by J. B. Turner
“I can’t do that, Jon, you know that.”
“I’m asking you to make sure that those two individuals do not face charges or any trial. That would be a travesty.”
Meyerstein sighed and nodded. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“Nothing ever is. For me, that’s all I’m asking. The very last favor I’m calling in, I promise.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A knock at Meyerstein’s door snapped them out of the tense discussion.
Meyerstein’s assistant popped her head around the door. “Ma’am, check out C-SPAN. The chairman of the SASC is about to make a special announcement. It’s live.”
Meyerstein nodded. “Thanks, Sharon.”
Sharon closed the door behind her.
Meyerstein picked up the remote control from her desk and switched on the large-screen TV on the wall. She channel-surfed until she got to C-SPAN’s live broadcast.
Tom Aldrich, chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, was adjusting the microphone in front of him, photographers crowded around. “Ladies and gentlemen, we learned earlier this morning that Rosalind Dyer, who was supposed to give evidence during a closed session before the committee, tragically died before she could appear before us. The police and the FBI have begun an investigation into her death. I have had several requests from other members of the committee to postpone this hearing out of respect for the memory of Rosalind Dyer. But after much deliberation and soul-searching this morning, I have decided that we will not postpone. We will adjourn, but only for two hours. We have before us today evidence compiled by Rosalind Dyer. She not only managed to secure a vast amount of documentation about these grave allegations of corruption and kickbacks within the American military, but she has also passed on information, which I feel is credible, that outlines the highly suspicious deaths of seven accountants and auditors who have all been linked in some way to this investigation over the years. Seven deaths.”
Audible gasps from others on the committee.
“Trust me, we will get to the bottom of this. My committee will not be intimidated. We will be calling witnesses. The government is on trial. We owe it to the bravery of Rosalind Dyer.” His voice cracked for a moment. “I, for one, want to go on record and express my admiration for her integrity, courage, and patriotism, not to mention her exemplary service to this great country of ours.”
Meyerstein stared at the TV as the camera panned across the faces of the other members of the committee. She switched off the TV, tears in her eyes. “Damn.”
Reznick shook his head. “God bless her.”
“I feel so bad, Jon. For her, for her family. I should’ve hauled her in.”
“She didn’t want that. She wanted to tell what she knew. She knew she was at risk. We all warned her.”
“She’s dead.”
Reznick nodded. “Yes, she is. God rest her soul.”
Meyerstein closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. When she opened them, she said, “I think your instincts were right on this, Jon. I was wrong. Or rather we, the FBI, were wrong. We came up short. I’m starting to wonder if our response was bureaucratic. We didn’t seem to connect the dots. I’m starting to doubt what the hell we were doing. Missing the big picture. Going after the wrong people. The point is, you didn’t.”
Reznick sat quietly.
“You know the small consolation I take from this whole terrible episode?”
“What’s that?”
“Rosalind Dyer couldn’t be silenced. She paid for it with her life. But they could not silence her. Her story is going to be told. What she knew. And that’s what she would have wanted.”
The late-morning sun was streaming through the blinds.
Reznick squinted against the glare of the sun. “She made the ultimate sacrifice.”
“Amen to that.”
Epilogue
Three months later, Reznick was sitting on his deck, drinking a beer, watching the burnt autumn sun set over Penobscot Bay, when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number.
“Yeah?”
“I’m looking to speak to Mr. Reznick.” The man’s voice was calm. “Mr. Jon Reznick.”
“Who’s this?”
There was a long silence before the man spoke again. “You don’t know me. My name is Travis Dyer. My wife was Rosalind Dyer.”
Reznick sat up and put down his beer. “Travis, hi.”
“I hope you don’t mind my calling.”
“Not at all. I was actually thinking about you and your family just yesterday when I was out doing some fishing.”
Travis sighed. “Jon—I hope you don’t mind me calling you that.”
Reznick smiled. “Not at all.”
