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Authors: Nathan Roden

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BOOK: Like Grownups Do
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“And Marc?”

“We were doing a mini-marathon in San Diego; a warm-up event really—a fund raiser for a charity. It was co-ed and laid back. I finished ahead of Marc, of course. He could outlast me on the long ones, but I toasted him on the minis. So, I’m hanging out past the finish line and bullshitting with the girls when I saw Marc coast past the finish line. He was walking it off and swinging his arms. He grabbed a cup of water and downed it. Then he bent over like he was going to put his hands on his knees to have a blow. But he tucked his head in and did a somersault, and then stayed down on the grass like a snow angel.

A few people pointed and laughed. I had never seen him do that, either. I went back to talking to the girls until I heard a woman scream—at Marc. He hadn’t made a smooth finish line maneuver after all. He had an aneurysm at the same time that he was bending over, and he was gone before he hit the ground.”

“Holy,
shit, MG.
My God.”

They sat in silence for a few moments until Babe exhaled loudly. He patted MG’s hand.

Lucy tapped lightly on the door.

 

Jack stood facing his office window with his left hand on top of his head. His right hand was at his side holding a cordless phone.

He turned and forced a smile with his bangs standing at attention from the combination of nervous hands and perspiration. His eyes were red and blurry. He motioned Babe toward the chair in front of his desk.

“Welcome to Shitstorm Central.”

“That’s what I’ve heard, Jack. And I’m not sure I have anything to help that,” Babe said.

“Well, I’m afraid we’ve lost control of this. I need you to be prepared and there’s no time to get that way,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”

Jack stood up quickly and ran a hand back through his hair as he began pacing behind his desk.

 

“Fucking Eckhart. He went over my head, the fucking cocksucker. He called Washington and spoke to the Deputy Director. He tried to blame this whole situation on RCI. He knows the Bureau and the Pentagon are scrambling to keep this thing quiet, and he’s smart enough to know that if he provides them with a sacrificial lamb he scores points for himself and submarines me at the same time,” Jack said.

“Eckhart will be here in an hour,” Jack continued. He stopped pacing and stood behind his chair. “Will that be enough time to look over what you have?”

“I’m not even sure this is the best time. You’re pretty wound up right now. This is… well, I’m not even sure if it helps anybody. It doesn’t change anything, Jack. But it’s the truth. And it hurts.”

 

“There isn’t going to be another time. What do you have?” Jack asked.

Babe placed the hard drive and a single sheet of paper on Jack’s desk.

“There are range markers there for a few videos; just for a feel. Background stuff.” Babe said, getting to his feet. “The last one is pretty tough.”

“You’re leaving?” Jack asked.

“I’ll be right outside when you’re through,” Babe said.

 

Babe knew that he had marked sixteen minutes of footage on the videos. The door opened after thirty minutes.

“Babe,” Jack said, quietly. He turned away and left the door open.

Babe eased into his seat as Jack slumped into his chair. Jack rubbed his eyes with both hands and exhaled heavily.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

“It was just a story, before. Reading his journal was like reading a screenplay or something—except I knew that kid. Not that well, of course. But sometimes you meet these kids and they’re respectful—they’re smart, they have good manners, and you just know they were raised right. You see them a couple of times and you just want to
hug
them, because they’re good kids.

“They make their daddies proud. Daddy shows their pictures and brags on them to everybody at work. They love their Mommas. They hug her and kiss her, and go on and on about how great her meatloaf is, and Momma knows that the reason God put her on this earth is to be Momma to great kids like this….and—fuck me…”

Jack turned away.

“I’m sorry Jack,” Babe said.

“I started to…I didn’t know if this was what you wanted me to look for.”

“This is
exactly
what needed to be found,” Jack said.

 

Babe raised his head when he heard Jack pick up the phone and punch a speed dial key.

“Jack Englemann in Boston, for the Director’s office,” Jack spoke into the phone. “That is correct.” A brief pause. “The Leland case. Yes. His cell line, I understand. Thank you.” Another brief pause. “Yes sir, Jack Englemann. I have some new materials regarding the Leland case and I believe it will be in the best interests of all concerned that we meet with Pentagon representatives at the earliest possible opportunity. Yes sir. I would strongly suggest Mr. Blackledge and Mr. Babelton be present. Thank you. Yes sir. Anytime will be fine, my home phone or cell. This is priority in my office, as well. Good night.”

 

“Shit, Jack. Really?” Babe winced.

“I’m getting older and more tired by the day, Babe. I can’t trust my second in command. I’m going to need to lean on somebody before this is over.”

Babe had never seen Jack overwhelmed. But it seems that he was looking at just that right now. And there was no way he was going to run away if he could help Jack at all.

Jack’s intercom buzzed and Lucy announced Russell Eckhart’s arrival. Babe got to his feet. Jack waggled a finger in his direction.

“Uh-uh. I’m sorry, Babe. Your fucked up new position starts today.”

Babe nodded slowly and swallowed hard.

 

Russell Eckhart entered the office. He was surprised to see Babe there. He nodded in Babe’s direction, “Babelton.” He nodded to Jack, “Jack.”

Babe returned the nod and sat back down. Jack did not stand. He made a show of shuffling papers and spoke without lifting his eyes,

“Sit down, Russell.”

“I take it you’ve heard from the Deputy Director, Jack. I’m sorry but you left me no choice. The liability of this office—”

“What you have done with your childish, self-serving, back-stabbing little display is of little importance to me, Eckhart. What I
do
care about is a dead twenty-seven year old boy who was one of ours. The only thing we can do for him now is try to protect his memory and try to save his family from any more pain. A
ll
we have standing in our way is the FBI and the Pentagon having a
fucking
pissing contest.
And— ”

 

Eckhart got to his feet.

