Listening.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE.

Federal Correction Inst.i.tution c.u.mberland, Maryland Domestic Security Wing.

As Rebecca had commented earlier, no prison was beautiful, but at least they hadn't incarcerated William in a Virginia Department of Corrections h.e.l.l-hole or in the Marine Corps brig on the base at Quantico.

But then, neither had they told him why he was being held or where they had taken Rebecca or what the h.e.l.l was going on in the outside world that could explain why two special agents would be treated this way.

After eight hours, guards escorted William to the end of the yellow hall and across a small courtyard with one thin tree to a windowless room on the second floor of a windowless concrete building. The room had a table and two chairs and it was smaller than his cell. Its only other features were a round grill in the wall-some sort of speaker-and higher up two air vents with red ribbons. The ribbons rippled as the two men sat him in the northern chair. William had made sure to keep his sense of direction, if only to have this small bit of knowledge. The rest was a nightmare puzzle.

Even so, he was glad to be out of the cell, and he actually looked forward to this discussion.

'This is Gene, and I'm Kurt with a K,' said the taller of the two men. Both were trim and wore golf shirts with alligator patches-one pink, one pale green-and beige pants, and both were shorter than William, less than five-ten. The taller one, Kurt with a K, had thinning brown hair and a wisp of mustache. The other, Gene, had thick curly black hair and green eyes. They seemed calm enough. Kurt pulled out the other seat and sat. William could not help but think of the men and women he had interrogated for the NYPD-and of course Jeremiah Chambers.

Gene leaned against the wall under the speaker grill. The east wall. The west wall held the windowless door. There was no k.n.o.b on the inside of the door. It could only be opened by someone on the outside.

Kurt began. 'You graduated from the Academy in April, and right away you were a.s.signed to work with Special Agent Rebecca Rose, correct?'

'It just sort of happened.'

'You didn't choose to work with her?'

'She asked the Bureau if I could be temporarily a.s.signed to work with her.'

'So she liked you.'

'I suppose.'

'She usually doesn't work well with others. Is that your evaluation?'

'We got along.'

'She's p.r.i.c.kly. A loner.'

'If you say so.'

'Did you know anything about Amerithrax before you worked with her?'

'What we studied in training and read in books.'

'She's been working on that case for some time, hasn't she?' Kurt asked. 'Crazy theory about inkjet printers.'

'She and another agent, Carl Macek,' William said.

'Macek is dead. It was a cold case. Why did Hiram Newsome let her continue to work on it?'

'Something like Amerithrax is never really a cold case, is it?'

'Did you know that ten years ago Rebecca Rose had an OPR file opened against her? s.e.xual hara.s.sment. A fellow agent claimed she made inappropriate advances, then threatened to get him demoted and rea.s.signed if he refused her.'

'That doesn't sound like Agent Rose,' William said.

'It was a scandal, and it took Deputy Ay-d.i.c.k Hiram Newsome to cool it down. The charges were eventually dropped. The other agent resigned. He's working as an industrial security consultant in Chicago. Yet here's that same predatory Rebecca Rose, shacking up with fresh young Feebeye veal in a Mobile Agent Domicile in Washington state. You tell me how that looks.'

'She did not hara.s.s me. She didn't make a pa.s.s at me. We did not sleep together.'

Gene came around and put both hands on his shoulders, then slapped him hard on one ear. His ear rang and then heated up. Keep it down, Keep it down, Griff said in the other ear. Griff said in the other ear. You know the drill. There are probably lives at stake. Either that, or these two are dirty. Either way, watch them. You know the drill. There are probably lives at stake. Either that, or these two are dirty. Either way, watch them.

'Did she ever mention working with an agent named Larry Winter?'

'No.'

'Did Hiram Newsome ever mention working with Larry or Lawrence Winter?'

'No.'

'What do you know about anthrax?'

'Not much.'

'Was Rebecca Rose an expert in the manufacture and production of biological weapons, in your opinion?'

William thought this over for a moment. 'She knew as much as an agent should, who's investigating a case,' he replied.

'Doesn't it make you suspicious that Hiram Newsome, Rebecca Rose, and Carl Macek-supposedly, but we can't talk to him-that these three were the only agents in the FBI who were pursuing this particular theory?'

'No,' William said. 'It didn't seem inappropriate.'

Gene moved quickly to grab his shoulders and straighten him.

'Don't look at him like that, d.i.c.khead,' Kurt said. 'You have no reason to be afraid if you tell me the truth.'

'You asked for my opinion,' William said, and despite Griff's best advice, he was getting mad. 'I gave you my opinion.'

'That makes us think you might have been involved all along. You don't want us to think that, do you? Why don't you tell it all nice and simple, just for the Bureau's sake.'

'I don't know of any conspiracy. I don't believe Rebecca Rose or Hiram Newsome were involved in a conspiracy.'

'But we do do know. There know. There was was a conspiracy. It may have reached to the highest branches of government. Hiram Newsome wanted to cover it up. Rebecca Rose was his partner. Do you think they're f.u.c.king each other, William? And maybe they're f.u.c.king with a conspiracy. It may have reached to the highest branches of government. Hiram Newsome wanted to cover it up. Rebecca Rose was his partner. Do you think they're f.u.c.king each other, William? And maybe they're f.u.c.king with you you, too?'

