Jump Cut

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  LeJeune said, “They do now. I had the pleasure of meeting with someone named Phillips.”

  “Gary Phillips. Deputy COO. Pretty high up the food chain.”

  “I told him everything.” LeJeune was still watching Luke.

  I decided not to pursue it. “Hey, you guys. There’s something I don’t get. If Stokes was kicked out of the CIA, why did Delcroft hire him?”

  “Phillips claims they didn’t know about his background,” LeJeune said.

  “Do you believe him?”

  LeJeune tightened his lips.

  “Delcroft and the military are obviously in bed with each other,” I went on. “And even though Grizzly claims his ouster from the CIA was covered up, Delcroft has access to information we don’t.”

  “I guess it depends on how much you believe Phillips,” LeJeune replied. “By the way, who’s Grizzly again?”

  “A friend of Luke’s in the navy. A commander up at Great Lakes.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” LeJeune continued to gaze at Luke.

  “Or…” I got up from the couch and started to pace. “Maybe Hollander was behind it. Maybe Stokes was blackmailing her…or at least threatening to blow her ‘arrangement’ wide open. That could be a powerful motive.”

  “Maybe…,” LeJeune said.

  Both of us looked at Luke. He said nothing.

  Chapter Seventy-three

  Friday

  LeJeune left a few minutes later, promising to keep in touch.

  Luke made his way toward the door that led to the backyard.

  “Hold on there, partner…,” I said.

  He stopped.

  “What did you and Grizzly do?”

  He turned around. “What are you talking about?”

  “Luke…”

  “How do you know I did anything?”

  I bristled. “Stop with the games. I may be preoccupied with Rachel, but I’m not totally unaware.”

  He kept his mouth shut.

  “If you had something to do with Stokes’ death, you’re just as bad as him.”

  Luke made a stand. “Ellie, you do realize this is all speculation on your part. You have no evidence.”

  “Except Grizzly’s call.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “If I did anything at all, which I’m not saying I did, it was only to protect you and Rachel.”

  “Give me a good reason why I should believe you.”

  “Because I love you. And because Stokes was going rogue. He was way over the top.”

  “Look. I’m not sorry he’s dead, okay? I’m glad he won’t be able to hurt my baby again. But if you had something to do with it”—I felt my anger build—“that’s a different issue. So. Did you?”

  “I’m not going to answer that question. But you’re right about one thing. This is a different issue. I know you’re independent. I know you have your crusades. But sometimes you get in over your head and you need help. You either allow me to take care of you and do the right thing or you don’t.”

  “Was killing a bad guy the only way to rescue me?”

  “Don’t be naïve. Sometimes it is and you know it. If your life is on the line and I have the resources or the contacts or the skills, well…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

  Luke and I had reached a pivotal point in our relationship. There was no question I suspected him—at the very least—of passing information to Grizzly, who probably passed it to others, who made the decision to take Stokes out. But an assassination? Wouldn’t it have been more effective to lock him up? Send him to a stateside Guantanamo, or a black-ops rendition site, and make him live out his days regretting his misdeeds? Although I hated the man for what he did to my daughter and me, forcing him to spend every day of his remaining days pondering and, perhaps, even atoning for his sins seemed to be a more powerful punishment than executing him.

  Then again, I had never served in the military or an intelligence agency. Luke, Grizzly, and LeJeune had. They might know something about the man’s conduct I didn’t. They had been and still were a part of the perpetual state of war in which our country seems to exist; maybe it changes one’s values and the way “soldiers” deal with rebellion, authority, and crime. Maybe war makes it easier to mete out retribution and punishment.

  At the heart of it, though, was the personal relationship between Luke and me. As loath as I was to admit it, I do have a tendency to get in over my head. I do need to be rescued at times. Barry hadn’t been able to. Neither had David. But Luke was begging for the job.

  He stood before me now, marshaling his thoughts. Finally he said, “I don’t know who killed Stokes. But I know why. He infected every person and organization he interacted with. It turns out a number of people wanted him dead.”

  It was my turn to say nothing. If I continued to pick at the scab of Stokes’ death, I was pretty sure I’d discover Luke had played a role. So was I ready to condone a partner who actively pursued the assassination of another, as odious as that person was? Was I able to concede that maybe—just maybe—I needed someone in my corner to depend on? It was a huge risk to trust someone implicitly. Unconditionally. What if he took advantage of that trust and hurt me? What if it didn’t work out? This living “in the gray” wasn’t easy.

  I had to make a decision. I mulled it over. “Just tell me one thing. Is it over?”

  His brow smoothed out, and his body relaxed. His eyes filled with the soft, bottomless warmth I usually see. “Yes. The part that involves you and Rachel is over. Nobody will be coming after you anymore. I guarantee it.”

  “What about being hacked? Will NSA or whoever the hacker of the month is stop listening in on my life now?”

  “I can’t promise that. But I suspect once they find out how mundane and normal your life is, they’ll lose interest.”

  I nodded. “Because of what you did.”

