Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
The sun had set before they’d left Ellis Park, and by the time they were all seated on the patio, the sky had taken on hues of orange and red, and the temperature had dropped to maybe the upper seventies.
It was warm enough that they sat around with their arms bare, drinking wine, beer, whatever the hell they wanted.
The sense of jubilation was palpable, and Dan was caught up in the tumult of emotions, the giddiness, the relief. Dinner had been a loud, boisterous meal, but once it was out of the way, the mood settled.
It was time for answers.
Nathan sat on the couch across from Winter, Gary and Dan on Nathan’s right, Sam on his left, and everyone else huddled around, leaning forward.
They all want to know more.
The biosecure flask was in Sam and Nathan’s room, sealed in a bag, ready for its journey back to the US.
Dan wouldn’t relax until it had been destroyed.
“Let’s start at the beginning.” Nathan took a drink from his frosted glass. “When did you first meet Robert Martin?”
Winter sipped his soda water. “In 2012. He and Dr. Phillips were hitting the headlines with their breakthrough and its implications for medical science. I didn’t pay much attention, I have to confess, until someone a damn sight higher up than me got wind of it.
” Another sip. “I was asked to go to the director’s office, where I was given a new assignment.
My job was to meet the professor, feel him out…
. They wanted to know if he could be turned into an asset. ”
“Interesting they sent you to him and not me,” Sam commented.
Winter peered at her. “And if they had sent me to you, I know what the result would have been. You’d have said no.”
“Which is exactly how I thought Robert would have reacted.” Her face fell. “Until this.”
Winter nodded. “And you’d have been right. We met, I sounded him out, and I reported back that they couldn’t turn this guy. Not only that, he was squeaky clean. There was nothing we could use as leverage.”
“So what happened then?” Dan asked.
“Nothing. My assignment was finished. But—” Winter stared into his glass. “—in the course of getting to know him, we kind of became friends. We were of a similar age, only nine years between us. We shared a lot of interests in common.”
“But he knew you worked for the CIA,” Nathan remarked.
Another nod. “He also knew I was about to retire. Well, that had been the plan.” He paused.
“Back to 2012. We’d both become grandfathers for the first time.
” He glanced at Dan. “My little peanut, Bobby. Robert’s eldest daughter, Kate, had just had a baby girl.
His son, Dale, was twenty-three, only a year older than my daughter Leanne.
” His face tightened. “Robert talked about him all the time. Dale was in the military, twenty-three years old and their only boy. He had a steady girlfriend—Rina, I think her name was. All Robert could talk about was the wedding his son was planning for when he got out. All the kids he and Rina were going to have.”
Nathan gave him a speculative glance. “How did Richard Powell come into the story?”
“That was in 2013. Bobby was having his first birthday party, it was our wedding anniversary, and I’d just retired, so we organized the shindig to end all shindigs.
I invited Robert to the party. Rich—Richard Powell—was invited too.
We’d been friends a long time, ever since we’d first worked together in the service.
So I introduced him to Robert. We met up a few times after that, just for coffee or a meal.
And that was all we were, the three of us—friends. ”
Dan leaned forward. “And then something happened.”
Winter shivered. “It still freaks me out how you know what you do. But yes, something happened all right. June, 2014, the president ordered US forces to be dispatched in response to the Northern Iraq offensive of the Islamic State. US troops went out there to assess Iraqi forces and the threat posed by ISIL.”
“And Robert’s son went with them,” Gary said quietly. “When I was looking into his background, I read he’d lost a son in Iraq.”
Winter nodded. “Dale’s death was reported to be the result of an IED.” He glanced at Sam. “You know what an IED is, right?”
“Unfortunately I do. An improvised explosive device, essentially a homemade bomb.” Her eyes glistened, and she swiped at them with her fingers.
“Robert was beyond devastated. I watched them both fall apart. He was never the same after that. Part of him died along with Dale. He took a short leave of absence, then came back to work.”
Winter sighed. “You probably don’t remember, but I was at the funeral. I was there to support my friend.”
Sam blinked. “I had no idea. And no, I can’t recall seeing you.”
“So late 2014, suddenly I got a call from my by now ex-director. They wanted me to come out of retirement because they said they had a very special assignment for me.” He drank a little more.
“‘Try again,’ they said. They really were desperate to have Robert as an asset. They still had nothing they could blackmail him with, but they figured the circumstances had changed.” He grimaced.
“Yeah, they’d changed all right. His son’s death had pushed him over the edge.
” He shuddered out a breath. “And then I learned I’d been the one who’d been instrumental in giving him that push. ”
Nathan became still. “What do you mean?”
Winter glanced at the bottle of wine sitting in its cooler. “Anyone mind if I have some of this? I guess I need a drink after all.”
Dan found an empty glass and filled it, then handed it to Winter.
“Thanks.” He took a couple of mouthfuls, then set it down.
“You know I said I’d reported back to my bosses that I didn’t think he could be turned?
Well, I gave them evidence to support my conclusions, in the form of a recording I’d made of our conversation.
Robert had no idea I was recording it, by the way.
Only later, I discovered my evidence had had the opposite effect.
They’d had a psychological profile done of the professor and concluded they’d found a weak spot.
” He took another drink. “And apparently they decided that if the professor wouldn’t turn, then they’d create the circumstances in which he might just do it. ”
Dan’s heart went out to him. “And your participation in that has haunted you ever since.”
Winter froze. “What?”
Dan gave him a sympathetic glance. “I saw it.”
“But… you can’t know. No one knows, except my bosses—and Rich.”
Gary stared at Dan. “What did you see?”
Dan’s stomach roiled. “Robert Martin’s son didn’t die from an IED, but from a bullet wound.” He inhaled deeply. “Delivered by Richard Powell.”