He raises an open hand to shut me up: “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. If you decide to answer questions now, without an attorney, you have the right to stop anytime and request one. Knowing and understanding your rights, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney?”

I nod yes.

“I need to hear you say it, MacGhee.”

“Yes, of course, I am willing to answer more questions.”

“The other day you told us about Ramon. You told us he provided drugs to people in your office, presumably for money.”

“Yes.”

“What about you? Did you get drugs from Ramon?”

“Some occasional weed, yes, I admit it.”

“You did two years in the Marines before you started in the business.…”

“Yes, and damned proud of it.”

“We checked your records. Good marks all around. Guess what else we found out?”

“I can’t imagine.” I’m hoping against hope.…

“Ramon served in the Marines, too. With you. In Iraq. He was in your battalion. In your squad. Ramon Martinez was in the same Marine Corps squad in Iraq that you led. You must have known each other a hell of a lot better than you’ve admitted to so far.”

He’s got me there, for sure. “Yes, we served together. That was before the agency business. Didn’t think it mattered.…”

And my mind wanders, believe it or not. I’m out on checkpoint Foxtrot with Ramon, dug in between the corner walls of a decimated building on the outskirts of Fallujah, deep into the night before we are to launch Operation Vigilant Resolve to retake the city from the insurgents. Our orders were to prevent anyone from entering the city, or leaving it, and our responsibility covered some twenty-five meters to either side. The calm before the storm. I’m scoping the landscape with night vision binocs. No action out there so far.

And so we drift into Spanish. Ramon and I were close and I wanted to learn his native language.

“Mi amigo…” I hear Ramon say…and then…

“You’re not supposed to think! Christ, MacGhee, you even helped Ramon get his job at the agency back when you first worked there! And we know this: you were in the drug business with him.”

God help me. They’ve got it all. At least, they think they do.

“What’s that got to do with his murder? Why would I murder an old friend? A brother?” I’m desperate for anything.

“Well, while you were panicking on the way over here we searched the boxes you were taking out of the office, and found this.” He nods over, and Garrison holds up a Ziploc bag of coke. Shit!

“Yeah, okay, I did some blow every once in a while. But it’s not…”

“That wasn’t a question, MacGhee. But this is: what was your specialty in the service?”

“I…”

“Never mind. We know what it was. MOS 8541. US Marine Corps Scout Sniper, especially trained in marksmanship with an M40 sniper rifle and an M9 pistol. Ring a bell?”