Walk the Wire

by David Baldacci

  “Yes, indeed.” McIntosh managed to tack on a smile, even as his skin grew as gray as the side of a naval vessel.

  Blue Man next took out the photos Robie had given him of the people getting off the jet.

  “I wondered why Vector was given the contract, since the capabilities of their people are not known to be in the PARCS space. But the VP of operations for Vector is well-known to me. He headed up security at Gitmo for six years. And here he is with two of his top lieutenants arriving at London AFS.” Blue Man held up the photos for McIntosh to see. “He of course has also been arrested, and from what I understand he is already attempting to make a deal. The CFO and COO have already received blanket immunity in return for their testimony. It may well be that you’re the odd man out on that, Patrick, which is why I saved you for last, if for no other reason than I don’t like you and never have.”

  McIntosh made a hissing sound as he sucked on his tongue. “Why are you even involved in this? You are barred from operating in this country. I think you left me a hole to climb through.”

  “We are an intelligence agency tasked with protecting this country from enemies both foreign and domestic. We have worked in conjunction with the FBI this entire time. They are the lead agency on this, we merely their very willing helpmate. That type of arrangement occurs all the time and has been thoroughly vetted in the courts. Thus you will find that not only is there no hole for you to escape through, but that the roof over your head for your remaining time on this earth will be provided by the federal government.”

  “Roger, I think if we discussed this civilly—”

  Blue Man spoke over him. “The long and the short of it is you are running a secret and unauthorized prison, using government funds that were meant to pay for a fully operational eye in the sky, with the result that you are charging the American taxpayer many times what it costs to house prisoners at Gitmo, which was an alarmingly high rate to begin with. In the last year your good CFO has calculated that, thus far, profits to Vector have exceeded nearly a half billion dollars, which is, by any standard, an outrageous margin of return. I trust you understand that Uncle Sam frowns on gouging like that. In fact, he frowns on it so much that there are multiple laws against it, all of which you have broken.”

  “We were doing good, Roger. The information we received and passed along—”

  “—has not resulted in anything positive. Almost all of it has been proven erroneous and thus useless. The rest of it was already known through legitimate intelligence sources.” He paused. “Let me be as clear as I possibly can be. This was not about helping this country. This was about lining your pocket. So please do not plead patriotism as your defense. You’ll only embarrass yourself and make me even angrier than I already am.”

  As Blue Man had been speaking, McIntosh had sunk lower and lower in his very fine and very expensive chair.

  Blue Man continued, “It speaks to the appallingly large and frustratingly complex footprint of the DoD that such a scheme could have worked in the first place, and that it’s taken so long for the truth to come out. But with an overall budget of nearly a trillion dollars, thousands of facilities all over the globe, millions of employees and contractors, billions of square feet of space, and enough divisions and departments and programs that the right hand literally isn’t even aware that there is a left hand, it wasn’t that difficult to hide this sort of thing. The budget at London, though obscenely out of whack, doesn’t even register as a blip on the Pentagon’s overall spending. You, of course, had allies within the Air Force, the Pentagon, and the Congress to help you bury the truth—whom your CFO has helpfully provided information about—including significant six- and seven-figure payoffs. My director has been fully briefed on this and has communicated this in writing to the director of the FBI and the IGs of the Air Force and the DoD. And lastly, again to be as transparent as possible, a warrant for your arrest is being issued as we speak.”

  Blue Man rose and smoothed out his dress shirt and tie. “Now I’m going to leave before I do or say something I might regret. However, I would suggest that you make plans to sell your vacation home in Italy. I don’t see much opportunity for you to use it. And you might need the additional funds for legal fees. And please dissuade yourself from any thoughts of fleeing. As soon as you leave this room there will be multiple eyes on you, until your arrest warrant is executed. Thank you for your time.” He pointed at the empty glass. “And you might want to get yourself another drink, Patrick. Good-bye. We will not be meeting again.”

  Blue Man closed the door behind him.

  THE DOUGLAS S. GEORGE Defense Complex was buzzing.

  As Decker and Jamison drove there in their new rental SUV, they saw the line of vehicles heading in and some heading out. A line of choppers was coming in and a small jet was taking off. They passed the oil rig nearest the facility, the All-American Energy Company, and found workers standing there staring at all the activity going on with their neighbor. They also spotted several members of the Brothers riding on farm equipment in their fields doing the very same thing.

  They were here because Robie had called Decker and told him to come here as fast as possible.

  Someone had obviously authorized their clearance into the facility because they were passed swiftly through after presenting their creds.

  Robie and Reel came out to meet them as they pulled to a stop in front of the building where they had initially met with Colonel Mark Sumter.

  They followed the pair down the hall and entered a small room where Blue Man sat at the head of a small, battered conference table. He motioned for them to sit, then spent the next twenty or so minutes filling them in on recent developments including his confrontation with Patrick McIntosh back in Washington.

  “Your agency is taking the lead on the law enforcement side, and the DOJ will of course deal with the prosecutions.”

