The Rules Of Silence Part 15

"I can't do anything about what Luquin's done anywhere else, "t.i.tus said to Burden's back. "I'm sorry about it, I am, but I can't do anything about it."

Burden turned around. "But you can do something about it here? Is that it?"

"I should've gone to the FBI to begin with."

"And Luquin would be gone now, "Burden said, "and Thrush and Elster would've died anyway."

"But we'd have the FBI, "t.i.tus countered, "and the CIA, and the d.a.m.ned U.S. military, if we needed them, chasing his a.s.s. There's a lot of weight there, Garcia. What have you got chasing him?"

"And others would've died, too, "Burden went on, "just like Luquin promised, because he would've been furious at you for having gone to the FBI and having cost him his d.a.m.n ransom money. On top of that, he would've gone underground, and it would take us another ten years to get our hands on him again, and all the while he would've gone on devastating G.o.d knows how many more lives. "He paused. "That's what you would've accomplished, t.i.tus."

The two men looked at each other.

"You do recognize that, t.i.tus? You do understand that, don't you?"

"Let me tell you what I understand, Garcia. I understand that it was because of decisions that I made that Charlie and Carla died. I understand that I can't live with any more of those kinds of deaths. I can't do anything about things that I don't understand. I'm through working off the books. I want this information to go to the FBI. Now. I want Luquin stopped. Now."

Burden came back over in front of t.i.tus and Rita, addressing them both.

"Get this straight, "he said, sounding nearly callous now, "Charlie Thrush and Carla Elster were dead from the moment Cayetano Luquin stepped onto your veranda over there two days ago. They were dead, regardless of what you did, and that's just the brutal reality of it. I think I said as much to you, didn't I? In San Miguel. I said, One or two are already as good as dead. I said Luquin would have to do this because he thinks that's the only way you'll really be able to grasp the reality of what's happening to you."

He paused but didn't move, didn't even blink.

"Luquin travels with violence and misery. He's decided to travel here. Now, you can blame me for that if you want to, but it doesn't make you right. And you can feel guilty about that if you want to, but since you didn't have anything to do with it, it seems a little irrational for you to feel responsible for it. It's just wrong to feel that way, and it doesn't accomplish anything. And, frankly, it smacks of self-indulgence."

This last remark made t.i.tus furious, but in the same instant he could see it. He hadn't forgotten what he'd learned about Luquin, but neither had he stopped to put his own experience into perspective in light of those other horrible stories.

Burden moved away from t.i.tus again. Though he seemed self-possessed, his few movements were actually his version of nervous pacing. t.i.tus remembered him walking through the pools of light in his study as he tried to put his thoughts together. Now Burden stopped near one of the stone pillars that supported the high ceiling.

"You've got to stop this ambivalence, t.i.tus. There's no time for it. You've got to understand how thin the margin for success is here even if we work closely together. We can't fight each other and win this thing."

He had hardly finished his last word when Rita spoke up.

"I want to know where we are, "she said. "If you're so sure that Luquin would've gotten away if we'd gone to the FBI because they're too slow and clumsy, now that you've got all this information that your computer people are processing, why don't you take it to the FBI like t.i.tus says, and make sure that they nail this maniac? And when you say 'winning this thing,' what do you mean, exactly?"

Burden's eyes moved between t.i.tus and Rita. His expression was stoic, but he was clearly trying to make a decision. He shifted his weight on his feet, still leaning on the pillar. He looked over at Herrin and Cline, who were doing their best to appear oblivious to what was going on, as if they were deaf.

"Mark, "Burden said, "could we have some time alone here?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, "Herrin said, and he and Cline got up and walked out of the guest house without another word.

As soon as they had shut the door behind them, Burden came back over. He sat on the sofa, on the front edge of it, his forearms on his knees, his fingers loosely laced.

"The FBI doesn't want this d.a.m.n information, "he said. "They want me to have it. And they don't want to know what I do with it."

Chapter 33.

t.i.tus and Rita gaped at Burden, half-afraid of what they were going to hear.

"The only reason I'm going to tell you what you're about to hear is because I've got to have your cooperation, and I don't think you're going to give it to me unless you know. But, hear me on this: There's a price for knowing what I'm getting ready to tell you. You've got to go to your graves with this. If you don't, it won't matter who you are or how righteous you think your claims are, it's not going to go well for you."

"You ought to be able to give a threat more teeth than that, "t.i.tus said.

