Nowhere to Hide (13 page)

“Stop talking about Disney World,” Mundie said. “It doesn't make me happy at all.”

“I'll say,” King said. “You don't look like Sleepy, Sneezy, or Bashful either.”

King waited a pause. “But maybe Grumpy.”

Mundie slammed the top of the table with the open palm of his right hand.

King managed not to giggle. Mundie's reaction was proof that MJ and Watt had not given Mundie everything that Mundie wanted to know.

All three of them had agreed ahead of time that no matter what, each would stick with a story about visiting Disney World and meeting Mickey Mouse, making up any details about the trip that they wanted. They were stalling for time because they believed Moore's promise that legal help would be on the way, despite Mundie's threats.

“Listen,” Mundie said. “We are the good guys. Evans and Moore—they are the bad guys. You have chosen the wrong side, and it's going
to ruin the rest of your life. Here's your chance to change sides. You talk for a few hours, we let you go, and your life continues as normal. All I need is as much information as you can give me about what the three of you were doing for Evans and Moore. You'll be saving your future, and you'll be doing a big favor for your country.”

Mundie tilted his head as he rethought what he'd said. “Not a favor for your country. A duty for your country.”

King felt the first tickles of doubt. What if Evans and Moore
were
the bad guys? He pushed away the doubt, thinking about the girl tied to the chair.

“Sir,” King said, “can you explain to me exactly what's at stake here? How it impacts national security?”

“I wish I could,” Mundie said, softening his tone as if he realized he had an opening with King. “But it's classified.”

“You're asking me to make a decision, but you don't trust me enough to give me the information to make that decision?”

“Unfortunately,” Mundie said, “that's how it needs to be.”

“Unfortunately,” King said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Which was definitely true.

“We talk first.”

“Well,” King said. “The lines at Disney World were long. But there's an app that shows you the most efficient way to get in as many rides as possible.”

“Are you kidding me here?” Mundie said.

“No, sir,” King answered. “Are you iPhone or Android? It's an iPhone app for sure, but probably on Android too.”

“I was referring,” Mundie said, steel back in his voice, “to this whole Disney World shtick.”

“If you didn't get enough details from Blake and MJ,” King said, “I'll help.”

Mundie stood. “I'll be back in about an hour. I'm not interested in being here when you mess your pants.
If
you're telling the truth about needing a bathroom break.”

It wasn't something King wanted to think about, messing his pants.
He wondered if MJ was facing the same dilemma. Wow, would Mrs. Johnson have something to say about his underwear then. And talk about a rash.

As Mundie began to walk to the door, a knock came from the other side.

Mundie opened the door. King saw past Mundie. There were two men in suits—FBI or CIA—and a woman in a long navy-blue skirt and jacket, maybe midforties. She had blonde hair and held a briefcase.

“Sir,” one of the men said. “This is Tanya Daniels.”

“I'm an attorney,” Tanya said crisply. She looked at King and spoke. “How are you doing?”

“Okay,” King said. “But I need a bathroom break.”

Tanya turned her gaze back to Mundie. “You'll uncuff him, of course.”

“No. What I'll do is escort you to—”

“Please,” she said. “The more you threaten me in front of your subordinates, the worse you'll look when you have to back away from those threats. My email from Moore is extremely detailed, and I've already instructed my secretary to release it to the media if he doesn't hear back from me in an hour. You know, in case you do something silly, like try to bludgeon me with the Homeland Security Act and lock me in a room somewhere for six months. It won't play well in the media, you know, that the CIA is detaining three young men who were hired by the CIA in the first place under false pretenses. And that—”

“Maybe you and I need a quiet conversation somewhere,” Mundie said.

“Sure,” she answered. “First, get this young man out of handcuffs. Second, escort him to a bathroom. And third, get him and his two friends something to eat.”

“This is a matter of national security,” Mundie said. “And—”

“And I'm getting tired of hearing that,” she answered. “The parents of all three young men are in the lobby of the building right now, waiting to see their sons. Unless I make a call, in about twenty minutes, a
television crew will be there to ask them how they feel about their sons being taken prisoner by a US government agent.”

Mundie held up his hand to stop her from saying anything more. He turned his shoulders to speak directly to King.

“Hamburgers okay with you?”

“Yes, sir,” King said. “And maybe a chocolate milk shake?”

CHAPTER 30

“When is it okay to lie?” King said to his parents.

King, Mack, and Ella overlooked the waters of the Seattle seafront from a fifteenth-floor suite of the luxury hotel. Blake and his parents were in suite 1010, where Blake and MJ had spent a couple days tracking down Jack Murphy for Evans. MJ and his parents were in the room Evans had been using.

It was ten p.m.—fourteen hours after Mundie had first picked up King by helicopter, eight hours after Mundie had taken Moore and Evans into custody at the mobile home, and two hours after Mundie had reluctantly given in to legal pressure and released King and Blake and MJ to their parents.

King was almost too exhausted to sleep. But tomorrow morning there would be less than twenty-four hours left before…

He tried to force that image out of his head but was unsuccessful. Of the water slowly rising and Amanda struggling to lift her chin as high as possible for as long as possible.

“It sounds like you're going to try to talk us into allowing the three of you to keep working for Evans and Moore,” Mack said. “I know you guys could have lied and continued without our knowledge. Even
though we're adamant that it's government business and you should not be put at risk, I'm very glad you didn't try to do it behind our backs. That would have very plainly been a deception that would have hurt our trust of you, because eventually, we would have found out.”

