“For the marshal,” Haviland added, “it’s one less check they have to cut. One more file they can archive and forget about. A very high percentage of people end up leaving the program.”
“But if I already had a new identity, why would I abandon the program?”
“Could be that you thought your cover had become contaminated,” Waller said. “I don’t know. Once the marshal lost contact with you, they had no reason to look into it further. Until recently.”
“A situation’s come up and we need your help,” Haviland said. “Five months ago Scarponi’s attorney introduced newly discovered evidence and a witness to back it up. They’re saying that Scarponi was out of the country at the time of Foster’s death, and they have independent proof that it was a suicide. We know it’s all bullshit, but so far, the U.S. Attorney can’t refute it without you, without your testimony. Scarponi won a hearing before a federal judge and he was released from prison.”
“So you need me to testify.”
“The U.S. Attorney’s going to ask for a new trial, but it’s contingent upon our ability to secure you as a witness. If we can’t, Scarponi’s temporary get-out-of-jail-free card becomes permanent.”
Payne sat there, trying to make some sense of what he had just been told.
“What’s the matter, Harper?” Waller asked.
Payne shook his head. “How can I testify against this guy if I can’t even remember who I am?”
Waller looked at Haviland. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll work with you, make sure you’re thoroughly briefed—”
“Jon.” Haviland was shaking his head ever so slightly. “Are you sure?”
“You have a better idea? We shoot holes in this bullshit 'new evidence’ or Scarponi walks. He walks.” Waller turned to Payne. “Already the president has been getting serious heat. They don’t want some legal snafu to set this guy free in their countries. Given what you were able to do with infiltrating his network, I doubt we’ll ever be in such a strong position again.” Waller leaned back in his chair. “We’ve gotta give this a shot.”
Payne turned his gaze down to the floor, rubbed the back of his neck, and then shrugged. “I just don’t see how I can pull this off.”
Waller slammed a hand down on the conference table. “You’re missing the point, Harper: we don’t have a choice.”
“Look at it this way,” Haviland said softly. “You’ve come out of WITSEC. Right now, you’re extremely vulnerable. Scarponi knows you’re the only person in the universe who can get him thrown back in the slammer for life. Given what he does for a living, what do you think is the first thing he’s gonna do?”
“But he’s been out for five months, you said. And I’m still here.”
“It took us that long to find you,” Haviland said. “I’m sure he had the same problem. A lot of his contacts are overseas, it probably took him time to get his operation ramped up again.”
Waller rose from his chair and leaned on the conference table with both hands, looking down at Payne. “Bottom line. You help us, you help yourself. Once we’re done, we’ll put you back in witness protection. Get you some more plastic surgery, this time something a little more radical”—Waller looked him over— "and you’ll live a long and healthy life.”
Payne sat there, mentally and physically spent. He nearly jumped when Waller tossed a file on the table in front of him.
“What’s this?”
“Your personnel file,” Waller said. “Open it up, thumb through it. Maybe something will jar your memory.”
Haviland motioned to his partner, then moved toward the door.
“Excuse us a moment,” Waller said.
As the two men stood in the hallway outside the conference room, Waller interlocked his hands behind his neck. Haviland spoke first.
“Jon, this isn’t going to work.”
“What do you want to do, Scott, wave the white towel? It’d be a fucking cold day in hell before I admit I caved to Anthony Scarponi. We’d never hear the end of it. And how many other people is he going to kill? How many has he already killed in the past five months?”
“You’ve gotta be realistic. There’s no way we’re going to be able to give Harper enough information that it’ll come out as if it were his own memories. We’re talking about cross-examination. You saw what Friedkin did to him the first time around—”
“Tried to do to him. Harper came through okay.”
“The old Harper did. But he’s had a severe head injury. Did you see the size of that bruise? I mean, shit, he doesn’t even recognize us.”
“You want me to be realistic? How about you be realistic. The director’s on our ass. We’ve got coverage on his family, but how long do you think we can keep that up before one of ‘em fucks up? If Scarponi wants to, he will get to the director’s family. It’s a question of when, not if.”
Haviland massaged his temples. “Maybe once Harper gets into the file, it’ll all come back to him.”
“Or maybe the doctors can give him something to jar his memory.”
Finally, Haviland sighed. “We’ve got to run this by Knox.”
“He’ll give us the go-ahead. He’s got no choice.”
Payne pulled open the manila folder and came across his original application to the Academy. It was just as Waller had said: he was born in Massachusetts, did a stint with the army’s Special Forces, and finally became a field agent with several commendations and decorations.
He looked at the photo from sixteen years ago. His face had a more youthful look to it, that much was for sure. But after what he’d been through — let alone the plastic surgery they’d mentioned… he turned the page and read the director’s letter to him thanking him for the exceptional duty he had performed for the safety of the people of the United States.
Payne shook his head. He wished he could remember these things. How can one lose the memories of a lifetime?
The door opened and Haviland walked in. As Payne looked up from the file, a thought occurred to him. “Was I married? Did I have any kids?”
Haviland took the chair to Payne’s right. “Your wife’s name was Beth. You have a little girl, Randi. I think she was four or five at the time.”
Their eyes met, Payne’s expression asking the question that didn’t need to be verbalized.
Haviland sighed. “I don’t know what happened to them or where they are. They were relocated as well. At first you thought you could keep your family intact. You thought you could protect them. But after the car bomb you realized it would never work out. You were devastated. But you did it to keep them safe.”
Payne sat there, pondering the thought of a wife and child. “I’d like to talk to the marshal, find out where they are.”
“Impossible. If they’re to be safe, you can’t have any contact. None. That’s not up for discussion — or debate. I’m sorry.”
The door swung open and Waller stepped in. “Knox is on board,” he said to Haviland. “We ready to start?”
Payne turned to Waller with a long face. “How are you going to brief me on an entire career, almost two years’ worth of details in an undercover assignment?”
Waller leaned forward. “We’ll coach you, hold your hand every step of the way. We’ll tell you what you need to say. We’ll make it work. We have to.”