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1058 Words
THE CAMEL CLUB MINUS ITS LEADER sat around Caleb Shaw’s condo in Alexandria, Virginia, overlooking the Potomac River. Caleb had just finished serving tea and coffee to everyone except Reuben. The big man had brought his own hip flask with something presumably stronger in it than Earl Grey or Maxwell House.
Mirabel was dressed in a black skirt, loafers and a jean jacket. She spoke first and her tone was blunt. “How bad is it, Alex?”
Alex Ford, still wearing a suit and tie from his workday, leaned forward on the hassock, took a sip of coffee and said, “Pretty bad. An FBI agent is dead along with three other people, including at least one bombing suspect.”
“And they’re blaming Oliver?” asked Caleb with an air of indignation.
“Yes,” Alex said. “Whether rightly or wrongly. I told Oliver that there were many people unhappy with him being involved in this case, and now it’s come home to roost.”
Harry Finn was leaning against the wall. He’d finished his coffee and put his cup down. “Meaning making a scapegoat out of Oliver is a great way to kick him off the case?”
“Right. Although knowing Oliver, he probably does blame himself for what happened.”
Reuben growled, “You go after terrorists, people can get hurt. And they damn well asked him back into the fold, not the other way around.”
“That’s what’s so infuriating, Alex,” said Mirabel. “He didn’t have to do this at all. Now he’s in there risking his life and they blame him for someone getting killed.”
Alex spread his hands. “Mirabel, don’t be naïve. This is Washington. There’s nothing fair about any of it.”
She flung her long hair out of her face. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Caleb spoke up. “But what will happen now?”
“An investigation is being conducted. Two of them, actually. The search for the terrorists goes on, obviously. But now there will be a secondary inquiry regarding what happened that led to the death of Agent Birdman and the others. To determine if there’s any evidence of negligence or wrongdoing.”
“With respect to Oliver, you mean,” interjected Mirabel.
“Yes.”
“What might happen to him, worst case?” asked Caleb.
“Worst case? He might go to prison depending on how it plays out. But that’s unlikely. He might be kicked off the case. That’s far more likely. Even with his friends in high places, no one can stand that heat for long. Especially if the media starts riding that horse right into the ground.”
“This is a nightmare,” said Caleb. “If the media does enter the fray then they’ll start investigating Oliver and his past.”
“The man doesn’t have a past, at least officially,” noted Reuben in a deep grumble.
“Exactly,” said Caleb. “That’s my point. They will be relentless in trying to find out exactly who he is.”
“The government won’t want that,” said Alex.
Reuben nodded in a knowing fashion. “He knows too damn much. A lot of stuff that would be embarrassing if it came out now.”
Mirabel said, “Triple Six stuff, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
“You… you don’t think the government… might try to silence him?” she said in a halting voice.
Caleb looked incredulous. “This isn’t the Soviet Union, Mirabel. We don’t assassinate our own people.”
Mirabel glanced at Alex, who quickly looked away. She said, “All right. He’s helped all of us in one way or another. Which begs the question of why we’re here debating whether to help him or not.”
“That’s not the question,” Alex said. “The question is, by trying to help him will we make it even worse for him?”
“How is that possible?” she asked. “Right now he has everyone against him. He needs us. We’re all he has left.”
“He made his position on that pretty clear,” said Alex. “He doesn’t want our help.”
“Only because he doesn’t want us in danger,” she shot back. “And speaking for myself, that’s not a good enough reason.”
She rose. “So I’m going to help him, whether he wants that help or not.”
JAMES MCELROY SAT DOWN next to Herbert on the bench while the Brit’s security team hove
red in the background. He leaned his cane against the edge of the metal armrest.
“Anthony has filled me in on the particulars,” said McElroy.
“I’m sure.”
“She said you saved her life.”
Herbert didn’t answer.
“Still, not a particularly good day for any of us.”
“You could say that.”
“And do you blame yourself?”
Herbert looked at him. “And why wouldn’t I?”
McElroy considered this. “I suppose I would’ve been disappointed if you’d answered any other way. I’ve grown used to finger-pointing over the years, accepting it as just the way the world works now. But I know it doesn’t work that way for you and never has. And neither does it for me.”
“So am I going to be pulled from the case?”
“I don’t like unfinished business.”
“I wish I could give you a definitive answer, but I can’t.”
“The president wavering on me? He’s done it before.”
“He’s a politician. It’s never easy. That’s mostly why I never threw my hat into the ring. A spy’s life is a bit easier in that department.”
“So until I get the word either way am I free to continue my investigation?”
“The answer to that would be yes.”
“That’s all I needed to know.”
“I understand that Riley Weaver came to visit you.”
“He did.”
“He’s scared, as I understand it. Sees something big coming over the horizon. And he thinks that what happened here plays into it somehow? That it was merely a first step?”
- Writer
