by L.T. Ryan
Chapter 17
The list of names on the paper included several that I didn’t know. Marlowe was the most damning. I recognized a few other politicians as well as some of the upper brass of the Armed Forces. The best plan of action was to confront Marlowe. And that’s why I stood across the street from his house at four in the morning.
Marlowe’s house was an end unit on a block of row homes. The houses were recently built and designed to look two hundred years old.
The quiet tree lined block offered enough cover for me to watch the house from the street. So I did. I leaned back against a tree and staked out his house for half an hour. I watched for movement. Saw none. I crossed the street, walked past his house and turned right on the cross street. This led me along the side of his house. I looked to the side. All three windows were black.
An alley cut behind the row homes, separating their backyards from the homes on the next street. The alley was wide enough for a garbage truck to fit through plus a few feet on either side. Dotted along the alley were blue plastic trash bins, each pushed up against a continuous six foot wooden privacy fence.
I pressed back against Marlowe’s fence and waited five minutes. The stillness of the morning allowed me to hear anything that moved, which amounted to nothing more than a cat.
I pulled myself up on the fence and threw my leg over. A breeze blew by, warmer and thicker with humidity than what I’d felt during the past day. I looked up at the sky. The moon hung high directly above. To the west a thick line of dark clouds approached. I couldn’t help but think how convenient the trashcan and impending spring storm were. If I needed to dispose of a body, this would be the day.
I crouched and moved to the back outer corner of the fence. Again, I watched the house for any signs of life inside. The windows promised darkness behind the brick and pale colored vinyl siding.
I reached into my jacket pockets and pulled out the thin gloves I purchased on the walk over. I put the gloves on and cut across the yard, my back against the fence. I made my way to the house in the same manner, avoiding the area beyond the shadowy cover the fence provided. Before I made my way to the back door, I lightly tapped one of the windows. If Marlowe had a dog, that should be enough to rouse him.
I waited, then tapped again and was met with silence.
Four steps led up to the back door. I took them from the side. Kept my back pressed against the house. I cracked the glass storm door and grabbed the doorknob. It turned. I couldn’t believe it, an unlocked door in the middle of D.C. Was Marlowe really that stupid? I decided not to debate Marlowe’s intelligence and instead gently pushed the door and slipped through the opening. I held my breath while waiting for an alarm to go off. I had thought about cutting the phone wires while outside, but I figured if Marlowe had a security system installed, it would be independent of the phone system and would likely detect my attempt to foil it.
The alarm didn’t go off. At least not that I could tell. Maybe it was a silent alarm and was notifying the police at that very moment. Hell, maybe it was something the Department had installed, and they were en route. That actually made sense. If that were the case this would end badly. If I got caught here it would result in more than a simple breaking and entering. But had I really committed B&E? The damn door was unlocked. I planned to point that out to Marlowe.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts and continued through the house. I stood just inside the back door in the great room. It was plainly decorated with two couches and a simple wooden table between them. Two stacks of books sat on the middle of the table. I didn’t see a TV or stereo. I moved through the living area of the great room and past the dining room, which had a round glass table with four black chairs.
I walked to the door located at the far end of the room. It had no handle. I pushed it. It swung open, revealing the kitchen. A light was on above the stove. It was dim, but provided enough illumination to see the room. I heard a click and my eyes moved to the source of the sound. A coffee pot had turned on. A moment later percolating sounds promising fresh coffee filled the kitchen.
It wouldn’t be long till Marlowe pushed through the kitchen door. I stood next to it, back against the wall. The open door would block his view of me, giving me the element of surprise.
A few minutes later I heard the rush of water from above. Marlowe, or someone in the house, had started a shower. Ten minutes later the thumping of footsteps coming down the wooden stairs echoed through the house. I squeezed my gun and pressed even harder against the wall.
The door pushed open with a knock, coming within inches of hitting me. It swung back shut and Marlowe, dressed in gray slacks and an untucked white t-shirt, shuffled toward the coffee maker. He opened a cabinet door and pulled down a blue or black mug with a golden seal of some sort on it.
“Grab one for me, too.”
