The Edge

Campbell shrugged. “Kazakhstan muscle, no more, no less. They’ve killed at least twenty people. All wired funds upon proof of the kill, no traceable interaction with whoever hired them. No way to dig beyond that, which is the whole point.”

“Glad I denied them the twenty-first. And the woman?”

“There was no woman found there,” said Campbell. “She must have recovered and high-tailed it out of there.”

“CCTV?”

“Working on it, though the Italians and Swiss are not exactly too cooperative right now.”

Devine shook his head. Knew I should have taken her out. But she was unconscious and no threat to me.

He caught Campbell studying him. “I know it was a hard call, Devine. Don’t know what I would have done.”

“Well, I gave you a description. Maybe your people can run her down.”

“Now, let’s focus on your new mission.”

“I don’t get a couple days off?” said Devine, only half-jokingly.

“You can rest when you’re dead.”

“Yeah, that’s what they told me in the Army, too.”

Campbell said, “I emailed you the briefing doc. Pull it up.”

Devine opened the attachment to the email on his phone and gazed at the photo of a lovely woman in her late thirties with smooth, pale skin, blond hair, and deep-set, intelligent eyes that seemed to shimmer with unsettling intensity in the midst of all the fine pixels.

Campbell said, “That’s Jennifer Silkwell. You heard of the Silkwells?”

“No, but I’m sure I’ll learn everything about them before this is over.”

“Curtis Silkwell was the senior U.S. senator from Maine. His great-great-grandfather made several fortunes, shipping, fishing, real estate, agriculture. All of that wealth is now mostly gone. They have the old homestead in Maine, but that’s about it.”

“He was a senator?”

“He resigned during his third term. Alzheimer’s, which has gotten progressively worse. He was treated at Walter Reed before it became clear there was nothing that could be done. He’s currently at a private facility in Virginia awaiting the end.”

“He was treated at Walter Reed because he was a senator?”

“No, because he was a soldier. He retired from the Marines as a one-star before jumping into politics, getting married, and having a family.” Campbell shot Devine a scrutinizing glance. “Full disclosure, Curt is one of my best friends. We fought together in Vietnam. He saved my life twice.”

“Okay.”

“So this is personal for me, Devine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“His wife, Clare, divorced him right after he won his last reelection. Between you and me, I think she could see what was coming and decided to bail. So much for ‘in sickness and in health.’”

“Where is she now?”

“Already remarried to some rich guy in DC who isn’t worthy of polishing Curt’s combat boots.”

“So, the case?” prompted Devine, wanting to push Campbell off the personal edge and back onto the mission-driven one.

“Go to page five of your briefing. Jennifer is the eldest daughter of Curtis and Clare. She worked for CIA, mostly in field operations, though she once served as a liaison to the White House for Central Intelligence. She was a quick climber and incredibly talented, and she will be sorely missed.”

Devine scanned page five. “What happened to her?”

“Someone killed her, four days ago. Up in Maine where she was visiting her old hometown.” The man’s voice cracked before he finished speaking.

Devine lifted his gaze. Campbell’s face was flushed and his bottom lip was trembling.

“I held her in my arms when she was a baby. I was her damn godfather.” He swiped tears away and, composed, he continued. “Curt got started late on his family. He was nearly forty when Jenny was born. Clare was a lot younger. She was still in college when they got married.”

“They have any leads on who might have killed her?”

“None that we know of.”

“And our interest?”

“Jenny Silkwell was a valuable asset of this country. She was privy to many of our most precious national secrets. We need to know if her death was connected to that, and whether anyone was able to gain any information that would jeopardize our interests. Her personal laptop has been found at her home, and her government-issued phone was there as well. But her CIA laptop was not found at her office or her home, and neither was her personal phone. The geolocators on the devices have been switched off. That’s normally the case for people like Jenny, unless she’s in an operational area where orders or logistics require she keep them on. The data is mostly cloud based now, but she might have something on her hard drive or on her phone that is sensitive. And we don’t want anyone using her devices to backdoor into our clouds.”

“So I’m heading to where she was killed in Maine?”

“Yes. Putnam, Maine. But not yet. I want you to talk to Clare first in DC. She may know something helpful. Then you head to Maine. The details of Jenny’s death are contained in your briefing book, pages eight through ten.”