On the Fifth Day by A. J. Hartley
Authors: A. J. Hartley
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Thrillers, Fiction - Espionage, American Contemporary Fiction - Individual Authors +
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enemy.
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A. J. Hartley
The smile he dredged up didn't try too hard and thus seemed real enough.
"Mr. Knight," he said, crossing from the window and ex
tending a strong, tanned hand, "I'm glad you could drop by. Please, have a seat."
Thomas shuffled to the proffered chair and sat cautiously.
"We were sorry to hear of your loss," he said. "Father Knight was a good friend of the senator's and an important ally."
"Really?" said Thomas.
"Oh yes," said Hayes, choosing to treat the question as sin
cere rather than snide, which was, for once, the way Thomas had meant it. He knew nothing of his brother's recent activi
ties, and though the Ed he had known had been more than a Democrat, that Ed had disappeared off Thomas's radar long before he had actually died.
"We weren't that close," said Thomas, opting to get that into the open right away, "but I know he was a man of principle."
"Absolutely."
"Well that's kind of why I wanted to speak to you," said Thomas. The office with its clean lines and gleaming window, this athletic and successful young conservative, and the sub
ject of their conversation all made him uncomfortable and anxious to be gone.
"I don't seem to be able to find out much about what my brother was doing when he died, and it seems like I'm running into some kind of national security investigation. I don't imagine you or the senator can tell me much or do much to . . . er . . . call them off, but I was wondering . . . since the senator knew him . . ."
He gave up. He should have rehearsed this speech before
hand. Call them off? He sounded as if he were asking for some kind of favor. Worse, he sounded guilty.
"National security?" said Hayes, giving him a hard look. Thomas deflated further. He had hoped someone here would be able to tell him something right away. They obvi
ously knew no more than he did.
43
O n t h e F i f t h D a y
He told Hayes about the trouble he had had getting infor
mation about his brother's death and about his interview with the DHS. Hayes's confusion seemed to deepen, but he said nothing, letting Thomas pick his uneasy way through his story. When he got to the part about the intruder who had brandished a sword, Hayes shifted and the muscles around his eyes tight
ened. He nodded slowly when Thomas stopped talking, took a pen from his jacket pocket, and began scribbling on a blotter, muttering occasional questions without looking up.
"They came when?"
"Do you know who you spoke to in Manila?"
"Some kind of road accident?"
Each time Thomas bobbed his head and answered, feeling as he had as a child, kneeling in the curtained confessional.
"Okay," said Hayes, after a moment's pause in which he seemed to decide the matter was exhausted, "leave your con
tact information with the secretary and we'll see what we can come up with. Obviously if it is a matter of national security there won't be much we can do, but . . ."
He stopped, staring over Thomas's head to the door.
"It isn't," said a man's voice from behind him. Thomas turned to see Senator Devlin himself standing in the open doorway. He was a big man, still powerful in spite of his sixtysome years. His hair was thick and white, his eyebrows bushy, his eyes blue and a little wild.
Hayes got to his feet, clearly surprised.
"Senator," he said, "this is . . ."
"Thomas Knight," said the senator. "Yes, I know. The girl outside has a tongue in her head."
He walked in with long rolling strides as if he'd just gotten off a horse, moving through the room as if he were pushing aside waist-high underbrush: a man used to taking a direct route to wherever he wanted to go.
"Ed Knight was no terrorist," he snorted over his shoulder as he heaved his briefcase onto Hayes's desk with a thud.
"Somebody screwed up."
44
A. J. Hartley
"Don't you think we should turn this over to Homeland Security or the CIA . . . ?" Hayes began, suddenly sounding a little plaintive and overawed by the unexpected appearance of his boss.
"No, I
42
A. J. Hartley
The smile he dredged up didn't try too hard and thus seemed real enough.
"Mr. Knight," he said, crossing from the window and ex
tending a strong, tanned hand, "I'm glad you could drop by. Please, have a seat."
Thomas shuffled to the proffered chair and sat cautiously.
"We were sorry to hear of your loss," he said. "Father Knight was a good friend of the senator's and an important ally."
"Really?" said Thomas.
"Oh yes," said Hayes, choosing to treat the question as sin
cere rather than snide, which was, for once, the way Thomas had meant it. He knew nothing of his brother's recent activi
ties, and though the Ed he had known had been more than a Democrat, that Ed had disappeared off Thomas's radar long before he had actually died.
"We weren't that close," said Thomas, opting to get that into the open right away, "but I know he was a man of principle."
"Absolutely."
"Well that's kind of why I wanted to speak to you," said Thomas. The office with its clean lines and gleaming window, this athletic and successful young conservative, and the sub
ject of their conversation all made him uncomfortable and anxious to be gone.
"I don't seem to be able to find out much about what my brother was doing when he died, and it seems like I'm running into some kind of national security investigation. I don't imagine you or the senator can tell me much or do much to . . . er . . . call them off, but I was wondering . . . since the senator knew him . . ."
He gave up. He should have rehearsed this speech before
hand. Call them off? He sounded as if he were asking for some kind of favor. Worse, he sounded guilty.
"National security?" said Hayes, giving him a hard look. Thomas deflated further. He had hoped someone here would be able to tell him something right away. They obvi
ously knew no more than he did.
43
O n t h e F i f t h D a y
He told Hayes about the trouble he had had getting infor
mation about his brother's death and about his interview with the DHS. Hayes's confusion seemed to deepen, but he said nothing, letting Thomas pick his uneasy way through his story. When he got to the part about the intruder who had brandished a sword, Hayes shifted and the muscles around his eyes tight
ened. He nodded slowly when Thomas stopped talking, took a pen from his jacket pocket, and began scribbling on a blotter, muttering occasional questions without looking up.
"They came when?"
"Do you know who you spoke to in Manila?"
"Some kind of road accident?"
Each time Thomas bobbed his head and answered, feeling as he had as a child, kneeling in the curtained confessional.
"Okay," said Hayes, after a moment's pause in which he seemed to decide the matter was exhausted, "leave your con
tact information with the secretary and we'll see what we can come up with. Obviously if it is a matter of national security there won't be much we can do, but . . ."
He stopped, staring over Thomas's head to the door.
"It isn't," said a man's voice from behind him. Thomas turned to see Senator Devlin himself standing in the open doorway. He was a big man, still powerful in spite of his sixtysome years. His hair was thick and white, his eyebrows bushy, his eyes blue and a little wild.
Hayes got to his feet, clearly surprised.
"Senator," he said, "this is . . ."
"Thomas Knight," said the senator. "Yes, I know. The girl outside has a tongue in her head."
He walked in with long rolling strides as if he'd just gotten off a horse, moving through the room as if he were pushing aside waist-high underbrush: a man used to taking a direct route to wherever he wanted to go.
"Ed Knight was no terrorist," he snorted over his shoulder as he heaved his briefcase onto Hayes's desk with a thud.
"Somebody screwed up."
44
A. J. Hartley
"Don't you think we should turn this over to Homeland Security or the CIA . . . ?" Hayes began, suddenly sounding a little plaintive and overawed by the unexpected appearance of his boss.
"No, I
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