  He shifted his weight. I was glad he didn’t try to embrace me. It was going to take time for me to put his behavior in perspective. Right now all I could think was that the “soldier” I loved was not the person I thought he was. Nor was the country we lived in the country I thought it was. Both thoughts left me with an uneasy feeling.

  Chapter Seventy-four

  Sunday and Monday

  On Sunday we drove back to my house. Rachel would stay with me for a while, until she was strong enough to resume her life. I called Barry, who came over right away. She flew into his arms. It made me realize that although he and I couldn’t make it work, he cared about Rachel as much as I did. That was a good omen. I smiled. Barry caught my eye during their embrace and smiled back.

  Both Rachel and I had a good night’s sleep, but when I woke up, the skies were threatening. An hour later it rained, a cold, dreary rain that makes me want to huddle under the covers. I was about to do just that when a chauffeured limousine pulled up to the curb. A uniformed driver got out, opened an umbrella, and trotted around to the back of the limo. A gray-haired man wearing an impeccably tailored suit emerged. The limo driver handed him the umbrella, and the man proceeded to my front door. I felt the flash of recognition.

  Gary Phillips. Deputy COO of Delcroft.

  I went to the door and opened it just as he reached the porch but before he pushed the doorbell. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Good morning, Ellie. Do you have a few minutes?”

  I showed him into the family room and brought him a cup of coffee. He sat in my father’s chair, took a sip, then placed it on the side table. I sat on the couch.

  “You heard the news about Stokes, I assume?”

  I nodded.

  “On behalf of Delcroft Aviation, I want to offer you a formal apology for the—the terror and anguish you and your daughter suffered. And make no mistake, it was a terrorist action. Stokes deserved what happened to him.”

  Was this a tacit exoneration of what Luke had done? Was he telling me that Luke indeed was an active player in Stokes’ assassination?

  “A
nd we want to compensate you for your suffering. I know money can never—”

  “I don’t want your money,” I cut in.

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “But I do want some answers.”

  He reached for his coffee. “You’re entitled. Ask away.”

  “Why did you hire Stokes in the first place? What happened to your due diligence?”

  “We thought we did it right. It turned out the report we got was a fabrication. It was full of—well, simply put, lies.”

  “You didn’t know he’d been kicked out of the Agency?”

  “We did not. Stokes clearly had allies in high places protecting him. That, by the way, is being looked into right now.”

  “Gregory Parks. He didn’t commit suicide, did he?”

  Phillips tightened his lips and said nothing for about thirty seconds. Then: “No. He didn’t.”

  “Stokes pushed him.”

  Phillips nodded. “Yes.”

  “When did you know that?”

  His answer was slow to come. “Long enough for me to be charged with a felony if someone wants to.”

  I jerked my head up, surprised by his candor.

  “What about Charlotte Hollander? What are you going to do? She sold DADES to the Chinese.”

  “Well, actually, that’s the other reason I’m here.”

  I inclined my head.

  “The schematics, the blueprints, for DADES that were sent via Charlotte’s emails to General Gao had been adulterated.”

  “Adulterated? How?”

  “They were changed. Simply but effectively. If and when the Chinese copy and manufacture them, bottom line, they’ll end up with nothing. DADES won’t work.”

  I went rigid. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He shook his head. “By the way, this is top secret. No one outside the company knows this. Just the chairman and me. And one of the engineers.”

  I tried to wrap my head around the news. “Who changed them? How did they find out? What are you going to do?”

  Smiling, he held up a hand. “I’ll answer all your questions. But one at a time. We compared the attachments—you know, the schematics and blueprints—on the drive from Parks, the one you handed over to Stokes, with the originals in our vault. The differences were clear.”

  “And?”

  “As I said, it was a subtle but effective strategy. A conduit led to the wrong box. A wire here and there was misplaced. Altogether, it was enough to render the product worthless.”

  “Who did this?”

  “It had to be Charlotte.”

  “Not Parks?” I said.

  “No, it was Charlotte.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the changes started on her computer. What she sent Parks was not what she designed. And that’s what Parks sent to Gao.”

  “My God!” I leaned forward. “That means…” I thought it through. “That means that Hollander didn’t commit treason after all.”

  “That’s correct. Hollander is a patriot. At least in our eyes. Finally, someone had the—excuse the expression—balls to take on these goddamn international cyberthugs.”

  “Do you think Parks knew?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Knowing the strength of Parks’ loyalty to the Uyghurs, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Hollander and Parks were complicit. I debated whether to tell Phillips that I knew Parks was a double. I decided to keep quiet for the moment. After all, the only other person who knew that, aside from possibly the Chinese, was no longer alive. Which reminded me.

  “Did you know that Parks was engaged? And that his fiancée was killed in an ‘accident’ on the Eisenhower?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have been behind it?”

  “You should ask your FBI friend. I wouldn’t know.”

  “But if you had to speculate…”

  “I wouldn’t.” Phillips took a breath. “We live in a dangerous world.”

