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Trapper glared at him. “You don’t have any idea what we’re dealing with here. You blow the whistle on Thomas Wilcox without a shred of evidence, and you had just as well throw Glenn under the next freight train that comes by, because he’ll be dead just about that soon. Now, if you want to stay and hear the rest, come down off your judgmental podium, sit down on your self-righteous ass, and shut the fuck up.”
As before, Kerra stabilized a situation rapidly spinning out of control. “Let’s hear the rest of the story before we jump to conclusions or make any rash decisions.”
Hank smoldered as he looked at each of them in turn, but he sat. He looked at Glenn. “What? You took a bribe?”
“In a sense, I already had. I’d won the election that many predicted I wouldn’t, that I had predicted I wouldn’t. Wilcox went on to tell me that I would get to keep the office for as long as I wanted it. Each time I came up for reelection, no contest.”
“In exchange for what?” Trapper asked.
“Keeping Wilcox apprised of The Major’s comings and goings. Who he saw, who came to see him. Government types like I’d mistaken Wilcox for. I was to tell him anything The Major said about the bombing when we were in private, especially if he ever questioned the findings of the investigation or the three men who were credited with the crime.”
Hank was gaping at him, incredulous. “You spied on The Major.”
“On my best friend,” Glenn said, his voice gravelly with emotion. He took another drink.
“How could you do that? Why didn’t you just tell this Wilcox no? Or pretend to agree, and then go straight to the FBI and turn him in?”
“Tell him, Trapper.”
“No evidence,” Trapper said. “Wilcox wasn’t at the Pegasus. He wasn’t at the factory that burned to the ground. And there would’ve been no evidence of his having tampered with the election. I could go on, but you get the point.”
“You’ve got to understand, Hank,” Glenn said, virtually pleading. “That’s how this guy operates. If he tells you to do something, you’re already indebted. You’re already in. At least I was. The only option is to say yes, unless you want the sky to fall, not just on you, but on someone you care about.”
“Admit it, Dad, you were a coward.”
“Goddamn right,” Glenn fired back, no longer imploring him for understanding. “Wilcox had me sign a pledge, but not before covering all the signatures above mine. You don’t know who he’s got watching you. He says it keeps everybody honest. There was no one—no one—I could trust with this. First person I confided in could be the one watching me, and, like Trapper said, I’d be found looking like a sausage patty under a freight train. Or you. Or your mother.”
Hank looked both frustrated and fearful, but he stayed silent.
Trapper let Glenn catch his breath, then said, “You upheld your end of the bargain.”
“Wasn’t really a bargain, but, yeah, I began conveying information on The Major, but it didn’t feel like spying, because nothing he did or said aroused suspicion. There was never anything noteworthy to report. Months would go by when I’d forget about Wilcox. But he didn’t forget about me. The first time my loyalty was tested was when you joined the ATF.”
“Wilcox was keeping tabs on me?”
“Not until he learned you were with the bureau. Then he was on me for months. ‘What’s this about John Trapper going into the ATF? What does The Major say about it?’”
“You came to see me,” Trapper said. “You brought a bottle of cheap champagne to celebrate my being inducted.”
“I’m ashamed to say that I was fishing. I reported back to Wilcox that your interest in bombs and such was natural, seeing as the Pegasus had so impacted your life. That didn’t pacify him, though. Periodically he would ask me to find out what you were working on. I held my breath, fearing you’d start looking into the Pegasus.”
“Then I did.”
“Then you did,” he said with unnatural huskiness. “I didn’t know for certain, but I had an inkling that was what was causing you trouble inside the bureau. The best day of my life was when you were fired.”
“Yeah, that was a real party.”
Glenn had the grace to look remorseful. “Forgive me, Trapper. It got Wilcox off my back. When The Major retired and went into reclusion, I thought, ‘Thank Christ. I’m reprieved.’”
“Until I appeared on the scene,” Kerra said quietly.
Glenn sighed and gave her a rueful smile. “You didn’t know it, but when you entered the picture, so to speak, you might just as well have put a bullet in my head. It ended my life as I knew it.”
Chapter 30
The more Glenn talked, the deeper Trapper felt the cut.
Maybe he’d never professed it out loud, but he loved the guy. To hear all this hurt. He wished he could be someplace different, doing something different. If he could be someone different, maybe the laceration wouldn’t be so painful.
