Free The Silent Places by James Patrick Hunt Page A

Hastings said. “But, with respect, that’s not the point.”
    Senator Preston said, “I know what I’m getting. I’ve discussed this with your chief. As you’ve probably been told, it’s very important that this thing be handled discreetly. Very discreetly. Lieutenant Hastings, this may surprise you, but, like most politicians, I have enemies in Washington. People who would like to embarrass me. To see me compromised. They would like nothing better than to see me make a fool of myself by requesting federal security I don’t need. I don’t care to be accused of seeking special privileges or of being paranoid.”
    Hastings said, “But this John Reese
is
dangerous. The file says the military trained him as a sniper. Given that, I don’t think there should be any shame in taking official measures to protect yourself against him. If it were me he was after, I’d call in the Secret Service.”
    “But it’s not you,” Keough said. “Is it?”
    Preston said, “Your point is perhaps valid. But I’ve given this some thought. It’s my personal belief that John Reese is either dead or has fled the country. If he’s alive, he’s not going to risk getting caught by coming after me.”
    Hastings saw that Preston had just contradicted himself. Reese was a threat. Then he wasn’t. Hastings said, “You say he won’t risk coming after you. Why not?”
    “Because he’s a loser. John Reese cares about the well-being of John Reese, nothing else. However, my wife isn’t as dispassionate about this as I am. She worries about me more than I do myself. Besides me, she worries about our daughter, who’s a college student here. So. This is the solution I’ve come up with. A political solution for a family issue. Can you understand the position I’m in?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “We’ll return to Washington in a few days. And then this task, which you seem to find distasteful, will be over for you.”
    Hastings mentally sighed to himself but otherwise did not respond.
    Captain Anthony said, “We’re glad to be of service to you, Senator.”
    Hastings stomached that and then saw Martin Keough raise his eyes as another person came into the room.
    “Hello,” the senator said, and Hastings turned around to see a regal blond woman in the doorway. She was in her forties. Slim and narrow at the waist, she was wearing a black-and-white dress with a belt in the middle. Hastings stood up.
    “My wife, Sylvia Preston.”
    She came forward and extended a hand to Hastings, perhaps because he was the one standing closest to her.
    Hastings introduced himself and the senator told her that these were the policemen who would be watching him.
    Mrs. Preston looked into Hastings’s eyes as she said, “Oh?”
    Hastings said, “Yes, ma’am.”
    She said, “And do you think you’ll be able to catch this man, Lieutenant?”
    “I don’t know,” Hastings said.
    She dropped her hand to her side, as if taken aback by his frankness. She kept her focus on Hastings, openly appraising him, as she said, “Don’t you?” Her voice a little dry.
    She’s being tough, Hastings thought. Maybe she sensed something in him. A toughness to match her own. Or maybe she wanted to make him uncomfortable. Hastings debated answering her.
    But Captain Anthony said, “We’ve got our best people working on it, Mrs. Preston.”
    Mrs. Preston said, “And I suppose that would include you two.”
    Anthony gave a sort of uncomfortable laugh.
    Hastings said, “If he appears, Mrs. Preston. We don’t know that he will.”
    “I see,” Mrs. Preston said. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
    This elicited more nervous laughter, from both Captain Anthony and Martin Keough. Hastings noticed, though, that the senator did not join in.

FOURTEEN
    Klosterman said, “He said he’s requesting police protection because of his wife?”
    “Yeah,” Hastings said.
    “What do you think?”
    “I think he’s lying.”
    Hastings and Klosterman were in Hastings’s Jaguar,