Authors: Brendan DuBois
Twilight (24 page)
“And what was your job?”
“A number of different things.”
“Tell me, then.”
A shrug. “First of all, to let my government know what was really going on in the field. The UN bureaucracy can be thick and slow, and my people wanted to know what was going on in real time, without having to wait for information to muddle its way to Geneva and then to London. That was job number one. Job number two was to gather intelligence about the militias on the ground, to find out if they are as loosely organized as they claim to be or if they are linked to certain factions in Washington. You see, it's in our interest back home to have this country get back to its senses, the quicker the better. And knowing what influence the militias and their supporters might have in DC will make our job that much easier. And job number three ⦠well, no offense to Charlie, but job number three was to keep me and everyone else alive. Too bad you seemed to have other ideas.”
“The Australian television crew,” I said.
“How true. I knew that there was a militia unit working in the area,
and that if we had just kept still after that newshound got himself killed a UN convoy was going to make its way down the highway. But the stupid git managed to say something that both of us heard, about where his pals were located, and I didn't want us to have to poke around and look for them. I mean, really, Charlie is a wonderful guy and a Marine and all that, but he could barely keep us together long enough to get the hell out when the shooting did finally start.”
and that if we had just kept still after that newshound got himself killed a UN convoy was going to make its way down the highway. But the stupid git managed to say something that both of us heard, about where his pals were located, and I didn't want us to have to poke around and look for them. I mean, really, Charlie is a wonderful guy and a Marine and all that, but he could barely keep us together long enough to get the hell out when the shooting did finally start.”
“But we found the bodies of the cameraman and producer,” I said.
Peter shook his head. “So bloody what? Excuse me for being so blunt, but two more bodies in this place? I mean, really. Here we are, running around, trying to find Site A and keep those militia generals in custody at The Hague, and we're going to waste our time on dead reporters who should have stayed home in the first place? Samuel, please, at least you can see the logic there.”
“Maybe, but I don't want to look that hard,” I said. “So how did you end up at the militia camp?”
Peter actually laughed. “I was there to get you out, Samuel.”
“How?”
“How? By the tried and tested nature of paying a bribe,” he said. “Look, weâand I don't mean the UNâhad received word of your capture. We were also told about a ransom to be paid, which included ammunition and drugs. So I was there to check on you, to make sure that you were alive and healthy, and to pay up and get out. And let me tell you, that so-called colonelâSaunders, I think his name was, what a perfect idiotâwent apoplectic when he realized you had scarpered. I thought he was going to shoot the men who had been guarding you, and then me, for good measure. About the only way I got out of there fair and clear was to pay them off with about half the bribe.”
“Ammo?” I asked. “You gave those bastards ammo?”
“I most certainly did,” Peter said. “Four cases of standard NATO-issue 7.62-millimeter rounds. I even tossed in some medical supplies for good measure.”
“You did, did you?” I said. “Christ, that ammo is going to come back andâ”
“I don't quite think so,” he said. “You see, concealed in the frame of those crates was a tracking device. When I was sure that you weren't in the camp and when I was safely out of the militia's area of control I activated the tracking device. Some time later that camp was obliterated. Not a particularly good way of building repeat business with the local militias, but since it was their choice to break the armistice I didn't lose any sleep over it.”
I remembered seeing the bombing strike when I'd been on the way to find a place to sleep at Stewart Carr's farm. “But there were women there, and children ⦔
“True, and many others who have terrorized their refugee neighbors, and who kept you captive, and who were happily going to kill you if you hadn't escaped or if I hadn't got there in time to buy you out. I'm sure you've figured all this out, but let me remind you. We're in a dirty little war here, a dirty little war that's going to determine what kind of planet we'll be living on for the rest of this wonderful new century. A place where innocents can be slaughtered and nothing can be done about it, or a place where somebody with some authority and force of arms can halt this kind of killing. Killing that can take place even in the homeland of the world's sole remaining superpower. And that's my job. To help bring peace and stability here.”
“I see,” I said. “And are there any other jobs that you're involved with that you'd like to tell me about?”
“Just the overarching one, of course.”
“Site A,” I said.
“So right, Samuel,” Peter said. “Site A, the site of a massacre where up to two hundred refugee men, women and children were killed and their bodies destroyed or hidden. And our deadline expires in less than two days. If Site A hasn't been found by the time that deadline expires, then a number of bloody men with bloody hands will be released from The Hague.”