“What the hell right do you think you have, speaking to me like this in front of this
boy,
Jack? You’re trashing
me
over
protocol?
I not only have a
right
to an
opinion
, I have an obligation to the Bureau to act in its best interests and to make sure that proper and legal procedures are followed. For that, I make no apologies. Do you think I’m the only one who knows that Leland was passed through RCI? No, of course you don’t think like that. It’s your
baby,
and nobody has an ugly baby,
right?”

“You’re talking out of your ass, Eckhart. RCI has a track record that even
you
can’t piss on, and this system will be integrated in every state in the
fucking
union no matter how much that chaps your balls,” Jack said.

 

“You’re reading too much of your own press, Jack. You don’t even see what’s coming do you? It doesn’t make a goddamn bit of difference what the track record is—your precious little outfit run by your roommate and
two boys
. You have the entire FBI, The Pentagon, and God knows how many scared politicians pissing down their legs over
one dead kid.
So, they blame the whole damned mess on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the failure of diagnosis, and the ‘failed experiment’ that is RCI. They internally announce the shutdown of RCI along with the resignation or early retirement of SAC Jack Englemann and it all goes away. It goes the
fuck away—
Big FBI funeral, Big Military funeral. Wave the flags, snap off the salutes and pass the tissues.”

Jack bolted to his feet.

 

“So is that the script you’ve written for this whole thing, Eckhart? You’re so full of shit. How many times are you going to bring up their ages?
Huh?
The entire psychiatric community is throwing drug after drug at these kids; PTSD is eating their fucking lunches. These are
boys,
not machines. These kids are pulling way too many tours in hostile territory,
PLUS
they’ve been living in a violent, virtual world since they were shitting their diapers. And we continue to use fifty-year-old men and hundred year-old methods to try and understand them.

“You know damn well that RCI had nothing to do with this, and if it didn’t exist we wouldn’t
have
the mothers’ cooperation. Mitch Leland never mentioned that damn operation to anyone and neither did anyone else. What the
fuck
does RCI have to do with any of that?” Jack said.

“I feel as badly as anyone about your daughter, Jack. But you’ve allowed this boy—”

Jack jumped toward Eckhart.

“You
son of a bitch!”

Babe leapt to his feet, knocking Jack off balance with his shoulder. He grabbed Jack by the arm.

Babe whispered into Jack’s ear.

“Jack, you can’t. This is what he wants.”

“What makes you so sure RCI doesn’t figure into this?” Eckhart screamed. “They’re
boys,
Jack.
What if all these applicants are getting a free pass because they’re being Okayed through your system? What if they’re not being looked at long and hard enough by the Bureau psychologists because they have the Jack Englemann seal of approval?
Shit.
We can’t even be sure that this Leland kid didn’t make up that whole Army operation story. What if he was a complete psycho? What if he was hearing voices? Who the fuck knows?”

Eckhart was pacing now.

 

Jack stood still, and his posture relaxed. Babe loosened his grip and looked down at Jack’s white knuckled fists.

“I’ll give you a heads up, Eckhart. I just spoke with the Director this afternoon. We’re getting a meeting with the Pentagon and I’m guessing that it’s going to be quick. I’m sure you will have your say. I can assure you I will have mine. Dismissed,” Jack said.

Eckhart turned and left the office.

Jack glared after him.

“I am going to get an
extremely
shitty Christmas gift from that man,” Jack said.

Babe was not even able to smile.

“Are you still with me, Babe? I’m afraid it’s not going to get much better than that for a while,” Jack said.

“Well, my comfort zone has followed Elvis out of the building, but if you need me—I’m with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eighteen

 

 

 

B
abe paced in the enormous vaulted ceiling hallway of one of the wings of the Pentagon, each footfall cracking like gunfire. He fingered the visitor pass lanyard around his neck for about the hundredth time, wondering again if it would be taken away from him before he exited the building. He had every intention of keeping it if he could do so without being wrestled to the ground. Tom collected lanyard passes, and Babe relished the thought of parading a Pentagon visitor pass in front of him. He would let Tom have it, of course. Maybe.

Babe sneaked another peek into a nearby conference room where Russell Eckhart was also pacing. Eckhart referred to his notes and then paced some more. He whispered to himself.

Shit
, Babe thought.
He’s fucking rehearsing. What a dick.

Something unusual was going on but Babe had no idea what it was. Before anyone was called upon to assemble in any type of session, Jack, Jordan, and a few of the FBI Washington staff and Pentagon staff had been quietly ushered into a conference room. The doors were closed behind them and attended by two Pentagon Security officers. Babe and several others who were left out in the hall took chairs and waited. A few ducked out an exit to smoke. Russell Eckhart occasionally appeared at the doorway of his rehearsal space to glare toward the guarded doors.

 

Forty-five minutes later the double doors opened to the sounds of men who were no longer under the pressure that existed when they had disappeared inside. There were a few chuckles and lots of handshakes. When everyone had reached the hallway, the FBI Director asked for everyone’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for coming out today. The unfortunate fallout from the event which brought about this meeting has touched many lives, as well as many of the agencies of this country that we depend on every day. On behalf of the FBI and the United States Army,” the Director looked toward the assembled Pentagon officials, who nodded their approval, “we have agreed upon a fair and equitable approach to assist the family of a troubled young man. The effects of war have long troubled the minds of men, and dealing with these effects will never be an exact science. Remember this, gentlemen, when you hit your knees tonight. Thank you.”

BOOK: Like Grownups Do
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