stared at her for a moment. Then, he slapped the red folder before him shut.
“We’re done with you, Miss LaGrange,” h
e said. “This committee is in recess.”
* * *
Emily stood at the edge of the reflecting pool and stared across the glassy surface. It was spring. The trees were blooming. The city, despite all she knew regarding its rot and ruthless nature, was beautiful. Ugly things could still shine.
“Interesting story.”
Emily turned toward the voice. A voice she knew.
“I’m not sure how to address you now,” she said.
“I have no title. Not anymore. How about Frankie?”
“All right,” Emily said. She glanced back toward the Capitol, then looked to Frankie, puzzled. “How would you know?”
“That story you told? You provided a copy. As my last official Bureau act I was requested to give my opinion on it.”
“Your opinion?”
Frankie nodded. “On its accuracy. On your truthfulness.”
Emily said nothing. There were already hundreds of people who were calling bullshit on the tale she’d told, despite the fact there was no physical evidence to challenge her statements. Not yet, in any case.
“They wanted to know if anything you told me during our chat in my office contradicted what you said before the committee,” Frankie said.
“Lying to a federal agent,” Emily said, understanding. “Or perjury before a select committee.” She allowed a slight chuckle. “They’ve been looking to hang me since I shot Louis Hayward.”
“Yes, they have.”
Emily eyed Frankie, her gaze both hard and vulnerable. “So, will they with this? Am I guilty of lying to you or to them?”
“I can only speak for me,” Frankie told her. “We have no problem there.”
It was almost imperceptible, but a wave of relief washed over Emily. Partial relief. “And do I have a problem with them?”
“I guess that depends on how well the man’s story holds up,” Frankie suggested.
“What man?”
Frankie smiled. Rothchild sends her a recording which implicates the Attorney General, and Rothchild dies with Simon Lynch. The only person missing in any statement Emily had given was the man who’d alerted her to the recording she was going to receive. That, she knew, was by design. The missing piece always made the puzzle impossible to fully complete.
“I think you’ll be fine,” Frankie said.
Emily nodded. “I know.”
It was the first time in a very long time that she’d been able to affirm such a statement and truly believe it.
“Enjoy your life, Emily,” Frankie told her. “It’s true, you know—that’s the best revenge.”
She watched Francine Aguirre-Welsh walk away. The advice she offered was good, Emily knew, and better than what she’d previously believed—that revenge was the best revenge.
There was no time to waste on a mantra so destructive, she thought. Not now. She’d gone through hell in service of her government, and right back through it to save Simon Lynch’s life. Those fires, those tests, were behind her. Something else lay ahead.
It was time to see just what that was.
Thank You
I hope you enjoyed Simon Sees. The other books in the Art Jefferson Thriller Series are available from Amazon at the links below.
The Art Jefferson Thriller Series
Cloudburst
October’s Ghost
Capitol Punishment
Simple Simon
Simon Sees
About The Author
Ryne Douglas Pearson is the author of several novels, including Cloudburst, October’s Ghost, Capitol Punishment, Simple Simon, Simon Sees, Top Ten, The Donzerly Light, All For One, Confessions, and Cop Killer. He is also author of the short story collection, Dark and Darker. His novel Simple Simon was made into the film Mercury Rising. As a screenwriter he has worked on numerous films. The film Knowing, based on his original script, was released in 2009 and opened #1 at the box office, going on to gross more than $180 million worldwide. He lives in California with his wife, children, a Doberman Shepherd and a Beagle Vizsla.
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