"I can, but that's not a threat. It's a matter of counsel, a cautionary word."

"I'm not promising a d.a.m.n thing, "t.i.tus said.

"I didn't think you would. You're in a h.e.l.l of a situation, and at this point in the game you deserve as much of an explanation as I can give you. I'm just telling you, the knowledge doesn't come free. There's a price for it. You'll have to make some tough choices about how you use it."

Burden's soft voice seemed to grow even softer as he spoke. He paused, considering what he was about to say next, and when he began again, t.i.tus found himself leaning forward in his armchair, trying to hear him more clearly.

"There's a list, "Burden said, "and Luquin's name is on it. It's a short list, and was drawn up by a select committee of ranking members from each of the branches of the U.S. intelligence community. This list is not shared with the intelligence agencies of any other nations, not even our closest allies. The individuals on this list are considered to be serious threats to the U.S.-specifically to the U.S., without regard to any other nation. The executive branch has issued a secret finding ordering a consent to silence, targeting these people for a.s.sa.s.sination."

t.i.tus felt Rita stiffen as she sat beside him on the arm of his chair.

"There's another list. A shorter one. These individuals have been sanctioned to carry out the consent to silence. My name is on that list.

"Listen to me carefully: You've been sucked into something here that you can't fathom. It's more complex than you're able to imagine."

t.i.tus was stunned. "How ... how could these men be so much of a threat ... you're talking ... a.s.sa.s.sination?"

"Before bin Laden we didn't think it was possible, either, "Burden said. "These men are known to us. So was bin Laden. These men have connections that cross political, ideological, criminal, and national boundaries. So did bin Laden. It's their ability to synthesize these connections, and to focus them on a target on a scale never seen before, that has earned these individuals a place on the list. If such a thing had been imaginable before bin Laden, his name would've been on the list, too. As it's turned out, he's the one who's made us see the necessity for even having such a list. And for seeking such a resolution."

"Jesus Christ, "t.i.tus said. Suddenly everything tilted. His perspective shifted, trying to accommodate another dimension. "These men ... on the list, they're ... all over the world?"

"That's right. Every speck of intelligence about these men is funneled into the operations office of a ... certain task force. And eventually it comes to me, or one of my colleagues. That's the end of it as far as anyone in intelligence is concerned. I'm not, strictly speaking, an intelligence officer. In fact, I'm not anything. Or, more accurately, I'm whatever I need to be to get the job done."

"Why"-Rita was shaking her head in disbelief-"can't they just deal with these people in a straightforward way, through the legal system? Or the military? Or ..."

"Consider this, "Burden said. "Think of the scale of commitment that's been brought to bear on the pursuit of bin Laden and al-Qaeda, the manpower, military power, intelligence dedication, financial expenditure, legal wrangling, media attention, national preoccupation, time. Multiply that by ten ... or more."

"But these men haven't done what bin Laden did, "Rita argued.

"Neither had bin Laden before he did it. But we did know that he was some kind of threat, on some level, possibly huge. Our problem was that we had a failure of imagination. And it cost us thousands of lives and billions of dollars, and we're not through yet. Believe me, these men have every bit as much potential to a.s.sault this country as bin Laden did. Some of them have even more. They wouldn't do it the way he did it. They know we're watching for that. But they'll come up with something different.

"You need to understand, there's no failure of imagination in their minds. Look at what Luquin has come up with. And what he's doing to you isn't even his objective. It's just something he's doing to get his hands around a huge sum of money on his way to something bigger. He's financing something, and we don't know what the h.e.l.l it is. But we're worried about it."

Burden looked down at the floor, his hands still clasped, forearms on his knees. His face, though impa.s.sive, nevertheless conveyed the strain he must have felt as time pressed in upon him.

"This is ... hard to believe, "Rita said.

Burden looked up. "Is it as hard to believe as Charlie Thrush's death? Or what that deputy told you just an hour ago?"

t.i.tus said, "How do we know we can believe this?"

Then he saw something in Burden's face, an inkling, really, a slight intimation, of a hard pa.s.sion stripped of the civility and of the world that had been ripped away from t.i.tus three nights before. In the flick of an instant he glimpsed that unmentionable thing that a cultivated society allows to live at its core as long as it doesn't step into the full light, as long as it is silent and protects us from those unspeakable things that live even deeper in the darkness than it does.