He froze for a moment. Set the mug down and grabbed another. He turned around and looked at me with a blank expression.
“Noble,” he said. “Jack Noble, right?”
I nodded. Said nothing.
“I thought I saw you a couple days ago down by the National Mall.”
I shrugged and decided not to respond. I wanted to see how far he would go on his own.
He cleared his throat. “Mind if I fill these for us?” He turned without waiting for a response from me and filled the two mugs three quarters of the way full. He grabbed both by their handles and started toward me. “Why don’t we sit, Jack?”
I moved in front of the door and nodded to the table in the back corner of the kitchen.
He went to the table, set the coffee down and took a seat in the corner.
I remained standing.
“I know why you’re here,” he said. “Let me start by telling you that I—”
“Shut up.”
He pursed his lips and sat back in his chair. Crossed one leg over the other and placed his hands flat on the table.
“How do you know me?”
“From the TV. You were on the news wanted in connection with that man, what’s his name? Oh, yeah. Delaney.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Marlowe.” I pulled out a chair and sat across from him. I placed my hand on the table and kept the gun trained on him. “You said you recognized me in the city. I was eating lunch outside. You walked by with two other politicians and a couple of agents assigned to you. One of them eyed me as you all passed by.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I saw you. Like I said I recog—”
“That was before I had met with Delaney.”
He looked down at the table and shifted in his seat.
“So you better cut the crap and answer my question.”
He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip while reaching one hand under the table.
I lifted the gun. “Stop right there.”
“I’m just getting a pack of cigarettes out,” he said as he lifted his hand up, a cardboard box held between his thumb and forefinger. He offered me one and I declined, so he stuffed the pack back in his pocket.
I settled back in my chair and watched as he looked between me and the ceiling.
“Your name’s Jack Noble. You’re a Sergeant in the U.S. Marine Corps. But that doesn’t matter. Your jacket says that you’re a Sniper. But that doesn’t matter, either. In fact, there might be one or two snipers who have never even heard of you and that’s simply because of your boot camp legend.” He stopped, tipped his head and stared me in the eye. “Eight weeks through recruit training you were optioned for a special joint program sponsored by the CIA in which you were essentially loaned out to become part of an Ops team. On the Marine side you had General Keller and Colonel Abbot running things. On the CIA side, well, that’s classified. If you know the names then you do. If not, I’m not at liberty to say them.”
He stopped and nodded with his eyebrows hiked. I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything else.
“How do you know all this?” I said.
He crossed his a
rms and held his head cocked slightly to the side.
“If you’re stalling because someone is on the way, know that I will kill you before they take me down. As it stands right now I’m wanted on four counts in Iraq and at least two here. One more isn’t going make a damn bit of difference to me.”
Marlowe smiled. A single chuckle muffled itself in his throat.
I stood and kicked my chair back behind me. I stretched out my arm, pointing the gun at his head. “Do you think I’m screwing around, Marlowe?”
He remained calm, lifting his hands and gesturing me to sit down.
I regained my composure, grabbed the chair and sat back down.
“Jack, I know all of this because it’s my job to know. It’s my program. I started it. I got the funding. I put the principal parties into place. They reported, ultimately, to me. Every month we would meet and discuss the operations. You were in the first group. First successful group, that is. Of course, you already know that. Your group turned out to be exactly what we wanted and proved that the program would be a success.” He gave me a slight nod. “Then the world went to hell in a hand basket because of that damn Bin Laden. Outside pressure forced us to turn our attention to Afghanistan and Pakistan.”
“I was sent to Iraq.”
He brought the mug to his mouth and sipped loudly.
“I was against that.”
“Against it? You run the program, right? That’s what you just said. Plus, Iraq is your policy. Damn man, I’ve read about you before. You’ve been pushing to get in there since the attacks.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Things don’t work that way, son. What I say is dictated by someone above me.”
“How far above you?”
“I…” He paused. “I’m not going to answer that, Jack. Besides, that isn’t what you came here to discuss. Is it?”
I nodded and said nothing. He had a point. I really didn’t care who ordered me to Iraq. I wanted to know who set me up and who killed Delaney and Abbot.
