After a moment Rathburn continued staring at him and said, “She also told me you were a tough nut. I’m assuming her assessment is based on reading your dossier as opposed to personal knowledge.”
Matt didn’t exactly like where the conversation was headed. He believed he was going to get an update on the Shimpu, the situation in Mindanao, and the float plane that had both carried him to safety and deposited him in the lap of a mystery.
“A little of both, I guess,” he said in reply to Rath-burn’s comment, which elicited a raised eyebrow from the political appointee.
“Why don’t you tell me what you saw in Minda-nao, Matt?”
“Sir, I quite frankly thought I was getting an update from you,” Matt replied. “I gave a big dump of information to Meredith, and now I’m your hostage on an airplane headed to Manila. What do we know about Mindanao?”
“We can always open the door and let you out, you know.” Rathburn smiled. Matt looked through the gray morning at the dark ocean ten kilometers below and said, “Give me a parachute and I’m out of here.”
Rathburn paused and said, “We’re not sure what’s happening in Mindanao. We got the report of the two Philippine C-130s shot down and were unaware that any Americans were on either of them until we got your confirmation from the Agency. I think this was a bit of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing.”
“How do you mean?”
“There weren’t supposed to be any Americans in Mindanao,” Rathburn said flatly, and left it at that. Something registered in Matt’s mind that Rathburn was wrestling with something, perhaps a decision he had to make. Or one he had already made.
“Well, as long as we’re on this bus to Abilene in Iraq, what difference does it make?” Matt posed the rhetorical question to flesh out his own instincts that Rathburn was doing mental gymnastics, to determine in which camp he might reside, if any. Maybe it was just the fact that Rathburn was sitting here with his manicured fingernails, well-coiffed hair, pinpoint cotton shirt, and silk tie while across from him sat Matt in his nondescript dark shirt and olive cargo pants, muscles pushing at the seams of his sleeves, four days of growth on his face, and a bullet wound in his shoulder. Personally, he felt Saddam needed to go, but was struggling with his own failure to kill Al Qaeda senior leadership in Pakistan when he had them in his sights. Every time I’m close, I’m moved.
Some might be intimidated by the fact that Matt’s reputation within the Agency was legendary, and Rathburn paid homage to Matt’s repute by saying, “Pretty ballsy move going into Pakistan last December. Many of us were cheering you on.”
Many of us?Why not everyone? Matt wondered.
“I’ve got a saying,” Matt commented. “When you’re right, don’t worry about it.”
“Your conscience is indeed clear, but you’re rightness landed you in the Philippines. What do you make of that?”
“I go where they send me. But I still don’t understand why they stopped me,” Matt said, looking over his wounded shoulder through the oval window. The ocean passed silently beneath them.
“Ever think it might be this Iraq thing? We are, as you say, on a runaway train,” Rathburn said.
“I said bus to Abilene,” Matt corrected. To Matt, words meant exactly what they were intended to mean. There were no slip-ups, and there were no coincidences, especially with a man of Rathburn’s relative import. He had said “runaway train.” Was that an unintended look into Rathburn’s psyche and what he truly believed? Matt’s “bus to Abilene” comment was a reference to the group-think mentality that takes hold when gathering momentum effortlessly silences dissent.
“Same difference. I’m concerned about something you told Meredith,” Rathburn said. “Something about Japanese soldiers on Mindanao. Can you tell me more?”
Had the situation been reversed, with Matt as the senior defense official, he would have asked first about Ron Peterson, then about the Special Forces team and the young Filipino, then about the Shimpu or the abduction of the Japanese man. Sure, the presence of Japanese soldiers on Mindanao was curious, but a man had to have his priorities.
And he presumed Rathburn did.
“They were guarding something. It was a facility with civilians. It’s something they are trying to hide. I told it all to Meredith,” Matt said.
“Why would the Japanese government have soldiers in Mindanao?” Matt wasn’t sure if Rathburn was asking him or talking to himself, so he remained silent for a moment.
Indeed why? And more importantly, why was that Rathburn’s primary concern?
Chapter 27
Silence usually begets someone else’s opening his or her mouth, and Rathburn did not disappoint Matt when he said, “You know, Ambassador Kaitachi came over the other day to talk to the secretary. Something about China-Taiwan. Wants us to put some eyes up there.”
As he was thinking, Matt swirled his Diet Coke, which had been delivered by a young airman.
“Doesn’t really make sense.”
“I know.”
Rathburn was a tall, handsome man with a shock of grey hair on either side of his balding head. His beak nose and marble eyes gave him the appearance of a hawk. He was generally respected in the defense community. And he leveled those hawkish eyes on Matt.
“Ever hear of Bridges to Babylon?”
Matt shrugged. He faintly recalled a movie, he thought. “Film?”
“Stones. Where have you been? Their last album of the nineties,” Rathburn chided.
Confused, Matt hunched his shoulders, and said, “So?”
“We’re on that bridge now, and it’s a one-way road to Iraq. China-Taiwan won’t get any traction.”
“We could always back up,” Matt said.
“Ever try to back your way out of a traffic jam?”
“This isn’t I-395, sir. It isn’t that hard,” Matt said.
Rathburn stared at him for a long moment, as if he was considering saying something. Matt noticed his countenance actually become softer, less tense, the way a patient might look before finally talking about that one issue to his therapist. Matt thought he might actually hear the man say something he meant.
Just as quickly, though, Rathburn’s face tightened again as he instead asked, “What do you know about Japan?”
Back to Japan again. Matt wondered why. “Not really my specialty. Philippines, Korea, China, and missing Predators; those are my fields.” Matt took a sip of his Coke and ate some peanuts, consciously not bringing up Afghanistan and Pakistan again.
“We’re on this airplane together for the next few hours. We’ll land at about eight in the morning. My sleep cycle is all screwed up, and you seem like a knowledgeable guy. So, humor me and tell me what you know about Japan,” Rathburn said with an edge in his voice.
“On one condition. Can you guarantee me that my report on Mindanao has been filed and someone is working that intelligence?”
“Guaranteed,” Rathburn said, slapping his palm on the table.
Matt racked his brain and lined up some points to make for the man, searching for a logic flow.
“Okay, Japan. Like a country report that might lead to clues as to why they have soldiers in Mindanao?”
Rathburn nodded.
Matt ran a hand down his face, stalling for time, but finally started talking. “Okay, not sure if this is what you want, but, I’ll free-associate. Stop me if it’s not what you’re looking for.”
Rathburn nodded again, and assured him, “Don’t worry, I will. I don’t suffer fools or bullshit, which is why you’re still sitting here with me and not in that viper’s nest back there.” He pointed over his shoulder at the aft cabin, where the faint cackle of feminine laughter could be heard.