The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 50

Evie looked around as they drove. Once they were off the highway, the streets grew increasingly quiet and residential, as Leed had said they would. They passed numerous speed cameras, which made her nervous. She knew that depending on angle, lighting, and speed, some of these cameras could return images of passengers sharp enough for her facial recognition system to process. She reminded herself that even if her face got picked up, and even if it were recognized, the director wouldn’t be able to act on it quickly enough to make a difference. They were just a few minutes away now. Almost there.

Traffic had become sparse, but it wasn’t nonexistent, either, and she was mindful of Leed’s admonition about taking measures to ensure she wasn’t tailed. But she didn’t see how anyone could have followed her from the airport — or from earlier, for that matter. And besides, what was she going to do, tell the driver, Hey, would you mind doubling back, and driving in circles, and zigzagging for a while? Just want to make sure we don’t have any unwanted company.

She saw a sign for Tobytown, and the driver made a left off River Road. This was it. Pennyfield Lock Road. She checked her watch — right on time. Okay.

They drove slowly along, passing nothing but trees and fields and a few modest houses, the road growing increasingly narrow and rutted as it curved left, then right, then left again, the ground to either side gradually sloping upward and the trees growing closer and closer, creating a canopy of leaves overhead. The area felt exceptionally quiet, even private. She could see why Leed had chosen it.

They came to a one-lane bridge. A sign announced that the park closed at dark. Well, Evie thought nervously, we ought to be out of here before then, anyway.

A sign on the other side of the bridge announced that they had arrived at Pennyfield Lock, of the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal National Historical Park. A moment later, she saw the canal. This was where she was supposed to turn right. But if Leed was already waiting, she didn’t want the driver to see. So she let him follow the road left, and drive the short distance to a small parking area.

Dash had fallen asleep. She rubbed his leg until he moaned and opened his eyes. Hey, good-looking, she signed. We’re here. Almost done with our scavenger hunt.

She paid the driver and they got out. “Enjoy the birds,” he told them, then did a K-turn and drove off.

Hey, she signed to Dash. We’re almost done. This is where the scavenger hunt ends.

He yawned. You still haven’t told me the prize.

Soon. Let me carry those comic books for you, okay?

Dash handed them over. Evie made sure to keep a couple in each hand as they walked back the way they had come. As soon as they were past the road they had come in on, she saw the boat launch. There was a green minivan parked just above it — not a Sprinter, she was glad to see, about which she expected to suffer a permanent phobia. A blond woman, younger than Evie had been expecting, was standing near it. She was holding a rolled-up magazine with both hands.

Evie blew out a long breath and kept walking. This was it.

The woman looked around, then back at Evie. Evie did the same, trying not to be nervous. She didn’t see anyone else.

She stopped a few feet away. The woman said, “Hey, do you know if there’s a way to rent a kayak around here?”

“Uh, I think they’re closed for the season.”

The woman looked around again. “Okay. We’re good. Do you have it?”

“Yes. Betsy?”

“Yes. We have to hurry. Ryan should be calling any minute.”

Evie turned to Dash and handed him the comics. Hon, hold these, okay? Dash rolled them up and jammed them in a pocket. Evie started to reach for the thumb drive.

She heard tires on the gravel behind her. She glanced over. A white pickup. She felt a hot rush of adrenaline and her heart started thudding hard in her chest.

“Relax,” Leed said. “Could be an early morning jogger. Just be cool.”

The pickup paused at the water. She squinted, unsure. The driver looked left, then right.

Marvin.

“Fuck,” Evie breathed.

“What is it?”

“NSA.”

“Goddamn it, you were followed?”

“I don’t know how,” she said, trying not to panic. “I don’t know how it could be possible.”

Marvin saw them. He cut the wheel right, gunned the engine, and drove toward them.

What to do? Run? Where?

Dash signed, Hey, it’s Mr. Manus.

Marvin stopped the truck and got out. He looked at Leed, then at Evie.

You can’t give it to her, he signed. Don’t.

Dash signed, Hey, Mister Manus. Are you here for the scavenger hunt?

Marvin looked at him, seemingly uncomprehending.

What are you going to do to stop me? Evie signed.

Just give it to me. It’s the only way.

Leed looked at Marvin, then at Evie. “What is going on? What are you signing?”

“Just give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.”

It’s not the only way, she signed. The director wants you to think that, but it’s not. You can’t trust him.

