Feast Day of Fools (Hackberry Holland 3)

“I wouldn’t know, and I’m not interested.”

“I don’t mean to just disrupt it, like the 9/11 attacks. I mean to flood the tunnels and destroy the bridges and hospitals and poison the water supply and to spread fire and plague and anthrax and suffering all over the five boroughs. What if I told you that fifty thousand dollars spent in the right place by the wrong guys could turn New York into Dante’s ninth circle?”

“What business are you in, sir?”

“The defense of our nation.”

“Would you answer the question, please?”

“Unmanned aerial vehicles.”

“Drones that fire missiles?”

“Sometimes. Other times they’re observation vehicles. The cost to manufacture a Patriot missile is three million dollars. The cost of drones is nickels and dimes in comparison. A small drone can be powered with batteries and is invulnerable to heat-seeking missiles. They can fly so slowly that jet interceptors can’t lock down on them. Hezbollah has used them inside Israeli airspace.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I’m here to offer my services.”

“They’re not needed, and they’re not wanted.”

“Somewhere out there in those hills is a man named Noie Barnum. He’s an idealistic idiot who believes that sharing knowledge about our weapons will make for a safer world.”

“My impression is that he was kidnapped and about to be sold to Al Qaeda when he escaped. He doesn’t sound like a willing participant in any of this.”

“So why doesn’t he come in?” Dowling said.

“That’s a good question.”

“Barnum has told others he has ‘problems of conscience.’ His ‘problem’ is the fact that UAVs can cause collateral damage. I wonder what he thinks about the collateral influences of napalm and bombs dropped from B-52s. Or maybe he’d like more of our soldiers killed while digging ragheads out of their caves.”

“Why are you here, sir?” Hackberry said.

“I want Noie Barnum in a cage. I don’t want him in front of a microphone or a camera. I’d like to see him buried under concrete at Guantánamo, after his head was wrapped in a towel and half the Atlantic was poured into it.”

“I’ll pass on your remarks to the FBI the first opportunity I have.”

“Sheriff, who do you think runs this country?”

“You tell me.”

“Lyndon was put into office by Brown and Root. Lyndon is moldering in the grave, but Brown and Root merged with Halliburton and is still alive and well. You think our current president is going to rescind their contracts at almost every United States military base in the world?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Temple Dowling stood up from his chair and removed a strand of cat hair from his sleeve. “My father said you were never a listener.”

“You ever hear of Preacher Jack Collins?”

“No, who is he?”

“The most dangerous man I’ve ever met,” Hackberry said.

“What does that have to do with Noie Barnum?”

“Jack may be feeding and protecting him. I’m not sure why. Maybe because the feds burned Jack’s shack. Keep hanging around this area, and you might get a chance to meet him. If he chats you up, try to get it on tape.”

“Why would I want to do that?”