Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

walking shoes trudged all around the monument. Children scampered over the granite stairs as if these hallowed grounds were a simple playground. Several teenagers chattered away on their cell phones, oblivious to the history and meaning of this place. Only when an elderly man shuffled along the edge of the setting in front of him did Stefan Taber finally feel reinvigorated.
    From this distance, Taber recognized the man’s military beret. The middle-aged woman who had been helping him climb each step knew enough to leave him alone when they reached the top. The man was able to overcome his perpetual stoop an inch at a time. Taber witnessed the pain etched in his face as he stuck out his chest and stared straight ahead out over the Reflecting Pool, toward the National World War II Memorial, the Washington Monument, and finally the Capitol. After a few moments of silent reflection, the man brought his shaky right hand up to his eyebrow and saluted. He tottered around and contemplated the Lincoln Memorial. He saluted it as well. Moments later, he nodded to the woman to begin their long journey down the stairs.
    Taber wanted to stop the man in the worst way. He wanted to ask him why he was saluting. He wanted to talk with this man awhile, soldier to soldier. Only a soldier could appreciate what Taber’s comrades had done underneath this very place. Only another soldier could truly realize the words that Taber lived by.
    Sometimes one must engage in evil to do the most good.
    What kind of evil had this man done? Taber knew that whatever sins a man waged in the throes of battle could never be forgiven in a house of God. They could only be cleansed at places like these, where the ideas and ideals for which they fought were tangibly cast in marble and stone.
    Taber watched the old soldier hobble away. He checked his watch. He thought about the other old man that helped put him on this mission in the first place. Colin Tanner. Taber had met the man and heard his story only weeks before he died. Colin “Knobby” Tanner. The nickname was the old man’s password for nearly everything in cyberspace. After Taber’s computer people hacked it, Taber had wondered what the silly word had meant. He only needed to Google “Colin Tanner” and “Knobby” for his the answer. Sydney Dumas had mentioned it years ago in an article for some French magazine about women in education. She had probably forgotten all about letting his nickname slip when she answered the question about people who had influenced her life. But Taber used that tidbit to his advantage. Simply knowing it had turned Sydney into a temporary ally, allowing Taber to escape certain capture at the Willard Hotel. Ah, the power of information.
    Taber checked his watch again. It was time. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a disposable cell phone, and dialed an international number.
    “Lars Karlsson,” the unsure voice blurted into Taber’s ear.
    “Lars, it’s Stefan.”
    There was a long silence. “Stefan, where the hell are you?”
    “Don’t worry about that.”
    “Everything has gone to shit. Do you know that Ben Speakes has been killed?”
    “Yes. I was the one who killed him.”
    “What?”
    “Lars, listen to me. I only called to tell you one thing. You treated me like a son, and I thank you for that. You made the mistake of letting your emotions blur your judgment. You should not have trusted me. But I thank you that you did.”
    “What are you talking about? What in the world is going on?” Lars snapped.
    Taber wasn’t listening. He stared at his watch as the seconds ticked away. Then he said, “I was never married, Lars. There was never any baby.”
    There was another long pause, as Lars undoubtedly computed this revelation. “You son of a—” Suddenly, Lars stopped in mid-sentence. Taber could hear him questioning someone in the room. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Then Taber heard the unmistakable thwoop , thwoop of two bullets being fired through a silencer. Two more, thwoop, thwoops finished the job. Taber ended the call still staring at his watch.
    Like clockwork.
    Taber tucked the phone back into his pocket and bundled the jacket tighter around his torso, trying to fight off the momentary chill that ebbed into his soul. He stared out past the memorials to the building where he hoped his comrades’ operation would be pulled off with similar precision in a matter of minutes.

Chapter 98
    The clanking behind him