Inside Out

43

Archer led the two boys back to the command tent, where emergency medical technicians cleaned them up, checking them over for injuries, treating their scratches, and finally pronouncing them sound.

The Cole County deputies, emergency workers, and firemen began to cluster, talking among themselves, some smoking cigarettes. Finch ordered them to disperse. In the debris field, stooped technicians remained on task, oblivious to anything beyond the tape barrier.

While an FBI agent lowered the canvas walls of the tent, Winter saw the sheriff approach Archer and whisper something in his ear. He heard Archer reply that absolutely no members of the press would be allowed on the base under any conditions, due to national security. The sheriff left in his cruiser. Then they went to the tent.

Director Shapiro stood behind Archer. Winter stood alone near the side wall, to Archer's left. Across the table from Archer, the two boys sat side by side.

A technician placed a cassette recorder on the table in front of the boys. Archer pressed the record button. He said, “FBI Supervising Case Agent Fred Archer conducting a field interview of two minor subjects found at Ward Field, Virginia.” He added the date and glanced down at a slip of paper. “The subjects being interviewed are Matthew Barnwell and George Williams, both twelve years of age and residents of Raiford, Virginia. The subjects are aware I am recording this interview.”

Archer folded his hands on the table and smiled at the boys. “Man,” he said expansively, “we sure are glad you two are all right. You gave us all quite a scare, I can tell you. The agent who found you said you fellows had a clubhouse all set up in the tower. You come here a lot?”

The heavier boy watched Archer. The other boy stared down at his lap. He hadn't looked up since the agents and marshals entered.

“Okay, so, George and Matt, which one of you boys is Matt?”

The plump boy held up his hand.

From behind the boys, Finch said, “Speak up and answer either yes or no when Agent Archer asks you a question for the recorder. Is that clear?”

Both boys nodded.

“Affirmative nods,” Finch announced, for the benefit of the tape. “Again, please answer the questions yes or no.”

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” Archer said. Over his insincere smile, his eyes were decidedly predatory. To Winter he looked like a union official at the negotiating table with a Louisville Slugger concealed in his lap in case his sugary words failed.

“Okay,” Matt said. “Yeah.”

“Last night there was a big explosion here.”

Matt showed Archer a look of surprised disbelief. “Huh?” George merely shrugged.

“You saw it?” Archer asked.

Matt shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“Yes or no,” Finch insisted.

“Nah,” Matt said emphatically. “We weren't here.”

The scene took Winter back to his years as a teacher. He studied the boys carefully.

“I suspect you're not telling me the truth,” Archer said softly. “You're both blackened from the blast.”

“We were,” George said to his lap. “We…”

Winter clearly saw Matt kick George's ankle under the table.

“We were just walking in and it knocked us down. We were scared and we hid,” Matt explained. “We didn't want to get in trouble for being here.”

“Boys,” Archer said sternly. “Think about this very, very carefully before you answer. Before the explosion, did you see anything? Any people coming or going? Any vehicles leaving the area?”

“Nah.” Matt crossed his arms across his chest. “We didn't see nothing but that explosion, then police cars and fire trucks.”

George put his finger in his right ear and shook it, glaring at Matt. Winter knew Matt was lying. Why couldn't Archer see that, he thought.

“So you hid in the tower because?”

“We didn't want to get blamed for it,” Matt blurted out. “We didn't see nothing, did we, George?” Matt pressed the sole of his sneaker against George's ankle. George shook his head. Winter looked around and realized that he alone had a view of what was going on under the table.

“No,” George agreed after a few long seconds.

“Are you both absolutely sure?” Archer asked.

Now, Winter thought. This is where Archer starts poking and prodding.

Archer's pager went off, interrupting. He read the number and frowned.

Archer looked back at the boys, smiling at them.

“And, I think we all know the rest,” Archer said, putting his notebook away, turning off the recorder and standing.

“Great. If you two young men remember anything later, you get your parents to call the FBI, okay? Do that for us? Let's get their parents out here and reunite them.” Archer's interview completed, he walked out.

Winter couldn't believe what he'd just seen. The interrogation was done? What the hell was wrong with Archer?

Finch cut the recorder off and told Matt, “Your days of trespassing here are over. They'll fix that fence, bulldoze the tower.”

“We have permission,” George said softly. Winter didn't hear it, he read the boy's lips.

