The naked edge

19

"I'm amazed," Mosely said. The lights of Washington's Capitol Building gleamed beyond his office window. "Shocked, in fact. You're actually following proper procedure instead of showing everybody what a hotshot you are."

"All I ever tried to do was the right thing," Cavanaugh told him.

"Sure. Of course, it would have been even better if you'd alerted us before you made the call so we could try to trace it. But I guess I'm asking for too much. This 'usual place' he referred to. I assume it's the farm where the old man taught you and Duran to make knives."

"No."

"Then where is it?"

Now Cavanaugh looked at William.

"Do we have an understanding?" the attorney asked.

"Counselor, I don't make deals."

"We're not asking for a deal. My client is willing to cooperate to the fullest extent. But he wants that taken into consideration when his case comes to trial."

"Consideration. Oh, he'll get plenty of consideration if he doesn't cooperate."

Rutherford sat next to Mosely at the conference table. He leaned forward, one friend to another. "Where's 'the usual place', Aaron?"

"A park in Iowa City. It's down the street from where he and I used to live."

"A park?"

"Willow Creek. Carl and I played there often when we were kids. We used to pretend we were special-operations soldiers shot down behind enemy lines. We hid in the bushes and trees and kept the enemy… people walking through the park… from noticing us."

"Keep talking, Aaron."

"Then we changed the game and pretended we were on opposite sides. We had rubber knives, and we hunted each other. We got so good at hiding that sometimes it took all day before we finished the game."

"Who won?" Rutherford asked.

"Sometimes I did. Sometimes Carl did."

"So you assume he's inviting you to have one last go-around?" Mosely asked.

"Yes."

"Instead of trying to escape."

"Maybe Carl doesn't think he can escape. Maybe he figures he might as well amuse himself in the little time he has left."

"Well, it's for sure he can't escape," Mosely said. "You're one hundred percent confident about this hunch of yours?"

"It's not a hunch. Carl wouldn't have been vague about the location unless he knew it was the only place I'd think of. The usual place where we played the game."

"You'd better be right," Mosely emphasized. "If this is part of his strategy, if he's using you to jerk us around and you fell for it, I won't be happy, and that means you won't be happy. Tomorrow night, he said?"

Cavanaugh nodded.

"The fallout from what happened in New Orleans is so complicated, I can't possibly get away. In fact, I'm expected right now at another meeting." Mosely stood and looked at Rutherford. "You're in charge of counterterrorism. Make sure you catch this guy. Assuming this isn't just a big joke on us."

Mosely picked up a briefcase and left the room.

Cavanaugh thought, He's setting up John to take the fall if anything goes wrong.

"John," Cavanaugh said, "your friendship means a lot to me. I believed I was doing the right thing. I still do. I never meant to put your job at risk. I never thought it would seem I abused your trust."

"Things don't always turn out the way we want," Rutherford said.

"I'm sorry."

The office felt cold.

"Tomorrow night?" Rutherford asked.

"Yes, but he'll start earlier."

"Have you got room on your fancy plane for an FBI SWAT team? And this time, you don't carry guns. This time, you're truly a civilian."