The Rescue(113)

“We’ll see,” said Decker, feeling himself spiraling into darkness.

The cargo bay’s intercom broke Decker’s thoughts.

“That’s the thanks I get?” said Bernie. “You just sit back there like passengers on Delta Airlines? Get the hell up here, pronto.”

Decker yelled at the open door leading to the cockpit, “You need to hire a damn copilot! I’m too tired to move.”

“Did you say copilot?” said Bernie over the intercom. “I can’t afford to hire a copilot hauling your sorry ass around.”

The flight crew chief shook her head. “Bernie’s full of crap. He’s never given up the controls. Ever. Ain’t no copilot in Bernie’s past or future.”

“I heard that!” said Bernie. “I had the intercom rigged so I can remote activate—”

“Yeah. Yeah,” interrupted the flight crew chief. “Five months ago. On a Monday afternoon.”

“Really? You all knew?”

“Did you think we were just quiet all the time back here?”

“At least you’re not plotting against me anymore.”

“Yeah. That’s what we spent every moment of our time in the air doing before. Plotting against the only pilot on the plane.”

Decker laughed. “And for your information, I’m a fully paying customer. I’m not keeping you from hiring a copilot. The second half of your fee will be transferred as soon as I get to my laptop.”

“The second half is on me,” said Bernie. “Good to have you back, Decker.”

“I’m not back. This was a onetime deal.”

“You’re back, or I’ll charge you double for the trouble.”

“We’re back,” said Pierce.

He gave Pierce a skeptical look. “I’m not back,” he said.

“I said we’re back. Unless you have better plans,” said Pierce. “No rush. It’ll take a little while to build up our client base again.”

Decker laughed. “Not a lot of demand for taking down rogue CEOs and unscrupulous senators.”

“Sounds like our new mission statement,” said Pierce.

“I’d invest in a firm like that,” said Bernie.

“We’ll see,” said Decker, his thoughts suddenly far away. “We’ll see.”





CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

The walk from his hotel next to the Annapolis City Dock to St. Mary’s Cemetery measured 1.3 miles on his phone, but it may as well have been fifty. Maybe it was the oppressive midsummer Annapolis heat that made it feel that long, or maybe it was the fact that it had taken him a full day to work up the nerve to make the trip.

Decker had meant to walk the mile or so yesterday but had found himself unable to leave the hotel. He ate dinner in his room and spoke with Harlow for almost an hour, which felt good for him at the time but came back to haunt him in the morning. He liked Harlow a lot, which was a little too much at the moment. It had taken him all morning and another solitary lunch in his room to reach the point where he could leave the hotel. Halfway to the cemetery, he wished he’d taken a cab.

When he reached Westgate Circle, orderly rows of white grave markers appeared beyond an old stone wall bordering Annapolis National Cemetery. After walking around the traffic circle and continuing up West Street, the tidy white lines yielded to trees, bushes, and a scattering of timeworn gravestones that formed the historic Brewer Hill Cemetery.

He kept going until he caught a glimpse of a gravestone beyond the homes lining the south side of West Street, where he stopped for a moment to take a few deep breaths. When Decker started up again, he didn’t stop until he reached the wrought-iron entrance, pausing in the shade of a lone tree growing just beyond the fence. Now what? All he knew for sure was that they had been buried in this cemetery. He hadn’t been allowed to attend the service.

Across the cemetery, a black Suburban pulled up to the vehicle entrance on Spa Road and blocked it. A few seconds later, he heard a vehicle pull up behind him and turned around to face another black SUV. He walked slowly backward until he stood a few feet inside the cemetery. At least he’d die on the same patch of ground as his wife and son. The SUV pulled forward, making room for a black Town Car. Now he was confused. There was no way Harcourt would make a public appearance after what had transpired two days ago.

The rear window rolled down, revealing one of the last faces he expected to see this Sunday afternoon.

“Mind if I join you?” said Margaret Steele.

“I don’t really know where I’m going.”

“I’ll show you,” she said, getting out of the car with a large bouquet of colorful daisies.

Decker instantly regretted not bringing flowers himself, which must have shown on his face.

“I brought two,” she said, splitting the bouquet in half.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I had you followed.”

“Seriously?”

“Not really,” said Steele. “Mr. Pierce told me you were headed here. I did hire someone to watch the hotel.”

“I almost didn’t make it here today, either.”

“I would have waited as long as it took,” she said, her eyes watering. “I’m really sorry for keeping you from them. I had no right to do that.”