No. He’s always been fair to me.

Did she sense some uncertainty in the way his hands formed the words? She hoped so.

He’s not who you think he is, Marvin. Maybe he was once, I don’t know. But he’s not anymore. I know you can see that. I know it.

We’ll promise him you won’t tell.

It’ll never be enough. He’ll make a bunch of promises in return, and the first chance he gets, you know what will happen. To you. To me. To Dash. You know.

A dark-haired twenty-something guy with stubble and black glasses got out of the minivan. Marvin’s right hand moved toward his hip.

No, Evie signed. Marvin, no!

The kid’s hands were empty. Evie thought that was fortunate. He looked around and said, “What’s going on?”

Leed kept her eyes on Marvin. “Micah, give us a minute.”

“Do we have what we came for?”

“I don’t know.”

I can’t let you give it to them, Marvin signed. I’m sorry.

Then you have to stop me.

He shook his head. Every time he stopped signing, his right hand went back to his hip.

Leed’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out and looked. “It’s him.”

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life afraid, Evie signed. I won’t.

Evie, please. Don’t make me.

Leed put the phone to her ear. “Are you all right?” she said. A pause, then, “Yes, I’m right here with her. But we have a slight problem. Stand by.”

This isn’t who you are, Evie signed. This isn’t who you have to be. You’re not a bad person, Marvin. You’re not.

Yes, I am.

Not if you don’t want to be.

Marvin’s hand went behind his back. “Don’t, Evie,” he said, his voice loud, intimidating. “Don’t.”

She didn’t think. She didn’t consider. She just kept her eyes on his.

Pulled the drive from her pocket.

And handed it to Leed.

Marvin slumped. He put his fingers to his temples and slowly shook his head.

Leed said, “I have it. Text us the passphrase. Micah and me both. Hurry.”

There were two incoming chimes. The guy named Micah looked at his phone. “Got it.”

Leed tossed him the drive. Micah caught it one-handed. “Go!” she said. Micah turned and raced back to the van.

“We’re sharing it,” Leed said into her phone. “The Guardian, McClatchy, the Nation, ProPublica, Rolling Stone, WikiLeaks. Plus various individuals we trust. Micah’s got a satellite link. He’s decrypting and uploading right now. Everyone’s ready. Everyone has their own passphrase. Can you stay on the phone with me? I want to know everything you learned directly from Perkins. The context. His impressions. The more you can tell me, the faster we’ll get through the documents. And the faster we can publish. They can’t put this genie back in the bottle. Not anymore. Give me a day, and we’re going to get you home.”

“Go,” Evie said to her. “Now.”

Leed looked at Marvin, then at Evie. “Look, why don’t you come with Micah and me? It’ll be safer for you. And we could really use your help to—”

“I’m fine. Just publish what’s on that fucking thumb drive.”

There was a pause, then Leed nodded. “Count on it.” She ran to the van, got in the driver’s side, and roared out of the parking area.

Dash tugged at her arm. Mommy, what’s going on? Who were those people?

Journalists, hon. Helping us.

Is the scavenger hunt over?

She nodded.

Did we win?

She looked at Marvin. Yes. I think we did.

Marvin just stood there, his shoulders slumped, slowly shaking his head.

It’s okay, she signed. I told you. You’re not a bad person.

He let out a long sigh. They won’t ever stop.

She heard tires on the gravel again. She looked up, alarmed. Marvin followed her gaze. A black Suburban came barreling down the road right toward them.

Evie looked at him, not understanding. Did you do this?

But she could see from his expression, his body language, that he hadn’t. He looked to his pickup, and must have decided it was too far to get all three of them there in time. He moved so that he was between Evie and the Suburban, then put a hand on Dash’s shoulder and eased the boy behind him, too. The hand stayed behind his back. Evie could see it was resting on the butt of his gun.

The Suburban stopped ten feet away, pointed straight at them. The doors opened. Four large men in shades got out. They had longish hair and were wearing casual clothes, but they looked fit. Military-serious. They kept behind the doors. Each of them pointed a gun at Marvin.

Dash turned to her, his eyes wide. She shook her head—no questions—and pulled him close.

Remar came out. And then — of course — the director.

“Marvin,” he said. “What would I do without you? My most reliable aide. My most trusted.”

Evie felt gut-punched. Had Marvin been working for the director the whole time? But then why had he positioned himself as though to protect them?

