he asks, “Eisley lived alone, right?”
Augie arrives in the doorway of the kitchen and responds, “Yes, sir, he was widowed. Why?”
Parker points to the sink and Augie sees the dishes.
“Well, maybe he wasn’t very clean,” Augie suggests.
Parker looks skeptically at Augie, recognizing that he is trying to play devil’s advocate.
“Augie,” Parker mockingly scolds, “Eisley was a Navy man and ex-intelligence officer. That just screams ‘neat freak.’
“Besides,” the general motions around, “look at the rest of the house.”
Augie has to admit the place is practically spotless except for the dishes in the sink.
“Eisley had company tonight,” Parker says confidently.
The general continues to look around with his keen eye. He stops and bends down near the doorway they entered through. He moves his hand over something and calls back, “Come look at this, Augie.”
Augie moves towards the general and peers over his shoulder. He sees what appears to be a mini-sensor along the floorboard, tucked inconspicuously beneath a cabinet. The sensor rests directly inside the back door, and would instantly alert Eisley if an intruder has entered his home.
“It’s disabled,” Parker says, matter-of-factly.
Parker continues to look around, muttering under his breath, “He did not have time to turn it on . . .”
Augie waits a moment, allowing the general time to reason it out, as he tends to do.
“He left in a hurry,” Parker states, more to himself than to Augie.
The general stands up and exits the kitchen. Augie follows him, watching the general as he moves into the living room, still mulling something over as he paces back and forth. The general stops and stares at an end table. Parker moves toward it and picks up a cordless phone from the table. He glances back at Augie.
With a shrug, he says casually, “When all else fails.”
Parker turns on the cordless phone and hits the “REDIAL” button, patiently waiting, as if he is calling for a pizza.
The phone rings once, twice, and before the third ring, a gruff voice on the other end answers.
“Yes?”
Parker’s voice catches in his throat. He had not actually anticipated anyone answering, and when someone did, he realized he had not thought of what to say. At the same time, adding to his hesitancy, something clicked in his mind when the man on the other end answered, a recognition of sorts, something from a long time ago.
The voice . . . he had heard the voice before.
But where?
The voice says impatiently, “Hello?”
As authoritatively as he can muster, Parker responds, “Who is this?”
He hopes he can bully a quick answer from the man on the other end of the line.
It does not work. There is a sudden click, and then Parker hears a dial tone. The mystery guest hung up.
Augie looks at him expectantly when Parker suddenly realizes who the voice of the man on the other end of the line belongs to.
“Jesus Christ, Augie, it sounded like . . . Moriah,” Parker says breathlessly.
Augie gives the general a bewildered look, and then inquires, “You mean Joshua Moriah’s son?”
Parker nods, “The same.”
“When is the last time you saw him, let alone spoke to him?” Augie asks.
Parker considers this for a moment before responding, “It must have been not long after his father passed away.”
“That was ten, fifteen years ago. Are you sure, sir?” Augie asks skeptically.
“Augie,” Parker says, “I never forget a face or a voice. It was him. I’m almost sure it was him.”
“Almost sure, sir? I thought he dropped out of sight,” Augie notes. “I mean, there were rumors and stories here and there, but nothing substantiated.”
“I’ve heard all the rumors before, Augie. His father was a patriot. Too much of a patriot if you know what I mean,” Parker adds.
That is the second time the general has said that in the last few hours, Augie thinks. The first time was in reference to Colonel Fizer.
Augie shakes his head, “No, sir, not particularly.”
Parker glances at the men in the other room and says quietly, “Let’s just say Joshua might have been grooming his son to take his place after he was gone.”
Augie also glances at the other men, a look of confusion spreading across his face.
“I’ll explain later,” Parker says dismissively, immediately ending the discussion.
Instantly, all the mystery and intrigue disappear from his features and he springs into action.
He tosses the phone to Augie and asks, “Can you get Waltman to trace that number and find out where he’s at?”
Waltman is a contact at the Department of Justice that Augie was kind enough to inform the general about. Occasionally, Waltman had been willing to perform the odd favor for Augie when called upon, and this would definitely be one of those situations.
Augie usually does not second-guess the general, ever, but it seems like the general is reaching a bit on this one, grasping at something that is not there.
“Sir, pardon for asking, but you want me to have Waltman try to trace the number for a person whose voice you heard for ten seconds? It just feels like we’re jumping the gun here. I mean, it could be the number of Eisley’s-”
“Augie,” Parker interrupts, “we’re wasting valuable time. He hung up on me, so he is obviously suspicious now. He could dump the phone and just like that, there goes what could be a vital lead.
“Listen, Augie,” Parker continues, his eyes boring into Augie’s, “we’re at the home of a man who lives right down the street from the site of a terrorist attack, an ex-intelligence officer whose nephew was last seen on duty at Evans. Now I just heard the voice of a man who I have not seen or talked to in over a decade, whose father knew more secrets concerning our government than both of us could possibly fathom, and you think it might be a coincidence?”
The general’s tone hardens and his eyes seem to grow dark, “There are no coincidences in this business, Lieutenant Colonel Hermann, you and I both know that. Now I am going to get to the bottom of this, but I need you to keep digging along with me.
“Make it happen,” Parker
