by J. B. Turner
She wasn’t seeing nearly enough of her three teenage children. Her two daughters were fifteen, identical twins. Her son, Edward, was a nervous seventeen-year-old with a penchant for wearing black. Edward, in particular, needed his mother. He was more sensitive than his opinionated and self-confident sisters. Quieter and a bit of a loner. And she knew he liked to confide in her about his school, about his lack of friends, about why his sisters laughed at his taste in music, why they thought he was so “lame” still being on Facebook and a million other things. And she needed to be there to listen to her daughters when they talked about boyfriends or girl stuff. Instead she had become engulfed in her investigation and the voluminous background research she had undertaken. And of course, thinking about the closed-door hearing.
Seventy-two hours away.
She was scheduled to appear before Congress as a government whistle-blower. Technically she had protection under the law. But she was under no illusions as to the enormity of what she was doing or facing. For decades, the Department of Defense had managed to sidetrack investigations into its systemic financial mismanagement. Audits that had taken thirty years to come to fruition were, time and time again, caught up in accounting black holes. Fraud, overruns, misappropriation, kickbacks, the list went on and on.
There had been endless accountants and auditors who had come and gone over the years. All had been broken down by the system. Pensioned off. Bought off. But she was going to bring the truth to light—alone, if she had to.
Rosalind couldn’t envision exactly how events would unfold. She wondered if they would get to her first, before she appeared at the committee hearing. Or maybe the threat was all in her head.
But she didn’t think so. She had heard numerous stories about whistle-blowers who had testified before congressional committees and been accused of being everything from vindictive crazies to unhinged troublemakers. She would have to be measured in what she said. If she were only planning to tell them about the systemic problem of mismanagement of budgets, spiraling costs, and kickbacks on billion-dollar defense contracts, she didn’t think anyone would bother assassinating her.
But there was something else.
The secret investigation she had begun in the last few weeks. The seven accidental deaths.
Rosalind’s gaze was drawn to a woman watching Fox News on her iPad. The station was airing a committee hearing in the same building she’d be in soon. The man speaking was wearing a uniform. The name on the screen was unmistakable. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Franklin Ross. The most senior figure at the Pentagon. The man she had ascertained was taking the biggest kickbacks. She’d uncovered two secret accounts. One in his wife’s name, one in his. One was in Switzerland, the other in the Caymans.
Rosalind turned away as her mood began to dip. She felt alone and isolated. She was the only one who knew that every accountant who’d gone before her, who’d learned what she knew, was now dead. She hadn’t even confided in her lawyer. She felt bad for not letting him know. But she figured that he had enough to worry about with everything that had happened in the main investigation over the last eighteen months.
But the seeds of doubt were growing within her. Was she doing the right thing? Would it be better to just let it all go? Pretend she didn’t know what she knew? Should she tell her lawyer about the parallel investigation she had launched, ask him to go public if anything happened to her? Or would telling him put him in danger too?
She stifled a yawn. Her lack of sleep over the last few weeks was making it more difficult to concentrate. She felt more nervous about the upcoming hearing than she had expected. Normally she was a highly competent public speaker. But she had begun to feel strangely unsure of herself.
Even her husband, loyal to the core, had once or twice asked her if she was sure she was making the right decision by testifying. She detected his doubts. Sensed them. And that worried her.
Her lawyer had, only the previous day, mentioned coming to “an agreement” with the DOD for a financial settlement, in exchange for her silence. The suggestion had unnerved her. A lot. Had her lawyer already been approached? Had they threatened him? If she told him what she knew about the murders, would he share that information with lawyers on the opposite side? And then what?
The thing was, she was already in too deep. She couldn’t backtrack now and be able to face herself in the morning. But even if she could, she wasn’t in the mood for compromise. Perhaps she should be. It would give her an easier life, that was for sure. But integrity was important to her. Besides, it wasn’t in her nature to conceal such things.
Rosalind’s gaze again wandered around the coffee shop. She wondered who these other women were. What did they do in DC? Did they work for the government? Were they stay-at-home moms? Recently, she had begun to think of leaving her government job, with its pension and great health benefits, and striking out into the private sector. She had already been approached by a couple of Washington think tanks who had offered pretty crazy money. It would mean less stress and a chance to explore her interests. But she, slightly reluctantly, had passed, believing her work was not yet complete. She wasn’t brought up to just walk away.
Her work defined her. As a special agent within the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, she reported directly to the assistant inspector general responsible for investigative operations. She had the highest level of security clearance. Most of her job was routine. But the frightening financial irregularities she had unearthed led right to the heart of the Pentagon.
