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Chapter 11

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SEATTLE (Saturday, Dec. 1, 2012, 10 p.m.) — Parker slammed down the phone and turned to the other man in the room. “Goddam little prick,” Parker said furiously. “And you think we could have reasoned with him?”

“Won’t ever know now,” Kellerman said. He was leaning back in his chair, a toothpick in his teeth. “That wasn’t exactly what I call reasoning with him.”

Parker blew out air through his lips. “He found the buttons to push,” Parker admitted. “What do you think he’ll do?”

Kellerman shrugged. “I don’t know. But I would bet my retirement that he won’t back off. There’s no back up in that boy.”

Parker looked at the man he almost considered a son. Actually, he liked C.J. better than his own son.

“Why is he so touchy about being called son?” Parker asked, curious about the only reaction he managed to provoke out of the bastard.

Kellerman shrugged. “I don’t think he knows who his father is. Always a bit feisty about words like son, or bastard or son of a bitch. Guys learned not to use those words around him. Even if you wanted to provoke him, you generally didn’t want that much provocation.”

“I see,” Parker said, not really caring. Son of a bitch described him perfectly, and he wasn’t thinking of his parentage. He relaxed, leaned back in his chair.

This was the only room he liked in the Lake Washington house — his office. It was located on the second floor, overlooking the Lake. He had his desk set up so he could see the lights on the other side of the lake. He looked out there now.

He sighed. “You been to talk to Maxim?”

Kellerman nodded. “And the girl.”

“Maxim say anything?”

“He said something about a disk. That he didn’t know what was on it,” Kellerman said with a frown. “It worries me. Do you know anything about a disk?”

Parker shook his head. “Someone feeding him information,” he guessed. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Yeah. He truly does not know what Danny Brown did with the package. He insists on that, and I have to say I believe him.”

“What about the girl?”

Kellerman snorted. “That girl told me to go to hell in no uncertain terms. But I don’t think she knows anything. She acts as if she’s seeing Maxim for the first time. My guess is her brother kept it all from her.”

Parker studied the younger man. “You know all three of them,” he said at last. “What do you think? You think Brown brought the package to Davis?”

Kellerman shook his head. “Our reports are that Brown insists he cannot get to the package. I’d guess he hid it down there somewhere. Maybe out to sea on the oil platform.”

“Can we get on and check?”

“Not a chance. Oilmen are a suspicious, hostile bunch. They don’t know you; they aren’t going to talk to you. Anyone who even looks official? Showing up wanting on that rig? They’d never believe you weren’t from the EPA or some Green Peacer in disguise.”

Parker sighed again. That made sense. They might have to try it, although if Danny Brown were dead, it was unlikely anyone else would get the package either. That might have to do.

“I don’t know why you didn’t get a hold of me before you went after the three of them anyway,” Kellerman said plaintively. He’d said it before.

Parker shook his head. “Should have,” he admitted. “Should have trusted where your loyalties would be.”

Kellerman looked hurt. “Have I ever crossed you? God damn it, Howard, you’ve known me since I was 18!”

Yeah, Parker thought, but these three kids were your team once. “I didn’t want to put you in a place where you had to make a choice,” he said. “Not because I doubted your choice, but because the choice itself would be painful.”

Kellerman shifted uncomfortably. “Not as painful as this,” he said quietly. He didn’t meet Parker’s eyes. “I went prepared to kill Davis today.”

Parker nodded. It would be as if he had to have Kellerman kill Addison or another one of his men who’d been with him. He’d do it; he’d pull the trigger himself if he had to. If it were called for. Hell, he had pulled the trigger himself, once. It still didn’t rest easy.

“If I had been brought in when you first heard about Maxim, none of this would have happened,” Kellerman complained again.

“Maybe.” It was a measure of his fondness for C.J. that he didn’t snarl at him. What was done was done.

“Is it really this important, Howard?” Kellerman asked. “So what if you were running an undercover activity in Texas. Who cares if these three — four — Marines know about it? Do you really think it would cost you the nomination if it came out?”

Parker was looking back out the window at the lights. Kellerman didn’t know everything, he reminded himself. “Yes. It might even send me out of D.C. I’d be done.”

Kellerman shook his head but accepted it. Parker could see it written on his face, the acceptance. He almost sighed with relief. Kellerman was important. His loyalty was important.

“I’ll try talking to Troy again,” Kellerman said. “But you’d best have a back-up plan.”

Parker smiled fondly at him. “Have you ever known me not to?”

Kellerman laughed with him. “Guess not,” he admitted as he left the room.

Parker watched him go. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk. There were things C.J. was better off not knowing, he told himself. Starting with the details of the original fuck-up. C.J. didn’t need to know about what his other agents were doing either.

He dialed a local number. “Start the clean-up operation,” he ordered. “Take him down.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice responded. “With pleasure.”