“You’re too late,” she said, surprising herself with her bravado. “The thumb drive’s gone. The Intercept has it. And they’ve already uploaded it to a dozen mirror sites. Everyone’s going to know what you’ve been up to. All your business, all your secrets. Let’s see how you like it.”

Did his face lose a little color? Yeah, she thought maybe it did.

He looked at Marvin. “Marvin, what’s going on? Do you have it?”

Marvin shook his head. “No. It’s gone. She’s telling you the truth.”

The color the director’s face had lost a moment before was nothing. Because suddenly he looked practically bloodless.

Remar walked over and put a hand on the director’s shoulder. “Ted. Listen.”

The director shook off the hand. “How could you?” he said to Marvin. “Betray me? For what? A sweaty little romp? Don’t you think I knew? Yes, even before you told me. I knew.”

There was a long pause. Marvin said, “You only know what you see. You don’t know what I feel.”

“Really. Well, let’s see about that.” He turned to the men behind him. “Take care of them.”

Evie dropped, spun around, and threw her arms around Dash to shield him with her body. But she heard a new voice, a deep Southern baritone: “No. You will not ‘take care of them.’”

She turned and saw a tall black man in a blue army service uniform emerging from the Suburban. She recognized him from television — Vernon Jones, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

“What are you talking about?” the director said. “We need to finish this.”

Jones shook his head. “It’s already over. You need to listen to Mike.”

The director looked at Remar. “All right,” he said, massaging his shoulders, “what is going on here?”

Remar shook his head and looked down. “I’m sorry, Ted. It’s time for new management. Long past time, in fact. You must see that.”

The director’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “You scheming son of a bitch.”

Remar nodded. “I guess you can’t know everything after all.”

“After what I’ve done for you? I saved you. I pulled you from the fires of hell, you ungrateful bastard, I promoted you and protected you. Without me, you’d be nothing. You’d be dead, ashes, a cinder!”

“I know. And I’ll never be able to repay you for it. Although God knows I’ve tried. But this is bigger than that, Ted. Bigger than you and me. It can’t keep going like this. The fact that you don’t realize that… you’re not fit anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Are you insane? You’re implicated in all of it.”

“No. Not really. God’s Eye was your baby. So were its uses. That audit you had me conduct? There was a lot Perkins could have gotten. But he didn’t have everything. We’ll rebuild. But we’ll be more sensible this time. More discriminating. More discreet. Ted, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Please.”

“Like hell you’ll rebuild. You think I don’t know? I know everything. Everything!”

Remar looked at Jones.

Jones nodded and said, “Take him.”

Two of the men came forward and grabbed the director by the arms. He started to struggle, but the men barely seemed to notice. “Marvin!” he shouted. “Marvin, stop them!”

Marvin watched, his face as still as stone.

“Keep him in the car for a minute,” Remar said to the men. “I need to talk to these people.”

Jones walked back to the Suburban. The men followed him, dragging the director inside. He was shouting that he was going to burn them, burn them all. Evie was glad that, the way she was holding him, Dash couldn’t see any of it. Still, he was gripping her tightly, obviously badly frightened.

The Suburban’s doors closed, and the director’s shouting was abruptly cut off. Remar walked over. “Marvin. Evie. I apologize for all of this. No one wanted any of it to happen.”

Evie was afraid to respond. She looked up at Marvin, but his expression remained unreadable.

Remar smiled a little sadly. “Let’s face it. The director went too far. He was at sea so long, he lost sight of land. Lost sight of the purpose, you understand?”

“No,” Evie said cautiously, straightening and turning back to him. “Not exactly.”

Dash clung to her leg. He might not have understood all the words, but he’d sure as hell picked up the gist.

Remar nodded. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. I’m a realist, and so is Jones. We’ll make things better. And I can tell you’re a realist, too.”

“What are you telling me?” Evie said. “That you expect me to keep my mouth shut? What difference does it make? The Intercept has the thumb drive.”

“Yes, they do, and they’ll publish what’s on it. We’ll ride it out. We’ve been through storms before.”

“What about Hamilton? And Perkins? And Delgado, planting that bomb? How are you going to spin all that?”

“Conspiracy theories.”

His confidence was unnerving. It made her want to shake him up, prove him wrong.

“There’s camera footage,” she said warily.

