dress, to the black thong she wore. He reached his hand down and squeezed her soft butt cheeks.
“I thought you said you were really beat,” she chided him.
“That was before I saw you naked.”
“God, your timing is incredibly poor.”
“I know,” he admitted
After he zipped her up he moved his hand along her smooth back, which made her writhe a bit. She turned to him, smiled. “I shouldn’t be too late tonight if you really want to fool around later. I bought some new lingerie.”
“I’d like that,” he said, momentarily forgetting that people were dropping all around him, and that he was facing professional doom or even an early and violent death. This thought coupled with the seeming domestic bliss of his life made him feel suddenly dizzy.
She kissed him and said, “I’m having Leon drive me over. He’ll wait to bring me back. Or he can come directly back if you need the car.”
“No, I don’t plan on going out. See you later, honey.”
He watched her leave. At forty-six his wife was still a stunner. They’d been married over seventeen years, and it felt like the first year over and over.
I’m a very lucky man. In some ways. Not so much in others.
Time passed and he wandered the house, a second glass of gin he’d poured dangling precariously in his hand. He finished it off, chewed the ice cubes down, sucking in every last drop of alcohol.
Foster and Quantrell were in this together and obviously had been for quite some time. Bunting had moles embedded everywhere, but they’d completely missed that little alliance. The E-Program, despite its proven worth, was going up in flames. And those two were poised to walk out of that fire with their kingdoms not only intact but far larger. And Bunting?
Either I’m dead or in prison. They’ve set me up nicely.
He had called James Harkes and gotten no answer back. It was clear to Bunting what that meant. Harkes was supposed to be his attack dog. But he had returned to his true master now, like Cerberus to Hades.
He rubbed his forehead. Harkes had been a plant. Either by Foster or Quantrell, or both. If he had killed those people? If the FBI thought that Bunting… Enough evidence to send him away forever, he was sure, was all neatly planted. Foster was nothing if not thorough.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. The comforter had been hand-sewn in Italy. It had cost more than Bunting’s first year’s college tuition. He had never much thought about this. And he didn’t dwell on it now. He would buy a hundred such comforters if only he could put this all behind him.
He took a deep breath and smelled the alcohol coming out of his mouth. It tickled his nose, warmed him. He poured another gin, let it wash down his gullet, splash into his gut, and give him a cool burn, like diving into icy water naked.
His phone buzzed. Bunting lifted it from his pocket, gazed at it wearily when he saw who it was. He considered not answering it, then habit took over and he relented.
“Yes, Avery?”
“I just received a call from Sean King. He wants to meet.”
Bunting didn’t say anything. He felt a painful stitch in his chest.
“Mr. Bunting?”
“Yes?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but he heard it wobble.
“He wants to meet.”
“I heard that. With you?”
“No, with you.”
Bunting cleared his throat, tried to work some saliva into his mouth. “When?”
Avery didn’t say anything.
“When!”
“He said he’s standing outside your house right now.”
CHAPTER
55
KELLY PAUL LOWERED her binoculars and studied the immediate landscape as afternoon fell away into evening in eastern Maine. She had a pad and pen. She made some notes: numbers, locations of things, degrees on the compass, obstacles, and possible advantages. She looked out to the ocean. The water was calm today. Cutter’s Rock didn’t seem nearly as intimidating from this heightened angle.
She lifted the binoculars once more as the van passed through security and arrived at the front doors to the facility. She adjusted the magnification and studied the writing on the side of the van. Cutter’s must be having an issue with their power system, she concluded. And these gents were here to fix it. They were inside for nearly two hours and then did some work at a second, far smaller building behind the main facility. Later, they came out, put their equipment in the van, and drove away.
Paul lowered her optics when the van passed from sight.
The federal facility, she concluded, was an onion with layers that needed to be peeled away. After Sean had told her about it Paul had had Michelle tell her in detail about the other pair of eyes she’d seen on Cutter’s. She had given Paul the approximate location of these eyes. That was why she was here, to see it for herself. It was a good observation point. She could understand why they had chosen it.
She looked down at the facility plans in her hands. They had been hard to come by. But she had built up many favors over the years and could think of no better reason to use them. She had also learned that Cutter’s Rock had gotten a new director to replace the deceased Carla Dukes. She was certain that this new person had been as carefully selected as the last one, perhaps even more so. She wrote other things down and then used her cell phone to make some calls. She had suspected certain tactical actions were in the works, and her observations today had confirmed that. She needed help. With these phone calls she cashed in more favors and got the assets she needed. It was proof of the work that she had done in the field over the last two decades that not a single person said no, or even questioned why she wanted to do this.
She put the phone away, retraced her steps, and got back in her rental. The drive back to Machias was quick but it still gave her precious time to think. She found Megan Riley in the front parlor at the inn. Megan had her laptop, notepads, and legal documents spread out in front of her on a wide, oval table that Mrs. Burke had allowed her to use as a makeshift desk. She sat down across from her.
“Being productive?” she asked.
Megan bit on the end of her pen and looked up at the woman. “Depends on how you define productive.”
“Making progress?”
“Marginally. It’s not easy.”
“Hard things in life are, de facto, never easy.”
“Sean and Michelle are gone again.”
“I know.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or you won’t tell me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you all think I’m a baby lawyer who will screw stuff up.”
“You are and you might.”
“Thanks. Thanks for all the support.”
“You earn support.”
“I’m doing the best that I can.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Are you always this rude?”
“You haven’t yet seen me be rude. When I am it’s unmistakable.”
“I want to be in the loop on everything.”
“Again, you have to earn that right.”
Megan leaned back in her chair and studied the other woman. “Okay, why don’t you tell me some things about your brother?”
“Why?”
