“It would be best if I had some, too, is that what you’re implying?” She tilted her head. “I’m messed up and I know it. All I have left is the Office. What do you have? Why are you even here?”
“It’s what I do,” he said simply. He wanted to reach out, hold her hand, but anything he might do would only aggravate the situation. “The world is complicated and crazy, and the only thing holding it together is people like me. I can’t be distracted. I have to do the job.”
“Quite a hero complex, Captain America.” She stood and glared at him. “If you really want to know why you’re here, talk to my father. Ask him about the family business. Mine and yours.”
She slammed the door on her way out.
Eric scanned through the images of his father’s military records. He knew his father had served in Vietnam. When Eric was a kid, he begged his Dad to tell stories, but his Dad always refused. He would say the past was past and there was no need to fill his head with nonsense, then send him outside to play. Reading through the records, he realized his Dad might have had other reasons for not talking about his time in the service.
The records painted a different story than he expected. His Dad was Special Forces, and the paper trail was blank, from his entry in Vietnam in August of 1963 until he out-processed in 1968.
For five years he stayed in country. Nothing noted in his records about missions, either. What did he do for those five years? Even in the world of Special Forces there were records. His father’s record was empty. Expunged.
He stood and stretched his legs. Why hadn’t his father told him? He checked the clock. It was late but he made a brief stop in the cafeteria for coffee before heading to Smith’s office. Light peeked from under Smiths’ door. He knew Smith flew in just hours before, but he had not yet been summoned for a briefing. He knocked politely and entered.
Smith sat at his desk, phone pushed to the corner, shuffling a well-worn set of cards. He smiled at Eric. “An indulgence from my youth. It allows my mind to wander freely. What may I do for you?”
“I hope I didn’t cause any problems with the override of the CIA drone.”
“They were not happy,” Smith said, “but the issue is resolved. Mr. Rumple has also been summoned to Washington. I think it best that he have no further contact with our people. The CIA Director agreed.”
“Nancy wants to pass the info back to JSOC and be done with it.”
Smith paused his game, glancing up. “What do you think?”
“I think that Abdullah could be the next Bin Laden. I think we should keep it.”
“The Office has a limited amount of resources. This might hamper your investigation into the missing caesium. How goes that?”
“We’ve come up blank, sir. Karen is working on it, but nothing so far.”
“You’re the Commanding Officer,” Smith said, “There’s no need to bring this to me.”
“Nancy seems to think there is,” he said.
“She’s not the CO, Eric. Go with your gut.”
“Yes sir.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Sir?” He hesitated. “Did you know my Dad?”
Smith stared at the cards on the table. “You’ve been looking through his service records,” he said, without looking up. “Yes, I knew your father quite well.”
It was the admission he was waiting for. “In what capacity?”
Smith swept up the cards, then placed them in his desk drawer. “He worked for the Office, which you suspected.”
Eric nodded.
“He was also my friend,” Smith said. “As was your grandfather, Joseph.”
“Grandpa Joe? How did you know Grandpa Joe?” He hadn’t expected that, and his head was spinning. “Is that why you picked me?”
“You spoke to Nancy,” Smith said. He shook his head. “When Truman tasked me with creating the Office, I was nothing more than a child. I needed someone with experience, someone with a military background. Your grandfather was an exceptional man. He was in the Airborne during World War Two. He suffered through the Ardennes during the Battle of the Bulge. He was my boot camp instructor, and he left quite an impression. Not for his training methods, but because of his mental and moral strength.”
“He was ready to retire,” Smith continued, “and I offered him a job. Just a year. He stayed for three. He was my right-hand man and eventually my friend. Your grandmother as well. A sweet woman, dedicated to her husband and her young son, William. I kept in touch with Joseph, as his son became a man. Then William joined the Army. It was a chaotic time, and my advice to the President about the war fell upon deaf ears. I had recruited a young man, Hobert, to run a psychological warfare division.”
“Doc Barnwell?”
“Yes. Hobert was brilliant, but not all of his ideas were without consequences. We needed someone who could clean up our mistakes. Your father was a good man, rugged, like his father. You are like him in so many ways. You are a good man, like your father and your father’s father.”
Smith paused. “I’m old, Eric. I can feel it, more so every day. My bones ache. I forget things. I need someone to run the Office after I’m gone. Someone young and full of life. Someone who can hold the line.”
Eric considered the bombshell. “Why didn’t my dad tell me? He never talked about it. Grandpa Joe, either.”
“Your father had his fill of the Army. He wanted a clean break. I visited your parents in the hospital. I watched as your mother held you. Your father took me aside and told me that his son would not be a military man. I visited again, when you were a young boy, on your eighth birthday.”
Smith visited my house? “I don’t remember.”
“Of course not. You were young. William’s position had hardened. No, the Wise family had paid their debt in blood, it was time for them to move on. He was quite chagrined to learn that you joined the Army. He called me and made me promise to keep you safe. I told him it was a promise I could not keep. He told me in no uncertain terms that as long as he was alive, his son would not follow in his footsteps. I agreed.”
Realization dawned on him. “He died.”
“Yes,” Smith said softly, “he died, and my promise died with him. I need you. The Office needs you. You were born for this job.”
“What about Doc Barnwell?”
Smith took a deep breath. “Hobert is my dear friend, but his time is almost past.”
“And what about Nancy? She thinks you brought me here to watch over her.”
“Not entirely untrue,” Smith acknowledged. He gazed at Eric with hooded eyes. “She’s damaged. Fragile. And dangerous. I know what happened in Afghanistan. She needs someone to care for her. I want you to help her if you can, but your primary duty will always be to the Office. I would like to name you my successor.”
Eric rocked back in his chair. “Sir, I don’t know what to say. A few days ago I’d have jumped without hesitation, but it’s hard to wrap my mind around all this.”
“I understand,” Smith said. “I’m sorry for withholding the truth.”
Eric’s mind raced with all that he learned. He thought he knew everything about his family, about why he chose his career. It would take some time to process. “I’d like to think about it.”
Smith nodded. A smile played across his lips. “Of course. Do not make this decision lightly. You have a week.”
Abdullah was fast asleep when Naseer shook him gently awake. Abdullah was momentarily confused before remembering where he was. “What time is it?” he asked, wiping at the crust in his eyes. The bedroom was small, but Mahbeer had given it to them as a sign of respect. It was still dark outside, the room illuminated by Naseer’s laptop.