As Rodgers knocked at Kat’s door, he had to admit that what Eric Stone had just mounted was the clumsiest, most amateurish psy-ops probe he had ever experienced. In and of itself, it made Rodgers doubt that these people could be responsible for any kind of conspiracy. Yet, in a way, that was also what made them dangerous. They fit no profiles. They were unpredictable.
Kat answered the door. She was impatient, from her eyes to the cock of her hips. “Yes, General?”
“I need to talk to you,” he said. He walked around her and entered the room.
“By all means,” she said sarcastically. “Come in.”
“Sorry, but I did not want to stand there discussing this with Eric Stone watching and possibly listening.”
Kat let the door shut. “Why would Eric be listening? Could it be he is worried that you’re a loose cannon, dangerous to have at the convention?”
“No. He thinks I am concealing information. And he’s right.”
“What information?”
“That Detective Howell is being framed, and Stone may be involved in that,” Rodgers said.
“Framed how, and to do what?”
“He was tipped off to be at your apartment,” Rodgers said. “As for how — about fifteen years ago, he had an affair with a fellow coast guard cadet.”
“So he’s gay. Who cares?”
“That isn’t quite the entirety of it,” Rodgers said. “The other young man obviously had second thoughts and claimed he was seduced. Howell took the rap. Because Howell had seniority, the affair was deemed consensual by virtue of force majeure, a mild reprimand, but it went on Howell’s psych profile, which was sealed.”
“Until someone opened it.”
“Yes,” Rodgers said. “Someone who had access to military files.”
“Meaning Admiral Link.”
“Perhaps,” Rodgers admitted. “Since I doubt the admiral would tell us whether this is true, there is only one way to find out. We have to ask Detective Howell.”
“Why do you need me to do that?” Kat asked.
“I am not convinced he is playing entirely on Op-Center’s side,” Rodgers said. “If I call him, he probably won’t say anything. If you call, he may. Especially if you call saying that you decline to press charges against Darrell McCaskey and his wife.”
“Why would I do that?” Kat asked. “They broke into my apartment.”
“They did not really have a choice,” Rodgers pointed out. “They thought you might be involved in this.”
“And now they don’t? You don’t?”
“I am hoping you are not,” Rodgers said. “This would be a good way to strengthen that hope.”
“You know, I was supposed to be downstairs five minutes ago, meeting with reporters about the campaign,” she said. “But you made me so upset I couldn’t even do that. Now you want me to help you with this mad chase of yours. I really wish all of this would just go away.”
“Me, too,” Rodgers said. “I was supposed to be downstairs auditioning for secretary of defense. Instead, I’m up here begging you to help me fight a battle that is not even mine.”
“Nor mine, General,” Kat said. With an angry huff she walked to the bed and fished her cell phone from under her coat. “Let’s be done with this damn thing. What is Howell’s number?”
Rodgers pointed to the phone on the night table. “Would you mind using that one, on speaker? I would like to hear.”
“Fine,” she said. “Why the hell not? Let’s really humiliate the guy.”
Rodgers gave her the main switchboard of the Metro Police, which was the only one he knew. They put her through.
“Detective Howell, this is Kat Lockley,” she said. “I’m on a speaker phone. General Mike Rodgers of Op-Center is here with me.”
She made a point of emphasizing Op-Center, to show the general that she did not consider him to be on her team. Rodgers had taken many rough knocks in his career. He would survive this one.
“Ms. Lockley, I was going to call you,” Howell said. “I suppose you have heard we found two Op-Center agents in your apartment. We arrested them for breaking and entering.”
“Yes. I do not think I want to press charges, however,” she said.
“Pardon me?”
“We can discuss that later. Right now, the general feels there is something more important we need to talk about.”
“What is that?”
“Please excuse me for asking, Detective, but General Rodgers says he has reason to believe that you are being blackmailed.”
There was a long, guilty hesitation. Kat looked at Rodgers. She was sitting on the pillows beside the night-stand, and he was standing at the foot of the bed. The distance had seemed vast a few moments ago. Now it evaporated.
“General, I have another call,” Howell said. “Can you give me a moment?”
“I can.”
Whether there was or was not another caller did not matter. Rodgers gave him the “moment.” Howell returned in under half a minute.
“What makes you think I’m being blackmailed?” Howell asked.
“Are you?” Rodgers asked.
“Would you answer my question, sir?”
“We wondered about the snare Mr. and Mrs. McCaskey walked into,” Rodgers said. “The timing was too neat. Someone went to the apartment with evidence to frame Ms. Lockley, our team entered, then you showed up.”
“You assume we were not watching the apartment.”
“If you were, you would have nabbed the first person who went in,” Rodgers pointed out.
“General, this is not a conversation I wish to have.”
“I understand,” Rodgers said. “But you have to understand something as well. Op-Center was attacked. A coworker died—”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Others have died as well. We are going to stop this. I do not have to tell you what will happen if you are implicated in any way.”
There was a soft snicker on the other end. “Who was the one just asking me about blackmail?”
“This is internal affairs followed by due process,” Rodgers said. “That’s very different.”
“Detective, I have always thought highly of you. I need you to tell me something, truthfully,” Kat said suddenly. “Is General Rodgers hallucinating, or am I the one who is not seeing reality? Am I involved with bad people?”
For the third time, Detective Howell was silent. Kat’s brow creased, and her mouth sagged at the edges. Rodgers shifted his eyes to the painting over the bed. It was a lithograph of a Spanish vessel in San Diego Bay when it was still a Spanish settlement. There were people gathered onshore as a bumboat approached. The name of the painting was Aguardar Noticias Del Hogar.
Awaiting News from Home.
Rodgers marveled at how different the world was, how different life was, when people had to wait weeks for an answer to a question like that. It was the reason men of great wisdom and even greater instinct had to be put in the field.
“I think that answers my question,” Kat said sullenly.
“Detective, talk to us,” Rodgers said. “If Ms. Lockley is correct, let us help. Whatever this is, we can fix it.”
“No,” Howell said. “I made my choices. I will live with them. But I do want you to know that I had no idea Op-Center was going to get hit.”
“Did the same people do it?” Rodgers pressed.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“What do you know?” Kat asked.
“Only that someone, a man, phoned one day.”
“When?” Rodgers asked.
“Two and a half weeks ago. He had information about my service record that could have ended my police career if it were revealed. I was told the information would be removed from my record if I cooperated.”
“What did this cooperation entail?” Rodgers asked.