Stan Demirjian came over to them. In a low voice he said, “I always knew your

father was innocent. Always.” “Thanks, Mr. Demirjian,” said Robert. “That means

a lot.” “And even though I know why she wrote the letter, it was wrong for Lynda

to send it to the Army. You can’t do that sort of thing to people just based on

what you’re feeling and without any real facts to back you up.” The men shook

hands and Demirjian gave them both sharp salutes and departed.

 

After he left Puller took something from his pocket. “Speaking of letters.”

“What is that?” asked Robert. “The original letter from Mrs. Demirjian. Ted Hull

sent it to me.” “What are you going to do with it?” asked Robert.

 

Puller took something else from his pocket and held it up. “I brought this.” It

was a lighter. “You want to do the honors?” Puller gripped one edge of the

letter while Robert ignited another edge with the lighter’s flame.

 

Puller held on to the letter as long as he could. When the flames were about to

reach his fingers he let it go. The paper rose into the air, continued to burn,

and finally disappeared into blackened curls of ash carried away by the breeze.

“Is there really no way, Bobby?” said Puller. “Charpentier has disappeared with

no leads. Myers and Quentin are dead. The official word is that the body of the

old man is Chris Ballard. I’m sure they have the forensics to support that, even

if it is all bullshit.” “And the secrets they were selling? If people dig into

that?” “No one’s going to dig, John. Look at it from DoD’s point of view.

 

The truth comes out they all look bad. It could set back defense research for