Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Lake Gregory; Los Angeles
John Winter drained his beer can, crushed it, and tossed it into the plastic tub that sat in the stern. He peered into the cooler bag. “Damn it, Rich. You took the last one.”
Rich Powell chuckled. “I’m sure there’s more up at the cabin.
But if you want it, you’re gonna have to go get it yourself.
” He turned his face up to the sun. “Can’t get over this weather.
Yesterday I was freezing my butt off in Boston, and now the temperature has to be in the eighties. Not that I’m complaining.”
“It is glorious, isn’t it? Almost worth me getting my ass chewed off for this.”
Rich glanced in his direction. “Who was doing the chewing?”
John rolled his eyes. “Who’d you think? What’s today?” He grinned. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. You probably haven’t received a Valentine’s card since your momma sent you one when you were sixteen because no one else had and she didn’t want you to feel like the proverbial ugly duckling.”
“You saying I’m ugly? Fuck you.” The twinkle in Rich’s eyes gave him away. “So the wife is pissed, huh?”
“First Valentine’s I’ve missed in a long time.
I promised I’d make it up to her.” He had her favorite restaurant on speed dial, trying to grab a table for when he got back.
The roses were due to be delivered later that day.
Lorraine was a sucker for red roses, and it was worth the inflated price just to put a smile on her face.
Rich shook his head. “Still haven’t worked out how I got an invite to this.”
“You’re a friend, aren’t you?”
“Sure, but….” He glanced toward the cabin, where Robert was calling his wife. “He is okay, isn’t he? Only, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
John sighed. “Of course he’s not okay. He lost his son. It’s only been four months.”
Rich arched his eyebrows. “I know how long it’s been, all right?”
“So we don’t talk about it unless he wants to. Deal?” John didn’t mind walking over a few eggshells for the three days they’d spend together. He figured Robert needed a break, and a couple days fishing, drinking, and soaking up some rays sounded like the perfect remedy.
Rich snorted. “Fine by me. That’s the last thing I wanna talk about, given the circumstances.” He stretched, then peered at where his fishing line disappeared beneath the calm surface of the water. “C’mon, fishies. Bite, why don’tcha?”
John studied him. “For a man who’s supposed to be retired, you’ve been busy.”
“Huh?”
He laughed. “Don’t give me that. I can spot your handiwork a mile away. That little business in Cuba last month? The political rabble-rouser who was attracting too much attention? You know, the one who met with an unfortunate ‘accident’?”
Rich heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, you got me.” He took a half bow. “Yes, that was me.” He paused. “Can I ask you something? You here as Robert’s friend, or is this business?”
John shrugged. “A bit of both.” The invitation couldn’t have come at a better time. All he had to do was get Robert on his own for a while, then try to steer the conversation in the direction his boss wanted it to go.
Their profiler had better be right about this.
“Me too. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was gonna come, especially after that job in Iraq.”
John frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Rich quirked one eyebrow. “I thought you said you recognized my handiwork. Not that there was any of it left to spot, not after they detonated that IED. And frankly, I wasn’t sure I could look Robert in the eye. Okay, so it was work, but this one hit pretty close to home.”
Iraq.
IED.
Oh God.
John stared at him, the pieces clicking into place. “Are we talking about… Dale?”
Jesus, no. Don’t say yes. Don’t say that was you.
Rich widened his eyes. “You really didn’t know, did you? Why did you think I said I didn’t want to discuss this?” He cackled. “We work for the same organization, and yet neither of us knows what the other is up to. Talk about being kept in the dark.”
John’s throat tightened, and despite the sun’s warmth, he shivered. At last he managed to force the words out, and he had no clue how he managed to sound so freaking normal after that bomb Rich had just detonated.
Those bastards. They really wanted their fucking asset, didn’t they?
A germ of an idea began to form, taking root in his mind, spreading out its tendrils.
Aw fuck no. That conversation.
John replayed it in his head, and each recollection was like a hammer driving a nail in that little bit deeper.
Driving the truth home.
It’s my fault. Dale is dead because of me. I might as well have pulled the fucking trigger.
Except the man who had was sitting beside him, drinking beer.
John forced himself to remain calm. “How could you do that?”