  Was he hinting that the Chinese government might have played a role in Grace’s death? I didn’t know, but I did know I wasn’t going to get anything further from him on that score.

  “Back to Charlotte,” Phillips said. “As I said, Delcroft owes her a huge debt. She saved the future of the company.”

  Maybe so, I thought. Though she could still be in danger if and when the Chinese found out they’d been conned. But the fact that Hollander and Parks might have been working together would explain her reaction to seeing Parks in my video. She didn’t want any association between them to surface. She’d created a deep-cover operation.

  But one thing didn’t compute. “Wait a minute. If everything you’re saying is true, why did Hollander run?”

  “The way I figure it,” Phillips said, “she had to know Stokes was on to her. And how dangerous he was. I’m guessing she decided it would be safer to drop off the grid than take her chances with him.”

  “Have you two been in contact?”

  “No.” He met my eyes. I sensed it was the truth. “I wish I was. I would want her to know it’s safe to come back.”

  “You don’t think she knows?”

  “I don’t. In her position, she couldn’t risk even an Internet café.”

  “Because…”

  “Because she doesn’t know who knew what when. Stokes was probably monitoring her; the Agency and NSA too. And the Chinese. If I were her, I’d have gone as far away from an Internet connection as possible.”

  There was another institution he hadn’t mentioned. “You forgot to add the military to your list.”

  He lifted his coffee cup, took another sip, then set it down. “Yes.” He nodded. “Them too.”

  “Do they know about the adulterated files?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because…” I paused. “They were the ones who killed Stokes, weren’t they?”

  “I told you I don’t know who killed Stokes,” Phillips said. “But, whoever it was, I can’t say I’m sorry about it.”

  “Nice dodge, Mr. Phillips.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isn’t it possible that, in addition to Hollander and Parks, the military discovered that the plans were adulterated?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “Hollander did have an exemplary military career before she came to Delcroft.”

  “She did,” he acknowledged.

  “So how do we know they weren’t behind the entire deception?”

  He kept his mouth shut.

  I’d figured Stokes planted the bomb at Dolan’s office. It made sense at the time. But what if it wasn’t Stokes? What if it was the Pentagon? They had a vested interest in letting the deal go through, especially if they knew DADES would turn out to be a dud.

  Phillips blew out a breath. “Actually, Ellie, the government has been playing both sides against the middle for a long time.”

  Chapter Seventy-five

  Monday

  Again I was astonished at Phillips’ candor. I hadn’t expected it from the COO of one of the government’s largest defense contractors.

  “They are in a win-win situation,” Phillips said after a moment’s hesitation. “They can support the Chinese by selling them an antiterror system deemed critical in these unsettled days. They can even agree that terrorists of any stripe must be dealt with. Including the Uyghurs.”

  “So you know about them.”

  He smiled. “It’s my job to understand all the players.”

  “You knew Parks was a double.”

  “So I have been told. Getting back to the win-win…the US wins either way. We support China, but we sell them faulty systems.”

  “What about the Uyghurs?”

  “They’re no better or worse off than they were before.”

  “But if Parks knew the drone system wouldn’t work, how do you know Hollander didn’t give him the real thing to reward him for his complicity?”

  “We don’t. Tha
t’s one of the reasons I want to find Charlotte and bring her in.”

  I tapped my index finger on the arm of the couch. “You’re pretty cynical.”

  For the first time during our conversation, Phillips looked surprised.

  “You don’t see an ethical problem with all this double-dealing and duplicity?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Ethics only goes so far when it comes to protection. We live in a complex world. You know that. There are—let’s call them compromises we have to make along the way.”

  “The Deep State,” I murmured.

  Again, surprise flickered in his eyes. “You’re an intelligent woman.”

  “Just for the hell of it, pretend I’m not.”

  “We have serious balance-of-trade issues with China. As you know, much of our debt is held by them. So it behooves us to get along where we can. Stamping out terrorism is an issue we can collaborate on.”

  “Even though US drones are dropping bombs on innocent people like the Uyghurs? It’s happening, you know. Not just Chinese bombs, but American, too.”

  “I am aware of it.” He leaned forward. “Would it surprise you to know I read Glenn Greenwald?”

  “The liberal journalist who helped make Edward Snowden’s NSA material public?”

  Phillips nodded. “He said in an article that the US and, by extension, the media, do not believe human life is valuable unless it’s Western. That it’s easy to dehumanize non-Western victims of drone strikes, to literally just ignore them. Not even acknowledge they exist. It’s only when a US citizen’s life is lost that we make a fuss. Bottom line, we have been trained to view the killing of innocent people as not just an acceptable but an inevitable part of war. Collateral damage.”

  “You don’t think that’s screwed up?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. Ellie, this is only one tiny piece of reality. Even Charlotte’s system, as advanced as it is, will become obsolete at some point. Then there will be something else we’ll need to monitor and agonize over. America is too dependent on China to rock the boat unnecessarily.”

  I mulled it over, unwilling, in this case, to accept the ambiguity. The gray. “What happens if I go to Congress, or the press, and expose this?”