The more she thought about it, the more enraged she got at the appalling waste of public money involved. Hundreds of millions of dollars in slush funds. Secret bank accounts. Dirty money. Kickbacks and corruption. Cronyism. Her parents had instilled in her the value of hard work, self-reliance, and also integrity. Her mother had prided herself on being thrifty. Saving every extra cent in an old cookie tin for her children or special occasions. She didn’t believe in being wasteful. Rosalind wondered how the people she was investigating in the highest echelons of the US military could live with themselves. While the brave men and women of the American military were on the ground in all corners of the globe, putting their necks on the line for their country and for freedom, some bastards higher up the chain, who were already handsomely paid and rewarded, had their noses in the trough. It was disgusting. What would be the end result? Troops having to make do with older equipment. Fewer boots on the ground. Less hardware to defend the country. That wasn’t the America she knew or believed in.
For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Her father had quoted those words to her from the Bible.
Rosalind couldn’t in all conscience just sweep aside what she’d found. That wasn’t her way.
Her cell phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Rosalind reached into her handbag and took out her phone. She wondered if it was her husband, calling to say he was home from running errands with the kids. But when she checked the caller ID, she saw it was her lawyer.
“Hey, Rosalind, you OK to talk?” he said.
“Sure, go right ahead.”
“How are you feeling?”
Rosalind kept her voice low. “Anxious. But I’m ready.”
“I’d like you to come over to my office.”
“Right now?”
“Sometime today or tomorrow morning would be great. I need to go over some of the audit documents and a couple of aspects of your report.”
“Let me get back to you on that.”
“Hell of a lot of paperwork I’ve still got to get through before the hearing.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve waded through it all for the past eighteen months. I think if I have to read another auditor’s report into accounting irregularities, I’m going to scream.”
The lawyer sighed. “There’s something else I want to talk about, Rosalind. Something I really need you to think about.”
“What’s that?”
“What we talked about yesterday.”
“I said no to the settlement.”
“You did. But even at this eleventh hour, it’s not too late.”
Rosalind was annoyed that he seemed to be trying to get her to bail on her own investigation. “My mind is made up.”
“I understand. But I’m saying this as a friend and not just as your lawyer. Things are going to be rough.”
“I know that.”
“But do you really? Rosalind, they’re going to come after you in the press. There will be leaks from the Pentagon. You know how it works. They’re going to blacken your name. And I’m telling you, there will be even more pressure over the next forty-eight hours for you not to testify.”
Rosalind sensed he was taking the long road around to get to his point. “What do you mean, ‘even more pressure’?”
He sighed. “I talk with their lawyers regularly. I mean every day. That’s what lawyers do, right?”
Rosalind wondered if this confirmed she’d been right to be careful about sharing details of her secret investigation. “I’m not sure I understand?”
“It’s not just their in-house attorneys—who are very good—anymore. They also now have a powerhouse DC firm on retainer.”
“Since when?”
“Since three days ago.”
“I’m sorry, what? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I needed to get the lay of the land first.”
Rosalind ran a hand through her hair. “So this hardball law firm is going to rough me up, is that what you’re saying?”
He hesitated. “Four of the company’s partners are working solely on the legal strategy to neutralize the threat you pose.”
“Legal strategy? So you believe that this is not going to be a straightforward closed session?” Rosalind asked.
“The closed session is the least of your problems. They’re going to come after you in court, try to prosecute you for revealing classified information. They’re going to claim the whistle-blower law doesn’t shield you. They want to destroy you.”
Rosalind leaned back in her seat and shook her head, struggling to take it all in. It was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Seriously?”
“It gets worse. They are prepared to utterly destroy you, professionally and personally. Drag you through the dirt.”
“Personally? I’m sorry, in what way and how are they going to destroy me personally?”
“They hired private investigators, and they have been compiling their own details about not only you, but your husband as well.”
“My husband?” Rosalind realized her voice had risen, and she forced herself to speak calmly. “What the hell do they expect to find? We live decent lives.”
“They wouldn’t show all their cards to me, but they mentioned everything from dope smoking in college to ongoing mental health issues.”
“Meaning my clinical depression? The panic attacks? Heart palpitations? What has that got to do with my testimony?”
“Don’t you get it? The price you pay is that your reputation is going to be destroyed. Rumors—even false ones—will be leaked to every newspaper and cable TV channel in America. Those rumors will follow you, and your kids, forever. They’re even going to portray you as politically motivated, wanting to bring down the President.”
“Bring down the President? I voted for him. Are you kidding me?”
“Sadly not. This is going to be a slow-motion, orchestrated takedown.”
“What about my findings? The committee will still want to hear about those, won’t they?”
