Unleashed (27 page)

It’s a ten-minute drive from where Muñoz and the other agents are to the camp, and it takes them seven to get here. In the meantime, I check on the others. Marcus and Laurie have the camp’s occupants in one of the buildings, lying side by side on the floor, on their stomachs. Another one is lying on his cot, a large hole in his chest.

I go back to Glennon’s room, and I’m there when Muñoz and the others arrive. “What the hell is going on?” he says.

“Richard Glennon is alive,” I say and point to the desk. “But if you don’t hurry up and deal with this, nobody else will be.”

Muñoz goes to the desk and starts looking at the material. “Holy shit,” he says.

I couldn’t have put it better myself.

He yells out for another agent to come join him, and I leave to find Laurie. The other agents have taken over the job of watching over the bad guys, leaving us with little to do other than hang out.

Within a half hour, what seems like a hundred people arrive, some FBI and some Homeland Security. There are also a couple of ambulances, though Glennon is the only one with any medical issues that need treating. The rest are either unharmed or Marcus has assured that they will never need medical treatment again.

In any case, the camp has more people in it than at any time since parents’ visiting weekend. The main focus is on Glennon’s building and the material on that desk, but when I attempt to walk back in, two agents block me from doing so.

“Nobody enters this building.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” I say. “I invited you guys into this building. I’m the reason you’re here. This is my building.”

“Not anymore,” the agent says.

How quickly they forget.

There is really nothing for us to do here now, and we’re probably the only people in the country who don’t have a clue what is going on out in the world.

I tell Laurie that she and Marcus should go back home and that I’ll call her later. I’m sure we’re all going to be questioned intensively about what went on here, but right now nobody seems inclined to do that. They have other things on their plate.

I am not leaving until I talk to Muñoz.

It’s another three hours until I see him. A helicopter lands on what must have been the camp baseball field, the third one to do so. For a couple of reasons, I figure it must have some big shots on it. First of all, I don’t think small shots travel around on helicopters. Second, Muñoz immediately comes out of the building and walks in that direction to greet them.

I walk up alongside Muñoz and say, “You forgot to thank me.”

He looks at me for a moment and then nods and says, “You did good. Thank you.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

“There are still things more important than Sam Willis.”

“No. Right now nothing is more important than Sam Willis.”

I get home just as the televised press conference is about to begin. The secretary of Homeland Security is announcing that a terrorist plot has been foiled. On the podium with him are the attorney general of the United States, the FBI director, and Special Agent Ricardo Muñoz.

I’ve made Muñoz a goddamn star, and Sam Willis is sitting in a cell.

The secretary comes right to the point. There were to have been between fifteen and twenty assassination attempts on politicians, in conjunction with Memorial Day festivities. At this moment, all the targeted individuals are safe, and extra security has been assigned to them.

In eleven of the cases, the alleged assassins have been apprehended, and the FBI is actively pursuing the rest. The situation is fluid, and because the investigation is in its earliest stages, the department will not be commenting further at this time.

The media are actually well out in front of the government revelations, as they usually are. Alarm signals went off loud and clear when parades and speeches were suddenly canceled all over the country, and reporters have been digging at the story ever since.

Sources within the FBI had revealed, anonymously, that this was a terrorist reaction to the American practice of targeted killings, mostly by drone strikes, in remote corners of the world. Since the United States does not acknowledge and never comments on this strategy, no one will confirm it on the record.

Laurie and I watch the coverage for a while longer, but it’s all becoming a blur to me. I’m exhausted; we got no sleep last night, and I’ve always found conducting armed invasions of summer camps to be particularly tiring.

“Where does all this leave Sam?” Laurie asks.

“Well, tomorrow Judge Hurdle holds him over for trial. Then we need to see if there’s some way we can turn this to our advantage.”

“Got any thoughts on that?”

“No, but maybe I will tomorrow. Right now I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Today was quite a day,” she says.

“Just another day at the office, babe. Just another day at the office.”

Twelve hours of sleep leave me more rested but not any smarter. I’m still not sure how the national news will all fall out and how I can use it to benefit Sam.

I’m angry at myself for not coming to the jail yesterday to tell Sam all that has happened; he had a right to know. I meet with him before the court session, and he listens in amazement as I go through it.

“You’re like Wyatt Goddamn Earp,” he says.

I blow on my finger as if it were a six-shooter. “Somebody’s got to keep law and order in these here parts.”

He asks a bunch of questions about the conspiracy before getting to his own situation. That’s to his credit. If I were he, all I’d care about would be how it will affect my case.

“So who killed Barry?” he asks.

“I would say Denise, but not because of any marital problems. I think Barry was going to stop the money laundering and maybe even turn state’s evidence.”

“Why, if it was so profitable?”

“He must have gotten an idea of what the money was ultimately going to buy, which is why he was going to see Susser to confirm it. He got scared; he was a money guy, not a murderer.”

“And Denise?”

“She wasn’t about to cut down the money tree.” I don’t get into the obvious fact that Denise was deeper into the operation, because I don’t want Sam to realize that his mentioning the “guy in Columbus” to her caused Kyle Austin’s death.

“What is going to happen to Mark Clemens?” Sam asks.

“I’m sure he’s going down. Muñoz didn’t come close to buying that he was an innocent bystander. He was in this up to his eyeballs and is probably the reason that Denise was able to be drawn into it.”

“So they were really having an affair?”

“I’m sure they were.”

They he gets to the key question. “How did you know Glennon’s wife was lying?”

“Because she wasn’t Glennon’s wife.”

“How could that be?”

