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1079 Words
“That’s right. MI6 doesn’t have unlimited resources.”
“But the implications of what is being planned here could ha
ve global repercussions that reach to the UK.”
“That’s what I’ll say in my next report. Because I’d like to see this through. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you have to carry on without me.”
Herbert didn’t say anything for a few moments. “I hope that’s not the case,” he said.
She looked at him closely. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
When the tea and food came they ate and drank while going over the evidence once more.
“Nothing from Garchik and his mysterious debris?” Anthony asked as she took a bite of a hot scone.
“No. Weaver from NIC has cut me off. FBI too, obviously. ATF may be next.” He looked at her. “Guilt by association, I’m afraid. You won’t be too popular either.”
“I’ve dealt with worse. Got on the wrong side of the queen once.”
Herbert looked intrigued. “How?”
“Misunderstanding that was more her fault than mine. But she’s the queen so there you are. But it eventually got sorted out.” She took another bite of scone. “But from what I’ve learned about you, you’re a man who’s used to rocking the boat.”
“That was never my intent,” Herbert said quietly.
She leaned back in her chair. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I did my job, even when I didn’t agree with it. In that regard I was weak.”
“You were trained to follow orders. We all are.”
“It’s never that simple.”
“If it isn’t that simple our world goes to hell in a hurry.”
“Well maybe sometimes it should go to hell.”
“And I guess it did for you.”
“You ever been married?”
“No.”
“Ever want to be?”
Anthony looked down, “I guess most women want to be, don’t they?”
“I think most men do too. I did. I was married. I had a woman I loved and a little girl who meant everything to me.”
Herbert grew silent.
Anthony finally broke the quiet. “And you lost them?”
“And the fault was entirely mine.”
“You didn’t pull the b****y trigger, Oliver.”
“I might as well have. You don’t voluntarily leave a job like mine. And I shouldn’t have married. I shouldn’t have had a child.”
“Sometimes you can’t control those things. You can’t control love.”
Herbert looked at her. Anthony was staring directly at him.
“You can’t,” she repeated softly. “Not even people like us.”
“Well, considering how things turned out, I should have tried.”
“So you’re going to blame yourself forever?”
He looked surprised by the question. “Of course I am. Why?”
“Just asking.” She put down the rest of her scone and refocused on the reports in front of her.
Herbert hit the TV remote and the news came on. They were just in time to hear a female reporter broadcasting near Lafayette Park.
“And late-breaking developments have Alfredo Padilla, originally of Mexico, dying in the blast. Apparently there was a bomb planted in a tree hole at Lafayette Park, and Mr. Padilla, unfortunately running away from the shots being fired in Lafayette, fell into the hole and accidentally detonated the bomb planted there. A memorial service is being planned for Mr. Padilla, who is being hailed as a hero, even if unwittingly. FBI special agent Thomas Birdman, a veteran with the Bureau, was killed during a shootout at the tree farm where the tree with the bomb in it was procured. He will be honored at this same memorial service in what some are calling a political move to mend relations between the two countries. Another man, John Kravitz, who worked at the tree farm and was allegedly involved in the bombing conspiracy, was killed by an unknown person at his home in Pennsylvania as police closed in. We will bring you more details as they become available.”
Herbert turned off the TV.
“Someone has been shooting off his mouth,” he said. “Back in the old days we never would’ve revealed that much about an ongoing investigation.”
“That was before the days of the Internet and frothing media that have to deliver content every second of every day,” remarked Anthony.
“I wonder if they’ll let me attend Birdman’s memorial service.”
“I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”
Five minutes later Anthony said, “Hold on.”
“What?” Herbert said, glancing at her.
She held up a piece of paper. “Evidence listing from the crime scene at the park.”
Herbert looked at it. “Okay. What do you see?”
“Read down that column,” she said, indicating a list of numbers and corresponding categories on the left side of the sheet.
Herbert did. “All right. So?”
She held up another sheet. “Now read this.”
Herbert did so. He flinched and looked back at the first sheet. “Why didn’t anyone put this together before?”
“Most likely because it was on two separate reports.”
Herbert looked between the two documents.
“Two hundred and forty-six slugs found in the park and environs matching the TEC-9s,” he said.
“Right.”
He looked at the other piece of paper. “But the casings found at the Hay-Adams Hotel only numbered two hundred and forty,” he said.
“Right again.”
“You would expect to have more casings than slugs, because some of the slugs might never be recovered,” Herbert began.
“But you would never have fewer casings than found slugs,” Anthony said, finishing his thought. “Unless the bad guys took a few with them and left the rest. Which they never would. They would either take none or all.”
Herbert looked up. “You know what this means?”
Anthony nodded. “The casings were planted at the hotel and someone miscounted. The shots came from somewhere else.”
- Writer
