And then from downstairs there was a crash. A door being busted open. Footsteps running, many sets.
Justin heard someone, a woman’s voice, scream, “FBI! Jay, can you hear me?! Can you hear me, Jay?!”
Schrader looked disbelieving but still the smile didn’t fade completely. He had shifted his gaze toward the noise downstairs, it was impossible not to, but his inattention didn’t last long. Justin shifted his weight, screamed when the pain came, and threw himself directly at the agent, hurled his body as best he could, but he knew he’d blown it because Schrader had plenty of time to recover and fire. The agent was going to get him in midair, he wasn’t even going to get close, then Justin heard a gun go off, waited to feel the agony again, but it didn’t come. He looked up, saw Schrader staggering backward, heard another shot, watched Schrader go down. Justin looked at Reggie, whose arm was still extended, her gun still pointed at the agent, and she fired a third time, and then Wanda Chinkle burst into the room, followed by three FBI agents, guns in hand.
“Drop it!” Wanda screamed. “Drop it now!”
Justin saw Reggie release her gun and let it fall to the floor, and then watched her being forced to her knees. Two of the agents had their weapons pointed at her, Wanda and the fourth agent had theirs pointed straight at Justin’s heart.
“Call 911,” Wanda barked at one agent. Then, to Justin, quieter, but not gentle: “Put it down, Jay. Put it down and we’ll get you help.”
It didn’t even register that he was still holding Schrader’s pistol. All he focused on was that another man had come into the room, a man who stood behind Wanda and said, very quietly, “Put the gun down, Mr. Westwood.”
Justin stared disbelievingly at Jeffrey Stuller, the attorney general of the United States.
“Remember what I told you,” Wanda said. “Please.”
Justin remembered. Trust me, she’d said. And anyone who’s with me.
Trust me.
He remembered something else, too, as he tried to figure out what could have happened, how Schrader could have been lying in wait for him, how Wanda was telling him to trust the man he knew was behind Midas and the entire terrorist scheme.
He remembered a little nine-year-old girl saying, He was an assistant general.
You mean like a colonel? Justin had asked.
No, she’d insisted. An assistant general.
Ted Ackland.
An assistant general.
Assistant attorney general.
Ted Ackland had been in Hutch and Terry Cooke’s house with Mudhi al Rahman. Mudhi had played a game of jacks. Ted Ackland had been the one who frightened little Hannah Cooke.
“Put it down and get on the floor, Jay. Now,” Wanda said.
Ackland. The A in Midas.
Justin said, “It’s empty. Don’t shoot. It’s empty,” and he let the gun fall out of his hand.
The next thing he knew, he was falling to his knees and Wanda was saying to him, “You had to get cute. You had to lose me in the fucking college. I had your back, you asshole.”
And then Reggie was holding him and he was thanking her for saving his life and telling her to be careful, not to get his blood all over her.
“The ambulance’ll be here soon,” he heard Wanda say. “Just hold on.”
“What time is it?” Justin thought to ask.
Jeffrey Stuller, confused, looked at his watch. “Twelve-thirty,” the attorney general said.
Justin looked at Reggie, who had her arms wrapped around him now and was holding him as close to her as she possibly could.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
36
At Southampton Hospital they kept telling him how lucky he was. Justin wondered what it would take for someone to be considered unlucky, but none of the nurses or doctors answered him.
The wound was a clean one; the bullet had gone straight through, doing relatively little damage. They told him he wouldn’t have to spend more than twenty-four hours there. After eating his first hospital meal-possibly chicken, he thought, and some kind of white tasteless custard-he thought maybe he actually was lucky after all.
Justin could tell how impressed the staff was when the attorney general of the United States showed up, posting two FBI agents at the door of the room to keep any potential visitors out. Justin hoped their newfound respect would translate into giving him a better meal when it came time for his next feeding.
Justin listened as the attorney general stood by the side of his bed and talked. It didn’t take long for the tale to unfold. Stuller had been investigating the conspiracy within the administration for months. He’d recently included Ackland in the investigation as he’d become aware of his deputy’s involvement. When Justin had called Wanda to set up a meeting with the assistant attorney general, she had checked with Stuller. They’d decided to use Justin to flush Ackland out. They’d decided to use him as bait.
“I’m sorry, Jay,” Wanda said. She was sitting in the straight-backed chair at the foot of the bed. “You wouldn’t tell me what you were up to, although I had a reasonable idea. I couldn’t tell you anything unless you’d confided in me.”
“I would have done the same thing,” Justin said. “No apology needed. But how long have you been part of this?”
She glanced at Jeffrey Stuller, who nodded his okay. “Not long,” she said. “But long enough. At some point during the attorney general’s investigation, he realized the level of corruption within the Bureau. He decided I could be trusted and he called me into his inner circle.”
“Good call,” Justin said.
“It’s one of the reasons I was able to help you out periodically,” she said. “I was under orders to. We thought you could prove things that even we couldn’t.”
“So you’re telling me not to get used to your assistance,” Justin said. And Wanda Chinkle nodded emphatically.
Stuller then ran through the rest of the story.
Justin had basically been correct in his assumptions and his conclusions. He’d just miscalculated on a couple of the players.
Stuller had been part of Midas. He’d been brought into the SPE because of his long ties to Phil Dandridge. There was nothing illegal about that, Stuller said, and he’d felt no compunction about making money from EGenco or his old friend’s connections. It was a legitimate business deal, his holdings had been placed in a blind trust, and he would defend his decision to this day to participate.
But he hadn’t known anything about the manipulation of oil prices. That was Dandridge. That was just pure greed.
Justin had been wrong, too, about President Anderson. The outgoing president had been duped and betrayed by his closest advisers, he was guilty of naivete and stupidity, but not of criminal behavior. His administration would now go down as the most corrupt in American history, but his punishment would probably have to come from future judgment, not from the legal system.
Dandridge’s situation was a little trickier. Stuller intended to prosecute him on several levels of financial fraud and misappropriations of government funds. There was no question he’d arranged for no-bid contracts for EGenco and violated the trust of the American people with his fraudulent energy policies. Morally it was repellent, but it was a vague and gray area of the law. Stuller said he’d already begun conversations with the vice president and with Stephanie Ingles and it was clear that, whatever their crimes, they had not instigated the violence or terrorist activity, although the attorney general believed that Dandridge had figured out what was going on somewhere along the line and had decided to do nothing about it. The man was not just weak, he was corrupt, and he belonged in prison, Stuller said, the disgust resonating in his words, but he wasn’t sure if he could put him there. Stuller told Justin he might have to settle for Dandridge’s and Ingles’s resignations and some form of plea bargain, along with his testimony about Midas and Ackland.