“You’d think so,” Holly said. “He just never thought they’d fail, that the brothers might get away. This whole thing…” She paused, shaking her head. “Selling those people Semtex? You may be right, Nathan. From a legal perspective, Director Lansing’s clean. Ethically, it’s a different matter. It was a severe conflict of interest to involve James Ortega. It may not be illegal, but it’s a career-ender. The real question, I guess, is what are we going to do about it.”
“Nothing,” Nathan said.
“Nothing?”
“I don’t see anything constructive in blowing this wide open right now, or ever. As much as Harv and I resent being used as pawns, it doesn’t compare to the pain Frank Ortega has endured. He’s lost both a daughter and a grandson to the Bridgestones.”
“You amaze me, Nathan. I would be far less forgiving in your shoes.”
“This isn’t about me or Harv. It’s about justice. Justice for the dead SWAT agent, for James Ortega, your two techs from the van, and twenty-four other slain FBI employees. I’m not above using the information to keep Lansing off my back, though.”
“Then we stick to the plan,” she said.
“We stick to the plan,” Nathan said. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Nathan, I’m sorry about Director Lansing and Ortega.”
“It’s not a reflection on you. You and me, we’re still good.”
“I appreciate your trust, especially after all the BS you’ve been through.”
“I don’t need to tell you this, but I will anyway. Be careful, Holly. Watch what you say.” He squeezed her hand and got up. “The walls have ears.”
Under a flawless afternoon sky, the press conference was staged on the steps of Sacramento’s Capitol Building. The podium held over two-dozen microphones, six of them from foreign countries. The bombing of the Sacramento field office had made international news. The reporters and cameramen were set up in ten rows of semicircular seating fifteen feet away from the podium. Assistant Special Agent in Charge Breckensen was being introduced by Governor
Schwarzenegger. The ASAC looked sharp and focused, his tailored suit gleaming in the afternoon sun. He shook hands with the governor and took the podium.
Leonard and Ernie Bridgestone were still holed up in the same cabin they’d broken into after the raid on their compound. While charting their next moves, they’d been watching the near-constant news coverage of their handiwork, compliments of the cabin owner’s satellite dish. They agreed their best course of action was no action. They needed to let things cool down before heading up north to Canada, but when they did leave the U.S., it would be for good. Getting to the location of their hidden money cache in northern Montana had been the topic of many conversations. The longer they stayed put, the better chance they’d have of quietly slipping through the net. Leonard found it ironic he was the antsy one, while Ernie seemed quite content watching the television coverage.
Ernie sat forward in his chair. “This oughtta be good.”
“We aren’t out of the woods yet, Ern.”
“Shit, these feebs couldn’t find their own ass with a mirror on a stick.” Ernie cranked the volume and sat back.
ASAC Breckensen’s face filled the screen. “Thank you, Governor Schwarzenegger. I’d also like to thank the press for attending on such short notice. As you know, on October seventeenth, our Sacramento field office was bombed with catastrophic results. The blast killed twenty-four people and wounded fifty-five others, many with career-ending injuries. Our thoughts and prayers go out to all of our employees and their families.”
“Breaks my fuckin’ heart,” Ernie said.
Leonard increased the volume.
Breckensen continued, outlining the chain of events leading up to the bombing. “One of the reasons we called this conference was to make a plea to the general public to come forward with any information, no matter how insignificant it may seem. As an example, I’d like to introduce Ms. Amber Mills Sheldon.” He gestured off-camera to his right.
Ernie jumped up from the sofa. “What the fuck?” Then he yelled at Leonard. “What the fuck is this?”
His mind already working, Leonard squinted and said nothing.
The camera followed Amber Sheldon as she stepped up to the podium. The makeup artists had earned their pay, Leonard thought. She actually looked good. She placed a piece of paper on the podium and thanked Governor Schwarzenegger and ASAC Breckensen. She looked visibly nervous. Reading from a prepared statement, she began.
“My name is Amber Sheldon. I was married to Ernie Bridgestone in Pensacola, Florida, where he worked as a drill instructor training naval-aviator candidates at the NAS. I am both shocked and horrified at the bombing of the FBI’s field office. I would not have thought him capable of such an act.”
Sheldon looked up and stared into the camera for several seconds with the haunted look of a woman in emotional pain. “I wish to express my deepest sorrow and condolences to the colleagues, friends, and families of the slain FBI employees. I have fully cooperated with the FBI.” Her lip quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and looked off-camera. Breckensen stepped up to the podium and put his arm around her.
“Look at that son of a bitch,” Ernie hissed. “He wants a piece of that. I can’t believe this shit.”
“Shut up, Ernie,” Leonard said. “He’s just comforting her.”
“Yeah, right.”
Breckensen leaned in toward the microphones. “Ms. Sheldon has agreed to take a few questions.” He pointed to a reporter seated in the middle of the first row.
“Ms. Sheldon, have you had any contact with Ernie since the bombing?”
“No,” she said.
The same reporter fired a second question. “When was the last time you spoke with him?”
She looked at Breckensen, silently asking if it was okay to answer. He nodded. “Years ago. After he was released from the Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth. I haven’t heard from him since.”
Breckensen pointed to another reporter.
“Ms. Sheldon, is there anything from Ernie’s past that might’ve led up to this?”
“Not really. He was very angry about his court-martial, but that happened a long time ago. I don’t think this is about that.”
Just as Breckensen was about to point to a third reporter, a question boomed out from one of the back rows. “Have you told Ernie Bridgestone that he’s the father of your daughter, Janey Sheldon?”
The sudden anger in Amber’s face couldn’t be hidden. “That’s none of your damned business.” She twisted away from Breckensen and stormed from the podium. The camera showed Governor Schwarzenegger running to catch her.
Leonard looked at his brother, who was staring at the television with his mouth hanging open. “Ernie? You okay, man?”
“She never told me. How could she never fucking tell me?” He hurled the TV remote across the room.
Leonard didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to provoke Ernie, who seemed dangerously poised at the moment.
“She never told me. I knew she had a daughter, but I didn’t know she was mine. She said she got knocked up by accident in my first year in the Castle.”
“Hey, man, it doesn’t matter, okay?”
“It doesn’t matter? Doesn’t matter? What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
“Take it easy, Ern.”
“I had a right to know.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you, but we can’t let this change anything. We’ve got too much to lose.”
“I can’t fucking believe this shit.”
“This isn’t a coincidence, Ern. Can’t you see this whole thing is staged? They’re trying to bait us, to flush us out. It could be bullshit.”