Free The Silent Places by James Patrick Hunt

almost $200,000 for his loyalty. After the preliminary affable falsehoods were exchanged, Anders asked the contact about John Reese. The contact told Anders that Reese had no family left. His wife had died of cancer while he was in prison. The contact said that Reese had never made close friends with anyone outside the Agency and very few inside.
    Anders said, “I understand he did some E and E work. Smuggled some dissidents into the United States.”
    The contact said he understood that, too.
    “Start with that,” Anders said. “I want to hear from you tomorrow. Is that clear?”
    The contact said it was.

THIRTEEN
    Senator Preston’s St. Louis home was in a leafy neighborhood between Ladue and Clayton. The neighborhood subdivision was in a hilly area, surrounded by woods and twisty roads. There was a gate at the entrance to the subdivision.
    It was Captain Anthony who introduced Hastings to Senator Preston and his chief of staff, whose name was Martin Keough.
    Martin Keough was in his late twenties, thin, dark haired, and small of stature. He was a graduate of Harvard Law School and he did not make eye contact with Hastings when they met.
    Senator Preston shook hands and led them into a small office.
    There were photos in Preston’s office, mostly of him with famous, powerful guys. One of them was of Preston and President Bush. Another one was of Preston and Vernon Jordan, both of them laughing at something Bill Clinton had said. They appeared to be on a golf course somewhere. Preston photographed well.
    Also on the office wall was a framed clipping of an op-ed piece from the
New York Times
. The headline read why we cannot let al qaeda prevail in iraq, and it was written by Alan Preston, junior senator from the state of Missouri.
    Senator Preston took a seat behind his desk and gestured for the police officers to take seats. Martin Keough remained standing.
    Dan Anthony told them that Hastings would be leading the team of officers that would be watching the Preston home and local senatorial offices.
    Keough gave them a rough outline of the senator’s schedule for the next few days. Keough said, “Now, we want you around, but we don’t want you too close. Do you understand that?”
    Keough had been looking at Captain Anthony when he spoke. But it was Hastings who responded.
    “No,” Hastings said, “I’m not sure I do.”
    Keough looked at Hastings, as if noticing his existence for the first time.
    “Sorry?” Keough said, his tone patronizing.
    Hastings said, “I understand you wanting us to be discreet, but are you requesting that we stay a certain distance away?”
    “Yes.”
    The senator said, “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”
    “No, sir,” Hastings said. “I’m just not sure what you want us to do.”
    Keough said, “Protect the senator. Hasn’t that been clear?”
    “To a point,” Hastings said, “yes. But are you actually expecting, for lack of a better term, an assassination attempt?”
    Keough sighed, muttered, “Christ.”
    Senator Preston said, “‘Assassination attempt’ is a little strong. But if you’re asking if this man may be a danger to me and to my family, the answer is yes.”
    “Of course,” Captain Anthony said, giving Hastings a look of warning.
    Hastings ignored the look and said, “I understand that, sort of. But if there’s a bona fide threat, why not call in federal officers?”
    Keough spoke as if to a child. “What is the problem?”
    Senator Preston raised a hand to his aide and said, “Hold on, Martin. Let the lieutenant have his say.”
    Hastings said, “Thank you. I just want you to understand, Senator, that me and my men, we’re homicide detectives. We’re not trained for security work. A Secret Service agent is trained to look through crowds and spot a possible assassin. But I’m not trained for that. Nor are my men.”
    “You’re a police officer,” Keough said. “Aren’t you?”
    Hastings kept his attention on the senator. “Of course,”