It was a very strange request from an inspector general, but Betsy saw no harm in playing along—they had only ten more days in which to persecute her. She cleared her throat, drained the last of the hot chocolate, sat up straight, and composed her thoughts for a moment before answering. “Saddam has shown a baffling level of stubbornness in Kuwait. It’s crazy for him to keep his forces there in the face of such enormous odds. No one can figure out why he hasn’t backed down—most people just shrug their shoulders and say he must be a madman.
“But I don’t think he’s a madman. I think that his strategy relies on the assumption that he’s holding aweapon of mass destruction in his hands. When we get down to crunch time, he can lob biological-warfare agents into Israel and force the Israelis to attack him. This will destroy the coalition that Messrs. Bush and Baker have worked so hard to build. The anti-Saddam forces will fall into disarray, and there’s a good chance he’ll be able to remain in Kuwait with no repercussions other than some economic sanctions.”
“And you think that the weapon in question is now within our borders.”
“I think that some very bad men were dispatched from Baghdad and inserted into this country shortly before Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait. They must have been sent to do something extremely important. They killed my brother, and Margaret Park-O’Neil, to cover their tracks. I think it is not unreasonable to suspect that these men may be producing biological weapons within our borders even as we speak, most likely somewhere in the vicinity of Forks County, Iowa.”
That was as simply and clearly as she could put it. Holmes seemed satisfied; he nodded deeply and turned off the tape machine with a satisfying clunk. He stood up and looked out the window—the snow was already melting under a bright winter sun. “You know,” he said, “at moments like this I always like to recall Bismarck’s statement that God protects drunks and the United States of America.”
Betsy felt invigorated and renewed. Holmes looked drained and exhausted, as if she had passed her burden of knowledge onto him and it was already weighing him down. He looked at her somberly and said, “I understand why you’re leaving government service. But it’s a shame. We need people like you.” He unplugged the tape recorder and began neatly coiling up its power cord. When this was finished, he put his pens and papers away into a big lawyer’s briefcase. Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, he took off his glasses and looked at her with the nicest, deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Please believe me when I tell you I’m so sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you,” Betsy said, and then, to her own surprise, dissolved into tears. She pulled a new packet of Kleenexes from her purse, put one to her face, and began to sob out loud. It was a strange combination of sadness over Kevin combined with relief that she wouldn’t be thrown into jail, that she could get out of town and begin her life again, that she’d told someone who had listened.
Holmes sat down. He didn’t know what to do. He patted her on the shoulder once or twice and waited.
“Boy oh boy,” Betsy finally said when it was over. “Sorry about that.”
“Quite all right.”
“I hope I’ve been of some help.”
Holmes winked at her. “It’s safe to say that you have,” he said. He opened the door and held it for her. Betsy walked into the darkness of the anteroom and nearly tripped over Ed Hennessey, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup the size of a paint bucket.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
“Christmas shopping,” Hennessey shot back, “which is what you should be doing.”
“I can take a hint. I’ll get lost,” Betsy said. She walked out through the slablike door, and as it closed behind her, she could hear Hennessey greeting Holmes and chaffing him mercilessly about his baldness.
Chapter Fifty
Most of Eastern Iowa University’s seniors wanted to graduate in spring, when they could do their walk in front of the regents and the president of the university, and some worthy speaker such as Dan Quayle or Mike Ditka would be there to talk and receive an honorary doctorate. Besides, the campus would look pretty and there would be plenty of parties.