Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [128]
Awaiting News from Home.
Rodgers marveled at how different the world was, how different life was, when people had to wait weeks for an answer to a question like that. It was the reason men of great wisdom and even greater instinct had to be put in the field.
"I think that answers my question," Kat said sullenly.
"Detective, talk to us," Rodgers said. "If Ms. Lockley is correct, let us help. Whatever this is, we can fix it."
"No," Howell said. "I made my choices. I will live with them. But I do want you to know that I had no idea Op-Center was going to get hit."
"Did the same people do it?" Rodgers pressed.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"What do you know?" Kat asked.
"Only that someone, a man, phoned one day."
"When?" Rodgers asked.
"Two and a half weeks ago. He had information about my service record that could have ended my police career if it were revealed. I was told the information would be removed from my record if I cooperated."
"What did this cooperation entail?" Rodgers asked.
"He didn't say," Howell replied.
Of course not, Rodgers thought. That might have made him an accomplice to murder, far less desirable than a career scandal. "What did he ask for when he did say?" Rodgers asked.
There was a final silence, but it was brief. "At first, just a level-one autopsy," Howell replied.
"What is that?" Kat asked.
"The body goes in and out, no fine-tooth comb," Howell said. "Your people wanted Wilson off the slab and out of the country, Ms. Lockley.
They said it was to get attention from the senator as soon as possible.
That sounded reasonable. It was apparently a heart attack. I saw no harm in helping to rush things along."
"You said 'at first," " Rodgers pointed out.
"Yeah. I did that one as a favor. Then your Mr. McCaskey came along and found out it was murder," Howell said. "At that point, I had already committed a departmental infraction. I might have been able to smooth that one over. But then they hit me with the other thing."
"The service record," Kat said.
"This is a scary town," Howell said. "You both know that. I did not want to end up a small-town sheriff somewhere, and I hoped no, I prayed that Darrell McCaskey could smoke these boys out."
"He still can," Rodgers said. "Ms. Lockley isn't pressing charges.
Let him go. Help him."
"How?"
"That depends. Did you get the sense that these crimes were part of a larger operation?"
"Probably," Howell said. "They told me I would be informed when my 'interface," as they put it, was no longer required. I received no such notification."
"So more killings may be planned," Rodgers said. "Detective, are you able to contact them?"
"No. I don't even know who I was talking to. Their ID was blocked."
"It was someone who had access to your service record," Rodgers said.
"Correct."
"So that means it could have been Link," Rodgers said. He did not think the admiral was the point man, however. That would be too risky.
"When was the last time you spoke with this person?"
"Just now," Howell said. "He wanted to know if anyone had been asking about the case."
"How recently is 'just now'?" Rodgers asked.
"Right before you called," Howell said. "I hung up on him to talk to you."
Rodgers felt a chill. It was not fear. It was like an electrical current flowing along his neck as his brain started making connections.
He wished that he had a firearm. Or an EM bomb, something that would shut everything down until he could have a thorough look around.
"Detective, did you tell the man that we were on the other line?"
Rodgers asked.
"Yes," Howell replied. "He asked."
"All right. I need two favors, Detective," Rodgers said. "I need you to release the McCaskeys."
"I cannot do that without the proper documents," Howell said. "I will fax them to Ms. Lockley "
"There is no time for that," Rodgers protested. "Come on, Detective.
You know they are not criminals.