Mayes whistled. “Hanley is going to fight that tooth and nail.”
“Come up with something. Unfit for duty. Sketchy psych eval. Doctored blood work. Whatever. Hanley won’t be able to contest a positive drug screen.”
The intercom buzzed again, and Carmichael’s secretary said, “Sir, you have an urgent call from Leland Babbitt.”
Carmichael rolled his eyes. “I forgot. That bastard e-mailed me on Saturday, basically demanded I meet him this morning.”
Mayes said, “I don’t want you leaving the building again unless it’s to go to a safe house.”
Carmichael chuckled without smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed the button for his secretary. “Put him through.”
20
Court Gentry stood tucked into the dense foliage of the Smithsonian’s butterfly sanctuary, watching Leland Babbitt from a distance of one hundred feet.
His high hopes for getting his eyes on Denny Carmichael took their first hit of the day when he noticed Babbitt continually checking his watch. Then he began nervously pacing back and forth, and soon it became clear that whoever Babbitt was here to meet was late.
At eight fifteen Babbitt pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Court wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation; his high-powered earpiece was picking up every bird chirp and passing vehicle so he turned it off, and instead he just stood there in the bushes, looking on.
—
Leland Babbitt continued pacing, waiting for Carmichael to come on the phone. When he finally did, Babbitt looked up and down the path before speaking quickly and quietly, spending no time on pleasantries. “It’s a quarter after eight, Denny. You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”
Denny Carmichael replied, “I didn’t agree to come at all. I just said I’d think about it.”
“Oh, come on, Denny. We need a face-to-face.”
“No, we don’t. You and I won’t be doing any face-to-face meetings any time soon. I don’t want you at Langley, of course, and I sure as hell don’t want to set foot at Townsend in light of all the exposure you’ve had in the past two weeks.”
Babbitt’s voice rose and fell with desperation. “I get that. That’s why I proposed off-site. A neutral location. You and me. We can put this to bed and move forward.”
Carmichael said, “Lee. Let’s give it the time it needs to die down.”
Babbitt gritted his teeth. His fleshy jowls rolled with the movement. “You aren’t going to leave me to swing in the wind on this.”
“For now, Lee, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“You pulled our access to classified data. How the fuck are we supposed to stay in business?”
“I have no doubt that Townsend will be able to find lucrative security contracts in the commercial sector.”
“We’re American patriots! We’re not fucking mall cops!”
Carmichael did not respond.
After taking a moment to calm himself, Babbitt said, “You aren’t the only game in town, you know.”
“Was that some sort of a threat?”
“It is what it is.”
Carmichael growled, “Fuck you, Babbitt.”
“No, Denny, fuck you. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll do just that right now.”
Lee Babbitt hung up the phone, stood up from the bench, and reached back like he was going to throw the phone into the trees. But he stopped himself, slipped it back in his pocket, and began walking up the path towards the National Mall.
—
Babbitt walked back out onto the road running alongside the National Mall with Gentry trailing two hundred feet behind, and while the butterfly sanctuary had been nearly empty, the road and the mall were chock-full of commuters, morning walkers and joggers, patrolling cops, and tourists.
Court wouldn’t be pulling his gun on anyone right here, right now.
Babbitt walked right past his car in the lot at the reflecting pool and continued on.
Court stopped under a cherry tree, not yet in bloom, and he let Babbitt go. To Court’s surprise, the big man headed straight towards the Capitol building.
Softly, Court said, “What the hell are you doing now?”
Babbitt disappeared heading into the East Portico, and Gentry headed south, back in the direction of his car.
As he walked he took his hand off the small Ruger pistol he carried in the left-hand pocket of his jacket, and he used the same hand to pull his baseball cap down lower over his eyes. His right hand remained in his pants pocket, which kept his sore arm from swinging while he walked.