“First of all, when we talked to her, she was going on about how happy her husband had been, and how he had given no indication that anything was wrong. Yet not only had he acted like he was panicking, but he had told me that his wife was scared to death.”

“There were a lot of reasons she could have been hiding that from you. Maybe she was still scared they might come after her if she talked.”

I nod. “Right. Which is what I first thought. But then she started going on and on about all the close friends they had made in the area, and especially at the company.”

“So?”

“So the information you had gathered said he had only been there six months. So I mentioned her husband’s boss, but I used a different name and she didn’t correct me. None of it was ringing true for me, so I asked her how her husband’s children were doing, the ones from his previous marriage. She said they were doing okay.”

Sam smiles. “And he didn’t have children?”

“He wasn’t even married before. But she had no idea about that, because she wasn’t really Glennon’s wife; she was just someone he was using. A plant. In fact, Glennon isn’t even married.”

“Why did he have to have a wife?”

“So she could identify his body.”

“Who was the dead guy in the car?”

“I’m not sure, and the body was cremated so we may never find out. My guess is that it was the guy referred to as Carter. Glennon and his bosses were cleaning up all loose ends. It was important to Glennon that everybody believe he was one of those loose ends, that he was dead.”

“How come?”

“Because when you do something like he was doing, the U.S. government will not rest until they get you, maybe sooner, maybe later. Just ask bin Laden. But if they thought he was dead, there would be no reason to go after him.”

“And everybody was in it for the money?”

“Except for the people putting up the money, and possibly some of the others. They think they’re doing God’s work. Fortunately, they don’t have drones to do it with.”

Finally, “So where does this leave us?”

“Eventually we’re going to win this, Sam. I haven’t figured out how yet, but we’ll make it work in our favor. If I have to go public with everything, I will.”

“But I could be in a cell for a while?”

I’m not going to lie to him. “You could be in a cell for a long while.”

It might have been the most successful game of telephone ever played. That venerable children’s game consists of one person telling a detailed story to another, who relates it to a third, who relates it to a fourth, and so on. By the time the last person hears the story, it has usually been totally and comically altered.

Of course, it was never previously played on quite this high a level.

In this case, Special Agent Muñoz told it to his boss.

His boss told it to the director of the FBI.

The director of the FBI told it to the U.S. attorney general.

The U.S. attorney general told it to the attorney general of New Jersey.

The attorney general of New Jersey told it directly to Thomas Bader.

Thomas Bader told it to Judge Calvin Hurdle.

And from beginning to end, the story never changed.

As meetings in chambers go, this is a really good one.

“Just so you won’t be surprised,” the judge says, “here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go into court, but I am not going to issue a ruling. Instead, I am going to call on Mr. Bader, and he is going to officially request that all charges against Sam Willis be dismissed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, relief flooding me. Muñoz has obviously come through.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” I say, standing up. “Can we hurry this up? I don’t want Sam to be a prisoner a moment longer than necessary.”

I go back into the courtroom, followed by Bader and soon after by Judge Hurdle.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks.

I smile. “Enjoy the moment.”

And he does. He enjoys the part where the charges are dropped, and he continues to enjoy it as Bader graciously goes on to say that it is the firm belief of the State of New Jersey that Sam Willis is completely innocent of any crime.

When it’s over and Judge Hurdle slams down his gavel, Sam asks me, “What happens now?”

“We get the hell out of here.”

We go to my house, both to celebrate and so Sam can take Crash home. Amazingly, when Crash sees Sam, he jumps off the couch and runs over to him, tail wagging. It is the greatest single burst of energy he has displayed.

Laurie makes lunch for everyone, though Tara and Crash are again stuck with store-bought biscuits. We make plans to go to Brooklyn tomorrow night to cheer Edna on in the first round of the crossword tournament. Sam’s not going to join us; he’s taking Hilda and the bunker gang out for an early dinner at the kosher deli in Fair Lawn.

Unfortunately, Laurie tells me that she’s rescheduled her trip to Wisconsin, and that she’s leaving for a week on Friday. I’m going to be mature about this and trust that she’ll come back; I’m certainly not taking on another client to keep her here.

After lunch, Sam is sitting on the couch, petting Crash. “Let Edna win the tournament,” Sam says.

“You still think he’s good luck?” I ask. “Since you got him, you’ve been imprisoned by the State of New Jersey.”

“He saved my life,” Sam says. “And if he hadn’t, then you wouldn’t have gotten involved in the case. And if you hadn’t gotten involved in the case, you know how many people would have died yesterday?”

I think about that for a moment, weighing the logic. Then I walk over and pet Crash on the head. “Any chance you can arrange for the Giants to win the Super Bowl next year?”

ALSO BY DAVID ROSENFELT

ANDY CARPENTER NOVELS

Leader of the Pack

One Dog Night

Dog Tags

New Tricks

Play Dead

Dead Center

Sudden Death

Bury the Lead

First Degree

Open and Shut

THRILLERS

Airtight

Heart of a Killer

On Borrowed Time

Down to the Wire

Don’t Tell a Soul

NONFICTION

Dogtripping: 25 Rescues, 11 Volunteers, and 3 RVs on Our Canine Cross-Country Adventure

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DAVID ROSENFELT is the Edgar and Shamus Award–nominated author of five stand-alones, most recently
Airtight
, and ten previous Andy Carpenter novels, most recently
Leader of the Pack
. After years of living in California, he and his wife moved to Maine with twenty-five dogs that they’ve rescued. Rosenfelt’s hilarious account of this cross-country move,
Dogtripping
, is being published by St. Martin’s Press in July 2013.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

UNLEASHED.
Copyright © 2013 by Tara Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.