“I’ve been thinking about calling you for quite some time. But I’ve just never found the right moment or . . . I don’t know. I think I was a little scared. Just that it brings back a lot of memories.”
“It must, man. You mind me asking how you got my number, Travis?”
“I was given your number by Assistant Director Meyerstein. I hope it’s OK that I called you.”
“Really nice to hear from you. I don’t mind at all.”
“I’m still trying to come to terms with losing Rosalind. My kids with losing their mom. I guess it’ll take more time.”
“It’s a terrible loss, I know.”
“Jon—” Travis’s voice broke with emotion. “It’s only now that I can even talk about this, not only about what happened to her, but to try to understand the events that led up to it. I’m still trying to make sense of it.”
Reznick sighed. “What do you know?”
“I know she had compiled a compelling case against at least one member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Double accounting, Swiss bank accounts. A whole host of stuff. And because of that, an operation was put in place to neutralize her. But she was also investigating the deaths of seven other people.”
“That’s correct. I haven’t heard much about the committee and their findings. It’s all been quiet on that front.” Reznick knew why, or at least what had been stated publicly. “The chairman has been ill, apparently.”
“The hearings are finished. They’ve been postponed indefinitely. Which means it’s over. That’s what I’ve been told.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah . . . anyway, Jon, the reason I wanted to speak to you is that no one has really spoken to me about the last couple of days. Her last days. I guess I just want to hear it firsthand. Just for a bit of closure.”
“I understand. What do you want to know?”
“How did you get involved?”
Reznick sighed long and hard. “Well, I was approached by a hacker I know . . .”
Reznick sketched out the events that had taken him and Trevelle to New York, then down to DC to warn Rosalind. How committed she’d been. How grateful that her family had supported her decision to testify.
A silence stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity, as if Travis was absorbing the picture of his wife’s last few days. “I want to thank you for doing your best to protect her.”
“I wish I could’ve done more.”
“There’s something else. I’ve been told by various people that you were the one who killed Max Charles.”
Reznick sighed. “I’d rather not go into that.”
“That’s all I need to know. Jon, I know what you did. And my children know. Not only protecting Rosalind, putting your own life on the line, but also ensuring her investigation had a chance to see the light of day.”
“I hope another committee renews the hearings.”
“I do too.”
“We owe it to Rosalind’s memory.”
“My family owes you a lot.”
Reznick felt his throat tighten.
Travis broke down and began to cry. “I’m glad you killed him, the son of a bitch. Maybe I shouldn’t say that. It doesn’t sound like the Christian thing to say.
Rosalind was a great believer. And I hope it’s true that she’s at peace in heaven.”
“I hope so too.”
Travis sniffed. “Sometimes I don’t want to go on without her. It’s like I’m in a tunnel and there’s no light.”
“I know that feeling. But we do go on. It’s the human spirit within us. I think that was something Rosalind understood better than most.”
“You’re right about that. Thank you, Jon. And I hope we can meet up sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
After he hung up the phone, Reznick picked up his beer and took a large gulp. Out on the bay, the cold, dark waters off the coast of Maine were turning bloodred as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my editor, Jack Butler, and everyone at Amazon Publishing for their enthusiasm, hard work, and belief in the Jon Reznick thriller series. I would also like to thank my loyal readers. Thanks also to Faith Black Ross for her terrific work on this book, and Caitlin Alexander in New York, who looked over an early draft.
Last but by no means least, thank you to my wife, family, and friends for their encouragement and support.
About the Author
Photo © 2013 John Need
J. B. Turner is a former journalist and the author of the Jon Reznick series of action thrillers (Hard Road, Hard Kill, Hard Wired, Hard Way, Hard Fall, Hard Hit, and Hard Shot), the American Ghost series of black-ops thrillers (Rogue, Reckoning, and Requiem), and the Deborah Jones political thrillers (Miami Requiem and Dark Waters). He has a keen interest in geopolitics. He lives in Scotland with his wife and two children.