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1134 Words
Herbert had chosen that building using the hotel as a base marker, because of the bullet pattern in the park and also because the windows in that building actually opened. He had recalled that all the markers denoting found slugs were on the left-hand or western side of the park. That didn’t seem unusual at first, but now coupled with the revelation that the shooters had not been at the Hay-Adams, it was not simply unusual; it was enlightening.
While Herbert was waiting for Anthony to reach the next location, he felt a presence behind him. He turned. It was Laura Ashburn, the female FBI agent who had interrogated him over the slaying of Tom Birdman. She was dressed all in black except for her blue FBI windbreaker with the gold lettering on the back. She wore an FBI ball cap and was staring at Herbert.
“Agent Ashburn,” he said. “Anything I can do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” she said.
“All right.”
“We filed our report.”
“Okay.”
“It wasn’t very flattering for you.”
“After our meeting I didn’t expect it to be. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
“I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly.
He smiled.
“You think something’s funny.”
He said, “Let me tell you what I think is funny. After all the assets that have been thrown at this case no one knows what the hell really happened here or why. You’re all running around pointing fingers at everyone else, withholding information, spying on your own people.”
“What the hell are you—”
Herbert talked right over her. “Spying on your own people and doing your best to try and get ahead of the other guy. The only thing that’s lost in the process is actually solving the case, and maybe saving some lives down the road.”
“Well, that won’t help Tom Birdman.”
“You’re right, it won’t. What might have helped Tom Birdman was a little trust and cooperation from his own agency.”
“What exactly did he tell you?” Ashburn asked, her features full of confusion.
“Basically that if he couldn’t even trust his own side how the hell would he ever solve the case?”
Ashburn looked down and then cast furtive glances around the park where the investigation was proceeding, albeit at a more subdued pace. “I finally got some background on you,” she said, her gaze still avoiding his.
“I’m sure that will make its way into your amended report.”
> “Did you really turn down the Medal of Honor?”
Herbert glanced at her. “Why do you want to know?”
“My son is in Afghanistan. Marines.”
“I’m sure he’ll serve his country well, just like his mother.”
“Look, you can be pissed at me, but leave my son—”
“I don’t play that game. I meant exactly what I said. You’re just doing your job. I don’t fault you. If I were in your shoes, I’d be upset too. I’d want to strike back too. And if you want to use me as a target that’s fine. There’s plenty of blame on my end. I won’t deny that.”
With this brutal self-judgment hanging out there the woman’s features softened.
“I’ve actually been going over things again, about what happened in Pennsylvania, I mean. That’s really why I came here to find you.”
“Why would you be going over things again? You already filed your report, as you said.”
“Look, I am pissed. Tom was a friend of mine. I do want a target. And you seemed like a very handy one.”
“All right,” Herbert said evenly.
“The thing is, I’m not sure you actually did anything wrong. I interviewed the state cops. They said you probably saved their lives. Acted before they even knew what was happening. That you got shots off at the shooter and were after him while they were still wondering what was going on.”
“I’ve probably had a bit more experience than they have in those types of situations.”
“So I understand,” she said frankly. “And Tom could have called in backup when he contacted the LEOs. In fact he should have.”
“I honestly thought the dangerous part would be at Kravitz’s place, not the tree farm.”
Ashburn let out a resigned breath. “I believe you.”
“And I hope you believe me when I tell you I won’t rest until I find out who did it.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I do.”
The two agents exchanged a firm handshake and then Ashburn disappeared into the darkness. A few moments later Herbert gazed out at the red blinking light and then over at imagined points on the grass where he gauged that the “bullets” would be “hitting” based on his roughly estimated trajectory. He punched in the number for Anthony. “Go up one floor,” he said.
A few minutes later the lights commenced again.
He called her. “I think that’s it. Any evidence of the guns having been fired from there?”
“No casings, but I’ve got a patch of what looks like oil or grease. I’ll collect some of it for examination. And when I opened the window, there was no squeak or creak.”
“Like it had been opened recently.”
“Yes, but, Oliver, you didn’t tell me this place was a U.S. government building undergoing renovation.”
“I was hoping I was wrong.”
Herbert AND Anthony RETURNED to his cottage. They had just settled in to talk over this latest discovery when Anthony hit the light on Herbert’s desk, plunging the space into darkness.
“What is it?” hissed Herbert.
She didn’t have time to answer.
The door burst open and Herbert counted at least three men hurtling through it.
They were masked, dressed in black and carried MP-5s. They moved as one unit, an unstoppable force.
They were just about to meet the proverbial immovable object.
Anthony hit the first man with a crushing blow to his knee, pushing it in a direction no knee was designed to go. He went down screaming and grabbing at his destroyed limb. Herbert grabbed his g*n from his desk drawer, but he didn’t even have time to aim before Anthony cartwheeled across the space, dodging a wall of submachine-g*n rounds launched from the last two men in the unit.
- Writer
