“It wasn’t him.”
“But that’s really what it hinges on,” I said. “Who told you-outside or in here-and how much you trust them.”
His face was completely impassive. I had no clue whether I was getting through to him or not.
I could hear the desperation seep into my voice as I continued. “And Polly, here. You must know how talented she is. I’m sure you’re aware of her unequivocal respect for the law, and it’s not like she needs money either, right? So how did I get her here, unless it’s down to trust?” I paused, gauging his reaction, then leaned in. “Look, you have all the power here, no question. I’m suspected of killing a CIA analyst and there’s a missing FBI agent out there they probably think I’m good for too. But you already know all that. Probably even more. But I still walked into the MCC like a lamb to the slaughterhouse.”
I stopped for a moment and dialed down the anger. It was hot in there, and the back of my shirt was soaked. The edges of my moustache were also starting to peel back as the glue was assailed by a stream of sweat. I tried to regulate my breathing.
I could tell Daland was now reveling in my misery.
“Here’s the thing, Jake. We all know you could have given us up when you first saw us. But you didn’t, which means you’re intrigued enough to hear us out. So hear us out.”
He shrugged again. “Shoot.”
“I’ve got two head shots. Drawings, to be precise. Like by a police sketch artist. They’re black ops guys. Seriously nasty. I think they’re behind a whole bunch of deaths over the years. Assassinations. Reporters, you name it. I need to ID them. I only know them by their codenames-their Agency legends.”
I waited to judge his reaction. He pursed his lips in a small whistle. “‘Agency?’”
I nodded.
He shrugged. “Heavy. So what’s this got to do with me?”
“I want to post their mugs on Erebus and see if anyone knows who they are.”
I paused, studying his expression, looking for his reaction to the magic word.
He was good. More than good. He gave away nothing. I could see him cleaning up in Vegas with that poker face without resorting to the black sunglasses and baseball caps.
“Never heard of it,” he said.
“Look, I know what I’m asking you for here, OK? But you have my word, in front of a witness, that I’m not here as a cop and that this isn’t some elaborate sting. This is just between you and me and no one else. I wouldn’t be here if I had any other way of doing this. You consider yourself a crusader for openness and truth and justice, right? Well, something bad is going on here, something seriously nasty that’s been going on for years and these guys are behind it. And if you get me into Erebus and someone gives me their names, I’ll be able to do something about it.”
He still sat there, dead-eyed, staring at me.
“Jake,” Gigi added, “this in on the level. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
“I need the real names of these scumbags,” I pressed. “All we need is for one user to have as good a memory as yours.”
He remained Sphinx-like for a moment, then he smirked, his gaze panning across to Gigi. “When you want to get into someone’s pants, you always remember.” He let his subtle, seductive line linger for a moment before adding, “Hiring someone to pull a trigger? Or being paid to be the one who does it? I suppose you remember that too.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Gigi asked him, her tone genuinely curious and not accusatory. “That people use your sites for stuff like that?”
I shot her a surprised look-I mean, I liked her blunt directness and all, but this was borderline Aspergeresque and it really wasn’t the time for her to be bringing it up-but the damage was already done. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to phase Daland.
“Do you blame Tim Berners-Lee for Internet porn? How’s that any different? Sure, he advocates regulation; I’ve read the manifestos. But it was always going to be too late once he opened Pandora’s browser. So should we blame him for an entire generation of teenagers who think a spit roast is perfectly normal sexual behavior? Or hold him accountable for cannibals grooming their next meal on Facebook or for ISIS recruitment videos? I just gave people a way to communicate without being spied on. By people like him.” He jabbed a forceful finger in my direction. “What people choose to do with it is up to them.”
I shook my head. I didn’t have the time or the headspace for a philosophical debate.
“OK, well, that’s exactly what I need… to communicate without anyone listening in, because the guys I’m after are part of the listeners.”
Gigi smiled and leaned in closer to him. “If you knew even ten percent of it, you’d help us.” She gestured toward me. “He’s about as far out on a limb as it’s possible to be without dropping into an abyss of serious suffering.”
Daland went quiet for a moment, his eyes tracking back and forth between Gigi to me.
“I get what you need, but what do I get? Are you going to stop the traffic on Pearl, drill down through thirty feet and spring me from the tunnel while I’m shuffling off to court shackled at the ankles, chained and cuffed at the wrists and sandwiched between four US Marshals, trapped between the remotely activated electronic doors at either end?”
I had to smile at that. The tunnel beneath Pearl Street that ran between the MCC and the Federal Courthouse was legendary, especially among the criminals and their associates on the outside who’d spent hours thinking up ways to breach it-all with zero success.
I looked straight at him. “When this is all over, when I’ve dealt with these bastards and cleared things up, I’ll use everything in my power to help. And I mean everything, short of destroying evidence. You have my word. And believe me-when this breaks, a lot of big shots are going to owe me a lot of favors.”
He studied me curiously. “Come on, Reilly. I know how fucked you are. The chances of you ever being able to do anything for me are so close to nothing as to be irrelevant.”
“I have a favor or two I can pull from high up,” I told him, wondering if the fact that I had saved president Yorke’s life only weeks ago would ever count for anything.
“So why haven’t you used them to help yourself?” He let me sweat it for a beat, then he grinned. “But don’t worry about it. I’m in if it helps score a big one against those fascists.”
Gigi shook her head and chortled. I don’t know if she muttered something unsavory under her breath, but her lips were creased in a smile. “So how do we get in?”
I understood nothing of the conversation that followed. In fact, a couple of sentences in, I had totally zoned out as if I were having an out-of-body experience, watching the three of us like a silent observer. I found myself questioning what I was doing there, wondering what the odds were of someone on Daland’s uber-Darknet recognizing one of the two faces that had my mind under siege. Corrigan and Fullerton had both been field agents. They had been good at what they did-which meant they would have been extremely careful about who knew their true identities. They would have traveled extensively and met with a significant number of assets over the decades, but many of those would have never known who they were really dealing with. On the other hand, I expect their profiles at the Agency were visible enough that anyone reasonably senior who’d worked there sometime in the last two or three decades would know their real identities. I only needed one of those former colleagues or assets to remember one of them. Maybe it wasn’t such a stretch after all.
Gigi put a hand on shoulder. “We’re done here, Ben. Time to go.”
I blinked, no idea whether they’d been talking for five, or twenty-five minutes. “You got everything you need?”
She nodded. “Like I said, it’s a thing of beauty.”
Daland smiled. “I’ll take that, seeing as how you don’t seem too keen for me to take you.”