He nodded almost sadly. “You don’t have to worry about that. It’s being taken care of. So there’s no proof of anything. Well, that’s not entirely true. You could corroborate a lot. And if the director were in a position other than facedown in the back of that Suburban, you know how he would handle that possibility. But that’s the old way. It isn’t my way.”

She waited, and he went on.

“It’s true you know things, Evie, that we’d really rather not have publicly aired. And not just Perkins and Hamilton. Things like the director being behind the DC bombing. Of course, if you talk about any of it, it could implicate Manus.”

He looked at Marvin, then back to Evie. “Had you considered that?”

She said nothing. It felt like he was circling her, boxing her in, tying her up. So he could deliver some sort of coup de grace.

“And not just Manus,” he went on. “It could implicate you, as well.”

There it was, then. “In what?”

“In criminal conduct. That camera network? Severe Fourth Amendment violations. Your work has been an integral part of God’s Eye, an integral part of the files we assembled on various influential Americans. Senators. Judges. Those kinds of people. The same files I’m going to use to protect the system now. If your involvement came out — and please believe me when I assure you it would — you’d be investigated by the Justice Department. Could you afford that? Could your boy manage with you doing life in a federal prison, much of it in solitary?”

It was horrible. He had her. He knew exactly what buttons to press.

“Why not come back to work, instead?” he said. “I meant it when I said new management. No more cloak-and-dagger. No more killing. I’m going to run things differently.”

“You think you’re going to be the new director?”

He touched the scar tissue below his eye patch. “I think there’s a chance.”

“You must have something on the president.” She’d meant it to be flip, but the moment it came out, it felt anything but.

“Evie, we have something on everyone. The problem isn’t what we have. The problem is how the director was using it. We’ll fix that, as I said.”

“You call that democracy?”

He sighed. “Let’s not be naïve. We’re not subverting democracy; democracy was subverted a long time ago. I wish it weren’t so, I really do. But you can’t work in this town as long as I have and not see it. Not unless you’re willfully blind. And all right, I may be missing an eye, but I’m not blind.”

He shook his head and looked over at the Suburban, then back to Evie. “Sad as it is, it’s really not complicated. We compete against various interests, mostly corporate interests, and if you look at it realistically, you’ll see we’re the better alternative. The choice here, the choice for realists, isn’t NSA management versus democratic management. It’s NSA management… or corporate management. And believe me, you don’t want the corporations running the show all by themselves. We’re not exactly Thomas Jefferson, okay, that ship has sailed, but we’re not complete slaves of mammon, either.”

He turned to Marvin. “I’m sorry about the director, Marvin. If you like, you’ll always have a place with me. I hope you know that. Or, if you prefer, a generous severance. The same goes for you, Evie. I believe in live and let live. For people who believe the same about me.”

Marvin said nothing. Remar looked at him, and Evie thought she saw something pained in his expression. Almost mournful.

“I have a feeling you’d like a moment alone with your former boss, Marvin. Am I correct?”

Marvin looked at the Suburban. “Yes. You’re correct.”

Remar nodded. “Take as much time as you need.” He turned and walked back to the Suburban. “Let him out,” he called.

A rear door opened, and two men dragged the director out and released him. “You think I’m done?” he shouted. “You think I don’t know people? I don’t know things? You can’t do this to me. I know everything. And I’ll spill all of it! I’ll tear this city apart!”

Remar and Jones got back in the Suburban. Their men followed suit.

“Where are you going?” the director shouted. “You’re not done with me! You’ll see!”

The Suburban pulled away. Suddenly the area was very quiet.

Evie squatted and kissed Dash’s cheeks. His eyes were closed. She stroked his hair and he looked at her.

It’s okay, she signed. It’s okay, my beautiful boy.

She saw Marvin, watching them. Tears were running down his face. He turned and looked at the director.

“Marvin,” the director said, his voice unsteady. “I’m so sorry for all this. For all these… misunderstandings.”

Marvin turned back to Evie. I need a minute.

It made her uneasy, but she didn’t see that she had much choice. She signed to Dash, Come on, hon. Let’s give Mr. Manus some privacy.

Dash started crying, too. He had sensed the danger, and had been keeping it together. Now that it was past, the tears were flooding through. She expected she would have a similar reaction. But not now. Later, when she could start getting her mind around everything that had happened.

She took Dash’s hand and they walked to the canal. She hoped Marvin wouldn’t be too long. She wanted to get the hell out of there.