Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(32)

The second time he played it, he convinced himself he’d missed something vital in the instructions.

By the third time, the parts of the recycler lay neglected while he stared at the screen and let her soft voice wash over him.

I’m sure we have everything you need in the way of tools. She smiled a little as she spoke and made his heart beat just a little faster. But you’ve only to ask if there’s anything else you want.

It shamed him that what he wanted was her.

Before he could give in and replay the transmission one more time, he ordered the ‘link off. Color rose into his cheeks as he thought of his own foolishness, his own dishonor in coveting another man’s wife.

She’d hired him to do a job, he reminded himself. That was all there was between them. All there ever could be. She was a married woman, as removed from him as the moon, and had never done anything to encourage these yearnings in him.

But as he rebuilt the recycler with the energy of the guilty, he thought of her.

“How much more can you tell me?” Eve asked.

Rather than squeeze into her office, she’d set them up in a conference room. Already, she had Peabody setting up crime scene photos and available data on a board. Right now, the board was very thin.

“Arlington’s something anyone who wants into E and B studies.” Anne sipped the stale black coffee the room’s AutoChef offered. “The group had to have recruited inside people, probably both military and civilian. An instillation like the Pentagon just isn’t easily infiltrated, and during that period, security was very tight. The operation was very slick,” she continued. “The investigation indicated that a trio of explosive devices loaded with plaston were placed in all five sides, more in the underground facilities.”

Restless, she rose, glancing at the board as she paced. “At least one of the terrorists must have had high clearance in order to set the bombs underground. There was no warning, no contact demanding terms. The entire facility went up at eleven hundred hours, detonated by timers. Thousands of people were lost. It wasn’t possible to identify all the victims. There wasn’t enough left of them.”

“What do we know about Apollo?” Eve asked her.

“They took credit for the bombing. Boasted that they could do the same again, anywhere, at any time. And would unless the president resigned and their chosen representative was established as leader of what they called their new order.”

“James Rowan,” Feeney put in. “There’s a dossier on him, but I don’t think there’s much data. Paramilitary type, right, Malloy? Former CIA operative with ambitions toward politics and lots of bucks. They figured him for the head guy, and likely the inside man at the Pentagon. But somebody took him out before it was verified.”

“That’s right. It’s assumed he was head of the group; that he was pushing the buttons. After Arlington, he went public with video transmissions and on-air speeches. He was charismatic, as a lot of fanatics are. There was a lot of panic, pressure on the administration to cave rather than to risk another slaughter. Instead, they put a price on his head. Five million, dead or alive. No questions asked.”

“Who did him?”

Anne looked back at Eve. “Those files are sealed. That was part of the package. His headquarters — a house outside of Boston — was blown up with him in it. His body was ID’d, and the group scattered, fell apart. Splinter groups formed, managed to do some damage here and there. But the tide of the Wars had turned — at least here in the States. By the late twenties, the core of the original group was either dead or in cages. Over the next decade, others were tracked down and dealt with.”

“And how many slipped through?” Eve wondered.

“They never found his right hand. Guy named William Henson. He’d been Rowan’s campaign manager during his political runs.” Anne rubbed a hand over her slightly queasy stomach and set her coffee aside. “It was believed he was top level in Apollo. It was never proven, and he disappeared the same day Rowan went up. Some speculate he was inside when the bomb went, but that could be wishful thinking.”

“What about their holes, headquarters, arsenals?”

“Found, destroyed, confiscated. It’s assumed everything was found, but if you ask me, that’s a big assumption. A lot of the data’s sealed tight. Rumor is that a lot of the people taken in were killed without trial, tortured. Family members unlawfully imprisoned or executed.” Anne sat again. “It might be true. It couldn’t have been pretty, and there’s no way it was by the book.”

Eve rose, studied the photos on the board. “In your opinion, this deal is linked with what happened in Arlington?”

“I want to study the evidence more closely, pull the available data on Arlington, but it follows.” She hissed out a breath. “The names — both mythical types — the political crap, the material used for explosives. Still, there are variations. It wasn’t a military target, there was a warning, no lives were taken.”

“Yet,” Eve murmured. “Shoot me whatever data you spring on this, will you? Peabody, Fixer was army during the Urban Wars, let’s take a closer look at his service record. Feeney, we need everything he put on that office unit.”

“I’m on it.” He rose. “Let me put McNab on that service record. He’ll be able to melt through any seals quicker.”