“There is one other thing,” Creed said. “From what you’ve described, this slide was powerful.”
“And fast. Never seen one like this before. We get our share in these parts but rarely one like this.”
“I have to warn you. There’s a good chance the houses aren’t the only things that have been ripped apart.”
8.
Washington, D.C.
Senator Ellie Delanor stared at the stack of files on her desk. In the corner of her office were a half-dozen boxes with more. Senator Quincy, who was heading the congressional hearing, had sent them over just that morning.
Her chief of staff stood in the doorway. The note he had handed her was supposed to prepare her for this.
“Was there some mistake?” she asked Carter.
She knew the answer but still hoped he could explain the delay as a simple mix-up. She didn’t want to believe that her colleague—the four-term senior senator from Illinois who had allowed her to be on the committee—would sabotage her before the hearings even began. But considering what she had put up with in the past, she shouldn’t even be surprised. The Senate was still a good ole boys’ club. She’d been warned. She already knew she would be the token woman for the camera crews at the hearings. Wasn’t this just another way of reminding her of her place?
“They said that the DoD only just released them,” Carter told her, pointing to the boxes. The stack on her desk had been delivered yesterday morning.
She met his eyes, looking for any hint of whether he believed it. Sad, but these days she found herself relying on a twenty-eight-year-old glorified clerk as her bullshit monitor. That’s what happens when you discover your ex-husband has lied for most of your thirteen years of marriage. You don’t know who to believe.
“I skimmed through a few files,” he continued. “Blocks of blacked-out copy. Pages of it in some instances.”
“So what are you saying?”
“We never would have found much even if we’d received them two months ago instead of today.”
From the labels adhered to the outside of the boxes she knew the copies were from documents dated between 1951 and 1975. It was amazing to think how records were kept before computers. Hundreds of thousands of documents, sorted page by page. There was no easy way to access information from these bulging boxes of stack upon stack. It would take months to physically look through them, let alone read them.
And what good would it do? The DoD, the very agency that was being investigated, was the same agency that determined what was too sensitive, too classified, and needed to be blocked out.
Or was that exactly what the DoD wanted them to believe? She wondered if hers and Carter’s responses were what the DoD hoped for—that they would take one look and think that all of the important information was still classified. And maybe they wouldn’t bother to look at all.
Carter’s cell phone bleated its annoying ringtone. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
“It’s Senator Quincy’s office,” he told her, even as he tapped the faceplate to take the call, not waiting for her permission. “This is Carter.”
He listened, nodding as though the person on the other end of the line could see him. Ellie watched him, realizing the kid had become a player—poker face, eyes steady, face expressionless, body casual and free of any fidgeting or ticks. When had he gotten so good at this that even she couldn’t read him? He had been such a sweet, innocent kid when she hired him, all bright-eyed and ready to adore her.
“Senator Quincy’s called an emergency meeting,” he said, interrupting her thoughts so suddenly she didn’t notice that he had ended his call.
“About the files?”
“Something about Dr. Hess not being able to testify tomorrow.”
“What?”
Colonel Abraham Hess was one of her witnesses. A brilliant biologist and medical doctor, he had earned an indisputable reputation in his fifty-five years in the army. A friend of her father’s, Ellie had known Hess since she was a child.
“There was a landslide in North Carolina.”
“He doesn’t have any family in North Carolina.”
Carter shrugged, already gathering his messenger bag and waiting for her.
“Something about a research facility,” he told her.
But all she heard was that her star contribution to these hearings was bailing on her, and she couldn’t let that happen. She grabbed a file folder, pen, and leather portfolio, always conscious of looking unburdened and in control. At the door she stopped and turned to Carter, who was ready to follow her. She pulled out a sheet of paper and jotted down several names and phone numbers, then handed it to him.
“Before you join me in the meeting, make a few calls for me. By this afternoon I want a subpoena delivered to Colonel Hess.”
“A subpoena?” He said it like he’d never heard the word before.