Dog Tags

CHAPTER 81

TODAY SHOWS EVERY SIGN OF BEING WORSE THAN YESTERDAY, and that is really saying something. All I did yesterday was hang out in the house, grumbling occasionally and waiting for the phone to ring.

Laurie kept away from me, and Milo and Tara made the intelligent decision to stay with her. We’ve sent Marcus away as well; with the trial over, our being at home all the time, and the envelope found, his protective services no longer seem necessary.

After coming over for a while to talk about the case, even Hike said I was too downbeat to spend time with. Hike!

Each hour feels like a week, and what I plan to do is break up each day by going to the prison to talk to Billy. He has to be a bigger basket case than I am, since it’s his freedom on the line. But I also have the added pressure of worrying about Benson’s ominous prediction of “blood” being shed, while Billy is appropriately only worried about Billy.

Just as I’m about to leave I get a call from Benson. “We need to talk,” he says.

“We already talked.” Since he called me, rather than the reverse, I may have the upper hand, so I don’t want to blow it by seeming too anxious.

“Now we really need to talk. How fast can you be here?”

“It’ll take a while,” I say.

“Come on, all you’re doing is sitting with your thumb up your ass waiting for a verdict. Get down here.”

I agree to do so, and forty-five minutes later I’m in his office. He doesn’t waste any time. “We have reason to believe that there will soon be a strategic attack on a key element of the infrastructure of the United States. We don’t know what the target will be, when the attack will take place, or who is behind it.”

“You have my attention.”

“Good. If you have information that can prevent this event, you need to tell it to me now.”

“We’ve already had this conversation. My client is facing life in prison for a crime that you know he didn’t commit. You need to fix that first.”

“That’s going to be taken care of,” he says.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t say. Just trust me; it’s being taken care of.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“When it happens, I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Carpenter, people are going to die. Is that what you want? Your client will not be convicted; I give you my word.”

I have no idea where this is coming from, and I’m torn as to what to do. I believe that Benson is telling me the truth as he sees it, but that does not mean it will turn out as he says. Too many things can go wrong; he’s got too many bosses that can potentially intervene.

I make a decision that I’ll give him part of what he is looking for, and hold back the rest for now. “I don’t know that much,” I say. “But the guy you should be looking for is Alan Landon.”

“Alan Landon.” He doesn’t say it as a question, it’s more like he’s letting it roll around in his mind, thinking about it.

“My belief is that he has been investing heavily in commodities like oil and rhodium, and then taking advantage of incidents that have sent the prices way up. There may be other examples, but I’m only aware of those two.”

He nods. “Okay. What else?”

I reach into the briefcase I brought and take out the envelope that Milo dug up, and that Erskine gave to his killer that night. It’s in a clear, plastic cover, to preserve any trace evidence that might still be on it.

“This is what Erskine was carrying that night, although you may have seen it already.”

He looks at me as if he’s about to say something, but then stays silent and opens the envelope. He looks at the empty pages, and then the “Kiss My Ass” type on the last page. He then makes a facial expression, somewhere between a frown and a grin, and puts it back in the envelope.

If I had to guess, I’d say he was surprised by what he just saw, and I’m surprised that he’s surprised.

“You got the dog to find it?”

I nod. “Milo.” For some reason, it irritates me when people refer to him as “the dog.” I am aware that the irritation is not a sign of mental health on my part. “I got him to trust me.”

“What else do you know?”

“I have suspicions that I’m working on. When I confirm them, we can talk again.” I’m not being straight with him. For instance, I’m more sure that Chaplin is dirty than I am Landon. But I think Landon is more dangerous, so that’s why I gave him to Benson. When Billy is out of jail, I will be more forthcoming,

“Maybe you’ll confirm them when the trial is over,” he says, understanding the situation.

“We can hope,” I say.

On the way back, I call Hike and relate my conversation, and tell him that something is about to happen.

“How the hell can they stop a trial?” he asks. “After all this time they’re going to say, Damn, we had agents who saw the whole thing, but we forgot to mention it?”

“It’ll be interesting to see,” I say, and I head home. I’m not going to go to the prison, because Billy will ask me a million questions that I won’t be able to answer. We’re going to find out soon enough.

“Soon enough” is at two o’clock in the afternoon, when Rita Gordon calls from the courthouse. “The judge wants you here in forty-five minutes,” she says.

“A verdict?” I ask, though I doubt that’s what it could be.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Andy, just get down here, okay? It’s important.”