That had been King's argument to Blake and MJ. That deceiving their parents would have hurt them and hurt their parents. A lot. They had expected, however, that by being open with their parents, eventually they would have been clear to continue.

That had been a heated discussion, an hour earlier, with all three sets of parents sitting in this suite. The division had been generational. King and Blake and MJ saw no danger and were honor bound to help Moore and Evans. Their parents were just as adamant that already the boys had been deceived into joining a CIA internal battle that put them on the wrong side of the law. If the Office of the Inspector General was involved, the IG and the entire CIA had the authority to resolve the matter. The boys had just been cleared of wrongdoing, and to get involved again would threaten their futures.

On the other side of the argument, King and Blake and MJ had promised Moore that they wouldn't reveal that Amanda was in danger. That put them in the same dilemma Moore had faced. Yes, revealing that a girl's life was at stake might justify what he and they had done and what they wanted to do. But according to the man holding her hostage, it would almost certainly guarantee Amanda's death once it was leaked. King and Blake and MJ had been able to tell their parents only that it was of utmost national security and that they couldn't reveal why.

“I'm not trying to start the argument again,” King said. He doubted he'd be able to sleep tonight, worrying about Amanda held prisoner in a chair in a chamber somewhere, waiting for the water to be turned on again. He guessed that he knew what he and Blake and MJ would do next—disobey their parents.

Lying was something that could destroy a relationship. In a dilemma like this, King hoped, at least their parents could still respect them for believing in something strongly enough to accept the consequences for going ahead with the search anyway. It was a horrible
choice, but King couldn't see a way around it. And he felt miserable for it.

King continued. “I am seriously looking for a serious discussion on this. That's a double serious, which shows how serious I am.”

He was thinking about all the deceptions that had already occurred. Men he respected, including Evans and Moore, were in an organization built on secrecy and, by extension, deceit. Did that mean the CIA was morally wrong as an organization? And that all the American people were just as guilty because they supported the existence of the organization? King couldn't answer that.

On a personal level, Evans and Moore had lied to King and Blake and MJ about the reasons for looking for Murphy, and the three of them had understood the reasons for the deception after those reasons were revealed. So did that mean the ends justified the means? That it
was
okay to lie sometimes?

Mack could see that King was really searching and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

“I'm going to give you a famous question about lying,” Mack said, “and then give you an answer I heard from a preacher. And then my response to that answer. Ready?”

CHAPTER 31

“Ready,” King said to his father.

Ella sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her. She was sipping on tea and looked content to be an audience to the discussion.

“Here's the question,” Mack said. “You have hidden some Jews in your house to save them from execution. Nazi guards knock on the door, asking if any Jews are in the house. Lying is wrong, but delivering them to be executed is also wrong. Do you choose a lesser wrong to save their lives?”

King opened his mouth to answer.

“Hang on,” Mack said. “I didn't address that question to you. I'm giving you that question so you can hear the answer I heard from a preacher.”

King shut his mouth to listen to Mack.

“The preacher said that the decision was made before you took in the Jews to hide them. That if you were brave enough to hide them, you'd better be brave enough to protect them. He said you should not lie, but you should open the door and tell the guards that it's a sin to take away Jews and that the guards should repent and pray for forgiveness. Then slam the door and accept the fact that you will probably become a martyr and that the Jews will die.”

King opened his mouth again, but Mack waved him into silence.

“At that point in the sermon,” Mack said, “my head nearly exploded. From my perspective, his answer was so illogical and goody-two-shoes that I was embarrassed. The point of hiding the Jews was to protect them. From my perspective, it would take just as much bravery to lie to the soldiers, realizing that if you were caught, you would be executed. It's one thing to sacrifice your own life, but to suggest that you should deliberately choose to let other people die just so you could deliver a mini sermon on sin and repentance to Nazi soldiers is…is…is…”

Mack sputtered with anger and then calmed himself. “What sometimes gets me about public Christianity is how it seems so judgmental and…”

He stopped, obviously realizing the issue was important to King. “Look, in the Bible, there's an Old Testament story about a woman named Rahab who lied to protect some men from Israel from being killed. And those men were spies, which means they too were practicing deception. Nowhere in the Bible does it say what she did was right or that she was sanctioned for it. But she
is
commended for the faith and obedience that followed in her later life. What I'm saying is that there is no easy answer and this needs a lot of discussion.”

“So,” King said, “life is messy and complicated and—”

He didn't have time to complete his statement. The hotel room phone rang.

Ella answered and listened, and then she laughed as she spoke into the phone mouthpiece.

“The president of the United States,” she said. “Nice prank.”

Then she frowned. “Sure. Three minutes.”

Ella hung up the phone and shook her head. “Speaking of lies, Blake's mother insists it
is
the president. We're wanted in their room. Apparently it's important that we have a private FaceTime conversation with, yes, the president of the United States.”

CHAPTER 32

“So,” MJ whispered to King, “like Obama, this president of the United States is also black…”

King elbowed him to try to silence him.

“…and a woman?” MJ finished.

Looking into the FaceTime camera was an athletically built black woman a couple years younger than King's mother. The woman was wearing a dark pantsuit. Her hair was trimmed short, and her smile was neutral.