“Okay. What’s this all about?”
“I can’t say, Dom.”
“Can I guess?”
I didn’t reply.
Fanelli said, “So, I called Harry Muller, just to say hello and how do you like working for the Feds. And we get around to John Corey, and he says you’ve been acting strange. And I say, ‘What’s so strange about Corey acting strange?’ And he says you’ve been AWOL the last few days, and he’s passing on verbal messages to your wife. Even stranger, you bought two kielbasa sandwiches for you and him, and you didn’t eat yours. Then he calls me this morning and says Stein spoke to you in his office, and now you’re AWOL again, and he’s waiting for a toasted muffin. So-”
“Don’t you have to get to a double homicide?”
“Nah. They’re not going anywhere. So, from all this, I conclude that you’re poking your nose into TWA 800.”
I was a little taken aback, but replied coolly, “How could you conclude that?”
“Easy. I just put it all together.”
“Putwhat together?”
“Oh, and you asked Muller if he worked the TWA case, and you told him you went to the memorial service, and I know Kate worked the case, and so did Marie Gubitosi. And now you want a make on a guy named Brock who lived on Long Island five years ago. Coincidence? I think not. I’m seeing a pattern here, John.”
Sometimes I forget that the Blue Network works both ways, and I forget that Dom Fanelli is a smart cop. I said to him, “You should be a detective. Okay, see what you can get me on those names.”
“How soon do you need this?”
“About two months.”
“I should know in about two weeks. Maybe two days. I’ll call you.”
“Take your time. I’m going to Yemen for a couple of months.”
“Where the fuck is Yemen?”
“It’s on the map.” I added, “I’m being shipped out to teach me a lesson about following orders.”
“That sucks. Maybe you should follow orders.”
“I am. I’m going to Yemen.”
“Is that like Staten Island?”
“Yeah, but the Feds have a bigger beat. Also, Kate’s going to Africa for the same lesson.”
“Mama mia. You guys got screwed. Hey, I’ll keep an eye on your apartment while you’re gone.”
“I’ll give you a key to keep an eye on it. But do not use it as a love nest.”
“A what? Hey, paisano, what happens to me if the Feds get wise that I’m looking for these people? Do I get a free trip to Yemen?”
“They’re not going to find out. You don’t have to question these people or make any contact with them. I just need to know where they are. I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
“You got it. Let’s have a beer before you leave.”
“Not a good idea. I’m hot at the moment. I’ll leave my apartment key in the building manager’s office.”
“Okay. Hey, is this worth it?”
I understood the question and replied, “I wasn’t sure at first. But I just got kicked in the balls by the system. So now I’ve got to kick back.”
He stayed uncharacteristically silent for a while, then said, “Yeah. That I understand. But sometimes you’ve just got to take the hit.”
“Sometimes. But not this time.”
“You got something new on that case?”
“What case?”
“Okay. When are you leaving?”
“Probably Tuesday.”
“Call me before you leave.”
“No, I’ll call you when I get back. Don’t contact me while I’m there.”
“I don’t even know where the fuck this place is. Tell Kate bon voyage. See you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Dom.” I hung up and walked back to 26 Federal Plaza.
The definition of insanity, as someone once said, is doing the same thing every time and expecting different results.
By that definition, I was really crazy.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I entered Mr. Koenig’s office, an impressive corner suite with a nice view of the World Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty, Staten Island, and the harbor.
I’ve been to this office a few times, and none of those occasions were particularly joyful. Today was not going to be any different.
Jack Koenig was standing at one of the windows, staring out at the harbor, his back to me.
His little power play is to stand there and see how you were going to announce your presence. I considered yelling in Arabic, “Allah Akbar!” and rushing him, but I settled for clearing my throat.
He turned toward me and nodded.
Jack Koenig is a tall, thin guy with close-cropped gray hair and gray eyes, and he wears gray suits. I think you’re supposed to get the impression of steel, but I think of pencil lead. Maybe concrete.
He shook my hand, motioned to a round table, and said, “Have a seat.”
I sat, and he sat across from me. He said, “Kate told you I wanted to see you?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you?”
“In Captain Stein’s office.”
“After that.”
“Oh, I took a walk to clear my head. His cigar gets to me. I mean, I’m not complaining about his smoking in a smoke-free environment, but-”
“David tells me you want to resign.”
“Well, I’ve rethought that. Unless you think otherwise.”
“No. I want you here.”
He did not add, “Where I can keep an eye on you and fuck up your life,” but we both understood that.
I said, “I appreciate your confidence in me.”
“I never said that. Actually, my confidence in your judgment is nonexistent. But I want to give you another chance to be of service to the team and to your country.”
“Excellent.”
“Don’t fuck with me, John. I’m not in the mood.”
“Neither am I.”
“Good. Then we can get to the point. You’ve been concerning yourself with the TWA 800 case, on government time, and against explicit instructions not to do that.”
“I don’t take orders from Liam Griffith.”
“No, you take orders from me, and I’m telling you, as I told Kate, you are not to involve yourself in this case. Why? Cover-up? Conspiracy? If you think that, then youshould resign and pursue the matter. And maybe you will. But for now, what I’d like you to do is go to Yemen and get a sense of what we’re trying to accomplish in regard to American security around the globe.”
“Whatare we trying to accomplish?”
“That’s for you to find out.”
“Why Yemen? Why not where Kate is going?”
“This is not punishment, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s an honor to serve overseas.”
We weren’t even on the same planet, so there was no use arguing with him. I said, “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“I know you are.”
“What am I supposed to do there?”
“You’ll be fully briefed in Aden.”
“Good. I don’t want to be overzealous and get kicked out by the ambassador.”
He gave me a steely look and replied, “This is an important assignment. Seventeen American sailors have been murdered, and wewill apprehend those responsible.”
“I don’t need a pep talk. I do my job.”
“That you do. But you’ll do it by the rules.”
“Fine. Is that it?”
“That’s it for Yemen. Tell me what you did yesterday.”
“I took a ride out east.”
“Where did you go?”
“The beach.”
“You’re not tan.”
“I sat in the shade.”
“Why were your cell phone and beeper turned off?”
“I needed a mental health day.”
“It’s good that you can recognize that need.”
That was actually funny, and I smiled.
He added, “But you will never again turn off your beeper.”
“Yes, sir. Will my beeper and cell phone work in Yemen?”
“We’ll make sure it does. Let me ask you something-do you think you might have some new information on Flight 800?”
Well, there’s a loaded question. I replied, “If I did, you’d be the first to know.”