Night Fall (29 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

I entered Mr. Koenig’s office, an impressive corner suite with a nice view of the World Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty, Staten Island, and the harbor.

I’ve been to this office a few times, and none of those occasions were particularly joyful. Today was not going to be any different.

Jack Koenig was standing at one of the windows, staring out at the harbor, his back to me.

His little power play is to stand there and see how you were going to announce your presence. I considered yelling in Arabic, “Allah Akbar!” and rushing him, but I settled for clearing my throat.

He turned toward me and nodded.

Jack Koenig is a tall, thin guy with close-cropped gray hair and gray eyes, and he wears gray suits. I think you’re supposed to get the impression of steel, but I think of pencil lead. Maybe concrete.

He shook my hand, motioned to a round table, and said, “Have a seat.”

I sat, and he sat across from me. He said, “Kate told you I wanted to see you?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you?”

“In Captain Stein’s office.”

“After that.”

“Oh, I took a walk to clear my head. His cigar gets to me. I mean, I’m not complaining about his smoking in a smoke-free environment, but-”

“David tells me you want to resign.”

“Well, I’ve rethought that. Unless you think otherwise.”

“No. I want you here.”

He did not add, “Where I can keep an eye on you and fuck up your life,” but we both understood that.

I said, “I appreciate your confidence in me.”

“I never said that. Actually, my confidence in your judgment is nonexistent. But I want to give you another chance to be of service to the team and to your country.”

“Excellent.”

“Don’t fuck with me, John. I’m not in the mood.”

“Neither am I.”

“Good. Then we can get to the point. You’ve been concerning yourself with the TWA 800 case, on government time, and against explicit instructions not to do that.”

“I don’t take orders from Liam Griffith.”

“No, you take orders from me, and I’m telling you, as I told Kate, you are not to involve yourself in this case. Why? Cover-up? Conspiracy? If you think that, then you
should
resign and pursue the matter. And maybe you will. But for now, what I’d like you to do is go to Yemen and get a sense of what we’re trying to accomplish in regard to American security around the globe.”

“What
are
we trying to accomplish?”

“That’s for you to find out.”

“Why Yemen? Why not where Kate is going?”

“This is not punishment, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s an honor to serve overseas.”

We weren’t even on the same planet, so there was no use arguing with him. I said, “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“I know you are.”

“What am I supposed to do there?”

“You’ll be fully briefed in Aden.”

“Good. I don’t want to be overzealous and get kicked out by the ambassador.”

He gave me a steely look and replied, “This is an important assignment. Seventeen American sailors have been murdered, and we
will
apprehend those responsible.”

“I don’t need a pep talk. I do my job.”

“That you do. But you’ll do it by the rules.”

“Fine. Is that it?”

“That’s it for Yemen. Tell me what you did yesterday.”

“I took a ride out east.”

“Where did you go?”

“The beach.”

“You’re not tan.”

“I sat in the shade.”

“Why were your cell phone and beeper turned off?”

“I needed a mental health day.”

“It’s good that you can recognize that need.”

That was actually funny, and I smiled.

He added, “But you will never again turn off your beeper.”

“Yes, sir. Will my beeper and cell phone work in Yemen?”

“We’ll make sure it does. Let me ask you something-do you think you might have some new information on Flight 800?”

Well, there’s a loaded question. I replied, “If I did, you’d be the first to know.”

“That goes without saying.” He said nonchalantly, “You’ve probably heard this rumor about a videotape.”

“I have.”

“Many people have. But like all rumors, myths, and urban legends, it’s just that-a myth. Do you know how these things get started? I’ll tell you. People have a very fundamental need to explain the unexplainable. They need to believe in the existence of something-usually an inanimate object, such as the Holy Grail, or a secret codex-or in the case of a crime, an explosive piece of evidence that holds the key to a great unsolved mystery. Life should be that simple.”

“Sometimes it is.”

“So, people with fertile imaginations call into existence, let’s say, a stunning piece of evidence that has been lost or hidden, but which, if found, will reveal the ultimate truth. Many people begin to believe in this thing, whatever it is, because it brings comfort and hope. And soon the rumor of this thing becomes legend and myth.”

“I’m losing you.”

He leaned toward me and said, “There is no fucking videotape of a couple screwing on the beach with the plane exploding behind them.”

“No rocket, either?”

“No fucking rocket either.”

“I feel a great burden lifted from my shoulders. Why don’t we call off this Yemen and Tanzania thing?”

“Not a chance.”

“Well, then, if there’s nothing further, I need to call the travel office.”

Mr. Koenig remained seated, so I did, too. He said, “I know you’re very frustrated by the Khalil case, and we all share your frustration.”

“That’s good. But it’s still
my
frustration.”

“And, of course, you have a personal involvement in that case. You’re looking for closure.”

“Revenge.”

“Whatever. I know you were deeply affected by the deaths of the men and women you worked with on that case. Kate said you couldn’t seem to comprehend the reality of Ted Nash’s death.”

“Uh… what?”

“She said you were in denial. This is common when a close colleague dies-by denying it, you can deny that the same thing could happen to you. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Yeah… well… I…” really don’t give a shit.

“Kate and Ted had become close friends, as you probably know, but she’s managed to work through her grief.”

I was getting a little pissed off, and since none of this seemed relevant, I knew that Koenig was purposely pissing me off because I had pissed him off. A little payback from cool Jack. I said to him, “To be quite honest, I didn’t like Ted Nash one bit, and I got through the grieving process about two seconds after I heard he was dead. What point are you trying to make?”

A little smile came to his thin lips, then it was gone, and he said, “I guess I was digressing. The point is, when you return, we’ll reconstitute the special team and redouble our efforts on the Khalil case.”