"You want all of your questions answered? "Burden asked. "Listen to me, I've spent eighteen years in this business, and I've had to make a h.e.l.l of a lot of morally confusing decisions. But they've never given me all the answers. Ever. Only G.o.d gets all the answers."

Burden simply looked at them, and t.i.tus could feel him trying to understand how they were taking this. Then Burden said: "I'm not going to say we're engaged in a war here. It's not that easy to define, and it oversimplifies what we're facing. But we do have enemies who threaten us, who have to be engaged in a defensive struggle. And that struggle shares in some of war's demons: People die, people make sacrifices, make hard decisions, do hard things. And if we survive, we have to live with what we saw and what we did, and what we allowed others to do on our behalf. It's the price we pay ... even if we didn't have any choice in the matter at all."

t.i.tus glanced at Rita, and he could clearly see the strain in her face. This had blindsided her, caught her off guard even more than it had t.i.tus.

"We can't send this struggle away to be dealt with elsewhere by other people, "Burden went on. "When something like this comes to your doorstep, you have to deal with it on your doorstep. And you have to deal with the moral decisions that killing always involves. Life doesn't give us clarity of foresight. We work with what we've got. It's a human dilemma."

Before t.i.tus could speak, Rita stood from where she had been sitting beside him on the arm of his chair. He watched her as if he were seeing her anew, loving her profile, loving the way her thick, b.u.t.tery hair was gathered hastily behind her neck, always so practical. She put both hands on her hips, wrists up, and looked at both men.

"All of this is just so ridiculously horrific, isn't it, "she said. "I can't stop thinking of Louise, and of Carla's poor girls. Going to sleep at night will never be the same again for any of them."

t.i.tus didn't know what she was going to say, but he knew in his gut where she was going with it.

"Can you possibly imagine what those two ... deaths must've been like, "she said, looking at t.i.tus now. "I have to say I've thought of it. In spite of my repulsion at the idea of it, I've been drawn to thinking of it. Can we possibly imagine the ... odd ... horror of their last moments?" Pause. "What are we to think of that?"

She put her hands together and pressed her forefingers to her lips as she thought a moment. Then she wiped back a few floating tendrils from her temples.

"We're not bad people, t.i.tus. If we do this, then we do it, and we don't look back. I know that I've been dragging my feet, and that's made it hard for both of you. But if what he's telling us is the truth ... we don't have any choice in this. This really is bigger than us, larger than our own selfinterests, larger than our fears."

She turned and focused on Burden. "We don't know what ... we're doing here. We're caught in a terrible place. If t.i.tus is willing to trust you on this, then I will, too. "She paused. "But so help me G.o.d, if you turn out not to be who you say you are, as wild as this sounds, I'll see to it that you regret what you're doing to us."

Rita and Burden stared at each other in silence. It was a moment that at once cleared the air and then suddenly filled it again with new tensions.

t.i.tus stood up. "Let's just get the h.e.l.l on with it, "he said.

Burden looked up at him. "t.i.tus, none of this ever happened. This is your own consent to silence."

"Understood, "t.i.tus said. Rita swallowed and nodded.

Burden hesitated, then decided not to belabor it.

"Okay, then, "he said, "that's settled. Now, first thing: It's time you two had a conversation in your bedroom for the benefit of the listening devices we left active in there. t.i.tus, we need for Luquin to believe that he's achieved the effect he was wanting to achieve with you by keeping the pressure on you. This is especially true since you p.i.s.sed him off last night.

"You need to tell Rita that after learning of Carla's death, you want to get this ordeal over with as quickly as possible. To prevent any more deaths, you're going to give Luquin all of the money he's asking for. Forget the delayed releases, you say. You're going to start putting through big chunks of his ransom demand to Cavatino as quickly as your attorney can arrange it with your banker and your broker. Tomorrow. Or the next day. As soon as possible."

"But what if I can't deliver on that?"

"All you're saying is that you're going to speed up the original schedule he'd given you. "Burden checked his watch. "That conversation needs to happen within the hour. One last thing, "he said, looking at t.i.tus. "In your meeting with Luquin last night, you gave him a pretty hard time. That took guts. But in any other circ.u.mstances, that would've gotten you killed. And that confrontational stance has a pretty stiff downside to it.

