his MIA status and is now here in the Washington area. Oh, and did I mention that the Fairfax County Police are involved?”
“You said homicide,” the DNI said, resuming his seat.
“What assets have you put on this problem?”
“I have a new NIS operative on my staff. A guy called von Rensel.”
“Ah, yes, we know Mr. von Rensel,” Mallory said.
“He’s not famous in the intelligence community for being a team player,-
I’m led to understand.”
“From what I’ve heard, it was team playing that brought Navy Intelligence the Walker soy ring and that Korean thing,” Carpenter retorted. “Anyway, I plan to turn him loose to see what he can find.
What I came to ask you to do was to pull the string with those people.
Spook to spook.”
Mallory didn’t like the crack about the spying cases. “I rather think their warning preempts any good that I might be able to do,” he said.
“Going spook to spook, as you so quaintly put it.”
Carpenter gave him a level look. “This, matter has the potential to embarrass the Navy flag community, Kyle. I need to find Galantz, or, which I suppose would be equally useful, prove that he does not exist-that he went MIA and stayed that way. I guess what I’m saying is that I need you to tell them that we can do this the easy way or hard way.”
“Oh dear,” Mallory protested. “That sounds like a threat.
Do you know how those people usually react to threats from other government entities?”
I’m not sure I give a damn, Carpenter replied. “Since the Fairfax County cops are involved, I can always just turn the whole thing over to CHINFO, let him invite the Washington press corps in for a chat. That way, those people can exercise their newfound expertise at . doing damage control fight here in River City.”
Mallory, rolled his eyes. “And then I get to explain to the CNO why this thing got loose, is that it, Admiral?”
Carpenter got up. “You’re the official pipe into the cave of the intel bears, Admiral My lawyerly instincts tell me if, Galantz went MIA and then was resurrected somehow, the American version of the Lavender Hill Mob was probably involved. Basically, I’m proposing to give our client one free shot at extricating himself from this tar baby. But my bottom line remains the preservation of the herd. Just make the call, okay, Kyle?”
Mallory frowned and pursed his lips. “Very well, I’ll will make the call.
But there’s something else they said in their call. Do you perchance know what a sweeper is-in their vernacular, that is?”
“Nope. Although I would assume it has to do with cleaning up a mess.”
“Rather more elaborate than that, Thomas. As you know, those people have the need from time to time to take-how shall I put this?-to take extreme measures connected with their line of work.”
“This is news, Kyle?”
“I suppose not. But the people they engage to perform these distasteful functions are not nice people. Not gentlemen, shall we say.”
“Understood. And the point to all this is-“
“The point is, Thomas, that from time to time, these ungentlemanly people themselves require the imposition of disciplinary measures. Think about it. Think about what kind of people would be good at imposing disciplinary measures on the wet-work mechanics. That is the function of the so-called sweepers. Which makes the rest of their message rather important.”
Carpenter stared at him. “And that was?”
“That they don’t acknowledge the existence of this fellow Galantz. But that if he did exist, he might be involved in certain extracurricular activities, and that, because of what he is, they are of the opinion that they are best equipped to look into that problem, not us. One assumes that will happen sooner rather than later, but one never knows with those people.”
“Forgive me, Kyle, but I still don’t get it. If Galantz is one of their wet-work mechanics, as you call them, and he’s gone wrong, why don “t they get one of those-what’d you call ‘em, sweepers? Why don’t they put one of those guys onto the problem?”
“Well, nobody over there is speaking in declarative sentences, Thomas.
But you may have I touched on the heart of the problem. My guess is that this fellow Galantz is a sweeper.
Karen was not surprised to find Train waiting in the otherwise-empty office when she got back to the Pentagon at 5:30. He was now dressed in his regular office clothes.
The rest of the JAG offices along the C-ring halfway were dark, except for the workaholic Appellate Defense Division, where they always worked late.
“Counselor,” Train pronounced when she came through the door.
“Well if it isn’t Igor, the grave diggers’ assistant,” she replied brightly. She was secretly glad to see him, if only because the empty corridors of the Pentagon after working hours were a mildly spooky place. She slung her purse over the back of the yeoman’s chair and sat down. “So what was Admiral Sherman jumping up about toward the end of the ceremony? I saw you take off.”
“Some kid on a motorcycle. He was standing up there on the hill among all the tourists and midshipmen. It looked to me like Sherman recognized him, which is why he stood up. By the time I got up the hill, the kid was jumping on a big Kawasaki two-seater and hauling ass. Never really saw his face. Any ideas?”
Karen shook her head. Something was playing at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t surface it. “No ideas,” she replied. “I was going to ask Admiral Sherman about it, but he was really down about the old man’s death.”
She dialed into the voice-mail system, and there was one message, from Detective Mcnair, requesting a meeting as soon as possible-like tonight.
She told Train about the message and that Sherman wanted to put it off a day.
“Homicide cops don’t like to wait,” Train said. “Better call Sherman.”
She put a call in to OP-32. The admiral was in conference, having left orders not to be disturbed. Karen hesitated, then told the yeoman to tell the admiral that the Fairfax business meeting had to be tonight.
She said she would remain in her office until he was able to return her call.
Train slouched down in a chair by the office door. Karen thought he looked like a big old bear trying to balance on a rock. A treacherous part ‘of her brain began to speculate on what a hug might be like from such a bear. He killed her thoughts with the observation that he wasn’t surprised that Sherman wanted to duck the cops.
“Oh, c’mon, Train. You don’t still think he had anything to do with killing those two people, do you?”
Train looked away for a moment. “I’m still bothered by the fact that all the current information on this mysterious Galantz comes from Sherman. I want some external corroboration.
“But how about the syringe? I mean, I saw that thing, and the look on his face when he saw it.”
We’ve been over this: He had an opportunity to put that thing in your car.”
She shook her head in exasperation. “But why? The syringe had blood in it that matched the old man’s blood type, as well as traces of a substance that could’ve killed him.
Why on earth-“
“Because he could be playing a game,” Train interrupted. “A dangerous game, but still a game. Those cops have to be wondering, too. I know,” he said, seeing the look on her face, “motive. That’s where I’m stuck.
I can’t figure the motive.”
The phone rang before Karen could reply.
“Navy JAG, Commander Lawrence speaking, sir.” She mouthed the name Sherman at Train.
“Tonight, huh?” Sherman was saying.
I’ll m afraid so, sir. Althouah I haven’t called him back.” There was a pause. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be done here in about thirty minutes. At this hour, thirty minutes to get home.”
“Let me give you directions to my house,” she said, ignoring the sardonic expression spreading over Train’s face.
