“No, no mistake,” Bellweather said, smiling pleasantly. “Smith bowed out at the last minute and deeded me his seat.”

A cardinal in brilliant red robes at the head table began saying grace. Robinson used the excuse to ignore Bellweather. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and swore to himself he was going to fire somebody first thing in the morning. His people were supposed to check these things.

Bellweather dutifully bowed his head and smiled. On top of the $200K price of admission, it had cost CG an additional $200K to get around Robinson’s security arrangements: $100K for this specific seat, and $100K for the phony name subterfuge. And it was worth every penny.

The cardinal said amen and both men fell into their chairs. Robinson reached out and found the scotch he’d carried in from the lobby. He drained the glass in a single gulp.

“Guess you’re pretty mad at me and my company,” Bellweather said very reasonably.

“If I had a gun, I’d blow you all to hell.”

“Can’t say I blame you. That phony report makes us look terrible.”

“Terrible? Oh, no, that’s an understatement. We’re talking soldiers’ lives. You cheated your country.”

“I know it looks that way, and believe me, I know how it feels.”

“You people, if anybody, should be ashamed of yourselves.” Robinson crossed his arms across his chest and stared hard at the tablecloth. Far as he was concerned, the conversation had just ended. He intended to spend the rest of the evening chatting about the weather with the heavy grand dame to his right, a notorious bore and a horrible prospect, but a necessary one. He turned his shoulder to Bellweather and assumed a posture that screamed, Talk all you want, pal, I’m not listening.

“You see, Doug,” Bellweather continued in the same reasonable tone, “the reason I know is because that’s exactly what happened to us. Same thing. We were taken in. Fooled, conned, cheated. Call it whatever you want but we fell for it.”

Robinson began rearranging his silverware. He’d stuff his fingers in his ears if it didn’t look so asinine, and if there weren’t so many prying media buzzards around to witness it.

Bellweather inched his seat closer to Robinson. “I think we were too anxious to find a solution for our boys over there. All these years, you know, seeing those awful images of kids being mangled and slaughtered. It got inside our soul. Hell, I’m not ashamed to admit it, Doug. We were so ready to believe the first person who offered a magic formula for saving our kids. Too ready, I guess.”

Robinson had turned his chair and now had his back turned to Bellweather. Inside his head he was singing an old college football song, trying to drown out the noise coming from Bellweather’s mouth-“Boolah, Boolah, fight, fight, fight…”

“Christ, Doug, you came out of the defense industry. We all did. It’s one big revolving door, because that’s the only way it’ll work. You become a defense expert, then spend your career bouncing between defense companies and government service. It’s not bad, and it’s not good, just the way it is. But that doesn’t make us all crooked or bent. Hell, we both wanted the same thing, our kids to stop being blown apart by bombs.”

If that short speech had any effect, Robinson didn’t show it. His lips were now mouthing the words “Tackle them… beat them down… victory at all costs…”

Bellweather grabbed his arm. “Look, you felt the same way, I know you did. I saw it on your face that first visit when we talked about the polymer. Like us, you were ready to jump on anything that protected our kids.”

Unable to ignore him any longer, Robinson faced him for the first time. “What are you saying?”

“Like you were, Doug, we were taken in,” said Bellweather, now feigning an expression of deep anger. “Two men, Jack Wiley and Perry Arvan, concocted this scheme. They’re liars and cheats, both of them.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we jumped the gun, Doug. You, us, we all did.”

Bellweather could see on Robinson’s face that he was making headway. A slight loosening around the lips, a slackening of the eyes, the beginning of doubt-but it was enough.

He went on, “Today we offered five million bucks to anybody who helps us find those two bastards. They took the money and ran, Doug, both of ’em. By cheating us, they cheated you. Believe me, nobody wants to get to the bottom of this more than us. We want to restore the good name of our firm.”

The secretary squirmed in his seat a moment. “Say this is true, what can I do?” he asked in a rather caustic tone.

“There are a few things,” Bellweather mumbled, almost a whisper.

“Spit it out, Dan. And speak up, dammit!” His eyes darted around the room; the last thing he could afford was being seen in a confidential conversation with this crooked jerk. No doubt one of these sneaky media clowns had smuggled in a camera and it would look great splashed across the front page of the morning Post, a picture of Bellweather whispering in his ear about God knows what. He adjusted his expression to a deeper frown and tried to look like he wasn’t listening.

“For one, help us find these two,” Bellweather requested.

“How?”

“You’ve got the resources at your fingertips. Your own investigative services, for one thing. The FBI and CIA will do whatever you ask. Use them.”

“What else?”

Bellweather took a deep breath, then said, “Agent Mia Jenson.”

“Who’s she?”

“The DCIS investigator who provided the tip about the phony report.”

“What about her?”

“She’s biased.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She hates us. She’s been to our headquarters several times, throwing around nasty threats, hassling our people. It’s personal for her. She has a deep grudge, a vendetta. Don’t ask me why, she just does.”

“That’s a damned serious charge.”

“I know it is.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing serious, just reassign her. We’re requesting a fair shake, that’s all. Put somebody fresh on the case. Somebody impartial, somebody harboring no emotional baggage. We want a fair process, that’s all.”

“I’ll think about it. Anything else?”

“No, I’m finished.”

“Then will you please shut up? Let me enjoy what’s left of my evening.”

Nicky was waiting at her desk when Mia rolled into work the next morning. He didn’t invite her into his office this time.

“You pissed somebody off,” he told her with his head shaking.

“Always nice to hear,” she said and actually smiled. “What gave you the clue, Nicky?”

“You’re off the polymer case. That’s straight from the director’s lips. I had the impression she was just relaying the order herself. I think this came from the very top.”

“I wasn’t aware I was ever on the polymer case,” Mia noted.

“Neither was I. Is this a problem for you?”

Mia’s smile seemed to grow. “No, I expected it. I’d be hugely disappointed if it didn’t happen in fact. Do me a favor, put it in writing.”

“If you insist, I will.”

“I do insist.”

She took it so well that Nicky couldn’t hide his expression of relief.

“Of course now I have to appoint somebody to actually look into this thing,” he told her.

“Who you thinking of?”

“Clete Jamison.”

Mia offered a satisfied nod. “Good choice,” she said. “Clete’s thorough and tough.”

“He is, and he’s coming into this with an empty tank. It would help if you gave him some background.”

“My pleasure,” she said and seemed to mean it.

After a brief pause, Nicky added hopefully, “It would help even more if he knew the name of your source.”

Mia placed her things on her desk and sat down. “Forget it, Nicky. My source will only deal with me. That’s the stipulation. It’s a matter of trust.”

Nicky tore off his glasses with an air of impatience. “Look, I know there’s a lot going on here you’re not telling me.” He examined her face for a response-there was no response. “How bad is this going to get?”