William pressed his lips together.

'Maybe that doesn't bother you,' Kurt said. 'Maybe you like that picture. You played queer for vice in New York. Personally, I could never do that. It would make me sick. Maybe you are are queer. Maybe you secretly want to f.u.c.k Hiram Newsome, a real double agent jim-jam, right?' He stood and let Gene take the chair. queer. Maybe you secretly want to f.u.c.k Hiram Newsome, a real double agent jim-jam, right?' He stood and let Gene take the chair.

Gene resumed the questions. 'America is in real danger if we don't stop this s.h.i.t, Agent Griffin. How did you know so much about transgenic yeast?'

'I did my research.'

'Another convenient burst of genius. You found the answer to all these puzzles on a search engine search engine, didn't you?'

William nodded.

'Rebecca Rose knows all about inkjet printers, and you know all about yeast. Amazing. Brilliant. You found Dr. Wheatstone all on your own, first guess. Amazing. Brilliant. You knew Wheatstone already, didn't you? Because Hiram Newsome or Rebecca Rose told you who the transgenic yeast had been stolen from...'

William looked down at the table. 'No,' he said.

'You mean, you're admitting you didn't make these discoveries all on your own?'

'No,' William said.

'Do you know who we are, William?'

'Secret Service.'

'Wrong. I'm Border Security, Kurt here is ATF. We've been tasked to clean up the mess you Feeb-eye agents made, and we're pretty determined fellows. So we're going to be here for a while longer, if you don't mind.'

'If it helps get to the truth, I don't mind,' William said.

Kurt slapped his other ear.

'Have you ever heard of an operation called Desert Vulture?' Gene asked.

'No,' William said.

'Are you absolutely certain it was never mentioned?'

'I'm certain.'

'What if I told you somebody was sent to find Amerithrax, and they found him-and didn't turn him in? What if I told you that was Lawrence Winter? And Winter was ordered by somebody high up to use this freak as a source of weapon's grade anthrax that no one could ever trace?'

William felt his stomach tighten. Then, he wanted to be sick. 'I don't know anything about that.'

'Bulls.h.i.t, Agent Griffin. You're right in the thick of it. What do you think Winter was going to do with all that anthrax?'

'It isn't anthrax-' William began, but Kurt cuffed him again, and he pressed his mouth shut.

Tight.

Three hours later, after nine rounds of interrogation but not much in the way of physical abuse-a bruised chin, chipped tooth, and two bruised ears-they returned William to his cell. He was none the wiser and neither were they.

But his head swam with bitter possibilities.

What do you really know, son? Griff asked. Griff asked.

The door opened with a mousy squeak. William rolled over on the cot and stared at the two men and one woman standing there. The woman was not Rebecca. It was Jane Rowland. She looked unhappy, and not just for William's plight. One of the two men was the DS agent they had met on the Patriarch's farm, David Grange. He smiled at William. That was good, wasn't it? The other man William did not know. He was big and wore a dark blue suit with a narrow tie. A prison official.

'Let's go,' Grange said. 'We're getting you out of here.'

Jane Rowland had eyes as big as saucers. They escorted him from the cell and down the hall. 'Do you remember me?' Grange asked.

'Yes, sir,' William said.

Two senior corrections officers in dark brown suits joined them. Grange handed them pieces of paper and they signed without a word. The senior officers did not look happy that William was leaving their care.

'All h.e.l.l's broken lose in Washington,' Grange said. 'We're looking for a few good officers and agents, those without significant political baggage. You might have heard-they've arrested Hiram Newsome and two other Ay-d.i.c.ks. The Attorney General has been strongly advised to shut down the entire FBI, statim statim. Secret Service is being combed and a lot of nits and ticks are falling out. BDI is down in flames, of course. Border Security-do you believe it?-and DS are about all we have left. And a select few from Quantico, mostly because of the President's Chief of Staff...and me. It's an unholy mess.'

'What about Rebecca Rose?'

'Rose is traveling in another vehicle. I got her sprung this afternoon. We'll see her in a couple of hours.'

'Was she involved?'

'Involved in what?' Grange asked.

'Desert Vulture.'

'You know about that? s.h.i.t.'

'Was she?'

'Absolutely not.'

'They were going to attack Mecca, weren't they-if there was a major terrorist hit on the U.S. They were going to cover Mecca with anthrax.'

'I'm not at liberty to discuss any of these matters,' Grange said.

'You were tracking Winter. He had gone rogue. He was with Desert Vulture, but he changed his mind.'

'I didn't learn about Desert Vulture until yesterday,' Grange said.

'Then it was real?'

'That's all I can say for now.'

They had reached the end of the long corridor. More steel doors and then bars swung wide. The officials peeled off and went their separate ways. William winced at the dark sky. It was night. The stars were out and the air was cold. He embarra.s.sed himself by making a little whooping sound as he sucked in the wonderful freshness.

'Are you circ.u.mcised, William?' Grange asked as he showed his badge and signed papers at the first gate.

'Yes, sir,' William said. 'My parents did it for sanitary reasons.'

'As it happens, so am I.'