Last Man Standing (41 page)

Web noted the photos on the wall and on a built-in cabinet. There were many pictures of David. He was a handsome boy who had
taken after his mother more than his father. Web turned and found Gwen at his shoulder looking at her son.

“It’s been a long time now,” she said.

“I know. I guess time really doesn’t stop for anyone or anything.”

“Time’s also supposed to help. But it doesn’t.”

“He was your only child?”

She nodded. “Billy has grown kids from his first marriage, but David was my only one. Funny, when I was a little girl I was
certain I’d have a big family. I was one of five. Hard to believe my little boy would be in high school now.” She suddenly
turned away and Web saw a hand go up to her face.

“I think that’s enough for now, Gwen. I really appreciate your taking the time.”

She turned back to him and he could see her damp cheeks. “Billy wanted me to invite you and your friend up for drinks and
dinner tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, we want to. You saved his life, after all, and if we’re going to be spending time together, we probably should get
to know each other a little better. Say five-thirty?”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Web, but thanks for asking.”

“Just so you know, we didn’t bring any fancy clothes.”

“We’re not fancy people.”

C
laire was walking to her car in the underground garage of her office building when a well-built man in a suit approached her.

“Dr. Daniels?”

She looked at him cautiously. “Yes.”

He held out his identification. “I’m Agent Phillips with the FBI. We’d like to talk to you—right now, if that’s convenient.”

Claire looked bewildered. “
Who
wants to talk to me?”

Agent Phillips turned and pointed past the garage gate, where a black limousine with tinted windows was waiting, its engine
running.

“It’ll all be explained, ma’am.” He gently put a hand on her elbow. “Just right this way, Doctor, it won’t take long at all
and we’ll bring you right back here.”

Claire allowed herself to be led out of the garage. Phillips held the door for her and then climbed in the front passenger
seat. Before Claire was even settled against the cushion, the limo sped off.

Claire was startled when the man sitting across from her in the rear-facing seats leaned forward.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to us, Dr. Daniels.”

“I didn’t agree to talk with anyone. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

She noted that a glass partition that separated the back of the car from the front had been raised. “Who are you?”

“My name is John Winters. I’m head of the FBI’s Washington Field Office.”

“Well, Mr. Winters—” Claire began.

“My friends call me Buck.”

“Well, Mr. Winters, I don’t know why you’d want to talk to me.”

Winters sat back. “Oh, I think you have an idea. You’re a very smart woman.” He tapped a large file next to him. “Quite an
impressive C.V.”

Claire stared at the file. “I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or deeply annoyed that you’ve been investigating me.”

Winters smiled. “For now, we’ll just assume you’re flattered. But you also have to realize that in your position you see quite
a few members of the Bureau, their spouses, support people.”

“All my security clearances are up to date. And it’s not like I’m exposed to anything that’s top secret. All files are thoroughly
censored before they get to me.”

“But how do you censor the human mind, Dr. Daniels?”

“What my patients tell me is absolutely confidential.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. And I’m also certain that stressed-out people, folks with serious mental and emotional issues, probably
pour out their hearts to you.”

“Some more than others. Exactly where is this going, Mr. Winters?”

“The fact is, Dr. Daniels, you are in a position to hear some pretty important information given to you by some very vulnerable
people.”

“I am well aware of that. And it goes no farther than my office.” Winters leaned forward again. “One of your current patients
is Web London. Is that right?”

“I can’t answer that.”

Winters smiled. “Come on, Doctor.”

“When I said that I do not reveal confidences, I meant it. That includes whether someone is a patient of mine.”

“Well, just so you’re aware, as head of WFO, I’m privy to who at the Bureau is seeing a shrink, okay?”

“We prefer ‘psychiatrist,’ or at least ‘mental health professional.’”

“So I know that Web London is seeing you,” Winters said. “And I know that he’s seen another psychiatrist there several times
in the past. An Ed O’Bannon.” Again Claire said nothing. “So one thing I want to know is why the switch to you?”

“And again, I can’t answer those—”

She watched as Winters pulled a slip of paper out of the file next to him. He handed it to her. She looked down at it. It
was a release form signed by Web London and notarized. It stated, among other things, that anyone providing psychiatric care
to Web London could discuss the parameters of the diagnosis and treatment with one John Winters, director of WFO. Claire had
never seen a form like this before, but it was an original document on official Bureau stationery.

“Now we can dispense with the reluctance.”

“Where did this document come from and why haven’t I seen it before?”

“It’s a new policy. In fact, Web’s case is the first time we’ve used it. My idea.”

“It’s an invasion of doctor-and-patient confidentiality.”

“Not if the patient has waived it.”

Claire read the document very carefully—so carefully, in fact, and she took such a long time doing it, that Winters finally
started to fume. She handed it back to him.

“Okay, let me see some ID,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“It says I can reveal certain information to John Winters, head of WFO. All I know about you is you drive around in a limo
and say you’re John Winters.”

“I thought my aide identified himself.”

“He did. But
you
haven’t.”

Winters smiled, pulled out his creds and showed them to Claire. She spent longer than necessary going over them, just to put
the man on notice that she didn’t like this one bit and that she was not going to make this easy.

He sat back.“Now, about Web London.”

“He selected me because Dr. O’Bannon wasn’t available. We had a good session and he decided to stay with me.”

“What’s his diagnosis?”

“I’m not sure I’ve made one yet.”

“Have you suggested any treatment to him?”

“That would be a little premature,” she said dryly, “since I haven’t made a diagnosis yet. That would sort of be like operating
on someone before you’ve even done a physical.”