Parker put the phone down more gently this time. He liked this FBI agent that Addison had assigned to him. He did what was necessary very efficiently. He’d once been a cop, that helped. Not a lot of class, Parker thought with some amusement, but by God he got things done.

He turned to his computer, punched up another name and number. A local number. The voice sounded groggy when he answered, but he woke up fast, when Parker started talking.

He checked his phone messages. Nothing. He frowned. He should have caved in by now, Parker thought. Should have responded. More pressure. It was time to up the ante. He was due more than this kind of disloyalty. He looked at his watch. It was three hours later on the East Coast, way too late to make that other call. He’d make it in the morning.

Parker looked out at the city lights again. To the north, he could see the lights that marked the 520 bridge. The floating bridge. It was beautiful. Anything else he could do, he thought, only half aware of the beauty he stared at. He thought through it all. The wheels were turning. The D.A.’s office had its heads up. His agent would see to it that the evidence was where it was supposed to be. He was having breakfast with another young protégé who could be trusted to carry out his wishes at the Examiner. He thought about arranging a golf date for Sunday afternoon. Decided against it. Don’t want to be seen in this, he decided.

Nothing left to do. Not tonight. Wait and see what happens. There were always more favors to call in, more strings to pull.

Trump that, you son of a bitch, he thought savagely.

Troy looked up when the door opened. Kellerman.

He was playing poker with Kristy and the two guards. Kristy had been winning all night much to the dismay of the young male guards. Troy figured if they’d quit getting suckered by her southern belle drawl, they’d do better. But then, he wasn’t doing any better himself.

Kellerman gestured to the guards. They put down their cards and left. “Don’t peak at them,” one warned Kristy. “We’ll finish the hand later. I got a feeling about this one.”

Kristy smiled at them; Troy watched the guards melt. Hell, the smile wasn’t even directed at him, and he couldn’t resist it. He looked at Kellerman.

“I think you need to go to your room, Kristy,” Troy said. “C.J. wants to talk to me.”

She looked at the two of them. “No. I’m tired of being excluded. You all kidnapped me and brought me here. You can damn well talk in front of me.”

Kellerman shrugged. He pulled up a chair and sat on it backward, arms folded on the back of the chair. “Ms. Brown, right now, you are an innocent bystander. There is every chance you will be eventually released. But only if you remain ignorant and innocent. It is in your best interests to leave this room. But if you want to stay, I’m not going to bodily carry you out of here.”

Kristy hesitated. Troy watched her think it through. She nodded, went into her bedroom and closed the door.

Troy shook his head. “You ought to let her go, C.J.,” he said wearily. “She isn’t a part of this.”

Kellerman sighed. He rested his head on his arms for a moment. “It’s all fucked up. Why don’t you just tell me what it is you know, what you have as evidence and how we can get it back. Then we can start cleaning this mess up.”

Troy just looked at him. He’d known Kellerman as a Marine; not as well as Mac had, but he’d known him. Mac had idolized him, always telling stories about him. Weren’t too many men Mac admired.

Now, he’s a tired man, Troy thought. He looks like hell. Even in the few days he’d been here, he’s aged.

“God, C.J.,” Troy said. “I don’t know what I know that’s worth all this. I saw his name on a list of possible nominees. It rang a bell. I rummaged around, connected him to that DEA mission in Texas/New Mexico in ‘05. Did some checking on it — found out that there was something weird about it, about a coverup. Heard a rumor that it was actually a CIA-operated Coke warehouse.”

“So, then what did you do?”

“I called a friend at the FBI, got a name of who I should talk to. Talked to him. He said he’d take it from there.”

“And that’s it.” Kellerman looked skeptical.

“That’s it.” Well, he’d done a bit more checking, but he wasn’t going to talk about that. Then Kellerman would want names. And then what?

“What about the disk you mentioned? What’s on it?”

Troy was silent for a moment. He had done nothing but think about this for several days. He wasn’t even sure how many days he’d been here.

“What day is it?” he asked.

Kellerman looked at his watch. “Saturday, December 1, almost midnight.”

Troy closed his eyes. He was so damn tired.

“The disk,” Kellerman prompted.

“I got a call. Someone gave me a disk. I don’t know what’s on it. I panicked, and I ran,” Troy said.

“You didn’t look at it?”

Troy shook his head. “It wouldn’t work in my computer, it was a Mac disk, I guess. Someone tried breaking into my apartment, and I got spooked. I packed up everything and hid it with Danny.”

Kellerman shook his head. “You bought a ticket to Seattle,” he observed.

“I’m not stupid, C.J., I knew whoever was after me would check the flights. I booked one home to Chicago. Got off in Memphis, booked a flight to Seattle. Caught a bus to Knoxville, and a flight there to Shreveport.”

“What were you planning to do when you got back to D.C.?”

Troy shook his head. “I was planning to wait to see what the FBI did.” He laughed without mirth. “What they did was come for me.”

Kellerman sat quietly for a moment. “What was on the disk?”

“I don’t know!” Troy said frustrated. “I don’t know.”