High Crimes

As she thought, she ran her fingers back and forth inside the FedEx envelope and realized there was something else in there, a stapled sheaf of papers. She pulled it out.

The photocopies she’d asked Embry to make from the Quantico brig visitors’ log of the last several weeks. The logbook that all visitors had to sign.

It took her only a few seconds to locate Dennis T. Mackie’s signature in the VISITOR’S NAME column (REPRESENTING: “Self,” he had written); then she found it twice more. Dennis T. Mackie had visited Tom three times in the last two weeks of his confinement.

Perhaps there was an explanation.

She called Jackie and asked her to pick up Annie immediately, take her for the night.

Then she called Ray Devereaux and asked his advice.

And then she drove home as quickly as she could, her heart thudding.

Tom was already there.

The house smelled of garlic, wonderful and inviting.

“Guess we’re not having leftover paella,” Claire tried to joke, setting down her briefcase and removing her jacket.

“Linguine with clam sauce,” he said. He came over, gave her a kiss. “Your favorite. Ready to eat? I’m starved.”

“Let’s eat.” Claire smiled. She had no appetite. Her stomach was a small hard ball.

“Where’s my little doll?” he asked, dishing out pasta and salad.

“She wanted to sleep over at Jackie’s.”

“She’s really gotten attached to Jackie, hasn’t she?” He dug into the pasta. “Sorry. Mind if I start?”

“Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

She toyed with her napkin. “Tom, we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” he said through a mouthful of linguine. He chewed, swallowed. “That’s not an auspicious opening line.” He smiled, took a sip of sparkling water, took another forkful of pasta.

“Who’s Lentini?”

Tom’s chewing slowed a moment, then resumed. After he’d swallowed, he said casually, “Another member of the unit.”

“What’s his real name? Lentini or Mackie?”

Tom took a long sip of his fizzy water. His eyes watched her steadily over the curve of the glass. He set down the glass. “What’s with the cross-ex, Claire? Trial’s over.”

She replied very quietly. “Not to me. Not yet.”

He shook his head slowly.

She said very quietly, almost in a whisper: “Do you love me, Tom?”

“You know I do.”

“Then I need you to tell me the truth now.”

He nodded, and with a sad smile, he said: “Lentini — his true name’s Mackie, but I always knew him as Lentini — well, he’s really a CIA guy. CIA’s secretly been his employer ever since he was assigned to the detachment. So, anyway, he tells me that CIA considers — considered — Marks a real enemy, a bureaucratic opponent, and they all wanted to undermine his candidacy for the Joint Chiefs job. But I really think that with Lentini it was personal. He despised Marks as much as I did.”

“Is that why he gave Waldron the forged tape? To set up the prosecution, sabotage their case?”

“Does it make any difference now?” Tom took another forkful of pasta.

The room was utterly quiet.

“I’d like to know. Was it your idea or his?”

He shook his head as he chewed. He swallowed, said, “Claire, I haven’t seen the guy in years. Like thirteen years.”

Claire felt herself go numb.

“I have copies of the brig visitors’ log,” she said. “Right here. He visited you three times.”

He regarded her quizzically; then another expression took over, one of calm realization.

Slowly he set down his knife and fork. He breathed a long, soulful sigh. “Claire,” he said wearily. “Claire, Claire, Claire. This was all a very long time ago.”

She whispered: “You killed those people.”

He looked at her pensively. “I don’t think Marks knew the peasants were unarmed and innocent, but he was so riled up about his buddy Arlen Ross being killed at the Zona Rosa that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Later, when the shit hit the fan back at Fort Bragg and they needed a scapegoat, Marks sure wasn’t going to take the fall, and he wasn’t going to point the finger at his XO. Even though he gave Hernandez the fire order. So I realized it was my word against a major’s, and Marks was on his XO’s side, of course. And I knew I had to disappear. Because they were going to pin it on me. And they did, sure enough. And Hernandez and Marks have been blackmailing each other ever since. Partners in crime, so to speak.”

“But you fired, too, didn’t you?” Claire said. “You helped Hernandez massacre those people.”

Tom’s eyes became moist. “Marks knew he could count on me. Everyone in the unit refused except me and, of course, Hernandez.”

He reached out his hand and placed it over hers. It was warm and damp. She withdrew her hand suddenly, as though she’d been burned. She felt her stomach flip over. Suddenly she felt very tired. “You did it,” she said. “You helped Hernandez kill eighty-seven people.”

“You have to understand things in their proper context, Claire. These villagers, they were laughing at us. Totally uncooperative. I had to be a little coercive with them.”

“Torture them.”