The Zero Milestone

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Chapter Six

“So I assume you would like a ride?” Ducharme asked Evie as they exited the Hoover Building.  She had a death grip on the battered leather briefcase.  The black Blazer with dark-tinted windows was in the no-parking zone beyond the car barriers, a familiar figure leaning against the door.

“Sergeant Major Kincannon,” Ducharme said.

“Colonel Ducharme, sir.”  Kincannon looked at Evie and tipped an imaginary hat.  “Ma’am.”

“Please call me Evie.”

“Evie.”  Kincannon grinned warmly.

“Hurt anyone in there, Kincannon?” Ducharme asked.

The Sergeant Major spread his hands wide in innocence.  “Who, me?  They asked a lot of stupid questions.  Weren’t worth answering or getting upset about.  But we will find who took out the General.”  The edge was back in Kincannon’s voice.  

“Who exactly do you work for?”  Evie asked as she opened the passenger door.  

Guess she's accepting the ride offer, Ducharme thought.  

She paused.  “That was all real, wasn’t it?”  Evie asked.  

“Yes.”  Ducharme’s beast wanted to howl, to rage, to destroy.  He snapped the leash, his face flat, giving no sign of the internal struggle.  “It’s as real as things get.”

Evie got into the passenger seat.  She pulled out her silver cigarette case and took out another piece of gum.  She caught Ducharme’s glance.  “Quitting isn’t that easy.”

“Quitting anything we’re addicted to is hard,” Ducharme allowed.  “Why was your friend McBride meeting my old boss?”

“Which exact part of the government do you work for?”

“You don’t have a need to know.”  

She laughed.  “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that bullshit line.”

“As the curator of Monticello?” Kincannon asked mildly from the back seat.

“Not exactly.”

Ducharme waited along with Kincannon for her to be more forthcoming, but she didn’t oblige.  He had yet to pull away from the Hoover Building, because he wasn’t sure what his next step would be.  Burns was right. This was indeed deep shit.  But there were two things Ducharme was certain of:  he would find his uncle’s killer before Burns did; and he wouldn’t be arresting her.

Evie finally spoke.  “I don’t know anything about your boss, LaGrange, so how could I know why McBride was meeting him?”

“General LaGrange was the Special Assistant to the National Security Council,” Ducharme said.  “Which is a fancy way of saying he was the military’s adviser to the Executive Branch on counter-terrorist operations.  And he wasn’t my boss.”  Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Kincannon following the conversation.

“I don’t see a connection,” Evie said.  “McBride had nothing to do with terrorism or counter-terrorism.  He was a newspaper editor.  After he retired from the Post, he was adjunct history faculty at UVA.  I have no idea if McBride knew LaGrange, but if he did, he never mentioned him to me.”

“And you would remember if he mentioned it?” Ducharme asked.

Evie nodded.

Ducharme checked his watch.  He put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb.

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