Smith just stared into the flames in front of him. While he’d always admired Klein’s patriotism and intellect, the retired spook wasn’t exactly a spring chicken and had very little direct experience with ops. Smith had always assumed that in this type of situation he and Randi would be sacrificed—an unfortunate fact of life that he understood and could live with. But seeing Klein standing there with a gun bulging in his jacket put the man in an entirely a new light. Smith’s already enormous respect for him grew just a little more.

Klein’s phone beeped and he seemed grateful to be able to divert his attention to it. Randi took the opportunity to stoke the fire, trying not to look worried while Smith watched her in his peripheral vision.

“All right,” Klein said, stuffing his phone back in his pocket after a brief conversation that consisted mostly of worried grunts on his end. “We have a positive ID on all three men.”

“Mercs?” Randi said.

He shook his head. “Active military. Two SEALs, one special ops marine.”

“What the hell were they doing at my friend’s cabin?”

“No one seems to know. The SEALs are posted to Afghanistan and the marine is an advisor in Iraq. I’m guessing they were supposed to be on their way back by now with no one the wiser.”

“They didn’t just fly to the States on their own,” Smith said. “Someone gave the order.”

“James Whitfield,” Klein said.

“Who?”

“He’s a retired military intelligence officer who consults for an organization that lobbies on behalf of the military. I think you’re familiar with him, Jon. Gray hair, scar on his neck?”

“What do you mean by ‘lobbying for the military’?” Randi said. “You mean he’s in the pocket of defense contractors?”

“No, actually. While he’s definitely been involved in making sure that our soldiers are well equipped, he’s also supported serious cuts in unnecessary bases and weapons systems. His goal is to make the military stronger, but also cheaper and more efficient—something that hasn’t won him many friends in Congress and the military industrial complex. I’ve only met him in passing, but I have to admit that I’ve always been an admirer.”

“Well, I can tell you that those guys weren’t trying to lobby us,” Randi said.

Klein crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him. “I think there’s a good chance that Whitfield is the one behind the money disappearing from the Pentagon. It just never occurred to me to look at him. I was focused on criminal activity—someone embezzling or a contractor covering up a failing project. Not someone diverting money to fund an organization looking to help the military.”