Midas

“If anyone else has begun any kind of investigation, it would really be better if-”

“What information are you looking for?”

Justin knew he’d been effectively cut off. It was Zanesworth or nothing. At least for the moment. “Okay. Let’s begin with this: I’d like to know what Cooke was doing the past eighteen months.”

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that, son. Doing where? And in what capacity?”

“According to the reports I’ve seen, Captain Cooke was away from the base for that period of time. In fact, he didn’t seem to be filling any official Air Force function.”

“Now you’ve got incorrect information. I was his commanding officer for that period. And I probably didn’t write those reports you read.”

“So he was stationed here for the past year and a half?”

“Here and nowhere else.”

“Did you know he was drawing a salary from a private company during that same period? Something called Midas Ltd. You ever hear of them?”

“No. No, I didn’t know he was getting paid by them, and no, I’ve never heard of them. But there’s certainly nothing illegal or even suspicious, even if it’s true.”

“He was stationed here the whole time?”

“He was in the Air Force, son. This was his home base.”

“And what were his responsibilities during the past eighteen months?”

“The same thing he was responsible for over the past eighteen years. Serving in the Air Force and serving proudly and well.”

“Can you be more specific, Colonel?”

“Captain Cooke was a member of the 89th Airlift Wing and, as such, he was part of SAM FOX.” When Justin shook his head blankly, Zanesworth went on. His words were in even more of a monotone than seemed usual, as if he’d offered this explanation thousands of times, which Justin realized he probably had. “SAM FOX was originally used as an aircraft tail number; it formed a radio call sign to identify Air Force aircraft that were transporting high- ranking VIPs, usually on a foreign flight. SAM is Special Air Mission, FOX for Foreign.”

“That’s what Cooke was doing? Piloting VIPs?”

“Captain Cooke. And yes. That’s our primary mission at Andrews. We transport the president of the United States and worldwide airlift for the vice president, the president’s cabinet, members of Congress, military leaders, and other dignitaries of the appropriate stature.”

“Do you keep flight logs for all your pilots?”

“Of course.”

“Could I see his? Captain Cooke’s?”

“I’m afraid not. You don’t have the clearance to see that kind of information.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I could do to get that kind of clearance?”

Zanesworth didn’t bother to respond to that one. He just let his lips spread into the thinnest of smiles.

“Did you know him, Colonel? Captain Cooke?”

Zanesworth waited an appropriate length of time-two or three seconds-before nodding his head and saying, slowly, “Of course I knew him. There’s no one I don’t meet under my command. But I didn’t know him well, unfortunately. We had very little interpersonal contact.”

The man was lying. It was a strange lie to tell and there was no real reason for it. But Zanesworth stumbled over the words and his eyes shifted just slightly when he spoke. Up until now he’d been difficult and obviously resisting any kind of probe. But now he was definitely lying. Of that Justin was certain. He just had to try to figure out why.

“Funny. I’d think you’d make it a point of knowing the people who fly heads of state.”

“Captain Cooke wasn’t flying heads of state. At least our head of state. And there are twenty thousand people living and working at Andrews. I wish I knew them all, but I don’t.”

“So he never flew Air Force One?”

“No.”

“You know that without checking?”

“I know who flies the president. I know everyone who flies the president.”

“Did he ever fly the vice president?”

“It’s possible. I’d have to look at his flight records over the years.”

“Would you mind doing that?”

“Yes, I would. I don’t see the relevance.”

“There probably isn’t any. It’s just that, you know how it is, once you start snooping it’s hard to stop.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how that is, Mr. Westwood. But unless you can show me the relevance, I won’t be revisiting the records.”

“Okay. Then let’s try this one: When did you hear about Captain Cooke’s death? What day was it?”

“I assume it was the day he died. Possibly the morning after.”

“Really? That soon? Because somebody went to a lot of trouble to hide his identity. I didn’t know who he was the day he died. Or the morning after.”

“It was probably the day after that, now that I think about it. Or at least I assumed it was that close to his death. I certainly could be off by a few days.”

“Who called to tell you?”

“I. . um. . I’m not sure. One of my aides. The police must have called and he took the call.”

“The thing is, Colonel, I’m the police. For some reason, that doesn’t seem to be getting through. But I’m the only one who could have called that soon. And I didn’t.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t the police who called. Maybe it was Captain Cooke’s family. I’ll talk to my aide and see what he says. He’ll have all that information.”

“How about if I ask him?”

“He’s not on base today. I’ll talk to him when he’s back and let you know his response.”

“Can I have his name?”

“I’ll get back to you with all the information.”

Justin cleared his throat and twisted his neck to the right. It was stiff as a board. That was because since he’d set foot on Andrews Air Force Base he felt as if he were carrying around a thousand-pound weight on his shoulders. “How long have you been on the base, Colonel?” he asked.

“What relevance does that have?”

Justin exhaled a deep breath. It wasn’t a happy exhale and he made no attempt to hide his dismay. “Have you ever conducted an investigation, sir?”

“On a small scale.”

“I’m not talking about stealing a quart of strawberries here. I mean something on the level of a multiple- murder investigation.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then let me give you a little lesson, just in case you ever find yourself in my position. You know. . investigating. The first thing you have to keep in mind is that my questions don’t necessarily have any implicit belief or disbelief to them. I’m just trying to get to the particular information I need to solve my problem. So, for instance, if you didn’t know Hutchinson Cooke well, my question doesn’t necessarily mean that I think you’re lying. It could mean that I’m trying to find out if there’s someone else I should be talking to. Your predecessor, for instance, who might have known him better. And had some interpersonal contact.”

“I’ve been base commander here for eleven years.”

“And Captain Cooke was here for. .?”

“Eight years.”

“Huh. Out of those twenty thousand who live and work here, how many are officers who serve under you?”

“We’re here to talk about Captain Cooke, Mr. Westwood. I’m not going to discuss anything about other men and women.”

“Chief.”

“What?”