Winter left the hut and went after Archer.

“That's it?” Winter demanded.

Archer snapped his cell phone open and, looking at his pager's display for the number, began punching it into the keypad. “Is what it, Deputy Massey?”

“The interview… it's over? Those kids are hiding something. They're lying to you.”

“I doubt it,” Archer said. “If you'll excuse me, I-”

Winter snatched Archer's phone away and closed it. The agent's expression was one of shock and outrage.

Shapiro appeared beside them. “What in heaven's name is going on?” he demanded.

Handing back Archer's cell phone, Winter spoke softly but forcefully, “The special agent in charge of this investigation just turned his back on what could very well be key evidence!”

“That's enough, Deputy,” Archer demanded, turning his eyes on the people crowding behind Shapiro. “Doesn't everyone have something to do?” he called out. The agents began moving slowly away, with the reluctance of kids forced to abandon a school-yard fistfight.

“What evidence?” Shapiro asked Winter.

“Archer-”

“Special Agent in Charge Archer,” Shapiro snapped at Winter.

“Those boys lied. They know something. They saw something. They were here all night after the explosion. Maybe they were here earlier and saw the plane land. Maybe they are afraid.”

“We put them at ease,” Archer said.

“Look, maybe they were threatened by someone.”

“Nonsense,” Archer said. “Finch, do you agree with Deputy Massey?”

“Totally absurd. They're just children who obviously didn't see anything useful.”

“So this evidence would be what, Massey?” Archer asked sarcastically.

“Whenever George tried to expand an answer or volunteer anything other than what Matt said, Matt kicked him under the table. Just after you left, when Finch said they would never be allowed back, George said, ‘We have permission.' Present tense. From whom? Their parents reported them missing so who gave them permission to stay? Finch, you were standing close enough to George that you must have heard it.”

“I didn't hear any such thing,” Finch protested.

“But you heard it?” Shapiro asked Winter.

“I read his lips. They were here when the plane exploded. Maybe they were here before that. I know they saw a lot more than they've admitted to.”

“You read lips? You see underneath tables?” Archer asked.

“You have a crystal ball, too?” Finch mocked.

“Did you see the boys kicking each other?” Archer asked Shapiro.

“No,” Shapiro said. “But if Deputy Massey says he did, I believe him.”

“You'll excuse me if I say that I hardly see Massey as impartial here. Understandably, he is in shock, if not temporarily mentally unbalanced by grief and the deadly combat he went through. So, I'll let it go… this time.”

“Perhaps,” Shapiro insisted, “this is something we could discuss privately.”

“I've got work to do,” Archer said,

Shapiro added. “If the interview with those boys was a little more superficial than it could have been, there's no good reason it can't continue-”

“I disagree,” Archer interrupted. “And let me remind you that I'm calling the shots. If Deputy Massey can't control himself, if he ever lays a hand on me again or creates a scene, I'll have him in a psychiatric facility undergoing evaluation.”

“Agent Archer,” Winter said, with a calm he didn't feel, “I'm sorry. I'm not myself. People I cared about have been murdered. My best friend is scattered across the landscape. Last night I killed four men. What you said about my state of mind is true. Even so, I taught boys that age. I have a son that age. I know how boys that age act and think when they're hiding something.”

Archer glared at Winter. “That about it?”

“Just separate the boys. Talk to them individually. Don't close the door because of your ego, or what you already believe is true. If they saw anyone-”

“Listen to me, you-” Archer hissed.

Shapiro interrupted. “Let's drop this for now, Deputy Massey.”

“Massey,” Archer said hotly. “I want those murdering bastards caught every bit as badly as you do. I don't believe those kids saw anything, because if they had, there's no reason on earth for them not to tell us.”

Winter fought to keep the desperation he felt from showing through. “Sir, just let me talk to George Williams. He's the weak link. If I'm right and he knows anything, I'm sure he'll tell me.”

“You are?”

“What do you have to lose?”

Archer frowned as he weighed the request. “I don't want it said later that I wasn't open to all possible avenues. And, seeing his background, I suppose it's possible that Deputy Massey may know ways to elicit information from children.”

Shapiro nodded solemnly.

“Intuition is a valuable tool.”

“Nobody can say that you weren't ready to explore every possible angle, sir,” Finch agreed.

“Very well, Massey. But I won't stand for any rough stuff. You got that?”