But somebody had to break the searing silence, and finally I said, "Our deepest condolences, sir."
Jennie said, "This was… I mean, this is… it's terrible."
He did not look at us, or even reply for a long time. He mumbled, "Joan was… she had no idea…" Then he sobbed and lost whatever words he had planned to say.
I put a hand on his arm. "Sir, this is not the right place for you. Please… allow me to escort you back to your car."
He still did not look at me. "I… I've.. "I followed his eyes, and we both watched an agent bent over something on the ground. He picked it up and studied it. I noted it was a woman's hand, detached cleanly at the wrist. We all three silently watched the agent, oblivious to his audience, drop it into a plastic Baggie.
I said, "Come with me." I pulled on Mark Townsend's arm and guided him toward the crowd of local gawkers and Bureau agents loitering outside the crime scene tape. They saw us and began parting, and we moved through the sea of stricken and mawkish faces. Two TV cameras located us, and I saw the reporters speaking rapidly into their mikes, following our progress, Director Townsend stumbling forward until his legs grew weak and I was holding him up. He was mumbling incoherently, a stream of incomprehensible words intermittently broken up by choked sobs. Mark Townsend was in a state of shock and falling deeper and deeper into that long, dark pit.
I saw a dark blue sedan, and at nearly the same instant Jennie noticed it and signaled the two bodyguards who loitered beside it to join us. I guided Townsend as quickly as I could to his car. The bodyguards approached, and one immediately grabbed the Director's other arm. Jennie asked him, very sharply, "What were you thinking? Why did you let him come here?"
The man answered, "He… I mean, we knew… he ordered us to bring him. We-"
"You're idiots. You should never…" She drew a few breaths and got herself under control. "Take him home. Use your radio. Find out which college his daughter's at, and have the Bureau dispatch a plane to retrieve her. Also, locate the Townsend family priest. Have somebody rush him to Director Townsend's house. Don't let him into the house, and don't leave him alone till the pastor arrives. Do you understand me?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Repeat it back to me." And he did, almost word for word.
Regardless, it was too late, the damage was done. No amount of postmortem deftness was going to ameliorate it. Mark Townsend had witnessed what no man or woman should ever see.
I maneuvered him into the backseat of his sedan, and I bent over and belted him in, a silly gesture, but I felt genuine concern for this man. The crowd and the TV cameras gathered and watched the Director of the vaunted and recently feared FBI being driven away, a man so thoroughly crushed and defeated he could only stare numbly at his shoes.
I tried to think of a manner in which Jason Barnes could have choreographed this to more theatrical effect. I couldn't. I just couldn't.
In the porn industry, when the moment of ejaculation is caught on film it's called the money shot. Jason had just achieved a million-dollar money shot, and it was hard to see how he could possibly outdo this one.
But perhaps I was underestimating him again. I reminded myself to stop doing that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jennie and I walked together over to George Meany, who had budged not an inch from the spot where we first observed him. Clearly his mind was going through some kind of self-reflection, and his body was in a frozen trance. He looked at us, blinked a few times, and asked Jennie, "Was that Townsend?"
"Yeah. Not in good shape."
"He's going to need a long vacation," I added. "You should call headquarters and tell the Deputy Director it's his turn at bat."
George looked like he'd rather have the long vacation, but he nodded.
I pointed at the TV crews and said, "In a few minutes, this is going to be a camera farm. Appoint somebody like Butterman to speak to them and spin it as best he can."
The enormity of this thing was finally piercing the density of George's self-pity." I… good idea. Maybe I'll-"
I said, "By the way we have a lead."
"What are you talking about?"
I proceeded to give George a quick rundown about the range thefts at Fort Hood, and he listened intently, with no change in facial expression, and initially, at least, without comment.
When I finished, he rolled it around his brain for a moment. He looked at Jennie and observed, "You accompanied Drummond to the CID headquarters?"
"Yes."
"And you heard about this theft?"
"I did."
"Why didn't you report this lead to me?"
"Because I felt it lacked plausibility."
George stared at her a moment. "That was your professional judgment?"
Before George made a big case out of this, I interrupted to say, "It was a reasonable assessment at that moment. CID's case had big holes and wasn't fleshed out. Had we known Barnes possessed C4 and blasting caps, we obviously would've thought differently."
George looked at me and replied, "By the same token, had we known about this group, we would've known they had C4, and we would've instituted proper precautions. However… you two blinded us to the possibility."
"Joan Townsend was never on our protection list," I pointed out.
"She would've been, had we known."
"Ridiculous."
George ignored me, looked at Jennie, and said, "By noon, I want a statement on my desk. I'm referring this to the review board to decide if you executed your duties competently Understood?"
Needless to say what was going on here wasn't hard to figure out. George needed to throw somebody to the wolves and I had just shoved Jennie in the path.
Jennie informed him, very coolly "I'm formally requesting an extension until five o'clock. It would be poor judgment to interrupt the flow of this investigation over paperwork."
"Fine." Apparently the twofer of sidestepping the blame and burning Jennie put George in a more magnanimous frame of mind.
I said to Jennie, a bit tersely, "Excuse us a moment."
"I'm not going anywhere. I can handle this myself."
To my surprise, George ordered, "Leave us alone."
She looked a little pissed, but George was her superior, as he had just reminded her. We said nothing as she walked off.
George turned to me, shaking his head and smiling. "Looks like you picked the losing team, Drummond. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"This is not working for me, George. If you want my ass, go for it. She stays out of it."
"You're asking for favors now? Well… you're not groveling hard enough."
"George, people are dying. She's trying her best. This is not helping the process."
This seemed to amuse George. He said, "Let me be frank, Drummond. You're making my day. I don't like you, and the thought of getting rid of her and pissing you off… that's sort of irresistible, isn't it?"
"You're a small-minded prick, George."
"And you're out of your league, Drummond. You always were, you just didn't realize it. So let me close with this thought-fuck you." He looked off in the direction of the TV vans and said whimsically, "You know, I'd better go issue a statement myself. You can't trust anybody these days."
I said, "Break a leg… a neck, whatever," and I really meant it. He smiled, and off he went, a little too much bounce in his step, and I gave serious thought to whooping his ass in front of all those cameras.
I found Jennie studying the front of Gold's Gym. At first she was lost in thought, but finally she said, "What a guy"
"Give me your Glock. I'm going to blow his brains out."