King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

“How’re the Wizards doing?” asked Grant.

“Better. Nets drilled us last time. Hopefully, we can return the favor tonight.”

Marshall handed Grant a beer. Grant popped it and took a swig before sitting down in the recliner and studying his father-in-law.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Been better,” said Marshall.

“Work?”

Marshall sat back and turned his attention from the ball game to Grant.

“I’ve never stopped missing Maggie,” he said, speaking about his late wife. “But this is the first time I’m also glad she’s not around to see this.”

Grant put the beer down. “When we last spoke I didn’t take away from your comments that it was that bad.”

“Well, we were at the Pentagon. One has to watch what is said there.”

“So it’s worse?”

Marshall sighed, drained his beer, and put the empty bottle down. “It’s bad, Alan. I signed off on this mission. I had my doubts, but the orders from the top were crystal clear. It was going to happen, with my rubber stamp or without.”

“So why would the blame fall to you then?”

“You obviously don’t understand how government, and the DoD in particular, works.”

“I was in the military.”

“But never in the military bureaucracy. It has its own rules, and many of them don’t make sense. But one you can count on is that when the civilian leadership screws up a matter connected to the military, folks in uniform are going to be left holding a big part of the blame.”

“But you’re not technically in uniform.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got the office and the title and the ball weighs about one ton and is heading right for me. Worst case I’m squashed. Best case I’m severely wounded.”

“So what outcome do you really see?”

“I’ll spend my remaining days testifying in front of Congress. If I’m lucky I’m not indicted. If I’m not lucky we might be talking prison.”

“Jesus, Dan, I had no idea.”

Grant of course had every idea, but, still, he felt badly for the man. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Marshall patted his arm. “Look, we all have troubles. Now, you’ve got a great family and you’ve made my little girl very happy. You just keep doing what you’re doing. Things will shake out one way or another.”

I plan to keep on doing what I’m doing, thought Grant.

They had lunch and neither of the men made any mention of Marshall’s dilemma in front of Leslie and the kids.

After the meal was over Marshall said his goodbyes. Grant gave him a handshake and a hug.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” he said. And he actually meant it. But when it came to avenging his father’s death, there was no one Grant was not willing to sacrifice. And that included himself.

He walked out into the backyard, sat in a lawn chair, and stared at the sky. He watched a plane begin its final descent into Dulles Airport.

He, too, felt as though he were in his final descent. The radio station was coming along. His itinerary seemed to be rock-solid and very promising. The satellite he had leased was perfectly situated to do what needed doing. And the fragments left on there would be very helpful in getting him to the necessary outcome.

And that necessary outcome was that someone had to pay for a wrongful act committed twenty-five years ago. That injustice had cost his father his life. His father was the only one who had really paid a price. Now it was time for others to do so. It had become the most compelling force of Grant’s life. It was not a goal of his. It was an obsession. And obsessions tended to blind one to all other things. Grant was aware of this, but he also found he could do nothing about it. That’s what an obsession was, after all.