Rich frowned. “It wasn’t personal, all right? It was work. I can’t afford scruples. Why’d you think I came out of retirement? Because they pay me really well, and I’m damn good at what I do.”
John didn’t give voice to the thought right there at the forefront of his mind.
And you like doing it. Let’s not forget that part.
Hell, he probably missed it. But he could at least be honest about it.
Rich wasn’t in it for the money. If there was a choice between messing about in his backyard or experiencing that surge of adrenaline when he snuffed out some poor sap’s life, John knew which option Rich would go for.
Every fucking time. He and Rich had worked together a couple of times over the years, enough for him to know Rich was amusing, intelligent, charming when he needed to be…
And a natural-born killer.
“Anything biting?”
John jumped. Robert stood on the edge of the lake, holding a six-pack of beers.
“Not really.”
“Then come on in. I went to the store for these, and I’ve got more chilling.”
Rich grinned. “Now you’re talking.” He gave John a sly glance. “John just drank the last one.” He grabbed the empty cooler bag.
John didn’t deem that comment worthy of a response.
He rowed toward the shore, tied up the small boat that came with the cabin, and they clambered out.
Robert peered into the bucket John held. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. Maybe we’ll have better luck later.” He headed up toward the cabin, and they followed.
Three white-painted Adirondack chairs sat on the porch with its view of the lake, and they each took a seat. Another cooler bag stood by the railing, and John helped himself to a can.
He took a long swig, then stared out at the landscape. “This is beautiful, Robert. You did good, finding this place.”
“I don’t think I could get much farther from home without leaving the country,” Robert quipped. He leaned back, his head resting against the white boards.
For a moment, no one spoke, and that was just fine. All John could hear was the gentle murmur of the wind as it caught in the branches of the trees surrounding the cabin.
Then Robert cleared his throat.
“Looking back on all the things you did for the government—”
A vise gripped John’s chest. Don’t go there, Robert. Because you really don’t want to know what some of us did for the government.
“—are there things you wouldn’t have done, knowing what you know now?”
Rich said nothing, which John felt had to be the best decision ever.
“I don’t think so,” John replied, striving to keep his voice even. “Everything we did, we did it because we believed we were on the side of right. It was the correct course of action: to create destabilization among our enemies in order to make them easier to defeat, to ultimately bring us peace.”
Or to push a scientist onto the path they wanted him to take.
Robert frowned. “So what you’re saying is, going through multiple periods of instability will ultimately lead to world peace?” He huffed. “That’s not going to happen.”
It didn’t matter what Robert thought. It was a system that wasn’t about to change.
“What sort of world have we created for our grandkids to deal with? For your Bobby?” John blinked at the reference to his grandson. Robert wasn’t done, however. “And here’s the thing. We didn’t create it—we allowed it to happen. By doing the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong places.”
Rich gazed at him in mild surprise. “Okay, then. What should we have done?”
“Arguably we only did what our paymasters dictated,” John interjected. “They wanted a result, so we did what was needed to achieve that result.”
Robert’s mouth went down at the corners. “Yeah, that worked well with Iraq.”
Change the subject. Please, change the subject.
Rich grabbed another beer. “You know what really bugs me? No matter how off-plan results seem to be? Someone somewhere is making money out of it.” He tugged on the pull tab.
Robert said nothing for a moment, then gazed at them both. “Can you imagine a time where there are no conflicts?”
“That’s what all the globalists are trying to achieve,” John told him. “One big market.”
Robert sighed. “You know what? We have too many goddamn people inhabiting this planet.”
I’ve heard this song before. A trickle of unease inched its way down John’s spine.
Rich gave a shrug. “Maybe, but we need the people working to pay pensions for people like you and me. The average man squirreling away money to a pension fund? That money’s already gone a long time ago.
We need people working and paying taxes to finance our pensions.
There’s no solution. We need more and more people to support more and more people. ”
Robert frowned. “I think that’s crazy. We need fewer people than we’ve ever had.
The other day I was watching something on TV.
It was talking about automation. Have you seen what’s out there?
Driverless trucks. Machines in banks instead of tellers.
Taking your groceries to an automated checkout, instead of a clerk.
The days are ending when you can walk up to a checkout and deal with a human being. It’ll all be self-service machines.”
“What are you talking about?” Rich retorted. “I haven’t seen half the things you mentioned.”