“Okay. That’s the carrot. Right?”

“That’s the carrot. Yemen is the stick-up-your-ass. Figure it out, John.”

“I figured it out.”

“Stay on the team, play ball, and you’ll hit another home run. Leave the team, and you’ll never get up to bat again.”

“Good analogy. And you’re right. The Khalil case is more important to me than chasing down phantom evidence on the TWA case.” I added, because it was true, “I see why you’re in charge here. You’re very good.”

“I am. But it’s nice to hear it.”

I waited for him to tell me how great I was, but he didn’t. I asked him, “Doesn’t it bother you to ignore the possibility of that videotape?”

He stared at me a long time and said, “I’m not ignoring it. I’m telling you it doesn’t exist, but if it did, it’s none of your business. I hope that’s clear.”

“Very.”

He stood and walked me toward the door. He said, “You’ll enjoy working with the agents in Yemen. They’re a top-notch team.”

“I’m looking forward to contributing to the success of the mission. I’d like to be back by Labor Day.”

“The needs of the mission come first. But that’s possible.”

“Good. I teach classes at John Jay.”

“I know that. We don’t want to create any unnecessary hardships.”

“Just necessary hardships.”

“We’re all soldiers in the struggle against global terrorism.”

“And also the war against Islamic Jihad.”

He ignored my plain English and Arabic, and said, “Yemen is considered a hostile country. You need to be very careful. You have a great future ahead of you here, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Neither would Kate, I’m sure. You need to see the legal department about your will before you leave. And have a power of attorney executed in case of your disappearance or abduction.”

Jack Koenig and I stared at each other for a few long seconds. Finally, I said, “I wasn’t planning on any of those things happening.”

He informed me, “Make no mistake-this is a dangerous place. For instance, in December 1998, four kidnapped Western tourists were murdered by religious extremists.”

“Buddhists?”

“No, Muslims.”

“Ah. So, this is, like, a Muslim country.”

Mr. Koenig was clearly losing his patience with my affected stupidity, but he continued, “In the last ten years or so, over a hundred Westerners have been kidnapped in Yemen.”

“No kidding? What the hell were they doing there?”

“I don’t know… businesspeople, academics, tourists.”

“Right. But after the first forty or fifty went missing, didn’t the rest say, ‘Duh? Maybe I should go to Italy or something.’ You know?”

He looked at me for a few seconds, then said with forced patience, “Why they were in Yemen is not relevant. But FYI, there were no Americans among the abducted and missing. Mostly Europeans. They tend to be adventurous travelers.”

“Clueless is more like it.”

“Whatever. Part of your mission will be to gather information on these missing Westerners-and to take care that you don’t become one of them.”

Jack and I looked at each other, and it might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw another smile pass across his lips. I said, “I understand.”

“I know you do.”

We shook hands and I left.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Kate and I spent the rest of the day at 26 Federal Plaza, filling out paperwork, tidying up a few loose ends, and saying good-byes.

We went to the nurses’ office, where we got inoculations for diseases I’ve never heard of, and we each got a starter vial of malaria pills. The nurses wished us a safe and healthy trip, without a touch of irony.

As I was tidying up my desk, Harry Muller said to me, “I didn’t know you were volunteering for Yemen.”

“Neither did I.”

“You piss somebody off?”

“Koenig thinks I’m having an affair with his wife.”

“No shit?”

“She gets around, but keep that to yourself.”

“Yeah… and Kate’s going to Africa?”

“Tanzania. Embassy bombing.”

“Who did
she
piss off?”

“Koenig. He was coming on to her, and she threatened to file a harassment complaint.”

“This is all bullshit. Right?”

“Don’t start any rumors. Jack doesn’t like rumors.”

We shook hands, and Harry said, “Find those bastards who blew up the Cole.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

My last stop, without Kate, was the legal office upstairs where a young lady lawyer-about sixteen years old-gave me some papers to fill out and sign, including a power of attorney in the event I was abducted or missing. She explained, “If you’re dead, the executors named in your will have the power to settle your estate. But if you’re just missing, it’s like, a real pain in the ass. You know? I mean, Are you dead or alive? Who’s going to pay your rent and stuff?”

“Jack Koenig.”

“Who do you want to have the power of attorney? It doesn’t have to be an actual attorney. Just someone you trust to sign your checks and act on your behalf until you’re found, or presumed dead, or declared legally dead.”

“Who did Elvis Presley use?”

“How about your wife?”

“She’ll probably be in Africa.”

“I’m sure they’ll let her come home. Your wife. Okay?”

“You mean if I’m missing or kidnapped, my wife will have access to my checkbook, savings account, credit cards, and my salary?”

“That’s right.”

“What if I show up a year later and find out I’m broke?”

She laughed.

I’m not
that
used to being married, and this was a moment of truth. I asked the kid lawyer, “Who did my wife use?”

“She hasn’t been here yet.”

“I see… all right, my wife.”

She wrote Kate’s name on the document, I signed it, and it was notarized right there.

We slogged through some more crap, and she finally said, “That’s about it. Have a good trip. See me when you get back.”

“I’ll send you a postcard if I get kidnapped.”

Kate and I had decided not to walk out together, so we set a rendezvous for 6P.M. at Ecco. I got there first, and as always, the place was full of lawyers, mostly criminal defense attorneys who can only stand each other’s company when they’re drunk.

I ordered a double Dewar’s straight up and got off to a good start. There was a pretty woman at the end of the bar, and it took me a while to realize it was my ex with a new hairdo and color. Robin and I made eye contact, she smiled, raised her glass, and we toasted across the room. Fact is, we still get along on the rare occasions we speak or meet. She motioned me to join her, but I shook my head and ordered another double.