“They will. But this firm has also hired some expensive forensic accountants of their own, and they have a report which is going to conclude that it wasn’t one or two people responsible, but just antiquated accounting practices and software. And as for the kickbacks, they’re going to say that that money was wrongly allocated. They have people, dozens of them, who will swear you are naive, politically motivated, and unstable.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Rosalind, you need to wake up and smell the coffee. They’re working solely on how they are going to manage this situation. But I thought it was important that you fully comprehend what you’re facing.”
Rosalind was shaken by the news. She felt tearful, ready to break down. But she gathered herself, determined not to start blubbering on the phone.
“They’re going to trash your investigation and destroy your reputation. And they’re also, as if that wasn’t enough, lobbying most of the committee to ensure your findings never make their way to the public. For you, Rosalind, this is a lose-lose scenario.”
“Shit.”
His next words were quiet. “There’s more.”
She laughed bitterly. “How could there be more?”
“They’re going to come after your government pension, your benefits. They’ll try to strip you and your family of all of that.”
“They can’t do that.”
“But they’ll try. They’ve made it clear they’re going to play hardball and put you on the defensive all the way. You could spend years of your life dealing with lawsuits and other fallout.”
Rosalind sipped her milky coffee and cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say apart from I’m shocked.”
“Look, I know your motivation. And I know this is about principles. And ethics. And what is right. And I agree with all of that. But, and hear me out, I worry this could get ugly.”
Rosalind felt herself begin to tear up a bit, throat tightening.
“I know the strain it’s put on you, your marriage, and those around you. But that will be nothing compared to what’s ahead of us.”
Rosalind sighed and shook her head. “Frank, I thought you were in my corner.”
“You know I am. And I will be there with you each and every hour in front of the committee.”
“You think I’m crazy for wanting to do this, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I believe you, I believe you have more than enough evidence that something is seriously wrong. But . . . I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, Rosalind.”
“Speak your mind.”
“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this. You have no idea how rough this is going to get. I’m talking not only about these new lawyers, but the chair and members of the committee. They’ve been getting lobbied directly by the Pentagon. They’ll have been promised the moon if they dismiss your report. I fear they’ll take the bait and use the hearing to put the spotlight on your competence instead.”
“Do you think I should just give up on this? Are you saying I should just walk away?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you’re tough. And you can look after yourself. But is this really worth it? The impact on your family. Your career. Your mental health?”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can. But . . .”
Rosalind’s gaze wandered around the coffee shop. “I want to do the right thing. My father was in the military. I was in the military. And he always taught me to do the right thing, no matter what.”
Frank was quiet, letting her work through her thoughts. And those thoughts took her to the calls she’d been receiving late at night for the last month. Calls that, like the murders, she’d told only her husband about. She would wake up from a deep sleep and pick up her bedside phone. But it was only dead air.
“Frank, listen to me,” she said, steeling her resolve. “I know more. There have been people killed. Who all died in suspicious circumstances. I have files. Names.”
“And you’re telling me this now? Are you kidding me?”
“I have the names of accountants. Auditors. Good people. And there is a thread.”
“What kind of thread?”
“They were all involved in investigating the financial systems of the Pentagon, among others. And they all died in strange circumstances. Drownings. Suicide. Electrocution. All appear to be
accidents.”
“Jesus, Rosalind, this is crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. In seventy-two hours, I’m going to testify. I’m doing the right thing for the right reasons.”
“Tell me more about the names.”
“I’ll send over what I have.”
“This is late in the game to be throwing this at me. It’s playing into their hands, don’t you see it? They will paint you as a lunatic. What you’re saying is crazy.”
“I know it is. But it’s true, that’s what’s so terrifying.”
Frank sighed long and hard, as if he had given it his best shot.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I’m your lawyer. But I’m also your friend.”
“You want me to back out of this, don’t you?”
“Even at the eleventh hour, there is still time. You need to fully realize that when you walk through the doors into that hearing room, there is no turning back. And it’s going to be the dirtiest fight you’ve ever seen.”
“I appreciate that. But my father taught me how to fight dirty. And I’m ready to fight.”
Nine
Reznick crouched low in the front seat of the new SUV they’d rented, binoculars scanning the inside of the coffee shop. The woman sitting alone, an attractive fortysomething, matched the photo they had of Rosalind Dyer. “I think this is her,” he said. “Black T-shirt, jeans.”
Trevelle was checking his cell phone to confirm the GPS location of the woman’s cell phone. “She hasn’t moved in forty minutes. She likes her coffee, that’s for sure.”
Reznick saw the woman finally get up from her seat and put on her coat. “Got a visual. This is her. She’s on the move.”
“You wanna do the talking?”
“Leave it to me.” Reznick waited until Dyer had stepped out of the coffee shop before he dialed her number. The woman had gotten about ten yards farther down the street, diagonally opposite from them, when she stopped. She reached into her coat pocket and took out her cell phone.
“Yes, who’s this?” Her voice was hesitant.
