I looked around the cramped room, picturing where everyone would have been standing. Iffy to impossible. I said, “So it has to be the main door.”
Simon glanced to Nate and Thad, who had finally freed the door from the hinges. He said to me, “I assume they’ll x-ray it?”
“Yeah. If they don’t find a way to manipulate the locking mechanism.”
“How long until they know?”
When I asked, Thad said it would be another couple of hours until they finished up in here and hauled the doors to the lab. He said he’d rush the inspection and call the moment he had something.
“Who else on the base will know whether the door can be locked from the outside?” Simon asked me.
“The flight crew and maintenance.” I mentioned the Secret Service, but Simon didn’t want to go down that road; we’d have to break the code of silence and explain why we wanted to know. He clicked the closet shut, shaking his head. When he turned to me, his face was knitted with concern. Unlike earlier, he now seemed anxious to find an explanation. I asked him why.
“All along,” he said, “I assumed there had to be a simple way to lock the door from the outside. That we would eventually discover it. Now I’m not so certain.”
“There has to be a way, Simon. Garber sure as hell didn’t kill himself.”
His face spread into a tired smile. “Let’s hope I’m mistaken, Martin.”
As we left, I had a suspicion he was talking about more than the door.
On our way out we saw Amanda, still engrossed in conversation with Paul Carter and Tom Gentry. She signaled she was almost done, so Simon and I continued out onto the landing to wait. He sighed deeply and leaned back against the railing, eyes fixed blankly into space. For the next minute, neither of us spoke. Finally, I told him that if the crew couldn’t give us the answer on the door, I’d contact maintenance. “Either way,” I said, “we should have something fairly soon.”
“Actually,” Simon said, “I was thinking about the buttons that were found.”
“What about them?”
“I’m wondering when Weller had an opportunity to plant them.”
“Didn’t we decide she did it after she entered the compartment and found the body?”
“How could she, Martin?”
“Easy. She just did it. In the confusion, she kicked one button under the couch and slipped the second one—”
And then I saw the problem. “Hang on. The body. It was infront of the couch. Andy would have kept Weller away from the body. Weller couldn’t have planted the buttons then.”
“You wouldn’t think so.”
“Later?” I said. “You think Weller planted the items later? After the body was found?”
“Andy said the room was always guarded.”
“Right. So she must have done it earlier, during the flight.” I paused, thinking. “Hell, anyone on the plane could have planted the buttons then. Even one of the generals.”
Simon nodded, but still appeared uneasy. I asked him what else was bugging him.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Try me.”
A long pause. “The button under the couch. I was surprised it was found there.”
“Why?”
“Various reasons.” He gave a shrug and looked away.
In Simon-speak, that meant he wasn’t going to confide in me. Part of his reluctance could be explained by his secretive nature. The rest could be attributed to his ego; Simon had an aversion to guessing wrong. He often played the I’ve-got-a-secret game until he could confirm the validity of his suspicions. An annoying trait, but after ten years of working with him, I’d gotten used to it. Sort of.
“Thatwas fun.”
Simon and I turned to see Amanda standing behind us. I tested her with a friendly smile. She ignored both it and me. Simon said to her, “And?”
“I think Paul Carter’s just rattled because of his kid.”
He said, “Youthink? ”
“It’s nothing I can put my foot on. But I couldn’t shake the feeling he was holding back something.”
Simon said, “So hecould have taken the evidence?”
“He swore up and down that he didn’t.” She paused. “And frankly, I believe him.”
Simon said, “Enough to let him finish questioning the passengers?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Big help. I asked her about Tom Gentry.
She turned to me with bland indifference, trying to act as if she wasn’t upset with me, which of course meant she still was. “He told me he’d searched the aft portion of the plane and never came up to the forward section.”
“And you believe him, too?”
“No reason not to.” She contemplated me for a moment. “You know, there’s someone else we have to consider. If Tom and Paulare involved—”
I knew where she was going and cut her off. “Amanda, give it a rest. Just because Andy’s their boss doesn’t mean—”
“Get real, Marty. Andy is Andy. He’s always been out for himself. If someone up the chain offered him a deal or a promotion, he’d sell out his own mother.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“So you’re saying you have no reservations about him at all? You trust him completely?”
I hesitated.
“Aha.” She looked triumphantly at Simon. “I rest my case.”
“Can anyone be trusted completely?” he asked her.
“Well, maybe not, but—”
“Precisely. So we must act accordingly.” Addressing me, Simon said, “If it helps, Sergeant Keele is convinced someone on his team took the evidence. A number are new and inexperienced, not the usual complement who’d get assigned to an important investigation. Sergeant Keel suspects they were chosen because they wouldn’t question an order to tamper with the evidence. I tend to agree.”
Which almost certainly meant we were talking about more than one person. I felt a wave of frustration. “This is bullshit. How are we supposed to work this way? For all we know, half the team might have been ordered to quash the evidence.”
“You expected anything less, Martin?” Simon asked.