“Sorry, but most shrinks—excuse me—psychiatrists I know just prescribe some pills.”

“Well, I guess I’m not like any psychiatrists you know, then.”

“Can you tell me what happened to him in that courtyard?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He held up the release form. “We can make this smooth for you or extremely difficult.”

“That form also states that I may withhold any information told to me in confidence by a patient and also any conclusions
of mine based on such information, if, using my professional discretion, such disclosure would do harm to the patient.”

Winters moved across and sat next to Claire. “Dr. Daniels, are you aware of what happened in that courtyard?”

“Yes. I’ve read the papers, and I’ve talked to Web about it.”

“You see, it goes beyond the murder of six agents, horrific as that is. It strikes right at the fundamental integrity of the
Bureau. And without that, you have nothing.”

“I’m not sure how someone ambushing a team of FBI agents diminishes the integrity of the FBI. If anything, it should evoke
sympathy.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not the world we work in. Let me tell you what this ambush has done. First, by taking out our elite
strike force, criminal elements now believe we are vulnerable at all levels. Second, the press has blown this unfortunate
incident to such extraordinary heights, using such incendiary language, that the public confidence in us has been badly shaken
and even the lawmakers on Capitol Hill who should know better are doubting us. And lastly, the morale of the Bureau as a whole
is at an all-time low over this. It really is a triple whammy.”

“I guess I can see that,” Claire said cautiously.

“So the sooner the matter is resolved, the sooner we understand how it happened in the first place, the sooner we can make
matters right again. I’m sure you don’t want the criminals in this country thinking they can run roughshod over honest citizens.”

“I’m certain that won’t happen.”

“Are you?” He stared hard at her. “Well, I’m right in the middle of it, and I’m not nearly so certain as you seem to be.”

Claire felt a chill go up her back at the man’s words.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Now, what can you tell me about Web without,
in your discretion,
violating any professional standards?”

Claire began slowly, the whole process loathsome to her. “He has some issues. I believe they go back to his childhood, as
such issues often do. He froze in that alley. I’m sure he’s told the investigators at the FBI that.” She looked at him for
affirmation of this, but Winters didn’t take the bait.

“Go on,” he said simply.

Claire went through the details of what Web had seen and heard in the alley, including the words spoken to him by Kevin Westbrook,
how they affected him, his subsequent feelings of paralysis and how he had fought against them and ultimately won.

“Yes, he won,” said Winters. “He dropped right before the guns fired and he managed to walk away alive.”

“I can tell you that he feels enormous guilt for having been the sole survivor.”

“And so he should.”

“He didn’t suddenly turn coward, if that’s what you were wondering. He’s one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. In fact, he
might be too brave, too much of a risk-taker.”

“I wasn’t thinking he had become a coward; not even his own worst enemy could say that Web London was a coward.”

She looked at him curiously. “What, then?”

“There are worse things than being a coward.” He paused. “Like being a traitor.”

“My professional opinion is that that is not the case. His freezing in that alley represents deep-rooted problems stemming
from a very challenging childhood that Web is trying to cope with.”

“I see. So perhaps he shouldn’t be with HRT, then. Perhaps not in the Bureau at all.”

Now Claire could feel herself freeze.
What had she just done?
“That’s not what I said.”

“No, Doctor, that’s what
I
said.”

As promised, they dropped her back off at the garage. As she was getting out, Buck Winters leaned forward and gripped her
arm. Claire felt herself instinctively drawing back.

“I certainly can’t stop you from telling Web about our meeting,

Doctor, but I’m asking you not to. This is an ongoing FBI investigation and the results, whatever they happen to be, will
rock the Bureau more than it’s ever been. So I’m asking you, as a good citizen, to keep all this on the QT for now.”

“I can’t guarantee you that. And I trust Web.”

“I’m sure you do. There’s a lot about him to trust. Do you know how many men he’s killed in his career?”

“No, is that important to know?”

“I’m sure the relatives of those people would think it important.” “You’re making it sound like he’s the criminal. I’m assuming
that if he’s killed people, it was part of his job, the job you expect him to do.”

“Well, I guess that’s always open to interpretation, isn’t it?” He let go of her arm and added a parting shot. “I’m sure we’ll
be seeing each other again.”

W
hen Romano and Web left for dinner at the mansion, Romano was walking a little funny. He told Web that Billy had gotten him
on a horse and Romano had immediately fallen off.

“I don’t know why the hell I can’t follow the guy in a truck. Horses just ain’t my thing.”

“Well, I rode over most of the property today and a lot of it you can’t get to even by truck.”

“Did you fall off too?”

“Yeah, twice,” Web said. Why tell the truth and get Romano’s hair up again? he figured.

“So who’d you ride with?” asked Romano.

“Gwen. Had a nice time. How about you? Have any fun?” “Yeah, I never knew how much fun mucking a stall could be. You should
try it sometime.”

Billy met Web and Romano at the front door of the stone house. He was wearing an old corduroy jacket with patched elbows,
a pair of khaki pants, a wrinkled white button-down shirt and loafers without socks. And he already had a drink in hand. He
led them through the front hall and down a curving staircase of walnut that looked old enough to have arrived in the Colonies
as a gift from a long-dead king or queen. Though he’d been through the place ear- lier, Web still caught himself occasionally
ogling the large rooms, elaborate millwork, heavy draperies and enormous artwork that looked museum-quality and probably was,
and then they arrived at the lower level. Romano looked around and kept muttering, “Holy shit,” under his breath.