The Good Soldier (22 page)

I crossed the street and stood in front of Marlowe's house. I walked up the six steps to his front porch and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. I took a seat on the third step and enjoyed the warm breeze.

The upscale neighborhood was quiet. That made it easy to hear Marlowe and his assigned agents approaching before they realized I was there. I thought about hiding on the other side of the stairwell. Instead, I sat still and kept my hands in plain view.

The agent who stared me down outside the pizzeria my first day in D.C. was the first to notice me. He drew his gun and barked orders at me. I looked past him. The second agent stood in front of Marlowe. Marlowe peered around the agent and nodded at me.

"I'm unarmed," I said. I had left my gun with Bear. Risky move, but I was over it at this point. The recording held the truth. The police could arrest me. Secret Service or the DoD could detain me. CIA and FBI could fight over who would detain me. In the end, I'd be set free by Keller's words.

"Hands up," the agent said.

"They're in plain view," I said. "Get your damn gun out of my face. OK?"

"It's OK, Gerard," Marlowe said.

The two agents relaxed a bit. Well, relaxed as much as uptight Defense Department agents could. Those guys were hard wired for action. They found it in everything they did. I bet even brushing their teeth turned into an anxiety inducing event. I wondered what the heart attack rate was for guys in their line of work within their first five years of retirement.

Marlowe pushed past the men entrusted with his life and stood on the sidewalk a few feet in front of me.

"Jack, let's go inside and talk."

I looked between him and the two men in dark suits behind him. "They have to come in with us?"

"Yes, unfortunately they have to go with me everywhere during working hours." He climbed a single step. "But they'll be well behaved. Won't you boys?" He turned and smiled at the men.

They didn't smile back.

I stood and followed Marlowe inside. It was nice going in through the front door. He led the way to the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee and pulled two beers from the refrigerator. The Defense Department agents tried to follow us in. Marlowe sent one outside out through the back door, and made the other wait in the living room, telling him to stay at least ten feet from the swinging door.

He cracked open a beer and handed it to me. I took it and put it to my lips without checking the label. A few sips later I was exhaling with contentment at the refreshing beverage.

He smiled, his eyebrows rising into his forehead as he poured his beer into a tall glass.

"It's local, a craft beer. Excellent stuff. Brewer is a friend of mine."

I nodded and took another pull from the brown bottle. Still hadn't checked the label.

"Anyway, Mr. Noble," he said, "I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss local breweries."

I shook my head and didn't correct him for calling me Mister instead of Sergeant.

"I take it you confronted Keller?"

"I did."

"How did it go?"

I reached into my inside pocket and noticed Marlowe tense for a second, the smile fading from his face.

"Relax," I said as I pulled the small digital recorder from my pocket. "It's all on here."

He smiled and walked in front of me and took a seat at the table. He crossed his legs and took a long pull on his beer, then set the bottle down on the table.

"Play it."

I hit play and placed the digital recorder on the table. Marlowe listened intently, nodding and making eye contact with me occasionally.

"That's some pretty damning evidence," he said.

"I've got copies."

He smiled and reached for the recorder. "Don't worry, Jack. I'll handle this."

I grabbed the recorder and pulled it closer. "What will happen to Keller?"

He took another pull from his bottle of beer and stared at me for a moment. "Worst case is a dishonorable discharge."

"No jail time?"

"I hope so, but you know there are many parties involved in this. It's up to them how they want to pursue the matter. Implicating Keller might implicate them."

I shook my head. "He's responsible for the deaths of at least ten people."

"I know that and you know that. Hell, the person responsible for making this decision will know it." He got up and went to the fridge and came back with two more beers, already opened. "This is the dark side of these operations, Jack."

I nodded. I knew. I knew when I was in his house that it might end up like this. I wanted to kick myself for not taking him out when I had the chance.

"What about me?" I said.

"What about you?" he said.

"I want out."

"Jack, I'm pretty sure that even if the program is continued, you won't be invited back in."

"Not just the program. I want out of the Marines. My enlistment is up in September. I've got three months leave accrued. I'm taking my leave and I want my official retirement to be the last day of my leave."

"I don't have the power to-"

"Bullshit, Marlowe."

He shifted in his seat. Crossed his arms over his chest and looked me over.

"Ok, Jack."

He pulled a cell phone from his coat and placed a call. Five minutes later I had my freedom. He also instructed whoever he spoke with to remove me and Bear from any federal, state and local suspect lists.

"You're free, Mr. Noble."

I slid the digital recorder across the table. Marlowe picked it up, studied it and then dropped it into his glass of beer.

"Why?" I tried to appear angry, but felt confused. He knew I had a backup. Did he expect me to push this further or in a different direction? Was this his way of telling me he wasn't going to do anything?

"Political suicide, Jack. On top of that, imagine when the media gets a hold of this information. A Marine General ordering the deaths of his own men and another commanding officer? It's best to leave it be, Jack. I'll take care of Keller in my own way."

So that was it. He was going to take the political route. He could squeeze anyone I presented the evidence to. I felt like reaching out and striking him. I didn't. I'd still present the CD to a few contacts and see where we could take it.

I nodded and stood and grabbed the bottle of beer off the table and finished it one pull. I spun the bottle in my hand and the label caught my eye, a coat of arms with two broadswords crossing one another.
Double Crossed Breweries.
Perfect.

"You did the right thing, Jack. No matter what happens to Keller. Who knows how many lives you saved?"

"Not enough," I said. "One question, though. If you knew, why didn't you come down on Keller?"

"I didn't know. Not one hundred percent. It made sense. Evidence pointed that way. But I would have never got the confession that you did."

"Not that the confession matters." I turned and pushed through the door without saying another word.