I thought about what he had told me, what I had seen, and I said, “Sorry. Don't buy it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, sorry, don't buy it. You're on detached duty from one of the most elite military units in the world, working for one of the most elite intelligence outfits as well. You can summon the general in charge of the British UN contingent to come down and speak to youâand not the other way around. And all this to keep a bunch of militia leaders behind bars at The Hague? Sorryâlike I said, I don't buy it. There's more. And what's that, Peter?”
Peter's expression suddenly went blank, as though his good-humored earlier appearance had been carefully removed and put away.
I said, “Come along, Peter. What is it? What's really important about Site A?”
Peter spoke slowly, as if he was choosing his words with care. “Samuel ⦠I think you know quite enough for now. I don't think any useful purpose will be served by discussing this matter further.”
I thought about what he had just said, about the job he was doing, gathering intelligence in the field, finding out the truth, learning about the militia units and their organization and trying to get this battered country back on its feet andâ
The truth.
Looking for the truth.
Looking for Site A. Looking for answers.
But answers to what?
And like a flashâoh my, what a choice of wordsâit came to me.
I said, “Site A ⦠it's more than just a place where bodies are hidden. Evidence is there as wellâevidence about the attacks last spring.”
No word, no expression, nothing. Peter just sat there.
“That's been one of the biggest questions out there, hasn't it, Peter? Who was behind the suitcase-nuke strike on Manhattan and the EMP balloon strikes that crippled this country? Nobody knows. There's been claims here and there, but nothing concrete. But
you
have an idea. You and your bosses ⦠There's evidence, and it's at Site A. Right?”
you
have an idea. You and your bosses ⦠There's evidence, and it's at Site A. Right?”
More silence.
“Peter ⦠either you're going to tell me and trust me or we're going to leave here and then I'm off to the
Star
to break this story. So, one way or the other, a choice has to be made. Up to you.”
Star
to break this story. So, one way or the other, a choice has to be made. Up to you.”
“You fucker,” he said sharply.
“Probably, but I've had a rough few days. True, isn't it? Site A and the balloon strikes and the bombing of Manhattan. They're connected.”
There seemed to be a struggle going on behind that neutral expression on Peter's face, and he said, “If ever a word of what I'm about to say leaves this room, I'll hurt you.”
I smiled. “The usual and customary threat is to
kill
me. Why the difference? Taking mercy on me?”
kill
me. Why the difference? Taking mercy on me?”
“Hardly,” Peter said. The grim smile that was back on his face had a touch of nastiness about it. “Killing is easy. Hurting you, now ⦠I could smash your knees in such a way that no corrective surgery would ever ease the pain, so that you'd have forty or fifty years of hobbling around in agony to look forward to. All because you let word get out about my business. Understand?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. I understand.”
“Good.” He exhaled loudly before continuing, “Prior to the attacks last spring, we had assetsâas they're knownâworking here in the States, evaluating and gathering intelligence about a cell that was of concern to us because of bits of information we'd been able to secure about a possible domestic attack here in the USA. We had someone who'd managed to reach
the upper levels of this cell ⦠but her information didn't get to us on time and hence it didn't reach our American cousins. The strikes happenedâand then, chaos. Communications were cut off: our asset had been in Manhattan and she got caught up in one of the refugee streams, heading north.”
the upper levels of this cell ⦠but her information didn't get to us on time and hence it didn't reach our American cousins. The strikes happenedâand then, chaos. Communications were cut off: our asset had been in Manhattan and she got caught up in one of the refugee streams, heading north.”
“The refugee stream that got ambushedâand ended up in Site A.”
“Exactly. She had managed to leave word through a dead-letter drop that she had the evidence that we had so desperately been looking for ⦠and we managed to trace her movements up until the time the column she was with had been ambushed. Then ⦠nothing. And so the hunt continues.”
“The whole thing about keeping those militia leaders behind bars in The Hague ⦠just a cover story?”
“Yes, but a good one. Gives us an excuse to snoop around the countryside with some sense of urgency.”
I thought through what Peter had just told me and said, “All rightâwho were they?”
“Who?”
“Don't play me for an idiot, Peter. Who were they? The cell you infiltrated. The ones who bombed the United States last April.”
