Cole, figuring that Sharpe would get down to business when he was good and ready, said nothing. After they’d covered maybe twenty yards, Sharpe stopped and pivoted so they were face-to-face, only a few feet apart. Anyone driving past might have guessed they were either old friends or old adversaries, but they definitely looked like two men with a history.
“Apologies for the dramatics,” Sharpe said gruffly. “The car could be miked, for all I know.”
He reached into a big pocket of his overcoat and drew out one of those metal detector wands like the ones at airport security checkpoints.
“This will only take a second. Arms up.”
Cole, figuring what the hell, obliged him as the wand whooped and wailed, making zipper sounds as it passed up and down his arms, legs, and crotch.
“Turn around.”
Cole did.
“Excellent.”
He dropped the wand back into the pocket.
“You do this to everyone you meet?”
“Can’t be too careful. Not in my shoes.”
“Or in mine.”
“Duly acknowledged.”
He paused, as if to allow Cole a chance for further comment. Then he proceeded.
“So, what does a court-martialed fighter jock want with a pariah like me? More to the point, what reason could I possibly have for wanting to talk to you, other than to suit my own spiteful urge to bite the hand that feeds me? I suppose that’s the only reason I showed up. Your email was perfectly timed, catching me as it did at a moment of absolute pique.”
“Pique?” He’d get along great with Barb.
“Vexation. Animosity. The Pentagon has decided that my days as a productive citizen are over, so they’ve gone about industriously obstructing my ability to make a living. What is it you’re up to, exactly?”
“I’m collaborating with some journalists. Three of them. We’re all in the same house, literally, working a story on Wade Castle.”
“Collaborating with journalists. Now there’s a certain path to mutually assured destruction.”
“It’s pretty much the only path I had.”
“And you’ve concluded that somehow I can be of assistance?”
“Castle was the Agency’s top drone guy. You must have worked with him at some point.”
“Oh, he was much more than ‘a drone guy.’ He was their guru at large for all things technical.”
“See, that’s the kind of information we need.”
“ ‘We.’ That’s your first mistake. Thinking you’re one of them.”
“You sure seemed to like the press back in the days of the three-hundred-dollar hammer.”
“I liked using them, that’s true. It’s half their problem. They’re too easily managed and manipulated. Who do you think led us into Iraq? They rise up in dissent when it humors them, but mostly they’re just another tool of the system.”
“These guys seem different.”
“Stockholm syndrome. You’ve been around them awhile and you’ve already bought into their myth — a crusade for the truth with a capital T.”
Cole had to smile, since he’d already been thinking the same thing.
Sharpe eyed him closely.
“You were in on that fuckup at Sandar Khosh, weren’t you? That’s your beef with Wade.”
“If you know that, you probably know other stuff that could help.”
Sharpe looked down at his feet. His right toe scraped a furrow in the dirt, then crossed it, an X to mark the spot.
“Let me tell you what I’d like out of this arrangement. Assuming there is one.”
“Okay.”
Sharpe resumed walking, heading further down the lane, so Cole kept pace. Out on the paved road, a car rushed by. Cole glanced back, but Sharpe seemed lost in thought.
“I will become a party to this only if I can hit those bastards where it hurts. Only if I can create a little anarchy in their ranks. Inside that whole public-private nexus — or axis, that’s a far better word for it. What Ike used to call the military-industrial complex.”
“We’re kind of focusing on just Castle for now. Him and his fieldwork.”
“But he’s their creation, don’t you see? Wade wasn’t just the Agency point man on drones, or technology. He was at the center of the frame — still is, as far as I know — for all the sharing and distribution of data, of specs, of, hell, you name it. He was involved with my work, the Air Force’s work, everybody’s damn work, from R and D to application. And no doubt he saw what I saw — that everybody’s stuff, from the absolute shit to the absolute gold, was running in one great big pipeline to all the customers. Or at least to every customer with enough juice to tap in.”
“Contractors?”
“In Afghanistan, Iraq. Those aren’t just theaters of war for these people. They’re glorified test labs, proving grounds, marketplaces for the barter of influence and, most important of all, for state-of-the-art technology. Those women and children at Sandar Khosh were guinea pigs in somebody’s ill-advised experiment, and Castle was at Ground Zero for all of it.”
“What kind of experiment?”
“Ask Wade. If you can find him.”
“He’s on the lam. Somewhere not far from here, we’re told.”
Sharpe looked up abruptly. It was clear the revelation had caught him off guard. He wrinkled his brow, then again looked down at his feet.
“Is he back at Langley?”
“Apparently not. He’s at large. Operating on his own. Possibly no longer officially.”
Sharpe thought about this for several seconds. “That’s hard to process. Hard to say what it means.”
“Join the club.”
“Maybe I will. If only so I can shout it from the rooftops once you find the answer.”
“So you’ll help us?”
“I’ll help you. If you choose to share with the infidels, so be it. You say you’re living with these people now?” Sharpe made it sound as if Cole had moved into a colony of religious cultists.
“In Middle River, outside Baltimore, but we’re about to move to the Maryland Eastern Shore. One of them has a summer home, some family estate.”
Sharpe’s eyes lit up.
“How many acres?”
“Two hundred.”
He smiled, mulling it over. “Give me a day to do some thinking, some planning. I’ll be back in touch. When are you moving?”
“Later today. Soon as I get back.”
Sharpe smiled again. “Even better.”
He said nothing more as they walked back to where the car was parked. Cole popped the locks but Sharpe made no move to get in.
“Ready to roll?”
Sharpe shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ve made arrangements.”
“Way out here?”
Sharpe waved dismissively, as if the details were of no importance.
Cole had half a mind to stick around long enough to find out if Sharpe was just blowing smoke. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d see much humor in that, so Cole climbed into the car and started the engine. He was about to pull out when Sharpe knocked on the window. Cole rolled it down.
“How ’bout we take a little field trip tomorrow, just you and me on the far side of the Bay?”
“Doing what?”
“There’s something I want to show you. It’s not for the others to see. Not yet, anyway. Where’s this farm where you’re staying?”
“Talbot County. Near Oxford.”
He nodded, seemingly pleased. “The place I’ve got in mind is about forty clicks away. We’ll meet halfway, just past Easton on Route 50. Let’s say morning, nine thirty. We’ll make a day of it. Box lunch and a blanket, if you want. Sit down and watch some geeks take this shit to the next level. And with the government’s blessing, my friend. Its complete and benevolent blessing. Then you’ll see how this battle has to be fought. Not with notebooks and quotation marks, the way the scribblers do it.”