shoved him back into the passenger seat in the front.
Justin strode quickly back to the driver’s side, got in, and started up the engine. “Have a nice day,” he said to the naked officer, and drove away.
Half a block later, Zanesworth said quietly, “There was no need to humiliate the lieutenant like that.”
“Sure there was,” Justin said. “I’m hoping I don’t need you for long, Colonel, I just need one piece of information. And it’s going to take a naked guy with no ID at least fifteen or twenty minutes to get anyone to pay attention to
When Zanesworth didn’t respond, Justin said, “Thinking of all kinds of threats to make? Hard to think of any that don’t sound really cliched, isn’t it?”
“You can’t possibly get away with this,” Zanesworth answered.
“See what I mean?”
“You’re as good as dead.”
“Colonel, I’ve been as good as dead for a pretty long time, so that doesn’t exactly get me shaking in my boots.”
“I’m not giving you any information.”
“We’ll see.”
“Son, I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking-”
“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, Colonel. I’m thinking that you’re an arrogant, egotistical, pompous asshole who’s boxed himself into a corner. You’ve spent so many years giving orders and taking orders that you don’t know your ass from your elbow. I also don’t think you’re all that smart. How am I doing so far?”
Zanesworth didn’t answer. Justin shrugged and went on. “But you’re a military lifer, right? So I do think you’re smart enough to know when it’s time to retreat. And it’s time, Colonel. You picked the wrong side. I don’t think you even knew you were picking a side, that’s how well you were played. Somebody called you about eighteen months ago, said they needed a pilot. That it was business but it was patriotic business. Whoever it was sold you a pretty good case that this was a matter of national security. Must have been someone pretty high up, who could get your attention. You want to hear more?”
“I’m listening,” Zanesworth said.
“Maybe it was someone who Captain Cooke had flown, someone who was comfortable with Cooke. And who Cooke trusted. Shit,” Justin said, “I think I just answered my first question. No wonder you paid attention.”
“I’m not confirming anything,” Zanesworth told him.
“And I’m not done talking.” Justin told him about Hutchinson Cooke now, about the rigged manifold in his plane, about going to talk to Cooke’s wife and how, a day later, they were the targets of the McDonald’s suicide bomber. When he heard about the timing of the bomb, Colonel Eugene Zanesworth’s whole body seemed to collapse into the seat.
“You want me to tell you about the other bombs, Colonel? About how they aren’t what you’re being told they are? How the first one was used to murder Bradford Collins and the second one to kill a nasty little guy who worked for the FAA?”
Zanesworth was white as a ghost. “Martin Heffernan?”
“Is he the one who called to tell you that Cooke was dead?”
Zanesworth was staring straight ahead. Justin could tell he was considering his options.
“I can’t prove it, Colonel, but I’m reasonably sure that Heffernan’s the one who killed your captain.” And over the next silence, “If you’re in on it, I promise you I’ll bring you down. If you were just a dupe, which is what I think, I’ll do my best to leave you out of it. But I need the pieces. Now. It’s a big, dangerous puzzle and I’m missing too many pieces to solve it. So first tell me who arranged for Cooke to go to work for Midas.” Then quietly, “Was it the vice president, Colonel? Was it Phil Dandridge?”
“Yes. Yes it was.”
“And who called you to say that Cooke was dead?”
“Heffernan.”
Justin nodded, instantly pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Hey,” he said when Gary Jenkins answered the phone at the East End police station. “Your brother in school?”
“Chief?”
“Let’s skip the formalities, okay? Is your brother in school?”
“Well. . sure. . I guess.”
“I want you to get him out of class.”
“Now?”
“Not just now. Five minutes ago. The school’s what, five blocks from the station?”
“I guess.”
“Well I don’t want you to walk. I want you to drive. And I want you to use your siren. Go ninety. Then get him out of class, take him to the station, and tell him I want him to hack into New York phone company records. He’s done it for me before.”
“Sure. Okay. What do you want him to get?”
“I want the records for all calls coming in and out of Martin Heffernan’s apartment on November sixth, seventh, and eighth. I’m particularly interested in any calls he made to Washington, D.C., on those dates. You got it?”
“Yeah, sure. . uh. .”
“Gary, stop talking and get in the fuckin’ car. You got my cell number?”
“Yeah.”
“Well call me as soon as he has the info. If I know Ben he’ll have it in about ten minutes.” He hung up.
Zanesworth was staring at Justin as if he were a madman. “A schoolboy,” he said. “That’s who you’ve got on
“You’d be surprised,” Justin said, “what the youth of America is capable of.”
It took thirteen minutes for Gary Jenkins to call back.
“Ben did it,” he said. “But he-”
“Yeah, I know. Whatever he wants is fine.”
“TiVo. The one that tapes eighty hours.”
“Okay. As soon as I get back.”
“He wants the lifetime guarantee, too.”
“Just give me the information, Gary.”
“Okay, okay. There are two calls to D.C.” He read off the first number. “That one was called in the afternoon of the seventh.”
“What’s your phone number?” Justin said to Colonel Zanesworth. “Your office number.”
Zanesworth told him and Justin impatiently said into the phone, “Okay, that one’s confirmed. What’s the next one?” He listened as Gary rattled off the next number. Justin asked him to repeat it one more time. As soon as he heard it again, he hung up without even saying thank you, and immediately dialed.
He heard the voice answer on the other end of the phone, just one word, uttered in that bureaucratic monotone, then three more words, a little bit of life put into those, and Justin didn’t answer. The voice on the other end of the line waited a moment, when there was no response said, “Hello?” and Justin flicked his cell phone shut.
“You better get a story ready for where you’ve been this morning, Colonel.”
“Who answered the phone?”
“Things have just gotten even more complicated. So here’s my suggestion. The lieutenant had some kind of breakdown. You’ll have plenty of witnesses for that. Just say he got out of the car and ran, maybe he threw the keys away and it took you twenty minutes to find them before you could go looking for him.”
“Who answered the phone, son?”
“The Justice Department,” Justin said quietly. “The attorney general’s office.”
“Son of a bitch,” the colonel whispered.
And Justin, in much the same whisper, said, “Yeah. I think that pretty much sums things up nicely.”
