“YOU WANT TO EXPLAIN what you meant?”
Decker had climbed out of Brown’s car and headed into the WFO. Jamison had stayed seated. When Decker looked back at her, she waved him on. He glanced at Brown and then walked to the entrance and disappeared inside.
Brown eyed Jamison in the rearview. “I thought I was pretty clear.”
“Clear as mud. Right and wrong. You didn’t say what about.”
“You want to do this now?”
“We can keep putting it off and the resentment will continue to build and maybe we get to a point where nothing the other says will matter.”
Brown put the car in park, undid her seat belt, and turned to look at Jamison.
“You were right that I screwed up. But you were wrong that I don’t care. I care what Decker thinks about me. And I care about Melvin, even though I haven’t known him very long. I got a good vibe from him right away. We talked. A lot. He thinks the world of you and Decker. I would never hurt Melvin, and I know he would never hurt me. He’s not that kind of a guy. Believe me, I know the kind that would. I’ve dated them.”
“I have too,” conceded Jamison. “Look, I was pretty rough on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“I’m used to things not being fair. My father was a good guy and a great soldier. He did wonderful things at DIA. But he wanted a son, not a daughter. But I was all he had. He didn’t discourage me from joining the ranks, but it wasn’t like he encouraged me either. Maybe he didn’t care one way or another. But it still felt like someone had stuck a shiv between my ribs when I told him I’d joined DIA and all he could say was, ‘Are you sure you want to do that, because isn’t it time you settle down and start a family?’ I’d busted my ass to serve at the same agency he had. And that’s all he could say?”
“I bet that hurt like hell.”
Brown shrugged. “Things are better gender-wise, sure, but they’re far from perfect. Most guys I meet, when they find out what I do, they’re either scared off or they try to prove they’re more of a badass than I am. So that means I don’t have many second dates. And at work, it’s mostly guys wondering why I’m there taking a slot that a man should have.”
“Same with me,” said Jamison. “I’m surrounded by guys all day. And then there’s Decker.”
“He’s a guy.”
“But he’s not really a guy. He’s…well, he’s Decker.”
Brown smiled and then laughed. “Somehow, I know exactly what you mean. And Melvin is different too. He’s special, Alex. He wasn’t intimidated by me at all. He…well, he’s secure enough in his own skin to not be jealous of what I do.”
“I agree with you that Melvin is very special. And he deserves someone special. And maybe that someone is you.”
Brown looked taken aback by this but said, “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Are we good?” asked Jamison.
“I think we’re as good as we’re ever going to be.” She paused. “I heard what happened. That you saved Decker’s life.”
Jamison glanced down at her waist, where she carried her gun.
Brown said, “It’s not easy, Alex. And it never gets any easier.”
“It’s changed me, Harper. I’m never going to be the same. I killed someone.”
“You didn’t change. Just a little part of you did. There’s a big difference.”
“But you can move forward, at some point?”
“You will move forward, Alex. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, because it won’t. But it will happen.”
Jamison gave her an appreciative smile, climbed out of the car, and walked into the WFO. Decker was waiting for her just inside the doors. He scrutinized her face. “No bruises, good. Any wounds I can’t see?”
“We actually got along very well. I have a whole different opinion of Agent Brown now.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
“And you came up again.”
“How so?”
“We were just appreciating the fact that you were sort of one of the girls.”
Decker eyed her quizzically for a moment. “I think I’m just going to let that one pass.”
They cleared security and rode the elevator up to their floor. Decker had phoned ahead and Bogart met them as they were walking down the hall.
“Got something,” he said. He led them into a room off the main hall. Milligan was already there seated at a computer.
Bogart turned off the lights and nodded to Milligan, who hit some keys and a screen affixed to the far wall came to life.
“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” said Bogart. “We found some things I don’t think J. K. Rowling intended to be in there.”
The three sat down and Bogart said, “Dial it up, Todd.”
Milligan hit some more keys and a page from the book showed up on the screen.
“I don’t see anything,” said Jamison.
“Wait a minute.”
Milligan hit some more keys and suddenly various letters on the page started to shimmer.
“They’re fluorescing,” exclaimed Jamison.
“Yes. We had to try a lot of different interactive light sources, but we found one that worked.”
“But they’re different colors,” said Jamison. “The letters are different colors.”
“We think we figured that out. If they used this book over a long term, they would have to send separate messages. The different colors are a way for the receiver to know that. The blue you see is one message. The red another. We don’t know which is more recent, but we think that’s how it works.”
“But what does it say?” asked Decker.
“It’s not that simple. The letters don’t add up to anything that makes sense. Our code breakers are looking at it and we’ve asked for assistance from both NSA and DIA. It might take a while, but at least we know they were passing coded messages this way.”
“Between Berkshire and Jenkins,” said Decker.
“Right. She obtained the secrets, encoded them here, and then he used a special light to reveal the letters, copied them down, and decoded it. Then he would send it up the line to whoever he’s working for.”
“Pretty clever to use a hospice that way,” said Decker.
“You mean pretty cruel,” added Jamison.
Bogart said, “This way Jenkins and Berkshire would never even have to come into contact. They just used the book.”
“You think they used this method to communicate the secrets that Dabney stole?” asked Jamison.
“I don’t know for certain, but it’s a pretty safe bet they did.”
“And yet Dabney murdered Berkshire. Why?”
“We do keep coming back to that,” agreed Bogart. “Remorse for what he’d done?”
“But we can’t show that Dabney and Berkshire actually even met,” said Decker.
“Well, they could have met at a secret location. Maybe the old house in the woods?”
Decker said, “So he sells her the secrets. The amount he thinks is ten million, but it’s actually a lot less than that. He doesn’t even see the money transferred. He knows it went, though, because his daughter and her family are still alive. Then he gets remorse, like you said, and kills Berkshire and then himself. But why out in the open like that? And why would Berkshire have agreed to meet with him near the Hoover Building? That was probably the last place she would want to go. I mean, wouldn’t she have maybe smelled a setup?”
“Maybe not,” rejoined Bogart. “I mean, he’d just done a deal with the woman. She might have thought he wanted to do another.”
“A spy who uses a subterfuge like a book at a hospice so she doesn’t even have to meet another spy she’s been working with for a long time decides to do a face-to-face with a guy she’s maybe done one act of espionage with near the headquarters of the American agency tasked with catching spies?” He looked at Bogart. “Really, how much sense does that make?”
“Not much,” conceded Bogart. “But it happened.”
“No, maybe it didn’t,” replied Decker.