Color of Blood(124)
She was familiar with police interrogations, of course, and knew it was critical to remain consistent. Judy also knew how fatigue could cross up even the most ardent truth-teller, so she was careful and measured during her interviews.
She also had a brief conversation with a woman at the Australian Embassy who called the hospital looking for her. Someone had alerted the embassy, which she was thankful for.
Holding Dennis’s hand, she wondered about the wisdom of remaining emotionally attached to him. Every single thing about him was complicated.
Still, as he lay with his eyes closed and the cartoonish, bulky white swath of gauze around his head, she felt a fondness toward the man. She liked his wry attitude and his penchant for solving complicated riddles—and he was a very good lover. She had the unmistakable impression he would do anything for her. That in itself was worth the price of admission, she reckoned.
“Do you think you should let your daughter know you’re in the hospital?” she asked.
“Not now,” Dennis said, yawning. “I’ll never hear the end of it. When I get out, I’ll call her. She deserves to know what happened. All of it.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your call,” Judy said, but Dennis had already closed his eyes. He slept a lot these days.
***
The worst part was the relentless round of interrogations. Though Dennis was prepared for the onslaught, he grew tired and angry as they persisted. He finally refused to answer any more questions.
“Read the transcripts of the other ten thousand people who have interviewed me,” he told a team of staffers from the House Intelligence Committee. “I’m finished talking. I’m well enough to go home, and that’s what I’m planning to do.”
The people who interviewed him had pinched faces, taciturn demeanors, and spoke in clipped sentences. The entire case touched a nerve somewhere deep in the labyrinth burrows of the intelligence establishment. He sensed that the shooting and its aftermath had set off a cascade of denials, obfuscations, and finger pointing.
Peter was the only unofficial visitor, besides Judy, that he was allowed to see.
“Well, look at you,” Peter said. “You managed to stay just far enough away from a bullet. Very lucky man, Dennis.”
“I’d like to think skill and anticipation saved me,” Dennis said, “but it was luck, just plain luck that I turned my head at that moment.”
“You’ve created quite a buzz around Langley with your heroics,” Peter said.
“How much of it leaked out?”
“Enough to make you a kind of hero to some and a traitor to others.”
“Do you think they’ll take me back into the IG’s office?”
“Of course they will; you’re a cause célèbre for some of the staffers on the Hill. They rarely get a chance to catch the Agency doing stuff like this.”
“Do you know if Garder came in yet?”
“He’s the young agent that stumbled on the scheme in Australia?”
“Yes, him.”
“Rumor was that he came in, but I’m a little out of touch these days,” Peter said.
“He’s the one that deserves a medal,” Dennis said.
“Don’t count on it. He’s lucky they don’t post him to Siberia.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s a hero in my book.”
“You are such an idealist,” Peter laughed. “Look what it almost cost you.”
“I’d do it again,” Dennis said.
“Well, just relax for a while and get better. It’s a little distressing to see you with gauze wrapped around your head. You look like The Mummy.”
“I feel like The Mummy,” Dennis said, putting his arms out straight, zombielike.
They laughed until Dennis said “Ow,” and dropped his arms.
“It hurts to laugh,” he said.
***
The final meeting before discharge was held in an empty doctor’s office the strangers had commandeered. A woman in her late-thirties and an older man, perhaps in his sixties, sat in front of Dennis. They identified themselves as members of the legal department from the OIG. Dennis had never met these people before, but it didn’t matter. He was not certain any of the people he spoke to were giving him their real names and titles.
As is the case in vast bureaucracies, the person raising the uncomfortable questions is not entirely welcome. Dennis understood all of this and played his part well, he thought, but it didn’t matter any longer. He just wanted out of the hospital.
The young woman did most of the talking.
“You’ll need to sign this document,” she said. “After you sign, you may leave.”
“What is it?”
“A binding agreement not to disclose to any unauthorized individuals the events involving your assignment in Australia, the events leading up to the shooting in your home, the shooting itself, and everything that occurred throughout your stay in the hospital,” she said, holding out a two-page form on a clipboard. “And you also agree not to file a whistleblower complaint against the Agency or any federal entity.”
“You already have a blanket nondisclosure agreement from every employee of the Agency, so I don’t understand why you need another one,” he said. “And do you really think the whistleblower piece will hold up in court?”