I didn’t know
exactly what to expect, but my initial reaction was disappointment. There were
just a few papers inside and nothing else. I turned the papers over and read
the first line.
Then I read it
again.
“Holy shit,” I
said out loud, garnering more than a few looks from the resident bar-goers in
my presence.
There, on the
first line of the first document was the name Robert Marlowe, Deputy Secretary
of Defense, a man who had a vested interest in the situation in Iraq for sure.
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
arms 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.