  “So it was prisoners, as we suspected?” said Decker.

  “Yes. Some in positions of power and who should have known better deemed it a worthy project to restart what was done at Abu Ghraib prison and other locations, despite the complete debacle that turned out to be. I am cheered by the fact that my agency had learned its lesson and was not party to a second go-round with this sort of thing.”

  “How many prisoners died?” asked Jamison.

  “At least a dozen, if not more. Information is still coming in. It will take a while to dig through it all.”

  “The locals are certainly curious about what’s going on here,” said Jamison.

  “It will all be hushed up in due time,” said Blue Man. “This show of force is really for those out there who might have information. Or for those who are as yet unknown to us but are involved and will now panic and attempt to flee. Your director likened it to sending hunting dogs into the brush to flush out the quail.”

  “But the truth will come out?” said Jamison.

  “Not in the press, no. It would cause more trouble than is warranted. People need to have faith in their government.”

  Decker said, “Well, maybe the government might want to consider earning that faith.”

  “I’m utterly in agreement with you. But now we must move on.”

  Decker gave him an appraising look. “This case is closed, but this was not the ticking time bomb. Purdy was gone before the prison became active. And I’m convinced this has to do with something that happened a long time ago.”

  “Which is why I requested your presence here, in addition to wanting to fill you in on what had happened here. How can we assist you?”

  “I’m surprised that you’re not packing up to go home,” said Decker.

  “Let me explain it this way. If an international presence exists on American soil for a purpose to do harm to America and its citizens, then we can very clearly justify our continued presence in this matter. I don’t know about you, but I do not want a second 9/11 to happen because we got caught up in a bureaucratic tussle.”

  “Okay, I need to se
e Ben Purdy’s service record.”

  “What do you hope to find in it?”

  “A lead, because right now we don’t have one.”

  * * *

  Decker put down his third cup of coffee, glanced at the remains of a largely uneaten meal, and settled back in his chair in the hotel restaurant. He opened the email he’d just gotten on his phone and did likewise with the email’s attachment.

  It was Ben Purdy’s service record. He had joined the Air Force straight out of high school and had spent the next dozen years in uniform. Decker went methodically through screen after screen. Purdy had covered a lot of ground in his career and had sought a great many educational and training opportunities that the Air Force had offered. He’d even attended conferences overseas in England, Germany, Qatar, and India. By all accounts he was a brilliant techie, though he had grown up in modest circumstances and had not been able to afford to go to college. He had risen to the rank of technical sergeant, which the document said was a very difficult rank to achieve, and Purdy had done it in record time. He had been on pace to make master sergeant when he had disappeared.

  Decker sipped his coffee and then focused on actions that Purdy had taken in the last sixteen months, figuring that whatever ticking time bomb he had come across would have dated from more recent times. Purdy had briefly left London AFS during that time to take a class offered in DC on the latest types of communication technology available, and also what might be coming in the future. That made sense for a specialist like Purdy. After that, he had taken other offered courses in a variety of specialties, none of which could reasonably lead Decker to a ticking time bomb.

  His phone buzzed. It was Bogart.

  “Hey, Ross.”

  “Decker, I’ve heard about London AFS. Something big is going down and the Bureau is involved.”

  “I know. But it doesn’t explain our case.”

  “Well, I dug up what I could on the military record of Bradley Unger Daniels.”

  “Anything of interest?”

  “He served at London AFS from 1955 until 1987.”

  “I guess that makes sense. He had been an aviation navigator in the war, and he was into radar.”

  “Right, but the most interesting thing I found was that parts of his record were redacted and marked classified.”

  Decker sat up straighter. “He told us he couldn’t talk about his time at London because it was classified. I thought he was just messing with us. But why would it be classified? Just because it was about looking for nukes during the Cold War?”

  “I don’t know, Decker. I can’t get a straight answer from anyone.”

  “So a dead end?”

  “I’m afraid so, unless you can think of another path forward.”

  “Well, that’s my job.”

  Decker clicked off and stared down at Purdy’s service record while he thought about Bogart’s words.

  He could see only one way forward.

  He phoned Jamison.

  “It’s time we cracked ‘BUD,’ ” he said.

  JAMISON AND DECKER ARRIVED at Green Hills Nursing Home and were once more taken to the supervisor’s office. Her face turned red when she saw them.

  “You upset him greatly. I can’t believe you’re back.”

  Decker stared her down. “We’re back because Brad Daniels is a key witness in a case that has national security interests. Now, if you won’t let us see him, a whole army of Feds is going to come down on you and this facility like a ton of bricks. Your call.”

  The woman’s hostile look quickly faded. “Are you serious?”

  “We would not be here otherwise.”

  “All right, but please don’t upset him again.”

  “All I can do is ask the questions I have to ask. If he gets upset, that’s an answer in itself.”

  She led them to Daniels’s room. The old man was sitting in the corner in his wheelchair, the cane clutched in his hands.