"It's my fault, "he added quickly. "I should've covered this with you, but it got past me. The fact is, p.i.s.sing him off wasn't what we wanted to do. The upshot of the meeting should've been that you were intimidated by your confrontation with him. He needed to have walked away from there thinking that he had you completely under his control. But in light of the effect you had on him, I think we ought to bring in some bodyguards to stay here with Rita. You may have to leave again. She may need company."

Neither t.i.tus nor Rita said anything for a moment. They were both having the same thought, but Rita came out with it first.

"But ... isn't that ... wouldn't that be the same thing as t.i.tus removing the surveillance? When they see bodyguards coming in here ... won't that give Luquin another excuse to kill someone else?"

She was looking at Burden, but it was t.i.tus who spoke up.

"Do it, "he said to Burden. "And do it fast."

Chapter 34.

He unzipped his pants, moved over a few steps, and p.i.s.sed at an angle against the rock retaining wall so that it didn't make any sound. A bright green anole lizard scuttled away up the set-back rows of stones to get away from the urine.

As he relieved himself, he took stock of his situation. Bluejays complained incessantly somewhere in the peach trees. Cicadas hymned loudly in every direction, praising the rising heat. Nothing unusual. He glanced back over his left shoulder toward the guest house. The two guys who had come out half an hour earlier were still sitting on the veranda. The Cains were still inside the guest house. Whatever the h.e.l.l that was all about.

He shook himself off and zipped his trousers again. Turning back to the camera, he leaned his full body against the stones of the retaining wall. They were set back row upon row from his feet to his chin, so that all he had to do was lean forward against them in an upright reclining position, as if it had been designed for him to spy from. He lowered his head to the camera, scanning the telephoto lens back and forth. No. Just the two guys.

That morning he had watched as the woman came outside, early, in her gown. She had gone out to the fountain and looked in, then she had walked over to the wall that separated the courtyard from the pool and looked at some flowers there. It was there, as she'd turned to go back to the veranda, that the sun had fallen on her across the top of the stone wall, and in an instant the gown went clear, as if it had turned to a thin sheet of transparent water. Oh, s.h.i.t.

It was good for six or eight strides of her long legs, and then the thing went opaque again as the poolhouse blocked the sun. But he had gotten off two snaps, and when nothing was happening he went back to them on the camera's screen. He was going to save those.

Having thought of it, he double-checked the laptop, which was balanced on the retaining wall's top row of stones. The thing was powered up, ready to send his next series of pictures.

Suddenly the guest house door opened, and the two guys on the veranda stood, looking toward it. The problem with his position-and there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how much he moved up and down the retaining wall-was that he couldn't get a clear shot of the door itself. The allee of trees obscured it so that all he could see was the bottom half of the people who came and went, until they got to the veranda.

But now he saw three sets of legs. The woman, her husband, and another. He needed a shot of the third person. He didn't know there had been another person in there. The guy had to have arrived after dark.

Sweat trickled out through the hair at his temples and slid down the side of his face. His hands were sticky with it, and the case of the camera grew slick. Straining through the viewfinder, he concentrated on the legs of the people as they moved to the front of the allee, toward the veranda. He blinked away the sweat gathering in his eyebrows. d.a.m.n it.

Just before the three of them emerged onto the veranda, the unidentified man stopped. They talked some more, and then the guy left the Cains and headed down the allee alone.

He had to make a quick decision since the allee descended in his direction and came to within twelve meters of where he was standing. He shoved the computer into the gra.s.s-no time to put it away-grabbed the camera, and fell back into the orchard, disappearing into a stand of wild gra.s.s. Turning immediately, he faced the allee with a view through a row of peach trees.

The guy walked the length of the allee, and he could hear him talking, using his cell phone. Still he couldn't get a clear shot with the camera. At the end of the allee the guy turned and went down behind the orchard toward the woods. Where the h.e.l.l was he going?

Risking discovery, he left the gra.s.s and ran, bent over in a crouch along the end of the rows of peach trees, past a toolshed. Breathing heavily and thankful that the guy was on the phone, which would distract his hearing, he came to the end of the last row of trees and dropped to his knees behind a cedarpost woodpile. He turned to the end of the allee where he expected the guy to have emerged and raised his camera. But he was nowhere in sight. Loza frantically scanned the edge of the dense woods that led down the hillside to Cielo Canyon Road below the property.

At the last possible moment he saw the guy entering the woods. He squeezed off a few shots, not sure what he was getting.

s.h.i.t. This was suspicious. Not good. Macias wasn't going to like this.

Chapter 35.