“I know, I know, I know. We heard it all. But it’s not going to look good to a grand jury, I don’t think.”
“I wasn’t even arrested or charged!” Tanner said.
“We’re back to that? There’s no shortage of lawyers in the national security division of the DOJ. We’ll get you arrested when the time is right.”
“Are we in a police state now? Is that what’s happened?”
“Lucky for you we’re not a police agency or we’d get you for killing a man. On Mayfield Street in Boston, right?”
Tanner smiled furiously. “Yeah, the man you sent to kill me.”
Earle looked as if Tanner had slapped him suddenly. “Aw, now, come on.”
“You sent that guy to kill me.”
“No, sir, we did not. Most certainly did not. What you’re suggesting is an affront. We are a highly professional operation with a headcount of sixty-five thousand and about that many contract employees. You think we’re going to outsource to some Boston hit man? With a goddamned police record? You don’t seriously think we’d hire some third-rate mobster, now, do you?”
Tanner just looked at him. He had a point. Maybe it wasn’t the NSA that had tried to have him killed.
“I mean, hell. That’s crazy. I got people on staff that’d do this. We send somebody to take you out, you’ll be out.” He folded his arms, sat back again. “No, sirree, if we sent somebody to kill you, we’d be meeting at a cemetery and you wouldn’t be doing much talking.”
“And Lanny Roth?”
Tanner waited for the inevitable denial and was surprised when Earle offered, after a few seconds, “The reporter.”
“His murder set up to look like a suicide,” Tanner said. “Pills and booze all around him when he died. Probably in his bloodstream too.”
Earle looked thoughtful, maybe even a little distraught. “Yeah, that sounds like something the Theta team would do.” He said it matter-of-factly, but not approvingly. Almost as if he were processing it. “Which is not a confirmation of anything. It’s a hypothetical surmise about a hypothetical entity.”
“Theta?”
“Never mind. Can’t change the past. Let’s talk about your future.”
“I demand to see a lawyer immediately.”
“Sure. All in good time. You got a problem with this? Welcome to life after 9/11.”
“I’ll tell you something else,” Tanner said. “I’m supposed to e-mail a buddy of mine every day by two o’clock in the afternoon. If he doesn’t get any e-mails from me after four days, he’s going to start e-mailing documents to a list of people. Including The New York Times.”
“Ye olde dead-man switch. Right? Clever. But I’m calling your bluff.” Earle smiled delightedly, a kid playing a game. “We’re keeping a pretty close watch on a whole lot of people you know. Including people you forgot you knew. You’ve got a lot of friends, I’ll give you that.”
Tanner shrugged as if it didn’t make a difference whether Earle believed him or not. Unfortunately, Earle had called it right.
“So that’s where we are, Michael. Without that laptop, there’s really nothing I can do to help.”
“Are you at least going to give me one phone call?” Tanner said.
“You want a phone call? I’ll give you one phone call, ’cause I like your coffee.” Earle looked up and spoke to the wall. “Please bring in a landline for my friend here.” Turning back to Tanner, he said, “Mobile phone signals are jammed in here, sorry.”
The door opened about a minute later, and a large bulky black touch-tone phone on a cord was brought in by one of the bullet-headed guards. He placed it on the table in front of Tanner. Its wire ran across the floor of the cell and into the hallway. Then the guard left, closing the heavy-sounding door behind him.
Tanner looked at the phone, picked it up, heard the dial tone, then replaced the handset in its cradle. Calling Jamie North was pointless; the lawyer had made it clear he would never represent Tanner. Call The New York Times or the Associated Press or something? His call would be ignored. He wanted to call Sarah, wanted to talk to her, hear her voice. But he knew there was one call that could get him out of here.
Earle saw Tanner looking at the phone. “You want a phone number, we’ll get it for you in a jiffy. No shortage of computers here. You remember when they used to give out those big thick phone books? Man, those days are gone, huh?”
“Yeah, I need a phone number,” Tanner said.
“What’s that?”
“There’s a guy I know in Washington, went to school with a friend of mine.” He spoke mostly to himself. “What’s his name?... I met him a few times... He’s the chief of staff to Senator Roberts — Robbins, that’s it. Chief of staff to Senator Robbins. I don’t remember his name, but I bet he could sort this out. Just connect me to the senator’s office.”
68
This is Senator Robbins’s office.”
“William Abbott, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Michael Tanner.”
Will Abbott picked up the line instantly. “Mr. Tanner—”
Tanner cut him off. “Yes, I don’t know if you remember me, but we met through Seth, in Boston—?”
“Tanner—”
“Hold on. I need your help. I’m being held at, uh...”
Tanner looked at Earle, who said, “The new federal detention facility right outside Waldorf.”
“At the new federal detention facility outside Waldorf, Maryland. By the National Security Agency. Now, I’m sure you’d like me to cooperate with them. But before I do, I was hoping you might be able to talk sense into our friends here. Thanks.”
He handed the phone back to Earle. “I think he wants to talk to you.”
“Is this Deputy Director Lash?” Will said. “Yes, this is Will Abbott. I’m the chief of staff to Senator— Right. Will Abbott.” Will stood up and, stretching the phone’s curly cord, he walked over to his office door and pushed it closed.
“Well,” he continued, “I don’t know what the hell your agency thinks it’s doing, but this isn’t some... Abdul Mohammed you’ve got locked up. This is a respected Boston businessman, a well-known member of my boss’s... support community. I mean, there have been articles written about this guy. Right. Michael Tanner. He’s at your detention complex near Waldorf.”
Will was trying not to sound panicked, which he was.
NSA had grabbed Tanner! Did they have the senator’s laptop too? Had Tanner told them whose laptop he’d accidentally picked up? If so, they already knew where the leak had come from. And her career was over. As was his. All Tanner had to do was answer their first question.
Tanner, who was obviously calling from a monitored line and knew it, had figured it out. He knew that Will was desperate not only to get the boss’s computer back but to keep secret whose computer it was. And to keep that compromising information secret from the NSA in particular.
So Tanner was making an unmistakable, implicit threat. If you don’t get me out of detention by the NSA, I will tell them whose computer I ended up with. And you sure as hell don’t want that.
No, Will sure as hell didn’t want that.
“This is very much an oversight matter,” Will said crisply. “You’re holding an American citizen in detention for what exactly? We find this highly troubling.”
He listened for a minute and then broke in: “And now your agency is asking for another ten billion dollars in black-box allocations? Well, the senator is going to have to take a very careful look at that. Especially if you persist in holding a noncharged US citizen in a prison cell. Do we need to get the entire committee involved in this?”