  “Who is it?” he snapped as he heard them come in.

  “Mr. Daniels, you have some visitors,” said the woman.

  “What visitors? It’s not Christmas, is it?”

  “I’ll let them explain,” she said sweetly. Then she fled the room.

  Decker and Jamison came forward.

  “Mr. Daniels?” he said.

  The old man started. “It’s you! I recognize your voice. Can’t see no more, but I recognize voices. Get the hell out of here.”

  “You can either answer our questions, or other people will come here and ask them.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Get out!”

  “Part of your military service record was redacted. Classified.”

  “Well, hell, I told you that.”

  “But you didn’t say why.”

  “I can’t, dumbass. That’s sort of the point of it being classified.”

  “More people have been killed,” said Decker. “Several more. Something big is being planned. We need you to help us understand what that could be.”

  “I only have your word for that and I don’t believe you. You’re not pulling the wool over my eyes. For all I know, you’re spies.”

  “We can show you our credentials,” offered Jamison.

  “Can’t see ’em. I told you that.”

  Decker sat on the edge of the bed. “Is there anything you can tell us about your time at London AFS?”

  “No.”

  “We’ve been there. We’ve seen the radar array.”

  “So?”

  “It’s funny.”

  “What is?”

  “They have an identical facility near Grand Forks, North Dakota.”

  A hint of a smile crept across Daniels’s features. “Is that right?”

  “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  The smile vanished. “Who says?”

  “It was discovered that the facility was being used for another purpose just recently. Not an eye in the sky, but something totally different.”

  “Who cares?”

  “Your help could be vital to the national security interests of this country.”

  “Again, says you. You’re not tricking me. I gave an oath.”

  “You’ve been out of uniform a long time.”

  “An oath is an oath. Take it to my grave. Just how it’s done.”

  Decker looked at Jamison in frustration.

  “Is there anything we can say to make you change your mind?” said Jamison.

  “Yeah, you can get the president of the United States of America to order me to give it up. Other than that, fuck off.”

  “You’re the only one left from that time at London AFS.”

  “Last man standing,” cackled Daniels.

  “So you’re the only one who can help us prevent something really bad from happening.”

  “It’s lunch time. I can smell the onions. I’m going to the dining room.”

  He wheeled his chair forward, managed to ease it past the bed and wall, and then maneuvered it through the doorway.

  “For a blind guy, he navigates pretty well,” said Jamison.

  “He’s obviously not going to talk,” said Decker.

  Jamison said, “I’m surprised they haven’t come here and killed him, too. I mean, look at poor Beverly Purdy.”

  “If Irene Cramer never gave him up, they probably would have no way of knowing.”

  “But if they followed us here? And found out we asked him questions? That’s probably how Beverly Purdy died.”

  “Good point, Alex. I’ll have some security put here to guard against that.”

  He got up to leave but then glanced at the nightstand. He picked up Daniels’s ballcap.

  Jamison joined him. “Shows the unit in the Air Force he was assigned to,” she said. “Lots of veterans have them.”

  “Right, but that’s not all.” Decker pointed to a series of metal pins that were attached to the hat. “Look at these.”

  “Places where he worked. Sort of like merit badges he earned,�
� observed Jamison.

  Decker ran his eye over all of them, until they held on one.

  He shoved the hat into his pocket. “Let’s get out of here before Daniels comes back and notices his hat is missing.”

  “He said he can’t see.”

  “He said a lot of things. I don’t believe any of them.”

  “So what’s with the hat?”

  “A clue. Maybe a really big one.”

  “USACC,” SAID DECKER.

  They were driving back to London from the nursing home. Decker was holding the hat and looking at the pins. One in particular had drawn his focus.

  “USACC? What does that stand for?”

  Decker took out his phone and searched for the meaning. “United States Army Chemical Corps,” he said.

  “But Daniels was Air Force, not Army.”

  “He still has the pin. And that’s not all.” He unclipped several of the pins from the hat and held them up. “Beale Air Force Base, Rocky Mountain Arsenal, Camp Detrick, Pine Bluff, Arkansas. Some of them are Army, some Air Force. And Camp Detrick is in Maryland and now it’s Fort Detrick.”

  “So he spent time at all of them?”

  “Apparently enough time to earn a pin.”

  “What do they do at those places?”

  “The question is what did they do when Daniels was in the military.” He paused. “And there’s something else. From his service record, I learned that Purdy spent time at Beale and Rocky Mountain Arsenal.”

  “Okay, that’s a definite connection.”

  “And that’s not all. The printed pages we found in his closet of the military facilities? They’re all places that Daniels has pins from.”

  “I would definitely call that a big clue,” replied Jamison.

  She saw Decker glancing in the side mirror. She did the same in the rearview. “I don’t see anybody back there,” she said.

  “I was just checking, after last time.”

  They arrived back in London. Decker and Jamison went immediately to her hotel room, where Jamison logged on to her computer.

  Decker had given her Daniels’s hat with all of the pins, and she had searched each of them online.