Part 38 (1/2)

Jane Rowland turned up her eyes.

A black Suburban pulled up to the curb and came to a halt with a slight screech of tires. Two agents inside stared at them with imperious suspicion through the half-open window.

'Where are we going?' William asked.

'We're leaving c.u.mberland,' Grange said. 'Other than that, do you care?'

An hour later, they boarded a Coast Guard jet on the runway at Dulles for a flight to Eglin. At Eglin, he showered and shaved in an officer's quiet apartment, wasting twenty minutes under the needle-spray to scrub off the humiliation. Grange brought him a small case with personal items and a fresh change of clothes that almost fit.

From Eglin, they took a C5A military flight to Oman. He heard Rebecca was on the flight, but he wasn't interested in talking or catching up. He was exhausted and he had too many tough questions. William hid himself at the back of the pa.s.senger seating area. Outside, the supernal drone of the turbo-fan engines lulled him into nothing at all like sleep, more like a hop, skip and jump along the nightmare border of death, and it was not pleasant.

Hours later, he came fully awake with a jerk and saw Rebecca sitting across from him. The plane was descending.

He stared at her.

'Jesus, William Griffin. You've got zombie eyes.'

William swallowed and looked away. 'I don't like being soaked in s.h.i.+t,' he said. 'Your s.h.i.+t or anybody else's.'

'Mm hmm,' Rebecca said. Again she made that motion with her upturned, scissored fingers, as if she really needed a cigarette.

'I have never never been treated that way,' William said. 'What other surprises do you have in store for me?' been treated that way,' William said. 'What other surprises do you have in store for me?'

'It wasn't me. You know that.'

'Then what about the FBI? You sucked me into this. What did I do to be tarred with that great big old brush, huh?'

'Nothing,' Rebecca said.

'And what about you? What did you do?'

'Nothing.'

William grimaced. 'I heard a lot at c.u.mberland,' he said.

'So did I. I tend to ignore big tough guys, or haven't you noticed?'

'They wanted to open me up and spill out my brains, Rebecca. They were scared. scared. I could smell them even without a pong detector. Somebody told them something that made them want to s.h.i.+t their pants. I think if we had stayed there a few more hours, they'd've started injecting some really cool new drugs, and who cares what they damage? They wanted to turn our brains into alphabet soup and read the little words, Rebecca.' I could smell them even without a pong detector. Somebody told them something that made them want to s.h.i.+t their pants. I think if we had stayed there a few more hours, they'd've started injecting some really cool new drugs, and who cares what they damage? They wanted to turn our brains into alphabet soup and read the little words, Rebecca.'

Rebecca looked straight at him, her eyes showing something William had not seen before-real hurt and disappointment. 'I didn't do this to you, William.'

'What the f.u.c.k is Desert Vulture?'

'I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know.'

'Did they ask you about it?'

She nodded.

'Did they box your ears?'

She shook her head.

'So with you, they were gentlemen?'

Rebecca lifted her eyebrows and looked down at her hands.

'Why are we here, can you tell me that?'

Her hands were quivering. She took a shallow breath. 'How long do you think a suns.h.i.+ne patriot will run around, once you cut off his head?'

'Is that a rhetorical question?'

'No time limit has ever been found,' Rebecca said. 'They go on for years. The rest of us take up their slack and shovel their s.h.i.+t-or soak in it-and they live to retire and fill their dens with trophies and flags. They get paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to give talks before the American Eagle Forum or the Red White and Blue Inst.i.tute of I've Got Mine, Jack, and then they write their memoirs and dangle their grandchildren on their knees. They cram our ears with tales of patriot glory, when all they ever really did was get good people killed. They squander blood and treasure, and then they try to figure out desperate ways to make it come out right. That's what Desert Vulture must be. Some old guy's brilliant idea of how to make the world right again, and to h.e.l.l with you and me or the grunts on the line, or anybody else.'

'It was anthrax anthrax, Rebecca. Even Lawrence Winter couldn't go through with what they were planning.'

'I suppose it was.'

'And where are these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds now? Why are we taking their lumps for them them? f.u.c.k,' William said, and kicked the seat in front of him.

David Grange worked his way to the back, leaning into the seats as the plane banked. 'Am I interrupting something?'

'We're done,' William said.

'We'll be landing in Oman in an hour.'

'Tell William what you've told me,' Rebecca said. 'About why we were busted.'

Grange squatted in the aisle. 'There's no way yet of knowing who's involved in what. An executive order went out-it was pretty broad. They decided to detain anyone who had a connection to Winter or Amerithrax. ATF got handed the lead, but DEA and even the Postal Police are involved-it's a real zoo. You two got scooped up in the net. Can't tell the players without a program, and I don't know anyone who has a program.'

'David says News may or may not be implicated,' Rebecca said. Her expression was fragile, hopeful.

'Newsome may have been stringing some people along, trying to catch up with Winter before any harm was done. BuDark didn't even exist four years ago,' Grange said. 'Why he wouldn't tell you up front, I don't know.'

'He was senior. He had some armor,' Rebecca said.

'Yes, and look where that got him. You're out and he's still in,' Grange said. 'You must have made some impression on the President.'

'News was there, too.'

'Well, I don't know who the h.e.l.l impressed who,' Grange said, s.h.i.+fting his knees. Then he stood and flexed his legs. 'Problems at Quantico and in DC aren't our biggest worries. Jordan and Turkey have refused permission to land. We're going to touch down in Oman, then grab a chopper and transfer to a frigate or something in the Red Sea. After that, there's talk about flying us directly into Saudi Arabia. The insurgency is consolidating its gains, trying to squeeze money out of the Hajj, I suspect, to finance their next moves. We have contacts with what's left of the Saudi General Intelligence Service, al-Istakhbarah al-A'amah al-Istakhbarah al-A'amah. They're as interested as we are in preventing a Hajj disaster. So far, we're just telling them it's anthrax-that focuses their attention. We'd let them take the lead, but frankly, they're f.u.c.kups when it comes to handling foreign nationals-in their prime, they were best at bullying immigrant workers. Still, I was deputy RSO in Riyadh for a couple of years. I know a few who aren't too bad.'

'What good are we in all this?' William asked. Rebecca took a thermos from her travel bag and poured him a cup of black coffee.

'We're short-handed. Desperately so. Most of the career types are covering their a.s.ses. After I boosted her from c.u.mberland, Rebecca volunteered you.'