I shot him a look of annoyance. “What? You telling me you thought they’d steal evidence from under our noses?”
“This is only the beginning,” he said quietly. “We represent a threat. Someone has already killed the ranking officer in the military. Depending on who is responsible and how desperate that person becomes…” He fell silent, letting us draw our own conclusions.
Amanda and I stood there, weighing the enormity of what he was implying. “Jesus,” she murmured.
I was going to tell Simon he was overreacting, that even if one of the generals was the murderer, he’d never dare go after us. For chrissakes, we were the cops.
Then I remembered his earlier comment to Weller, the one that put everything in perspective.
Soldiers kill.
At the bottom of the stairs, we hung a right toward the maintenance offices. I checked my watch: a little after tenA .M. Since we couldn’t count on Paul Carter or Tom Gentry or anyone else, we were now faced with the problem of questioning twenty people in thirty minutes. That meant we had to go at them in groups—all except one.
I told Simon to take the flight crew and Amanda the passengers, while I interviewed the flight attendant, Sergeant Blake. Afterward, I asked Simon about another point that had been nagging at me.
“I don’t understand,” I said, “why anyone would remove the buttons and the lipstick in the first place. I thought Churchfieldwanted this to look like a rape.”
Amanda’s head spun around to us. “What’sthis? ”
“I imagine,” Simon said slowly, “it’s about maintaining control.”
I said, “Explain.”
“Secretary Churchfield,” he continued, “is leaving nothing to chance. She’s established the evidence at the crime scene. She now wants the evidence in her possession. She wants to be the
one to determine if and when to confront Senator Garber.”
I had to admit it made sense. Churchfield certainly hadn’t become the first female SECDEF by shying away from political hardball, or worse.
“You guys want to tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” Amanda said.
We were almost to the double doors. I said, “Later. Right now we have to—”
I felt her squeeze my arm hard. “Someone start talking.”
Simon and I found ourselves confronted by a pair of very determined green eyes.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Simon said. As he continued through the door, he mouthed,Tell her now.
Something lurched in my stomach. I said quickly, “Simon, I think it would be better if you—”
The door shut behind him.
Amanda eyed me expectantly, releasing my arm.
I could feel my face redden. It took me a couple false starts to get up the nerve to speak. I began, “Amanda, there’s something you should know, first. It’s about our argument earlier…”
I fell silent, unable to voice the words. I tried to will them out, but they wouldn’t come. It felt like my vocal cords were paralyzed.
A resigned look appeared in Amanda’s eyes, as if she sensed what I was trying to say. “Just tell me, Marty.”
“I…upset you earlier. I was out of line. I’d like to apologize.”
“I see.” She waited, looking a little puzzled. “Is that all?”
When I nodded, she seemed relieved. She gave me a smile. It was a nice smile.
As I laid out Simon’s suspicions about Secretary Churchfield’s role in the cover-up, I kept asking myself why I couldn’t just tell her the truth. Was it simply that I didn’t want to hurt her? Or was it that I didn’t know what the hell I really wanted?
Christ.
Approaching the office, Amanda and I saw Simon leading the flight crew down the hallway. They disappeared into another room.
“I’ve got a few questions for Colonel Gustin about General Markel,” I told Amanda. “Give me ten minutes, then send in Sergeant Blake.”
“Rog.” She swung left into the break room.
Moments after entering the office, I knew Colonel Gustin was through answering questions. She was seated at the table, a cell phone to her ear, staring at me with frightened eyes. She spoke loudly because she wanted me to hear.
“No, General Markel,” she said. “I didn’t tell them anything.”
21
Itook the seat across from Colonel Gustin. She ended the call moments later and returned the cell phone to her purse with a shaky hand.
I said, “Colonel Gustin…”
“Don’t.” Her head shot up. “Don’t even ask.”
“What weren’t you supposed to tell me?”
She shook her head. “I can’t say anything. He ordered me not to say anything. Please.”
“Did General Markel kill General Garber?”
“No one killed him. It was an accident.”
“Colonel, I need your help.”
“I can’t.” She sprang to her feet. “Don’t you understand?I can’t! ”
“At least tell me why you’re so frightened of General Markel.”
She was incredulous. “Haven’t you seen him?”
“Yes—”
“Then you know.”
I motioned to her chair. “Please sit down, Colonel.”
“No. I have nothing to say.”
“Tell me why Colonel Weller seems to admire General Markel so much.”
“I told you, I won’t answer any—”
“Tell me, and you can go.” I gave her a reassuring smile.
She squinted, tempted but suspicious. “You…promise?”
“Yes.”
A tongue flicked nervously over her lips. “Tina…we’re not very close. I couldn’t say for sure. I’d only be guessing.”
“I understand.”
