Luther was a little nervous as he sat down with the president and his advisers in the Oval Office. The room was filled with faces he’d seen only on CNN and Meet the Press. Luther had retrieved both sets of information and presented them to the president in person. The president and his people read the documents in detail, and Luther was then granted this audience.
The president was told the compelling tale of the Wells information and how AIDS had been engineered in the United States. He was also told that Luther was a government consultant who worked outside federal service. The president knew that this was a cover, but he also knew that it was for his own good to accept it.
Luther had been to the White House only once, and then it was under civilian cover. Now the place seemed smaller and more ordinary because of the business he had to attend to. He hoped that he’d leave the place with a fond memory.
“My people tell me that we did not receive all the original documents in these sets of papers from Wells,” said the president.
“Yes, sir,” said Luther. “I’ve kept some of them, enough to authenticate the copies I also kept.”
“And what is the purpose of that action?” asked a high-ranking presidential adviser.
“I’m protecting my life,” said Luther, “as well as the lives of others.” He’d been instructed to say as little as possible about the incidents in Detroit.
“This kind of information is too dangerous. We must destroy it and then deal with the people who started this and set things right,” said the adviser.
“How will we administer justice for this?” asked Luther.
“We have already made changes at various agencies, and the private companies and military officials responsible that are still with us will be dealt with,” said the president.
“How?” asked Luther, and there was a buzz in the room at both his question and his intonation.
“This administration has a lot of respect for you,” said the president, “but you do not question me.”
“I understand, sir,” said Luther. “You’re a powerful man, and that’s why I’ve kept a copy of the information—to ensure that your administration keeps its word and delivers justice in this matter. I have the files themselves, as well as other information, stored away.”
Now the buzz became a low clamor. The military types in the room looked especially angry.
“Son,” said the president, “are you blackmailing the president of the United States?”
“I think of it as ‘bluemail,’ Mr. President,” said Luther. “It’s patriotic persuasion for men who understand what a patriot is.”
Luther waited to be arrested. The room was quiet, and all eyes were on the president. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the ceiling. Then he leaned forward and seemed to think a little more. The military men in the room had the beginnings of smiles on their faces, the kind of smile you wore when you knew someone was about to get taken down.
The president sat up straight and looked Luther directly in the eye. “What are your terms?”
Luther sat on the cold stone of the Lincoln Memorial in the Mall and waited. It was a little chilly out, so he’d worn a light jacket. Tourists stopped by, posing for pictures. He was careful not to get into any of them, although he did take a few snapshots for families.
The mission was finally over for him. He’d had to listen to almost two hours of classical music to put this one behind him. But the melodies had done their job and slowly he was turning back into his old self.
Frank and Kam Lim both returned to active duty, but each held a deep grudge against Luther. Frank seemed particularly upset that his chances for advancement had been hurt.
Adelaide was still in charge of the office and was actually enjoying it. Agents had been sent back out on missions, but Luther and Hampton were given some well-deserved time off.
Luther was proud when he read about the record aid package passed by Congress and the president to fund African AIDS relief and domestic research for a cure. He was even prouder when the federal government handed down indictments against five major corporations and six individuals for violations of federal laws, from RICO to insider trading. Soon thereafter several high-ranking military men suddenly decided to take early retirement.
Sharon and Luther had talked for a long time, trying to make sense out of what had happened. Luther didn’t blame her for following orders. She did, however, blame him for acting like such a loner. In her mind he and Hampton might have handled things differently, although she didn’t have any idea how they could have done it. In the end they would remain friends, and that was all Luther cared about.
Luther had called home and learned that his family was better. They had worked out a great many things in his absence and had bored a hole into the pain, heartache, and trouble that had built up over the years. He wanted to be there to go back and help, maybe even see Vanessa again. But he’d heard it so many times and now he knew it was true: You could not go home again.
Many articles appeared about the recent spate of local terrorism and anti-Arab sentiment in Detroit. Ironically, Nappy’s paper, The Radical, would have reported something a little more accurate, but since his death it had gone out of business.
Sitting by the monument, Luther checked his watch. It was getting late. He rose and was about to go when he saw a figure approach. He stood still as the man came closer to him. Luther had been coming here almost every night for two weeks, hoping he was right about something.
Alex had mentioned that Rule 225 had been inspired by Lincoln, and then he’d said, “I’m sure I’ll meet Lincoln one day.” It sounded crazy, but Luther knew it was some kind of code. How could you meet Lincoln, unless it was here? So he’d been coming here, hoping to see Alex, but the last few weeks…nothing. Alex was probably on some exotic island getting laid and drunk in that order. That had made Luther smile a little.
The man walking toward Luther looked about right, but as he came into better view, Luther saw that it was not Alex but a tall wino in a trench coat. The wino hit him up for a dollar, then ambled off.
“You only encourage them to drink when you do that.” It was Alex’s voice.
Luther spun around but saw nothing except Honest Abe sitting in his chair.
“I always was a soft touch,” said Luther.
“I saw you here last week, but I had to make sure you weren’t trying to take me in,” said Alex as he stepped into view.
“I understand your concern,” said Luther, “but the agency thinks you’re dead.”
As Alex walked closer, Luther saw that he looked better now. His eyes were clear, and he wore an expression that seemed normal.
“I got myself some proper medical attention,” said Deavers. “I think if I keep taking it easy, I might be halfway healthy again.”
“It’s good to see you,” said Luther. He was happy to know that Alex was alive, though he didn’t know what the future held for him.
“I see that the government is trying to make amends,” said Deavers. “They even rolled a few heads.”
“Yes, but it all seems too little too late,” said Luther.
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” said Deavers. “Every good deed has to start somewhere.”
“So how about a drink?” asked Luther.
“Sure. It’ll go well with the drugs I’m taking.”
The two men walked off. Luther wouldn’t tell anyone that his friend was still alive. It would be their secret. Maybe this would finally give Alex a chance at a normal life. Luther envied him.
He watched the people taking pictures of the statues in the National Mall. People came here all the time to touch the greatness of America’s past leaders. Luther wondered how many people knew how precious the freedom those monuments stood for was to their lives.
About the Author
GARY HARDWICK is the author of the novels Cold Medina, Double Dead, Supreme Justice, and Color of Justice, A former attorney, he is also the screenwriter and director of t
he hit films The Brothers and Deliver Us From Eva, as well as a television executive producer. Born and raised in Detroit, Mr. Hardwick now lives in California and is currently working on his next motion picture and novel. You can visit his website at www.ghard.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Resounding acclaim for the novels of GARY HARDWICK
“Supremely good.”
Detroit News
“Gary Hardwick plays the race card with an expert touch…He [delivers] powerful novels that leave the reader thinking more about the state of American society than whodunit…Hardwick uses his perfect pitch to incredible effect, making every word hit home and every character a complex mixture of right and wrong.”
Orlando Sentinel
“Jet-propelled action.”
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
“[Hardwick] shares with [Elmore] Leonard the ability to quickly capture the hard edge of Detroit street and crime life.”
Publishers Weekly
“Hardwick has an ear for dialogue and an unflinching wisdom about anger and skin color.”
San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle
“Compelling entertainment for those who like a vicarious walk on the wild side.”
Booklist
Other Books by Gary Hardwick
THE EXECUTIONER’S GAME
COLOR OF JUSTICE
SUPREME JUSTICE
DOUBLE DEAD
COLD MEDINA
SEXLIFE
(writing as a.a. clifford)
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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