“Three . . . maybe four.”
“And me?” Stansfield asked with a straight face.
“Only one,” Lewis said, and then with a slight smile he said, “but then again I would need more time to properly observe you . . . but I wouldn’t worry. As a general rule you need to have at least four of the traits to be classified with the disease.”
“And Mitch, how many does he have?”
“Just one or two.”
“This assessment of yours . . . how serious is it?”
“Very.”
“And you’re confident that if I brought in someone else for a second opinion that person would reach the same conclusions.”
“Very confident.”
“Can this problem be resolved with treatment?”
Lewis waffled for a second and then shook his head. “It would take a great deal of time and effort and the patient would have to be willing.”
Looking through the glass Stansfield asked, “And do you think Victor would be willing to undergo treatment?”
“No.”
Stansfield stared through the glass and said, “Stan’s not going to like this.”
“No he isn’t, but he’s blind to the realities of the problem. This is far bigger than Stan and who he likes or dislikes. I put all of this in my report. People like Victor are extremely volatile. They usually end up in jail, or financially ruined, or both.”
Stansfield stepped back from the glass. “We don’t recruit Boy Scouts to this work. You two both know that. The Boy Scouts are all over at the FBI. We need guys who are willing to bend the rules . . . do certain things that your average mentally stable individual would never consider.”
Lewis nodded and said, “And you hired me to keep an eye on things . . . to make sure we have guys who know not to cross certain lines, and I’m telling you Victor will cross any line as long as it helps him get what he wants.”
“You know I called Stan last night and I told him to pull Victor and his team?”
Lewis nodded.
“Victor claims they were in the process of packing up when Rapp sent in the decoy.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do you believe him?”
Lewis measured his response. “I’m not sure I believe anything Victor says.”
“Anything else?”
“It’s one thing to have him down at the farm brutalizing recruits . . . but turning him loose in Paris . . .” Lewis shook his head. “That was a bad idea.”
“And why didn’t you bring this to my attention sooner?”
“I did put much of this in my most recent report.”
Stansfield turned his cold, gray, calculating eyes on the doctor. “I receive a lot of reports. Why didn’t you come to me?”
Lewis sighed and said, “I wasn’t there when he was recruited, but over the past year, I’ve grown increasingly concerned. And then there’s Stan to consider.”
“What about him?”
“The two of you are very loyal to each other.”
“We have a history, Tom, but I know how Stan ticks.”
“Permission to be brutally honest, sir?”
Stansfield knew this was the Green Beret coming out in the doctor, and he also knew that if he was asking for permission it was to say something that would be highly critical of Stansfield. He had never been afraid of the truth so he said, “Permission granted.”
“You have a blind spot where Stan is concerned. I have tried repeatedly to bring certain things to your attention and so has Irene, but you brush us off. I understand that the man has a storied career, and he undoubtedly has his uses, but putting him in charge of the recruiting and training of these men, I fear, was a huge mistake. And Victor is exhibit A. The man should have washed out years ago.”
Looking back through the one-way glass, Stansfield asked, “So what do you recommend I do about this problem?”
“Send Victor packing and do it as quickly as possible.”
“And if he doesn’t want to quit?”
The blue-eyed shrink and former Green Beret hesitated for a second and then said, “You should have him eliminated.”
