didn't want to make their findings public until they had more proof of how the sabotage was done. They're almost sure that the job was done by Matanza, and you were in Guatemala, their home base, two years ago. The CIA believes that's when you were recruited. The FBI was about to make an announcement when Ken Nader was killed. You were under suspicion from the moment you were found at the site."
She shook her head dazedly. "I could have died in that landslide."
"And who would suspect a supposed victim of being involved in Nader's murder?"
"And what about that man who ran us off the road and shot Sarah?"
"But never touched you. It was entirely possible your accomplices arranged the attack to take any suspicion off you in Nader's death."
"This is crazy."
"Actually, it's pretty clever."
"I don't understand this. Why would the FBI--" She drew a deep breath. "I have to get in touch with them and straighten this out."
He shook his head. "Bad move. I'd bet you'd be dead within twenty-four hours."
"Bullshit. We're talking about a law-enforcement agency. They might put me in jail until I could get this mess cleared up, but no one's going to shoot me."
"No, you'd probably conveniently find a way to commit suicide in your cell--if you made it that far. It's more likely that you'd be killed when you were apprehended. Presto. No witness."
"You're saying you think the FBI is in collusion with those men at the dam." She lifted her shaking hand to her mouth. "And there was something about the CIA too. . . . I just don't believe it."
"It's not necessarily a conspiracy that goes deep to the bone of either organization. But I believe someone high up is pulling strings and furnishing scenarios to them that may fry your ass."
She shook her head. "I won't believe it. You're talking about Americans who work every day to protect our country."
"Ah, more heroes?"
"Yes," she said defiantly.
"Heroes can be manipulated. Evidence can be planted. I'd bet every news story for the next few days will show Alex Graham's guilt unfold with all the drama of a soap opera."
"My God, you're cynical."
"I've been there. I know how it works." He turned away. "I'll make coffee. You may need a jolt of caffeine after you finish watching CNN."
She needed more than caffeine at the end of those fifteen minutes. She felt ill. Christ, even the photos they'd turned over to the news agencies appeared incriminating. She recognized one taken at the airport in Guatemala City that looked like a mug shot.
"Not your most flattering photo." Morgan handed her a cup of coffee. "And it may be the one that's broadcast and rebroadcast."
"They still haven't come up with a reason why I'd do something like this."
"The Fox affiliate has a few theories. Bitterness over your father's death at WTC comes high on the list. Several people heard you say that the government should have paid attention to information they received before 9/11."
"Hell, yes."
"And friends and employers say you changed after your father's death."
"Didn't everyone change after 9/11?"
He nodded. "But we're talking about you."
"It's ridiculous." She moistened her lips. "And I'm a journalist. I know the people in my profession. They're not going to be duped. They're going to go after their own stories."
"But by that time you may be dead news. With the emphasis on dead . Will they work their asses off to discover how innocent you were then?"
"Maybe."
"And maybe not. Every day is a new story. You'd better concentrate on--" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "It's about time." He moved to the door. "Galen?"
"You're damn right. Let me in."
Morgan unlocked the door and stepped aside. "It took you long enough."
"You're the one who decided to move up here to the back of beyond." His gaze went to Alex. "Hi, I'm Sean Galen."
Galen was a man in his late thirties with close-cut dark hair and dark eyes snapping with vitality. Even his movements were charged with electricity as he came into the room.
She shook her head dazedly. "I could have died in that landslide."
"And who would suspect a supposed victim of being involved in Nader's murder?"
"And what about that man who ran us off the road and shot Sarah?"
"But never touched you. It was entirely possible your accomplices arranged the attack to take any suspicion off you in Nader's death."
"This is crazy."
"Actually, it's pretty clever."
"I don't understand this. Why would the FBI--" She drew a deep breath. "I have to get in touch with them and straighten this out."
He shook his head. "Bad move. I'd bet you'd be dead within twenty-four hours."
"Bullshit. We're talking about a law-enforcement agency. They might put me in jail until I could get this mess cleared up, but no one's going to shoot me."
"No, you'd probably conveniently find a way to commit suicide in your cell--if you made it that far. It's more likely that you'd be killed when you were apprehended. Presto. No witness."
"You're saying you think the FBI is in collusion with those men at the dam." She lifted her shaking hand to her mouth. "And there was something about the CIA too. . . . I just don't believe it."
"It's not necessarily a conspiracy that goes deep to the bone of either organization. But I believe someone high up is pulling strings and furnishing scenarios to them that may fry your ass."
She shook her head. "I won't believe it. You're talking about Americans who work every day to protect our country."
"Ah, more heroes?"
"Yes," she said defiantly.
"Heroes can be manipulated. Evidence can be planted. I'd bet every news story for the next few days will show Alex Graham's guilt unfold with all the drama of a soap opera."
"My God, you're cynical."
"I've been there. I know how it works." He turned away. "I'll make coffee. You may need a jolt of caffeine after you finish watching CNN."
She needed more than caffeine at the end of those fifteen minutes. She felt ill. Christ, even the photos they'd turned over to the news agencies appeared incriminating. She recognized one taken at the airport in Guatemala City that looked like a mug shot.
"Not your most flattering photo." Morgan handed her a cup of coffee. "And it may be the one that's broadcast and rebroadcast."
"They still haven't come up with a reason why I'd do something like this."
"The Fox affiliate has a few theories. Bitterness over your father's death at WTC comes high on the list. Several people heard you say that the government should have paid attention to information they received before 9/11."
"Hell, yes."
"And friends and employers say you changed after your father's death."
"Didn't everyone change after 9/11?"
He nodded. "But we're talking about you."
"It's ridiculous." She moistened her lips. "And I'm a journalist. I know the people in my profession. They're not going to be duped. They're going to go after their own stories."
"But by that time you may be dead news. With the emphasis on dead . Will they work their asses off to discover how innocent you were then?"
"Maybe."
"And maybe not. Every day is a new story. You'd better concentrate on--" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "It's about time." He moved to the door. "Galen?"
"You're damn right. Let me in."
Morgan unlocked the door and stepped aside. "It took you long enough."
"You're the one who decided to move up here to the back of beyond." His gaze went to Alex. "Hi, I'm Sean Galen."
Galen was a man in his late thirties with close-cut dark hair and dark eyes snapping with vitality. Even his movements were charged with electricity as he came into the room.
Similar Books
