Page 38 of Safe Enough

I said, “You interested in a deal?”

“What kind?”

“You want to buy a friend in a high place?”

“How high?”

“Very high.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere useful to your government.”

“Terms?”

“You let us get the job done first.”

“Who gets killed?”

“Nobody. The Healys get a new house. That’s all.”

“What do you get?”

“Paid. But your new friend in the very high place gets peace of mind. For which he’ll be suitably grateful, I’m sure.”

“Tell me more.”

“First I need to check you have your head on straight. This is not the kind of thing where you make a bunch of calls and get other people involved. This is the kind of thing where you let us do our work, and then when we’re gone, you announce your new relationship as a personal coup. Or not. Maybe you’ll want to keep the guy in your vest pocket.”

“How many laws are you going to break?”

“None at all. We’re going to buy a house. Happens every day.”

“Because there’s something in it, right? What did Gerald McCann leave behind?”

“You got to agree to what I said before. You got to at least nod your head. I have to be able to trust you.”

“Okay, I agree,” the guy said. “But I’m sticking with you all the way. We’re a threesome now. Until you’re done. Every minute. Until I wave you off at the airport.”

“No, come with us,” I said. “You can meet your new friend. At least shake hands with him. Then come back. Vest pocket or not, you’ll feel better that way.”

He fell for it, like I knew he would. I mean, why not? Security services love a personal coup. They love their vest pockets. They love to run people. They love to be the guy. He said, “Deal. So what’s the story?”

“Once upon a time there was a young officer in the US Army. A bit of a hothead, with certain sympathies. With a certain job, at a certain time. He sold some obsolete weapons.”

“To Gerald McCann?”

I nodded. “Who as far as we know never used them. Who we believe buried them under his living room floor. Meanwhile, our young officer grew up and got promoted and went into a whole different line of work. Now he wants the trail cleaned up.”

“You want to buy the house so you can dig up the floor?”

I nodded again. “Can’t break in and do it. Too noisy. The floors are concrete. We’re going to need jackhammers. Neighbors need to think we’re repairing the drains or something.”

“These weapons are still traceable?”

“Weapon, singular, to be honest with you. Which I’m prepared to be, in a spot like this. Still traceable, yes. And extremely embarrassing, if it comes to light.”

“Did Mrs. Healy believe you about Edmund Wall?”

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