twisted back to almost touch the back of his legs before he froze in position, his eyes staring wide and empty toward the exit of the chamber.
Ethan stared at his body for a moment, and then looked at the FBI agents.
“You might want to seal this room off. It could be contaminated.”
“You think?” Axel Cain shot him a look of mock surprise. “Get out of here.”
Ethan gave the dead pastor one last glance, and then let himself be led out of the chamber and into the light once more.
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON DC
AUGUST 28, 1 P.M.
I’ve told you everything.”
Ethan sat in a hard metal chair with his wrists cuffed to the legs. A camera in one corner of the cell recorded the conversation, an FBI agent guarding the door as Ethan sat staring at the pockmarked face of Special Agent Axel Cain.
“Everything,” Cain repeated cynically, smiling with his lips only. “Mr. Warner, you’ve been embroiled in an international conspiracy that has resulted in several deaths, one of which was at your own hands and witnessed by a half-dozen FBI agents, myself included.”
“It was self-defense.” Ethan shrugged, beyond caring by now.
“You injected him with something that caused his innards to melt and pour out of his eyes, ears, and ass!” Cain shouted. “Overkill, don’t you think?”
“Not for a man who committed the crimes he has.”
Cain looked down at his notes, shaking his head.
“The district attorney won’t see it like that. You left Israel without passport or papers, entered the United States as an illegal immigrant, and then proceeded to injure several men, acquire a firearm for which you were not licensed, and commit the homicide of a respected local pastor.” Cain grinned coldly. “And that’s the way I’ll be presenting it.”
“Bullshit baffles brains,” Ethan muttered.
Cain’s grin didn’t slip as he stood.
“Sticks and stones, Mr. Warner. You’re going away for a very long time, make no mistake about that.”
The cell door opened as Cain made his way out, only to be pushed back in by two men in smart suits. Before Cain was even able to protest, the two men flashed badges at him.
“We’ll be taking Ethan Warner into our custody,” the taller of the two said in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Presidential pardon,” said the shorter of the two men.
Ethan experienced a brief sensation of disbelief.
“Presidential pardon?” he echoed, as though he were as appalled as Agent Cain.
“If you’ll come with us,” said the taller man, who then turned to Cain. “Release him, now. This case is closed.”
Cain, his blotchy face flushed red with restrained fury, nodded to the guard, who quickly released Ethan from the chair.
“This is insane,” Cain protested. “Who the hell has the authority for this? The president doesn’t even know about what’s—”
“That’s classified, Defense Intelligence Agency information and well above your pay grade,” the tall man said. “Any more questions and we’ll take you into our custody as well.”
Cain blanched and stepped back as Ethan walked out of the cell, following the two men down the corridor.
“Seriously?” he asked them. “Presidential pardon?”
“Not quite,” said the shorter of the two, “but close enough.”
Ethan saw two more suited men appear ahead, Nicola Lopez wedged between them and looking equally bemused.
“How do we keep meeting like this?” he asked her.
“Bad luck and timing?”
Ethan said nothing as they were led to the underground parking lot of the FBI headquarters. Three black SUVs were waiting, an ad in themselves for government-agency business. Once inside, they were driven out of the parking lot and turned for the District.
“You tell them anything?” Ethan asked Lopez.
“I’d barely sat down when Secret Service turned up,” Lopez explained. “Cain’s got sand up his ass about the case being shut down.”
“So I noticed. He a friend of yours?”
“You think?”
The SUVs drifted down Pennsylvania Avenue, and for one moment Ethan thought that they were really heading to meet the president. He felt slightly deflated as the vehicles rolled past and on toward the Capitol.
“We’re not that important,” Lopez said with a wry smile.
“That’s what worries me,” Ethan said. “Where are we going?”
“For debrief,” said one of the agents in the front of the vehicle. “Then to the Hart Senate Office Building.”
“How’s Senator Black?” Lopez asked.
This time the agent looked over his shoulder and winked.
“He’s fine, you did good.”
Ethan and Lopez shared a glance, and Ethan wondered what the hell was going on as the vehicle turned away from the District and headed through nondescript industrial areas near the Anacostia