had known T.C. would tape the meeting in case there was something he could put in the safe for leverage later. T.C. wouldn’t want any witnesses to this meeting, though.
Paul watched them leave. T.C. looked slightly uncomfortable. He loved an audience to play to and looked smaller after the other men left the room. He couldn’t pretend with Paul now.
Paul sat and lit a cigarette and took two large draws on it before he spoke. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Actually, I believe this is a nonsmoking suite,” T.C. said. “But you’re our guest. We can air out the room after you’re gone.”
“It’s strange being back in D.C.,” Paul said. “Couldn’t imagine being back in all of this again.” He watched T.C.’s eyes following the cigarette. “You used tosmoke, didn’t you? Let’s see … those Dorals in the green package, wasn’t it? Low tar. Safe.”
T.C. waved at the air. “I believe you’re right. Foul habit, Paul. Times have changed. You could probably get ten years at hard labor for lighting that outside this room. Nobody who is anybody smokes anymore. The days of cigar-sucking senators sitting about plotting mass destruction and filling their pork barrels is about at an end. And good riddance.”
Paul took another pull. “I should quit.”
“So how have you been? Living a quiet life? We have a medal that belongs to you somewhere. You should take it back home when you go. When will that be?”
“How have I been? Not bad, considering I’ve been practicing to become a monk. I have the silence and celibacy down, and I’m working on getting used to the sackcloth.”
T.C. looked at him and then laughed out loud. “Well said,” he roared. “Very good. Still have that sense of humor.” T.C. picked at an imaginary lint speck on his knee. “Have you seen Jack?”
“Jack?” Paul knew exactly whom T.C. was referring to. “Which Jack, T.C?”
“Ah, same Paul, I see.” T.C.’s smile flat-lined. “If you’re thinking about coming back into the world you left, I should caution you that things have changed. Six or seven years is an eternity, career-wise.”
Paul crushed out the Camel, taking his time. “T.C, let’s cut to the chase and save the small talk for cocktail parties. I want to come back into DEA like I want a hubcap shoved up my ass pipe. I don’t want to live in this town again with the brand of creatures who inhabit it. Present company aside, naturally. I don’t ever want to command anyone again. I lost whatever it was I had that made me want to be responsible for other people’s actions, and I am truly sorry I was ever where I was. Things would have been so different had I gone to State instead of Justice.”
“Save that for the hicks. You love commanding. We all know you’ll be back unless someone buries you.”
“It takes self-confidence and a certain inner moral outrage that I can’t muster. Plus I don’t believe it, any of it, anymore. The old Paul is dead and buried. My days of believing the company line are over. That’s the first point.”
“Well, Paul—”
“Hear me out,” Paul said. “By now you know that Martin Fletcher has killed eight of your people’s family members.”
“Two were ex-agents,” T.C. corrected, holding up his hand. “I am aware. Just the other day … the Rainey incident. God, anyone who would kill children like that.… If it was Martin, he will be caught and punished. Rainey said Martin, of course, but Rainey isn’t exactly reliable right now—suffered a complete breakdown. He’ll be out for months. Maybe for good. I’ve been looking at replacements just in case.”
“T.C., Rainey heard Martin’s voice. He left that note for me.”
“Martin probably had someone else do it. He would never return to the States. Too much to lose. Besides, the killer was an old man. Martin Fletcher’s my age.”
“Hear me out.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let me assemble a team under the DEA umbrella to go after him. Give me carte
Paul watched them leave. T.C. looked slightly uncomfortable. He loved an audience to play to and looked smaller after the other men left the room. He couldn’t pretend with Paul now.
Paul sat and lit a cigarette and took two large draws on it before he spoke. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Actually, I believe this is a nonsmoking suite,” T.C. said. “But you’re our guest. We can air out the room after you’re gone.”
“It’s strange being back in D.C.,” Paul said. “Couldn’t imagine being back in all of this again.” He watched T.C.’s eyes following the cigarette. “You used tosmoke, didn’t you? Let’s see … those Dorals in the green package, wasn’t it? Low tar. Safe.”
T.C. waved at the air. “I believe you’re right. Foul habit, Paul. Times have changed. You could probably get ten years at hard labor for lighting that outside this room. Nobody who is anybody smokes anymore. The days of cigar-sucking senators sitting about plotting mass destruction and filling their pork barrels is about at an end. And good riddance.”
Paul took another pull. “I should quit.”
“So how have you been? Living a quiet life? We have a medal that belongs to you somewhere. You should take it back home when you go. When will that be?”
“How have I been? Not bad, considering I’ve been practicing to become a monk. I have the silence and celibacy down, and I’m working on getting used to the sackcloth.”
T.C. looked at him and then laughed out loud. “Well said,” he roared. “Very good. Still have that sense of humor.” T.C. picked at an imaginary lint speck on his knee. “Have you seen Jack?”
“Jack?” Paul knew exactly whom T.C. was referring to. “Which Jack, T.C?”
“Ah, same Paul, I see.” T.C.’s smile flat-lined. “If you’re thinking about coming back into the world you left, I should caution you that things have changed. Six or seven years is an eternity, career-wise.”
Paul crushed out the Camel, taking his time. “T.C, let’s cut to the chase and save the small talk for cocktail parties. I want to come back into DEA like I want a hubcap shoved up my ass pipe. I don’t want to live in this town again with the brand of creatures who inhabit it. Present company aside, naturally. I don’t ever want to command anyone again. I lost whatever it was I had that made me want to be responsible for other people’s actions, and I am truly sorry I was ever where I was. Things would have been so different had I gone to State instead of Justice.”
“Save that for the hicks. You love commanding. We all know you’ll be back unless someone buries you.”
“It takes self-confidence and a certain inner moral outrage that I can’t muster. Plus I don’t believe it, any of it, anymore. The old Paul is dead and buried. My days of believing the company line are over. That’s the first point.”
“Well, Paul—”
“Hear me out,” Paul said. “By now you know that Martin Fletcher has killed eight of your people’s family members.”
“Two were ex-agents,” T.C. corrected, holding up his hand. “I am aware. Just the other day … the Rainey incident. God, anyone who would kill children like that.… If it was Martin, he will be caught and punished. Rainey said Martin, of course, but Rainey isn’t exactly reliable right now—suffered a complete breakdown. He’ll be out for months. Maybe for good. I’ve been looking at replacements just in case.”
“T.C., Rainey heard Martin’s voice. He left that note for me.”
“Martin probably had someone else do it. He would never return to the States. Too much to lose. Besides, the killer was an old man. Martin Fletcher’s my age.”
“Hear me out.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let me assemble a team under the DEA umbrella to go after him. Give me carte
Similar Books
