A young woman stepped out from the shadows surrounding the parking lot and stood beneath the cone of light shining down from the streetlamp above her. She wasn’t holding a weapon.
“Mr. Levy,” she said, “I work for the National Security Agency. You need to come with me.”
Alice took Levy to an all-night diner halfway between Washington, D.C. and Fort Meade. Neither she nor Levy said a word while they were driving there. By the time she arrived, Dillon was already in the diner, drinking coffee. He was the only customer in the place. The night cook was out back having a smoke; he had a hundred-dollar bill in his pocket.
Levy sat down at Dillon’s table but didn’t say anything. He may have been in a state of shock but Dillon doubted that. At this point Levy was just processing things. Waiting for an opportunity. Alice took a seat several tables away, ready to kill Levy if he attempted to harm Dillon.
“General Bradford tried to have you killed tonight, John,” Dillon said. “You do realize that, don’t you? And my people saved your life.”
Levy still said nothing.
“We’ve been following you ever since Hopper was killed. Since the night you tried to kill DeMarco.”
“So you killed Hopper,” Levy said.
“I’m afraid so. He didn’t leave us a choice.”
“What do you want?” Levy said.
“Don’t you want to know why Bradford tried to kill you?”
“The general didn’t try to kill me.”
“Come on, John. Gilmore was your man. The only one who could have given him the green light to kill you was Bradford. You know that.”
Levy shook his head. “I don’t know how you got to Colonel Gilmore, but you got to him some way. You-”
“I want you to hear something,” Dillon said, taking a small digital recorder from his pocket.
Levy said, “If you’re planning to play the recording Martin Breed supposedly made, you’re wasting your time.”
“That’s not what’s on this recording. This is a recording of DeMarco talking to General Bradford today.”
“You’re telling me DeMarco snuck a recording device into the chairman’s office? Now I know you’re lying. DeMarco was checked for bugs before he-”
“John, please. I work for the NSA. Do you really believe I couldn’t record a conversation in Bradford’s office if I set my mind to it? Just listen.”
Levy showed no emotion as he listened to DeMarco and Bradford talking.
Dillon hit the STOP button. “Do you understand what DeMarco said, John? He said that you are the only one who can destroy Bradford. Without your testimony against him, General Breed’s recording is insufficient-and Charles Bradford knows this.”
Levy just looked at Dillon, and Dillon couldn’t help but think that Levy was possibly the saddest-looking man he’d ever met. It was also apparent that in spite of what he’d heard, Levy still didn’t believe that Bradford-his mentor, his commanding officer-had tried to have him killed.
“Now I’m going to let you listen to a very short phone call the general made immediately after you left his office today.”
Dillon hit the PLAY button on the recorder, and Levy listened to Charles Bradford’s words,
Mrs. Cleary, reach out for a Colonel Philip Gilmore. He’s stationed at Fort Myer. I want him to meet me in twenty minutes at the chapel at Arlington Cemetery.
“How do I know that’s General Bradford speaking?” Levy said. “You may have-”
“John, when Martin Breed told Bradford he was going to expose him, what did Bradford do? It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that question. You’re probably worried that you’re being recorded right now. So I’ll just tell you what he did: He ordered you to kill Martin Breed, a man who had been loyal to Bradford his entire life. And tonight he tried to kill you because now he’s afraid you’ll talk. You know I’m telling you the truth. Just like Martin Breed, you’ve been completely loyal to Charles Bradford and, just like with Breed, when you became a liability he decided you had to die.”
“What do you want?” Levy said.
“I want you to tell the president about the assassinations Charles Bradford ordered. You’ll obviously be given immunity”-Dillon knew Levy didn’t care about immunity-“and Charles Bradford will be court-martialed. He may go to jail, but whether he does or not, his career will be finished. But what I want to do right now, John, is take you to a safe house. Bradford will try to kill you again.”
“And I suppose, if I testify against the general, you’d like me to keep the NSA’s role in all this secret?”
“I would very much appreciate that,” Dillon said. “No one really needs to know about the transmission we intercepted.”
Levy didn’t consider Dillon’s proposal for even an instant. He stood up. “I’m leaving now. And if you think you can stop me by threatening to kill me, you’re wrong. I’m not afraid to die.”
“I never thought you were,” Dillon said, his voice almost a whisper.
Dillon watched Levy leave the diner before saying, “Alice, offer to drive Mr. Levy back to his apartment. If he refuses and takes a cab, follow him.”
“Yes, sir,” Alice said.
“And, Alice.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Excellent job tonight.”
Earlier that day, as soon as Bradford called Colonel Gilmore at Fort Myer, Alice’s people began following Gilmore. She had watched Bradford meet Gilmore outside the chapel at Arlington National Cemetery. She’d brought a parabolic mike with her to record their conversation, but Bradford took the colonel inside the chapel to talk to him. And even though Dillon didn’t hear what Bradford said to Gilmore, he was positive that Bradford had told him to kill Levy.
Gilmore had waited at Levy’s apartment for him to come home, and while he waited, Alice waited, too, with the three agents who had been involved the night Hopper was killed. When Gilmore approached Levy with a drawn weapon, one of Alice’s men shot out the window next to Levy’s head, which not only startled Gilmore but also gave Levy the impression that Gilmore was the one who had taken the shot. Then Gilmore was killed before he could shoot Levy.
Now all Dillon could do was wait and see if Levy would do as he predicted after reading Levy’s file. If he didn’t, Dillon might soon find himself in the crosshairs of a sniper’s rifle aimed by one of the sentinels who guarded the Unknowns’ Tomb. Dillon didn’t know exactly what was going to happen next, but he did know one thing for sure: John Levy would never testify against Charles Bradford.
41
Levy parked his car and walked across the damp grass toward the tomb.
It was five A.M. and the only one there was a solitary sentinel. The young man was tall and slender and wore a black coat with light-blue epaulets and dark blue pants with a yellow stripe down the side. The short bayonet on his rifle had been polished until it shone like silver in the dawn light. And the sentinel marched just as John Levy had marched all those years ago. Exactly as Levy had marched. The twenty-one slow steps, the twenty-one-second pause before the turn, the click of the heels coming together, the choreographed movement of the rifle shifting to the shoulder farther from the grave.
The sentinel didn’t know Levy was watching-he thought he was all alone in the morning mist-and yet he performed the time-honored routine as if the whole world were watching. Levy was so proud of the young soldier- and wished so badly that he could be the one, right now, walking those measured steps on that hallowed ground.
Levy approached the tomb so the guard could see him and saluted. The guard didn’t respond, of course, but he must have been surprised to see Levy there at that time of day and must have wondered how he’d gotten into the cemetery. But he didn’t stop marching-nor would he, unless Levy attempted to desecrate the grave he