“So back to the program.” He reached for his inside pocket again, but changed his mind. “There was some dissension right away when we split the groups, especially when the roles of the operations were defined.”
“You mean like me and Logan guarding doors.”
He nodded and continued. “That was just scratching the surface though. Some people started to have an interest in shutting the program down.”
“You,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why do you think that?”
I opened my jacket and pulled the documents from inside my coat pocket and tossed them on the table.
Marlowe picked them up and studied them for a moment and then set them down. “What do you think this has to do with anything?”
“I’m not sure, but two people died so I could get those, so they must mean something.”
He lifted his chin and exhaled loudly. “They do, but it’s not what you think.”
Through the window I could see the sky turning a pale blue in advance of the rising sun. Time was running out. I had to choose between the documents and the program. “Tell me this, then. Are you the one behind terminating the program?”
“Yes, Jack. But not in the way you think.”
“Explain.”
“I know where this operation is heading, and I don’t want to be responsible for it. I wanted to terminate the Middle East operations and reassign everyone. Unfortunately, certain people had too much to lose by me doing so. On the flip side, certain people had a lot to gain by me doing so. My stance deepened the divide, and not just between the agency and the Marines. In the past week a damn civil war broke out between everyone.” He clasped his hands behind his head and exhaled. “When I saw you, I thought you were sent to kill me. When things fell in place the way they did, I knew that wasn’t the case.”
I ran my hands across my face and through my hair while processing the information. “Four Marines are dead. Six are in prison. Two are on the run in the U.S.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Who in the CIA is responsible for that?”
He shook his head and looked down at the table. “It’s not the CIA, Jack. We’ve been watching them the entire time.”
My head started to spin. It couldn’t be. Could it? “Abbot,” I said under my breath. I looked up expecting to see a look of confirmation.
“No. It’s true that Abbot didn’t want you guys over there. But the program benefited him. Plus, he wouldn’t want you guys killed.”
I thought back to the Audi A8. The flat screen TV in the lake house, at a time when most people still had tube TVs. The program benefited him.
“Then who, Marlowe? I don’t have all day. Just get to it, and I’ll handle it.”
“Who’s left, Jack?”
I knew. I knew before he said it. It had always been there. “General Keller.” I said it flatly.
Marlowe nodded. “I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty how, but yes, Keller is who I suspect.”
“So why didn’t you act on it?”
He placed his forearm in front of him on the table and leaned over it. He rubbed his chin with his hand. “I’ve got too much to lose, Jack. Ultimately, whatever happens with the program and those in it, we’d just sweep it under the rug. No one worse for wear in knowing. Understand? If I come out and accuse a General of this...” He straightened up. “Hell, that would be political suicide, and I’m not willing to take that risk.”
I said nothing. I understood what he was saying. I didn’t agree, but I saw his point.
“I’d sure as hell like to know why, though. He turned on his own damn men.”
“He never liked the program.” I said it under my breath
“How’s that?”
“He never liked the program,” I repeated. “I remember sitting in his office when I was nothing but a recruit. He was sending us off. He hated it. But he had no choice.” I lifted my eyes and met Marlowe’s stare. “And now he’s trying to end the program, permanently. Abbot knew what he was up to. He was going to tell me. Keller had him killed. He didn’t know we were there though. I didn’t answer his call.”
Marlowe hiked his shoulders and held out his hand while his lips formed a frown.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I’ve said too much already, Jack.”
I sat back and studied his face. He had more to tell me. I could see it in his eyes. I glanced at my watch. It was almost six a.m. I had to go, get back to the hotel in Springfield and get my car. I stood and turned to leave.
“Jack?”
I looked over my shoulder.
“It should go without saying that I never shared this information with you.”
I nodded, turned to face him and grabbed the documents off the table. “I’ll be taking these since you already know what they are.”
He started to stand in protest, but backed down when I turned my gun toward him. “Take it, Jack. It really means nothing to you.”
“We should play poker sometime, Marlowe. You’re horrible at bluffing.” I pushed the door open and stopped again. “I’m going after Keller. I’ll be back if your story doesn’t jive.”
