some research on you and had an epiphany. Did you enjoy playing football at the Naval Academy with Roger Staubach? He was a couple of years ahead of you and you played on the D-line and he was the QB. But it still must’ve been a thrill for you. Heisman Trophy winner, Navy’s last one. Hall of famer. Super Bowl winner and MVP. Pretty awesome.”
“It was, actually, but I think we need to get back to the matter at hand.”
“He had a nickname too when he played. Quite the scrambler. The running quarterback. What was that nickname again?”
Meenan said in a small voice, “Roger the Dodger.”
“That’s it,” said Robie. “Roger the Dodger. Same handle that the person gave Roy West. West sent him the apocalypse paper. That’s where this all started. Now, I don’t think it was Staubach.” He pointed at Whitcomb. “I think it was you.”
“I am very confused here, Robie. You and I have already discussed this. We put the blame squarely on Evan Tucker. You grilled him after the meeting with the president with my full blessing.”
“Just done to throw you off your guard. To get you to come here and meet to discuss what you thought would be Tucker’s professional destruction. Tucker’s a prick, but he’s not a traitor. You’re the traitor.”
Whitcomb slowly stood and looked down at him. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am. And I’m more offended than disappointed.”
“I’ve spent my whole working life killing bad guys, sir. One monster after another. One terrorist at a time. I’m good at it. I want to continue to do it.”
“After these accusations today, I’m not sure you’ll be able to, quite frankly.”
“Patience at an end? Didn’t want to wait for people like me to keep pulling triggers? Wanted to clear the game board in one move?”
“If you have one shred of evidence, you better reveal it now.”
“Well, we have Dr. Meenan here, who will testify that she worked with you directly to set this up. And that she put a tracker into my body on your orders.”
Whitcomb stared menacingly at Meenan. “Then she would be lying and she will be charged with perjury and she will go to prison for a very long time.”
“I just don’t see this going to a trial.”
“Once the president hears of this I am sure that—”
Robie cut him off. “The president has already been briefed. Everything I’ve just said, he’s already been told. It was at his suggestion that I meet with you.”
“His suggestion?” Whitcomb said blankly. Robie nodded.
“But there is no evidence tying me to any of this.”
“There is evidence, beyond Meenan here. Sir, you might want to sit down before you fall down.”
His legs shaky, Whitcomb sat back down on the bench. “You said you don’t see this going to trial?”
“Too much of an embarrassment for the country. We don’t need that. There are lots of terrorists out there. That would hurt our ability to go after them. You don’t want that, right?”
“No, of course not.”
Robie looked up at Meenan. “Thank you. There are people waiting for you over there.” He pointed to his left where two men in suits hovered.
After she walked off, Robie said, “Your security detail has been dismissed, by the way.”
Whitcomb glanced in the direction from which he had come. “I see.”
“Your resignation might be in order.”
“Did the president suggest that too?” Whitcomb said dully.
“Let’s just say that he didn’t object when it was raised.” Robie looked at the man. “Did you know Joe Stockwell?”
Whitcomb slowly shook his head. “Not personally, no.”
“Retired U.S. marshal. Good guy. Got in with Kent, gained his trust. Found out what was going on. You had him killed. And a woman named Gwen. Nice old lady. And a former agency guy named Mike Gioffre. They all meant the world to a friend of mine.”
“What friend would that be?” But Robie could tell that Whitcomb already knew the answer.
Robie pointed to his right. “Her.”
Whitcomb looked to where Robie was pointing.
Jessica Reel stood ten feet from them, her gaze on nothing other than Whitcomb.
Robie stood and walked down the trail to the exit. He never once looked back.
The island in the middle of a million people now contained only two people.
Gus Whitcomb.
And Jessica Reel holding a pistol.
To his credit, Whitcomb looked unafraid.
“I’ve been to war, Ms. Reel,” he said by way of explanation as she drew close to him. “I’ve seen many people die. And I almost died myself a couple of times. You never get used to it, of