Echo of War by Grant Blackwood Read Free Book Online Page A

“You can go in, sir.”
    Through the looking glass again, Joe. He took a breath and pushed through the door.
    There were eight people milling about the conference room, most of whom McBride recognized: the bureau’s director, the attorney general, Collin Oliver, and Charlie Latham, who was sitting at the oval table nursing a cup of coffee. Latham gave him a shrugged smile that seemed to say, Sorry, buddy, then got up and walked over.
    â€œMorning, Joe. How’re you doing?”
    â€œThinking I should make a run for it. Why’re you here? Is there a terrorist angle I don’t—”
    â€œNope, but these days you never know. Harry Owens asked me to sit in. Plus, Jonathan Root isn’t exactly what you call an everyday citizen. You know everyone here?”
    â€œMost.”
    Latham nodded toward each attendee, whispering names as he went. “You probably recognize Len Barber.” He pointed to a bald, middle-aged man with a marathoner’s physique. “Unless he gets derailed in confirmation, he’ll land Sylvia Albrecht’s old spot at the CIA. Across from him is Carolyn Fitzpatrick.”
    McBride knew the name. Fitzpatrick was the president’s chief of staff, which, according to most Washington pundits, made her the third most powerful person in the capital. “Big fish,” McBride said.
    â€œUnavoidable. Root’s name still carries a lot of weight. Love him or hate him, everybody respected the man. You met him?”
    McBride nodded. “At the house.”
    â€œHow was he?”
    â€œJust like anybody else, Charlie. Scared, numb, frantic … a husband who’s worried his wife is dead. That kind of thing tends to be a great leveler.”
    â€œThat it does.”
    The FBI director walked up. “You’re Joe McBride.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHeard a lot of good things about you. I appreciate you coming. I’m sure you’re going to be of great help.”
    Coming from any other bureaucrat, McBride might have discounted the pep talk, but something in the director’s gaze told him the words were genuine. “Let’s hope so.”
    â€œI talked to Mr. Root this morning. He likes you—trusts you. That’s not something he passes out on a whim.” The director checked his watch, said, “Time to start,” then walked to the head of the conference table.
    The rest of the attendees took their seats. McBride found a spot next to Oliver, who leaned over and whispered, “Stick around after we wrap up.”
    McBride nodded.
    â€œOkay, folks,” the director began, “we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get started. Though I doubt it needs to be said, I’m going to say it anyway: The loop on this investigation is closed. Only those in this room and those you’ll find on the distribution list are cleared for what we’re going to discuss.
    â€œSpecial Agent Collin Oliver of the Baltimore field office is heading the investigation for us. He’s going to walk us through the details. Agent Oliver?”
    Oliver got up and walked to the podium, where he used a remote to dim the lights. A recessed projector beamed an image on the wall. It showed an aerial view of the peninsula on which the Root estate sat. The house, tennis court, and pool were surrounded by the flagstone wall and a windbreak of trees. On the seaward side were the creek and estuary that led into the Chesapeake proper.
    â€œLast night at approximately ten-twenty eastern time, four intruders entered the home of Jonathan and Amelia Root outside Royal Oak, on Maryland’s eastern shore. They incapacitated Mr. Root, bound and gagged him, and then left the residence with Ms. Root. According to Mr. Root, from start to finish the operation lasted less than four minutes. The intruders did not speak during the incident.
    â€œAt approximately eleven P.M., while walking his dog, a neighbor found a security