Peter smiled again and said, “To get to that little gold nugget of information, you have to ask yourself an important Latin question.
Cui bono?
which translates as âGood for whom?' orâanother way of saying itââWho benefits?' Immediate answer, of course, are those usual collections of malcontents and ragheads from the Middle East who have such miserable lives that they're compelled to blame somebody elseâwhich, of course, means the Great Satan. But really ⦠those nukes were taken from an old Soviet Union storage facility, transported here to the United States and, save for the one used in Manhattan, were suspended from high-altitude balloons and then detonated within seconds of each other. Hijacking a plane and driving it into an office building is one thing. Something this complex means a much greater collection of skilled personnel.”
Cui bono?
which translates as âGood for whom?' orâanother way of saying itââWho benefits?' Immediate answer, of course, are those usual collections of malcontents and ragheads from the Middle East who have such miserable lives that they're compelled to blame somebody elseâwhich, of course, means the Great Satan. But really ⦠those nukes were taken from an old Soviet Union storage facility, transported here to the United States and, save for the one used in Manhattan, were suspended from high-altitude balloons and then detonated within seconds of each other. Hijacking a plane and driving it into an office building is one thing. Something this complex means a much greater collection of skilled personnel.”
“A government, then,” I said. “But which one?”
Peter shrugged. “You're a newspaper reporter. Supposedly smart. Run through them and remember what I said:
cui bono
?”
cui bono
?”
“Britain and France and GermanyâI'd eliminate them for obvious reasons. They may not like the United States all that much but I can't see them being behind such a crippling attack.”
“Very good. But those three were easy. Continue.”
“China ⦠But China loves the markets here. Take out the United States and China takes a major hit with all those Wal-Marts out of business. Even Russia had started cooperating with U.S. corporations on gas and oil exploration in Siberia. They wouldn't want a crippled America, either.”
Peter's smile was back. “Doing better. Continue. Who benefits, Samuel? Who benefits?”
I ran through other countries in my mind. Japan? Hardly, not with a growing Chinese threat in their neck of the woods. They'd want a strong United States to act as a buffer. North Korea? One or two attacks, maybe, but all these strikes, coordinated like they were? One of the Middle Eastern states ⦠But no, that didn't make sense either. Maybe one or two nukes smuggled in a shipping container ⦠But something this complicated, this important, couldn't have happened without somebody knowing what was going on, somebody here in the States andâ
“Holy shit,” I said. I had heard the rumors, of course, but that type of rumor always popped up after a disaster like Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination or the second World Trade Center attack. Such paranoia couldn't really be taken seriously, but â¦
But â¦
“Congratulations,” Peter said. “I do believe you've figured it out.”
“The
government
? The
United States
governmentâthey did it?”
government
? The
United States
governmentâthey did it?”
He shook his head. “No, not the government. At least, only
part
of the government, a loosely knit organization that we were concerned about, that we had learned of last year. We called them the neo-isolationists, the ones who wanted to pack it all in and retreat back behind the USA's borders and the oceans. No interest in spreading democracy, no interest in making the world safe for globalization. Just interested in minding their own business. Among this group were some military leaders who saw the armed forces they loved being chipped away, day after day, week after week, in car bomb after car bomb, killing their very best and brightest and most dedicated who were trying to give democracy to cultures that didn't want it and probably didn't deserve it.”
part
of the government, a loosely knit organization that we were concerned about, that we had learned of last year. We called them the neo-isolationists, the ones who wanted to pack it all in and retreat back behind the USA's borders and the oceans. No interest in spreading democracy, no interest in making the world safe for globalization. Just interested in minding their own business. Among this group were some military leaders who saw the armed forces they loved being chipped away, day after day, week after week, in car bomb after car bomb, killing their very best and brightest and most dedicated who were trying to give democracy to cultures that didn't want it and probably didn't deserve it.”
Other books
The Flood by John Creasey
Whispers of the Falls: Book one (Twelve Oaks Farm Series 1) by Teresa Greene
My Southern Journey by Rick Bragg
Midnight Pleasures With a Scoundrel by Lorraine Heath
Elohim III: The Return by Barger, Kerry
La piel by Curzio Malaparte
Australian Hospital by Joyce Dingwell
Just Friends by Sam Crescent
Fatally Flaky by Diane Mott Davidson