She inhaled deeply, then nodded. “One reason Tina’s attracted to General Markel is because he thinks the way she does. All that stuff they taught us in boot camp, how the military isn’t a job, but a calling. Well, she believes it, and so does General Markel. They’re both so dedicated it’s scary. The military is their life; it’s who they are.” She paused, thinking. “I suppose another reason why Tina looks up to General Markel is because he won’t play the political games. He’s the only four-star who will stand up to Congress or the presidential staff and tell them exactly what he thinks. You remember that mission to go after the Taliban in the mountains of Afghanistan?”
“Tora Bora,” I said.
“Right. All the other chiefs told Secretary Churchfield it was a good idea to get the Afghans to fight most of that battle for us, so there’d be less American casualties. General Markel argued against it, saying we couldn’t trust the Afghans because a lot of them had been fighting with the Taliban only weeks earlier. Churchfield went with General Markel’s recommendation, but got overruled by the president. When General Markel found out, he made an appointment with the president and told him he had no business interfering with military strategy.”
“I’m surprised Markel wasn’t fired,” I said.
“You and everyone else.” She shrugged. “But General Markel’s a Special Forces legend in the army because of what he did in Vietnam. Since the Special Forces play a key role in this war, the president probably realized he couldn’t fire a big hero like him without risking morale problems. He also would have risked getting into a confrontation with Secretary Churchfield; she’s a big supporter of General Markel. As it turns out, the general was proved right. The Afghans we sent into the mountains did allow a lot of the Taliban to escape.”
“Including bin Laden?”
A nod. “Anyway, that’s pretty much why Tina admires General Markel. She sees him as this bigger-than-life warrior. A real, live John Wayne figure.” She plucked the strap of her purse from the back of her chair and slipped it on. “He feels the same way about Tina. Likes her, I mean. That’s what makes it so hard for me. Because she’s his favorite and always will be.” She sounded bitter.
I said, “Favorite?”
She shook her head at me. “Our deal was one question. You want to know anything else, talk to Tina. I’ve already said more than I should.” She turned for the door.
I said, “I don’t understand how she became Markel’s favorite.”
She kept walking.
I said, “At least tell me if you consider General Markel unstable, Colonel.”
This was a question she couldn’t resist answering. She stopped, looking back. “Do you think someone who spent two years volunteering for suicide missions is unstable?”
“Either that or extremely brave.”
“Flip a coin.” She opened the door and walked out.
Favorite.
I slowly circled the word in my notepad. I’d vaguely recalled seeing Weller’s name, but couldn’t remember where—
I dropped my pen, dug out the itinerary from my jacket, and flipped through it until I found Markel’s schedule. About halfway down a page, I spotted the notation. At a dinner with the British defense minister two nights earlier, Colonel Gustin’s name been lined out as General Markel’s escort. And just below, someone had written: “Weller.”
So it was true.
Now the question was, How did an air force officer become the favorite of an army general? I was about to jot down a few possibilities, when I heard the sound of footsteps. Through the open door, I saw a woman coming timidly across the hallway toward me. I beckoned her over.
There were two reasons I was anxious to question the flight attendant, Sergeant Blake. First, with the possible exceptions of the four-stars, she was probably in the best position to see who entered the compartment during the flight. Second, by my calculations, she was the last known person other than the killer to have seen General Garber alive.
But the problem with calculations is they’re based on assumptions. In this case, my key assump
tion proved wrong.
Sergeant Blake wasn’t the last person to see the general alive.
22
Master Sergeant Sandra Blake was a washed-out-looking peroxide blonde in her late forties. Judging by the swell of her more-than-ample bosom, she’d once been the kind of woman who could make men walk into walls. But that particular ability ended at least thirty pounds and ten years ago. I had the impression her face was still attractive, but it was hard to be sure because of the heavy makeup she wore.
Still, I liked her smile, which she targeted at me the moment she walked in. It disappeared into a tactful line at the mention of General Garber.
Unlike Colonel Gustin, Blake seemed eager to cooperate. She verified that she’d made up the bed for Garber at the request of Colonel Weller. Yes, the general had told her he intended to go to sleep and didn’t want to be disturbed. No, she didn’t know of anyone who entered the compartment after she left. And no, she never heard anything unusual during the flight.
“It’s difficult to hear much from the hallway, sir. The compartment’s soundproofed, and with the noise from the exhaust fan—”
“So I’ve been told. Could someone have entered the compartment without you knowing?”
She thought. “I was at my station or in the galley most of the time. Chances are I would have noticed, sir.”
“Isn’t your station around the corner, near the passenger door?”
“Yes, sir. But on night flights, we always darken the hallway and overhead lights. If someone had opened the general’s door, I’d have seen the light from his room.”
“And if his room light wasn’t on?”
She hesitated, then shook her head.
I marked this on my pad and asked if she knew of a way to lock or unlock either the main or closet doors from the outside. She shook her head without hesitation.
I said, “Surely the Secret Service must have a way to get inside in case of an emergency.”
“All I can tell you is that I’ve flown a number of vice-presidential trips. If there’s a way, the Secret Service never told me.”
A Long Day for Dying Page 15