HL 04-The Final Hour
it made my stomach churn. I could feel the bad news coming.
    He took his foot off the chair. He sat down across from me. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes steady on mine.
    “Here’s what’s been happening since they put you away in here,” he said. “The Homelanders organization has been broken. The men we arrested at your friend Margaret’s house? They talked. They led us to their headquarters . . .”
    “That crazy-looking mansion?”
    “The crazy mansion, yeah. We’ve still got it under guard. They had computers there, papers, names, locations. Those led us to the training camp, the place you escaped from. A series of safe houses. We’ve rounded up almost all of them. The Homelanders are over. They’re done.”
    He let that sit for a minute between us, gave me time to take it in.
    “So . . . that’s good news, right?” I said finally. “The operation was a success. I did what you wanted me to do. Hooray, right? America is safe. You get a promotion. Waterman can rest in peace. And listen, as far as I’m concerned, you can forget my parade and the medals and all that. Just get me out of here and let me go home, okay?”
    There was another moment of silence. Then Rose said the words that made my breath catch with fear.
    “It’s not that simple.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice rising. “What do you mean, it’s not that simple? Sure it’s simple. It’s really simple. You hold a . . . whattaya call it? . . . a press conference or something. You hold a press conference and you say, ‘Hey, remember the whole Charlie-West-is-a-murderer thing? Surprise, we were only kidding. He helped us bust up this terrorist ring and now we’re gonna set him free so he can have his own reality TV show . . .’ I don’t care what you say, man. Just get me out of Abingdon before I—”
    Rose interrupted me, speaking in the same flat voice with the same expressionless expression on his face. “I can’t.”
    I was in the middle of a sentence when I felt the words turn to ashes in my mouth. “What do you mean you can’t?”
    “I’m sorry,” Rose said.
    I swallowed, hard. “You mean you can’t get me out of here?”
    “No.”
    “Not ever?”
    His eyes flicked away from mine. “Not yet. Not now.”
    I felt the strength go out of me. I sagged against the chair.
    Rose went on speaking, without emotion. “You knew the risk when you signed on, Charlie. Waterman’s operation—our operation—it was never strictly . . . official. We never really had approval from our superiors. The government is happy to take the Homelanders into custody in a quiet way, but right now, they don’t want it to go any further than that.”
    “Any further than what? These people are terrorists. They’re at war with us. Why should we tiptoe around putting them in jail?”
    Rose cupped his hands over his nose and mouth and closed his eyes, almost as if he were praying. But I think he was just trying to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to me. I was pretty interested to hear what he’d come up with.
    “Here’s the deal,” he said finally, dropping his hands. “An organization like the Homelanders doesn’t just spring up out of nowhere. People fund it, plan it, support it. Powerful people in countries in the Middle East.”
    “So?”
    “We need help from some of those countries. Help with security. Help with arms negotiations. Help with oil.”
    “Oil.”
    “Right now, it’s convenient for a lot of people in the government to pretend that the Homelanders were just a random bunch of crackpots. And that you were just a troublemaker who got involved with them. That way, there’s no pressure from the people, from the media, to go too high up the ladder, to embarrass the people we need to deal with . . .”
    Suddenly I found myself on my feet. The plastic chair toppled over in back of me, rattling against the floor.
    “Embarrass them?” I shouted. “Embarrass
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