Murder in Foggy Bottom - Margaret Truman [106]
“You’ll hear a lot of bad things about me, Jess, concerning the Jasper assault. Yeah, I was the one who infiltrated the group and brought back the evidence linking Jasper and his crowd to the missile attacks.”
“Then it was the Jasper group behind the missiles. You should be proud.”
“That’s right. But sometimes you make mistakes. Easy to do in that circumstance.”
“A mistake? About whether it was Jasper?”
“Uh huh. Not that it’s a big deal if I did make a mistake. Jasper just represents another hate group put out of action. They’re all the same, Jasper, Freedom Alliance, Aryan Nation, Silent Brotherhood. Like the mob. What difference does it make if you put the wrong capo in jail, or kill the wrong godfather? They all have to go eventually.”
His cavalier analysis of the situation was chilling to Jessica. Was he admitting to her that he had, in fact, made a mistake in fingering the Jasper Project, and was justifying it?
“I don’t agree with you, Skip, but—”
“I don’t give a damn whether you agree with me or not, and if your friend hadn’t taken that picture, it wouldn’t matter whether anybody agrees with me. What could they do to me for making an honest mistake, a slap on the wrist from those clowns at the Bureau, a reprimand, a bad report in my file? That doesn’t matter because I’m resigning.”
He pulled the photograph from his jacket, looked at it for what seemed a very long time, slowly shook his head, and returned it to the pocket. “But this changes things, Jess, this picture, and you knowing what’s in it.”
“Why? I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about it, Skip. You were on a hunting trip, fishing with friends?”
As she said it, she knew the gathering of men in that valley on the Canadian border was neither a hunting nor a fishing expedition. It was what the reporter spoke of on television, the right-wing hate group that had really been behind the missile attacks.
As though reading her thoughts, Traxler said, “Yeah, you’re right, Jess.”
“You were undercover with them? You were—you were part of them?”
He closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I meant it, Jess, when I said I came here to see whether we could take a stab at getting together again, ride out whatever comes of this mistake I made. If I know Templeton, he’ll smooth it over, spin it a hundred and eighty degrees to make the Bureau look good. It’s just this reporter claiming we were wrong. A bloodsucking reporter against a decorated FBI special agent. There’ll be some controversy, the do-gooders in Congress will insist on holding hearings, the press will sell newspapers, and it’ll blow over. At least that’s the way I had it figured until I came here and saw that picture of me with them. That changes things. You change things.”
He tightened his grip on her shoulders. She shook loose, but there was nowhere to go.
“Let’s take that ride, Jess. Give me a chance to explain things to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Skip.” She slid to her right. He stepped back. She thought for a moment that he might decide to leave—until his hand went into another of his jacket’s pockets and came out with a small revolver.
“Put that away, Skip,” Jess said, her quavering voice betraying her fear.
“No,” he said. “I’ve been planning my future for too long to let you and one Kodak moment screw it up. Come on, Jess. You haven’t seen our lovers’ nest in a long time.”
“Lovers’ nest?” She realized then how far apart they had grown.
“Our cabin in the woods. We used to enjoy the ride there. Remember? Nice this time of year. I don’t have a convertible anymore but—I’m losing patience, Jess. Don’t underestimate me. I have no problem shooting you right here. We haven’t seen each other in years, and the gun can’t be traced to me.” His eyes darted about the room. “I’d hate to mess up your neat apartment. We can talk on our way, maybe figure out how we can resolve this nicely, like two reasonable adults.”
“All right,” she said. “I… I need to go to the bathroom first.”
“Go ahead. I hate to stop on the road.”
Jessica