“And who exactly is us?”
“The shop I now run. It’s a small office within the Department of Homeland Security, and has a joint operation agreement with the Department of Defense. It’s aptly called the Office of Special Projects. It has about five hundred operatives, of which I control fifty. I’d like to make you the fifty-first. It has a wide latitude of core interests, with the security of this nation driving all of them. When I took off the uniform I didn’t forget my oath—did you?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“A woman died at your place of employment.”
“Sara Ewes, yes.”
“You knew her.”
“I did.”
“The fact is, there is something going on at Cowl and Comely, Devine, something seriously not right. We have heard chatter, we have run down a few leads, but we have made no real progress. And we have no grounds to execute a search warrant or bring people in for questioning, and we’re light-years from federal prosecutors impaneling a grand jury. We need information, Devine. A lot of it. We need to ferret out whatever the hell is going on there. You are admirably suited to investigate this matter since you are already there. That is the reason you’re here. That is why we’ve been watching you. That is why you now live in Mount Kisco, and why you pass Cowl’s house every day. We want Brad Cowl badly. And we need your help to do it.”
“So, I’m to be your plant inside?”
“I don’t care what nomenclature you use. I just want results.”
“And if I do what you ask and I’m successful?”
“Then you will have accomplished the mission. And I will ask you to serve your country again as a member of the Office of Special Projects.”
“And when does this service end?” asked Devine.
Campbell glanced down at the photos of the dead men. “You ended Hawkins’s life about fifty years early. What is avoiding the consequences of that worth to you?”
“If you know all about it, as you claim to, then maybe you understand why I did what I did. I tried like hell to get CID to take a second look. I went through my chain of command and got stonewalled. Hawkins had friends at high levels, and the Army didn’t want the bad optics of one officer’s killing another.”
“I understand perfectly. I might have done as you did in the same circumstances. However, the law makes no exception. But I am giving you a chance to avoid the penalty that would befall anyone else in your situation. You might consider yourself the luckiest bastard on earth, hence my reference to your winning the lottery.” He paused. “So, what is your decision? Because I need it right now.”
“But I can’t promise that I’ll find out what you want me to. I can only promise to do my best. Will that cut it?”
“When does a soldier ever get a pass on trying to complete a mission? You either complete it or you don’t. You sure as hell know the United States Army doesn’t hand out participation trophies, son.”
“If Sara hadn’t been killed would you have just arrested me instead of making this offer?”
“I don’t answer pointless questions. Are you in, or do I call the CID boys to do their thing?”
It was a choice in name only. “I’m in,” said Devine.
Campbell took out a file from a desk drawer. “Excellent. Now, let’s get down to basics so you can better understand exactly what it is we want you to do.”
A good soldier apparently once more, Devine settled back to receive a briefing and his orders going forward.
CHAPTER
8
DEVINE WAS DROPPED OFF BACK at his home. He went to his room, looked up Emerson Campbell online, and saw the same stern face staring back at him. A Vietnam platoon leader involved in some of the most hellish battles of that long, ugly war, Campbell was the recipient of nearly every combat medal under the sun. He was also, like Devine, Ranger tabbed and Ranger scrolled. He had been engaged in pretty much every combat situation the United States had during the intervening years, including the First and Second Gulf Wars. He’d ended up a two-star commanding Fort Benning in Georgia, where Devine had earned his Ranger status, though their paths had not crossed there.
He had the rep of being iron hard but fair, a soldier’s soldier. He cared more for his troops than he did for the next star on his shoulder. Then his career had seemed to stall. One article reported that Campbell had been brutally honest during some congressional testimony, and the Army brass hadn’t liked that level of candor from one of its senior officers. He’d then been apparently forced into retirement and gone into the private sector. He’d resurfaced a few years later with some civilian position at the Pentagon. After that, he’d dropped off the radar.