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Mandalevo’s request. He had ordered it immediately, but he didn’t like it. It smelled of politics. The NID had been specifically created because politics interfered with intelligence; because of all the interdepartmental turf wars between the various intelligence agencies.
    Akron thought he was up to date on the Derek Stillwater issue and on the matter of The Fallen Angels and Richard Coffee. But maybe not. The Stillwater issue, he thought, was dead and buried. As he walked past his cluttered desk, he reached out and snagged his coffee cup, taking a sip, thinking not for the first time that he wished his office had windows. Such was the life of an intelligence wonk.
    Akron had come up through the army. Served in Desert Storm in ’91 and later in Kosovo. Ran military intelligence for a while, then worked at the CIA, and for a while directed the NSA. His career had almost ended during the Clinton administration, the so-called don’t-ask-don’t-tell period. Akron, who was more-or-less openly gay, had chosen to “not tell” and keep his job, although from time to time the subject came up in terms of national security clearances. He was currently single, and with the demands of his job, pretty much chaste and celibate. He did have a cat named Harley, but aside from Harley, there wasn’t a lot in Akron’s life except his work.
    His secretary buzzed him and let him know the files were here. The chain of custody security issues could be a pain in the ass, so rather than add signatures Akron pushed into his secretary’s office and signed off on the thick folder containing confidential files and several computer disks. All were labeled Top Secret.
    Akron’s secretary, an efficient man with a crew cut and wire-rimmed glasses who projected the sense that he would be happier wearing a military uniform, said, “Wheels up in ten minutes. Anything you need the director to know in the next twenty?”
    “No.” Akron shrugged his broad shoulders, ran a hand through his unruly gray hair and pushed back into his office, shut the door, and opened the first file, the one on Derek Stillwater. It was thick and most of it was made up of conflicting FBI reports and attorney general briefs regarding Stillwater’s actions during The Fallen Angels’ first terror attack. Akron had been over it before and in his opinion Derek Stillwater had been acting in the only way possible during what turned out to be one of the worst terrorist events in U.S. history. The FBI had gotten their boxers in a bind because they were left looking like idiots.
    There was more than an element of a witch hunt on the part of the attorney general, who made no secret that he would prefer that Secretary James Johnston had stepped down for good after the failure of the Department of Homeland Security to predict or prevent the initial attack.
    Akron thought the AG had an easy job. Clean up the messes afterward and assign blame.
    Scanning the document, something caught his eye. He read it carefully. It was a report concerning Derek Stillwater’s death. What had Robert said? Find out if he’s really dead.
    Why would they fake Stillwater’s death?
    One reason would be politics, wouldn’t it? Under investigation by the FBI and the attorney general, the AG hounding after Johnston’s job, Stillwater’s death would douse the flames of a major political brush fire.
    Was Johnston political enough to do that? In Akron’s experience, Jim Johnston hated politics and avoided tricky political maneuvering when possible. Akron didn’t think much of Johnston’s administrative skills, even less of his political skills, but he thought he was possibly a tactical genius. If Johnston ever left Homeland Security, Akron would considerhim to run operations at the Office of the National Intelligence director.
    Should be easy to prove, though. He picked up the phone and asked his assistant to get him in touch with someone involved in death benefits for the Veterans