Megan pointed to the documents. “I’m trying to draft motions to get him out of Cutter’s. I have to have something to go on other than his insanity act.”
“An act?”
“I saw what went on at Cutter’s. You were communicating with him somehow.”
“Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t. Sean said that the forensics don’t add up. Different dirt on the bodies. That’s something you can use.”
“But it’s just a point of evidence, something for the jury to decide. It’s not going to get the charges thrown out.”
“Getting the charges thrown out isn’t necessarily the goal. We need to put pressure on certain people. We need
for them to know that there is a lot at stake. More than my brother being executed for crimes he didn’t commit.”
“Well, drafting stupid motions won’t do that.”
“They can, if we execute the plan precisely.”
“And how do we get to these certain people?”
“I believe Sean and Michelle are attempting to do that right now.”
“And who are these certain people?”
Paul remained silent.
Megan pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest. “I am the one who’ll be arguing this case to save your brother’s ass.”
“It’s a company in the intelligence field.”
“Does this company have a name? It could have direct bearing on the case.”
“I’m not inclined to disclose that information right now.”
“So you do know?”
“Perhaps.”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy.”
She got up and walked away, leaving Megan to frown after her.
CHAPTER
56
BUNTING PUT DOWN THE PHONE and hurried over to the window overlooking the street. It was completely dark outside now, except for car lights and streetlamps. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten. He scanned the area outside of his house. For a moment he had a spark of hope that it was all just a bluff. But then he saw the tall man directly across the street, on the park side, under a streetlamp and near a tree.
Apparently, Sean King had glimpsed him, too, at the window. He raised his cell phone.
Bunting moved away from the window and debated what to do. Ordinarily he would have called Harkes to come and take care of this. But that was no longer an option.
I have to handle this one myself. And maybe it’s about time.
He slipped on his jacket and headed downstairs. He passed the maid, who nodded respectfully to him. He passed the cook, who did the same. He attempted a smile, while his heart was slamming against his breastbone. When one of his security personnel stationed at the front door looked at him inquiringly, Bunting said, “Just going out for a quick walk. You can stay here.”
“But, sir—”
“Just stay here, Kramer, I’ll be fine. Just a walk.”
The man stepped back and opened the door for his boss.
Bunting gripped hold of his nerves, squared his shoulders, and headed out, all alone.
Sean waited until the man crossed the street before coming over to him.
“Mr. Bunting, I appreciate your meeting with me.”
“I’m not quite sure how you know who I am,” Bunting said coldly.
Sean glanced around at the few people walking along the street. “Maybe someplace a little more private.”
“I’d like to know what you want first.”
Sean’s features hardened. “We can waste time if you want. We waste too much time and then things get out of control. Everyone’s control.”
Instead of answering, Bunting turned and walked off. Sean followed. Minutes later they were at the back of an empty café staring at each other as a waitress poured them cups of coffee.
“What do you want?” asked Bunting after the woman had left them.
“Edgar Roy?”
Bunting said nothing.
“You know him.”
“That didn’t sound like a question.”
“It’s a fact.”
“Again, what do you want?”
“Roy is being charged with murder. He’s currently sitting in a cell at Cutter’s Rock. You know all this. You’ve been to visit him.”
“You have inside sources?”
Sean sat back, drank some of his coffee. It was fresh and hot and warmed bones that had grown chilly waiting outside of the fabulous brownstone. “A lot of people have died. My friend Ted Bergin. His secretary. Your person, Carla Dukes. An FBI agent. Not to mention the six bodies in Edgar Roy’s barn.”
Bunting spooned some sugar into his coffee. “Do you have any idea what you’re involved in?”
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Mr. Bunting. You could lose it all.”
“Thank you for your assessment of my future. I think I’ve listened to enough.” He started to rise, but Sean clamped a hand on his wrist.
“By all accounts you are a very smart man. Your work makes America safer. If I thought you were a bad guy I wouldn’t be here. I’d let you sink in your own slime.”
Bunting sat back down. “You can’t know I’m not a ‘bad guy.’ ” He peered closely at Sean. “So is this a test? And if so how am I doing?”
“You are meeting with me. And ask yourself why.” Sean paused to let this sink in. “Because you know things are out of control. You know that your personal freedom is at risk. You know that if they can kill an FBI agent, who’s to say they won’t kill the CEO of an intelligence contractor and make it look like an accident.” He paused again. “You have three kids.”
“Leave my kids out of it,” snapped Bunting.
“I would never do anything to your family. I’m one of the good guys. But do you think the people you’re working with believe them to be off-limits?”
Bunting looked away, the answer to that question easily read in his desperate features.
“You’re in with the sharks, Mr. Bunting. Sharks will attack anyone or anything. They’re predators. Pure and simple.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he said in a hollow tone. “I had nothing to do with any of those people dying. What happened to them sickens me.”
“I actually believe you.”
Bunting looked surprised. “Why?”
“You stepped out of your palace back there and had the courage to meet with me, alone. That says a lot.”
“It’s not nearly as easy as you think it is, King. The people involved. There are almost no limits to what they can do.”
“Edgar Roy is the key. If his innocence is established and he’s released from Cutter’s?”
“That’s a big if.”
Sean leaned forward. “I think you have to ask yourself a question, Mr. Bunting.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you want to stay in the water with the sharks or try to reach dry land? If you stay in the water, I only see one conclusion for you. Do you disagree?”
“No, I don’t,” said Bunting frankly. “I’ll let you know.” He paused. “And I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Especially with Edgar. He doesn’t deserve any of this. He’s a good, kind person with a truly unique brain. He’s just caught between forces he knows nothing about.”
When he rose, Sean put a hand on his arm. “I know you need to think about this, but keep in mind that we don’t have much time.”
The Sixth Man Page 31