to alienate everyone else he’d ever known. That thought made him grimace involuntarily, and he quickly put his phone away.
The moment he finished eating, a pair of black-suited men entered the conference room, and Garrett realized they had been watching him the entire time. He spotted the surveillance camera in the ceiling corner, and reminded himself to check for that kind of thing from now on. The men introduced themselves as Agents Cannel and Stoddard. They said they worked for Homeland Security. Garrett asked for ID, and they dutifully let him inspect their badges.
“We just want to ask you a few questions,” Stoddard, the older and larger of the two, said. Garrett assumed they would ask about the explosion, and what he’d seen, but instead they launched into questions about his family. How long had his father worked for the Long Beach Unified School District? How old had Garrett been when his father died? Had his mother ever held a job? What did she do now? Had Garrett ever been arrested? Within two minutes Garrett was growing angry.
“What do you care if I’ve ever been arrested?”
“These are just standard questions, Mr. Reilly.”
“Have you ever been arrested?” Garrett asked them.
“I have not,” Agent Stoddard said.
“Well, why not? You don’t party? You never have any fun?”
“I do have fun. Just law-abiding fun.”
Garrett grunted. “I just remembered. I did get arrested once. For multiple homicides. But I got a good lawyer and was acquitted.”
The Homeland Security agents simply pressed on with their questions. “How about your mother—”
“How about your mother?”
“—was she ever arrested?”
Somewhere into the fifth minute Garrett simply stopped talking. The agents asked a few more questions, then asked if Garrett would be answering any of them, and when he said nothing, they thanked him, folded up their notebooks, and left.
• • •
In a small observation room adjacent to the conference room, the two agents ducked their heads in and nodded to Alexis Truffant and General Kline, who were watching Garrett on a color monitor.
“One thing we could ascertain, General,” Agent Stoddard said, pointing to the video feed of Garrett. “He is definitely an asshole.”
Alexis smirked. “He’s off the charts on that.”
General Kline scowled as the Homeland Security agents walked away. He was no fan of that organization; they had no real jurisdiction on an Air Force base, and yet they strutted through the place like they owned it. Theirs was an ever-growing bureaucracy, and its steady encroachment made him uneasy. He took a deep breath and turned to Alexis. “Captain, if I bring him in front of who I’d like to bring him in front of . . .”
“. . . would he make you look like a fool?” Alexis finished his sentence.
“A terrible, stupid fool?”
“From what I’ve seen, sir, if there is even a slight possibility of his causing a disruption, then he almost certainly will.”
Kline studied Garrett on the closed-circuit feed. The young man was handsome, there was no denying that, but Kline thought he had a dangerous, almost feral look about him, as if he were a man-child raised by wolves and they’d just rescued him from the wilds of some vast northern forest. He was tapping his fingers repeatedly on the desk. He seemed impatient, twitchy, angry.
Kline rubbed his temples softly, fighting off a growing tension migraine. “I’ll make the phone calls. You find him some clothes and get him ready for dinner.”
12
BOLLING AIR FORCE BASE, WASHINGTON, D.C., MARCH 25, 4:49 PM
T he one-bedroom condo sat in the center of Bolling Air Force Base. MPs patrolled the front and back of the condo building. Inside, a pair of dark slacks and a clean button-down shirt, in Garrett’s size, were laid out on a bed; a blue blazer hung from the door.
“You pick these out?” Garrett asked Alexis.
“If I say yes, are you going to refuse to wear them?” she
The moment he finished eating, a pair of black-suited men entered the conference room, and Garrett realized they had been watching him the entire time. He spotted the surveillance camera in the ceiling corner, and reminded himself to check for that kind of thing from now on. The men introduced themselves as Agents Cannel and Stoddard. They said they worked for Homeland Security. Garrett asked for ID, and they dutifully let him inspect their badges.
“We just want to ask you a few questions,” Stoddard, the older and larger of the two, said. Garrett assumed they would ask about the explosion, and what he’d seen, but instead they launched into questions about his family. How long had his father worked for the Long Beach Unified School District? How old had Garrett been when his father died? Had his mother ever held a job? What did she do now? Had Garrett ever been arrested? Within two minutes Garrett was growing angry.
“What do you care if I’ve ever been arrested?”
“These are just standard questions, Mr. Reilly.”
“Have you ever been arrested?” Garrett asked them.
“I have not,” Agent Stoddard said.
“Well, why not? You don’t party? You never have any fun?”
“I do have fun. Just law-abiding fun.”
Garrett grunted. “I just remembered. I did get arrested once. For multiple homicides. But I got a good lawyer and was acquitted.”
The Homeland Security agents simply pressed on with their questions. “How about your mother—”
“How about your mother?”
“—was she ever arrested?”
Somewhere into the fifth minute Garrett simply stopped talking. The agents asked a few more questions, then asked if Garrett would be answering any of them, and when he said nothing, they thanked him, folded up their notebooks, and left.
• • •
In a small observation room adjacent to the conference room, the two agents ducked their heads in and nodded to Alexis Truffant and General Kline, who were watching Garrett on a color monitor.
“One thing we could ascertain, General,” Agent Stoddard said, pointing to the video feed of Garrett. “He is definitely an asshole.”
Alexis smirked. “He’s off the charts on that.”
General Kline scowled as the Homeland Security agents walked away. He was no fan of that organization; they had no real jurisdiction on an Air Force base, and yet they strutted through the place like they owned it. Theirs was an ever-growing bureaucracy, and its steady encroachment made him uneasy. He took a deep breath and turned to Alexis. “Captain, if I bring him in front of who I’d like to bring him in front of . . .”
“. . . would he make you look like a fool?” Alexis finished his sentence.
“A terrible, stupid fool?”
“From what I’ve seen, sir, if there is even a slight possibility of his causing a disruption, then he almost certainly will.”
Kline studied Garrett on the closed-circuit feed. The young man was handsome, there was no denying that, but Kline thought he had a dangerous, almost feral look about him, as if he were a man-child raised by wolves and they’d just rescued him from the wilds of some vast northern forest. He was tapping his fingers repeatedly on the desk. He seemed impatient, twitchy, angry.
Kline rubbed his temples softly, fighting off a growing tension migraine. “I’ll make the phone calls. You find him some clothes and get him ready for dinner.”
12
BOLLING AIR FORCE BASE, WASHINGTON, D.C., MARCH 25, 4:49 PM
T he one-bedroom condo sat in the center of Bolling Air Force Base. MPs patrolled the front and back of the condo building. Inside, a pair of dark slacks and a clean button-down shirt, in Garrett’s size, were laid out on a bed; a blue blazer hung from the door.
“You pick these out?” Garrett asked Alexis.
“If I say yes, are you going to refuse to wear them?” she
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