I shake my head. “Zero. The last man this country executed for treason was Bill Mumford.”
“Never heard of him. What did he do?”
“He tore down an American flag over New Orleans during the Civil War.”
“So after all this, you think Walsh will walk?”
“My guess is they’ll ship him to a remote post in the Middle East and keep him under wraps. He’ll help them target the weapons systems that he made operational. A few drone strikes, maybe some ground-level sabotage. Walsh is sixty. No wife. No kids. Nofamily. He’ll stay quiet, but I doubt he’ll be allowed to set foot in this country again.”
“That’s it? The perp goes down and the mastermind goes free?”
“Not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Remember Iran-Contra?”
“Not really. Happened before I was born.”
“They didn’t make you study it in school? Well, allow me to enlighten you. In 1986, thirteen people in the U.S. government were involved in a plot to sell weapons to Iran and use the money to fund right-wing rebels in Nicaragua. The scheme went all the way up to the secretary of defense. Know who served time for it?”
Phillips shakes his head. “I’m guessing not the SecDef.”
“One guy. Tom Clines. A ground-level CIA operative. He did sixteen months.”
“And Langley doesn’t want to be embarrassed again.”
“That’s correct. They control the narrative. You said it yourself—they’re storytellers.”
“But won’t it all come out in Polermo’s murder trials?”
“There won’t be any murder trials, Aiden. No doubt Polermo will take a plea before it gets that far. Same with his domestic terrorism charge. He’ll serve his time in a supermax in protective isolation. In a few years, nobody will remember his name. If you’re lucky, nobody will ever know yours.”
“So, that’s the end? I’m done?”
“You’ll need to sign some papers. They’ll be classified top secret and locked away in a vault for fifty years. By then, the press will have plenty of other stuff to focus on.” I grab Phillips by the shoulder and turn him to face me. “Aiden, my advice to you is go home to Lisa and your kids. Go back into counseling. Get the help youneed. And if you ever run into any red tape at the VA, call me. Trust me, I know people.”
Phillips lets out a long breath. “I’ve done bad things, John. Really bad things.”
“That’s true. We all have. But you’ve also done good things. You saved a lot of Afghan informants and interpreters from falling into the hands of the Taliban. And you led me to capture a serial bomber.”
Phillips gives me a tight smile. “Almost got you killed in the process.”
“No harm, no foul.”
He reaches out to shake my hand. “I owe you, John. For believing me.”
“You’re a good fighter, Aiden. But your war is over. Now it’s time to fight for yourself and your family.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And take care of that damn leg.”
“Copy that.”
Phillips turns and heads off toward the Washington Monument.
He’s still limping—but he’s walking tall.
CHAPTER 111
THE CROSS HOUSE IS a madhouse tonight—just the way I like it. Growing up here, Alex and I were the wild kids. Now we’re the patriarchs, sitting in our easy chairs sipping our beers while the chaos swirls around us.