* * *

Two hours later I stood outside Dulles airport with Bear and Jessie. Bear leaned against a glass wall ten yards away while I talked to Jessie. The sound of planes taking off and landing roared through the air with a rhythmic beat.

"Don't go, Jess."

She smiled and leaned forward. "It won't work, Jack, at least not now."

"Why?"

"You need time. I need time. We both need-"

"Time," I said. "Yeah, I got it."

I turned my head and tried to think of something to say, anything to stop her from leaving.

"What about the other night? I thought that we made, you know, a connection."

"I think that was just the surprise of seeing you after so long. It's true I haven't stopped loving you, Jack. But that doesn't mean we're meant to be together."

"I'm taking three months and getting away. Doing some traveling. I'm going to get my head straight. Back to who I was."

"You are who you were. And you can't change who you are now."

She glanced at her watch.

"Let's give it a month or so, then. What do you say, Jess?"

She placed a finger to my mouth. Leaned forward and kissed me.

"I have to go now."

She placed a folded piece of paper in my hand. "That's my email address." She turned and walked through the door, into the main terminal.

Bear pushed off the wall and walked toward me, his hand extended. I grabbed it and shook.

"Don't know what I'm going to do without you around, brother."

He smiled and wrapped his arm around me. We patted at each other's backs for a few seconds and then took a step back. He reached down and picked up his bag and gave me a wink. We didn't say another word. He turned and disappeared through the same set of doors as Jessie.

I stood in the middle of the walkway for five minutes, nearly every fiber of my being told me to follow her. I didn't, though. Instead, I returned to the rental car and left the airport. Inside the car, I popped the CD that had the recording of Keller's confession into the car's CD player. All that came through the speakers was silence. The CD was blank. It contained no confession and no evidence. Jessie had the laptop that held the original file. I had a feeling the track was gone. I cursed under my breath and slammed my fists into the dashboard. I pulled the car over onto the emergency shoulder and tried to call Bear. No answer. He had already turned his phone off. I thought about who else to call, but came up with no names. I had nowhere to go. In the end I decided to let it go. It didn't matter. I'd check in on Keller's status, and if I wasn't satisfied, I'd take care of it myself one day.

I found my way to the interstate and headed north for New York City. Bear hit up a few of his contacts and found Abbot's daughter using the number I swiped from his phone. I promised him I'd look out for her, and I'd start by letting her know her father had passed. According to Bear's contact, no next of kin had been informed yet.

It took just under three hours to make it to the city. I found a parking garage within a few miles of her apartment and ditched the car. She had a place in the Village on Bedford Street. I walked from the parking lot to her apartment building. The air was cooler here than in D.C. Still, not too bad for six in the evening. The sun was setting and streetlights were kicking on. I passed a coffee shop and stopped in for a cup, partly because I needed the burst of caffeine, and partly because I dreaded giving Clarissa the news.

I took my time drinking the coffee and reading a few pages of the newspaper that had been left on the table. It revealed that there was nothing new in the world. It had been six months since the attacks on the Twin Towers. I wondered if life was truly back to normal here in the city. I knew it wasn't for me. I wondered if it ever would be.

I assumed the teams were still operating in Afghanistan. I hoped that the combined power of the CIA and Armed Forces Spec Ops teams would bring Bin Laden and all those involved to justice, no matter how long it took. Our involvement in Iraq worried me. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that the work we were doing there would lead to more conflict.

The waitress interrupted my thoughts and asked if I'd like anything else. I smiled and told her no. I dropped a twenty on the table and left before she brought the check.

Clarissa's apartment was only a few blocks from the coffee shop. Despite its close proximity, it took me half an hour to reach it. I stood in front of the cracked green painted door for another five minutes before knocking.

She answered the door. Squinted at me and then smiled.

"Jack?"

It had been a few years since I had last seen her. She was still a scrawny teen at that time. She wasn't much older than a teen now, if at all, but she sure as hell wasn't scrawny anymore. The little girl I'd met all those years ago was now a woman.

"Hey, Clarissa," I said.

She reached out and hugged me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." She took a step back and pulled the door open. She waved me through and closed and locked the door behind me. "Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?"

"Nah, I mean, yeah. Something hard. Got any whiskey?"

"Sure," she said as she crossed the room to the kitchen.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"Yeah, there's an ashtray on the table in front of you."

I smiled. I hadn't noticed it. I hadn't been able to take my eyes off of her since I stepped through the door. I lit a cigarette and leaned over the coffee table. I tried a dozen times to start the inevitable conversation while she fixed my drink.

She returned to the room, set the drink in front of me and took a seat across from me.

"What brings you to New York, Jack?"

I took a drink from the glass. The hard liquor burned down my throat and warmed my stomach.

"I don't know how to put this, so I'm just going to say it."

She sat back and crossed her arms. One hand went to her chin. Her eyes grew wide and she bit her bottom lip.

"Your father is dead. He was murdered."

She gasped and took a deep breath. Her green eyes watered and a tear slipped past the corner of her bottom lid and traveled down her cheek.

"I killed the man who did it. Got a confession from the man who arranged it."

"Who? Who was it?"

"You don't know the man who pulled the trigger. Martinez, a CIA asshole. But the man…" My voice trailed off. She knew Keller. The first time I met her, Keller was there. Keller and Abbot had been close. The man was like an uncle to her. "Keller. It was General Keller who ordered it."

She lifted her eyebrows and leaned forward. The tears flowed faster.

I set my drink down and slid off the couch. I walked over to her and dropped to my knees in front of her. Wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. She cried and talked, then cried some more. I held her and listened. We stayed up late into the morning hours, drinking and smoking. By the end of the night she seemed at peace with her father's passing. Or maybe she was drunk enough that she'd gone numb.

The next morning I woke up on her couch with a slight headache. She was in the kitchen making breakfast. I walked over and sat down at the breakfast counter.