“Roger that.”
Sean did another turkey peek around the corner. He counted off the minutes in his head and then looked at his watch. One minute to ten. They’d gotten here early in case either Bunting was thinking of setting up an ambush or he hadn’t been able to get away from the people watching him and they had come in his place.
The car moved down the street, slowed, and then came to a stop. It turned into a parking spot and the tall man got out.
Sean stiffened.
Michelle’s voice came to him. “That’s him.”
“I see. Do a sweep and report back.”
Thirty seconds went by.
“Clear,” said Michelle. “No tail.”
Sean stepped out onto the sidewalk, his gaze on the tall man across the street. Instead of taking a straight- line path to him, Sean skirted down the sidewalk, keeping close to the storefronts until he was fifty feet past Bunting and behind him.
Sean watched as Bunting stood in front of Clancy’s looking around for him. Once he checked his watch.
“Hello, Mr. Bunting. Good to see you again.”
Bunting whirled around.
“You startled me. Didn’t hear you coming.”
“That’s the point,” said Sean.
“Where’s your partner, Maxwell?”
“Around.”
“No one followed me.”
“Good to know.”
Bunting looked at the door to Clancy’s. “I think they’re still serving. You want to go in?”
“Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER
67
THE RESTAURANT APPEARED EMPTY. No one came to greet them, so Sean led Bunting around a corner and into a smaller room set off the main one. There was only one person in the dining area.
Bunting gasped and stopped when he saw her sitting there.
Kelly Paul looked at him from where she sat at a table with her back against the wall.
“Hello, Peter, it’s been a long time,” she said quietly.
Bunting shot a glance at Sean. “I didn’t know she was going to be here.”
“Problem with that?”
“No, I’m actually thrilled to see her.”
Bunting sat across from Paul while Sean settled down next to her, his hand in his pocket clenching his pistol.
Bunting said, “I presume you’re both armed.”
Sean picked up his menu with his free hand. “Why? Make you feel safer?”
“Yes.”
She studied Bunting. “Your family?”
“I took certain steps. They’re safe, for now. I got confirmation. Thanks for asking.”
“I have family in danger too, Peter.”
“Yes, I know,” he said, looking guilty.
“Is it as bad as I think it is?”
“Probably worse—” Bunting paused because the waitress came over to take their orders. She was wide of hip and weary of face, and her calves were red and puffy, probably from being on her feet for ten hours carrying large platters of seafood and mugs of beer. They ordered coffees and she departed, looking relieved that that was all they desired.
Bunting put down his menu and took off his glasses.
“Tell us,” said Paul simply.
“They want to shut down the E-Program. They want to destroy me. They want to do the same to your brother.”
“In fact they want things the way they were, you mean,” said Paul.
“Yes.”
“You had to know this day would come.”
“Knowing and doing something about it are two very different things. And I guess I had hoped, however naively, that the climate had changed for the better. I was wrong, obviously.”
She said, “Who’s playing the black chess pieces?”
Sean said, “Hold on, here comes our coffee.”
The waitress set down the mugs, creamer, and sugar and said, “Will you all want anything else? The kitchen is getting ready to close up.”
“No, thanks,” said Bunting. He handed the woman a hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.
She walked off beaming, and Bunting turned back to Paul.
“The black pieces, Peter?” she said again. “I think I know but I want confirmation.”
Bunting pulled out two photos from his jacket. He laid them next to each other on the checkered tablecloth. “Just so we’re absolutely clear on the point.”
Paul nodded and said, “Thanks for the confirmation.”
“So you suspected?” he asked.
“Of course. She was the most logical choice.”
“Do you know who they are?” Bunting asked Sean.
Sean couldn’t seem to pull his gaze from the photos. “The lady is Ellen Foster from DHS. I don’t recognize the man.”
“Mason Quantrell, CEO of the Mercury Group.”
“They’re a big player in the intelligence field, right?” asked Sean.
“One of the biggest. And my chief competitor. Ever since the E-Program came on-line and supplanted what he was doing for the government, he’s been mostly relegated to low-hanging and far less valuable fruit. Though he still makes truckloads of money.”
“And that didn’t sit well with Mr. Quantrell, did it?” asked Paul.
“You know him?”
“Of him. He has a reputation for underperforming and overbilling. In most sectors that would lead to disaster. In the defense and intelligence-gathering world it simply gets you more of what you don’t deserve.”
“It’s not just about the money, it’s about the prestige. He doesn’t like playing second fiddle, getting my leftovers. He’s been after me ever since,” said Bunting. “His way is to throw a lot of expensive shit against the wall and see what sticks. No integration. No thought. God forbid any sharing of resources or results. With that philosophy it’s a wonder we only had one 9/11.”
Paul tapped the photo of Foster. “I knew Ellen Foster before she was Madame Secretary. You would be hard-pressed to find someone more ruthlessly ambitious. With the brains to match.”
Sean said, “But DHS? I thought it would be more likely CIA or NSA playing dirty games like this. DHS is homeland security. Are they that big on intelligence now?”
“They want to be the dominant player,” answered Bunting. “And they have the budget and manpower to accomplish that. Especially with someone like Foster at the helm. She’s a member of the Cabinet. The CIA director does the daily presidential briefings, but he’s not Cabinet level. Foster has figured out that she is in a prime position to take over the throne and run America’s intelligence empire. And she’s making a hard run to do just that. But the E-Program is based on integration among agencies and cooperation. That model does not fit into Foster’s plans.”
