“And I’ll tell you something else, Professor,” Chilgers went on. “We’re going to find out where this Phelps boy gets his power from, we’re going to find out if we have to pick his brain apart piece by piece. Because the Russians don’t have him, the Chinese don’t have him, nobody has him except us. The boy is ours.”
Chapter Eleven
Bane arrived at the Center at ten o’clock sharp and went straight to Janie’s office.
“Close the door behind you,” she said, after he had stepped inside.
“Sounds serious.” He moved toward one of the vinyl chairs before her desk.
“Stealing information from government computers usually is.”
“Just borrowing, Janie, and for a good cause.” He forced a smile, hoping to get one back from her.
None came.
“You’re not gonna like it, Josh.”
Bane sat down. “What’s the latest on Trench?”
“There is none.”
“What?”
“U.S. Intelligence’s file on him has been removed from the active list. Maybe he’s dead.”
“Then his file would be cross-referenced for contacts, not deactivated.”
“He might have retired,” Janie said, grasping.
Bane shook his head. “Not Trench.”
“That doesn’t leave many alternatives.”
“Just one by my count,” Bane told her. “He’s working for us now, some branch of our government.”
“Could that be?”
“Uncle Sam doesn’t hold grudges, Janie. Trench is a professional. If some agency of this government had need for his services, they’d get them.”
“Then why deactivate his file?”
“Because if he’s working for us, they’d want to keep a tight lid on it. Those files exist to keep regular track of all opposing agents’ movements. That would be superfluous if Trench was one of ours now. They also wouldn’t want any free-lancers sniffing out his trail, or people who do hold grudges.”
“Like Harry?”
“Like Harry.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“The truth.”
“Do you think that’s smart?”
“Probably not, but when you start lying to your friends it doesn’t leave you with much.” Bane hesitated, eager to change the subject. “Any way of figuring out which branch Trench is working out of?”
“Possibly, but it’ll take some time.”
“Then don’t bother. Harry’s got a lot of favors owed him in the network. It’s about time he called some of them in.”
“You’re not talking like a friend of his, Josh,” Janie scolded, her eyes angry. “That poor guy’s probably gonna walk off — excuse me—wheel off to get himself killed and you’re just going to stand there.”
“If I stand anywhere, it’ll be by his side. I owe Harry that much.”
“Then you want him to go after Trench so you can go too and get rid of some of that guilt you carry around with you.”
“Maybe,” Bane conceded because there was no sense trying to explain further. There was no way he could expect Janie to understand men like himself and the Bat, the way they lived and died. The rules were different and so were the values. There was a code to consider.
“Well you know something, Josh? Harry may move around with no legs but sometimes you move around with no heart. Chalk them both up as war wounds, I suppose, and make sure the government keeps the checks coming. But what’s different about the two of you is that the wounds don’t seem to matter. Even if they don’t heal, you keep on going. I guess scar tissue doesn’t bleed.”
Janie could have gone on but chose not to. This was a different man before her now, more stranger than lover. She could fight to reach him, get him back, but the futility of trying stifled the attempt before she even made it. She had always known this part of Joshua Bane existed, lurking below the surface, beyond her control and her love. Nonetheless, seeing it now unnerved her; the clarity of its intentions and resolve were so chilling — foreign. The part of Joshua Bane she loved might return someday but she wasn’t counting on it.
Bane called Harry Bannister at I–Com-Tech from an open office across the hall.
“I’ve got the list you asked for, Josh,” the Bat announced.
“I’d like you to add something to it. Reference profiles: age, occupation, residence — all the usual material.”
“Looking for something that links them together, eh?”
“You read my mind, Harry.”
“Well Lord fuck a duck, Josh, you’ve always been an open book to me.” The Bat hesitated. “And what about your part of the bargain?”
“You sure you want it, Harry?”
“I’m sure.”
“Trench is in America.”
“No shit! That fucker’s come over to our side now?”
“Apparently.”
“All the easier for me to burn him. I’m not much of a traveler.”
“He might be protected.”
“My ass. The man ain’t been born yet, Josh, who can protect Trench from one of my knives. That fucker stole my legs and now I’m gonna get even.”
“You’ll still have to find out what branch he’s working out of.”
“No sweat. I’ll make a few calls. I’ll get to that as soon as I run a check on these sixty-seven names on your passenger manifest. Give me about an hour.”
Bane checked his watch. “I’ll be there at eleven.”
Harry the Bat peeked out from his I–Com-Tech cubicle as Bane glided across the carpet toward him.
“Good morning, Josh, and this is a good morning if ever they made one.”
From the neck up, this was the same man who had almost died with him ten times over in Vietnam, the same man who’d taken a blast of double-aught shot meant for him in Berlin five years ago.
“Looking quite chipper today, Harry.”
“Lord fuck a duck, Josh, do you blame me? I’ve finally got my chance to nail Trench.”
“Your contacts come through?”
“Not yet. But they will.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Like the old days, Winter Man, just like the old days. I’m packing a set of extra knives today.”
“I’ll remember to keep my distance.”
The Bat opened the top drawer of his desk and withdrew two sets of green and white computer paper.
“The fatter one’s got the profiles on it too,” he explained.
Bane took the pile and sat in the chair squeezed against the side of the white cubicle. The other cubicles hadn’t been provided with such a luxury but then Harry didn’t have any use for the seat ordinarily placed behind the desk, hence the spare. Bane scanned the passenger manifest for possible familiarity, found none, and then turned his attention to skimming the reference profiles.
“These weren’t easy to cop, Josh. Tough little fuckers, they were.”
Bane looked up. “What do you mean?”
“The airline had put a lock on the manifest for starters. I had to use my key.”
“Problems?”
“Not directly. Except it won’t be hard for whoever turned the lock to trace the lifting back to me.”
“I don’t like that, Harry. You should have checked with me on it first.”
“Have no fear, the Bat is back.”
“Take it easy. We don’t know what we’re facing here yet.”
“I’m facing Trench and that dumb fucker’s gonna regret the day he back-doored me before I’m finished with him.”
Bane felt eager to change the subject. “You dig up anything on the pilot?”
“Yeah. Whole cockpit crew’s been reassigned to European routes. You can forget about talking to them for at least a month. Dug up something else interesting, though.”