Guardians of the Secret
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved
20.
They liked each other. The Georgia policeman and his son in law. There was friction. The old man tried to fix things with the young couple too much and the kid needed some grit in his crevices, but somehow it worked. They were seated in the policeman's office listening to a cassette tape of all things. The policeman had his feet on his desk and was gazing out a window. The world seemed bigger. He could barely contain his excitement. He knew he had something this time.
It wasn't like before. It was an honest mistake. He winced as he remembered the kid's lecturing words. "What you're looking for is called parapsychology, that's mind reading. I'm in psychology." But it just made this that much more enjoyable. He knew his son in law would show up with an attitude about to burst with impatience and a barely contained "What now?".
Out of the corner of his eye, the policeman looked over and smiled when he saw his son in law listening intently.
"One way to look at obsessions is that they contain a crucial message about our lives only we don't get it. Like someone who is desperately trying to get our attention, they keep repeating in order that we'll hear it. Although they are intense and sometimes overpowering, their intensity is a mark of how much we can discover at the heart of them.
"Sexual fantasy is populated by an almost endless variety of characters and scenarios. From the most light hearted and sweetly romantic to the most darkly obsessional. And they all have something to reveal to us. Not without difficulty, but with great reward."
The tape ended.
"Kind of interesting, huh?" the policeman said, enjoying every moment as he shifted his feet to the floor.
"Definitely," the son in law replied, trying not to act too surprised. "Where you'd get them?"
"From a car we pulled out of the river this morning. It was A-One priority, there was a policeman killed. I've never seen so many people poke their heads in, even the Feds were involved. We thought the tape might relate somehow to this guy involved in the killing, so I gave it a good listening. It doesn't appear so, at least on the surface, though the Feds didn't take my word of course.
"But I got to thinking about you, so I made some copies. I had to turn the originals over to the FBI. I was thinking you could do a 900 number. People would call to find out about all this. Everybody's fascinated by this stuff. And if it turns out it all has some meaning like this guy says, that's icing on the cake. I've got some money set aside. What do you say?"
"I'm in experimental psychology. We work with three year olds to see how they learn."
The policeman saw the world get significantly smaller.
"The department's still hassling the daylights out of you. Why don't you join us folk in the real world? Couldn't you bone up on this?"
He was getting nowhere.
"Just do me this. I'll..."
He didn't finish his appeal because he saw a smile begin to appear on his son in law's face.
"You dog."
The son in law's smile broadened.
"I've got enough background. It's a possibility."
"What do you think?"
"It sure beats mind reading."
* * *
Hilliard was irritated that he had to deal with Michael. He could ignore this meeting, but Michael wouldn't have asked for it if he didn't have something. Something besides what Hilliard made it painfully clear he already knew. It wasn't a sure thing or Michael wouldn't have bothered with the you owe me shakedown. He could be bluffing and have nothing, but he didn't think so. Was it worth having to meet Michael in some cockamamie park in the middle of the night?
Hilliard wrestled with it. He also wrestled with Michael's knowing about the attack. The number of people with such knowledge was accumulating. It put everybody's mind at ease including the White House, but not his. It would have eaten at him more, were it not for the fact that he was reassured by others that they had a stopgap, they had a man on site. He passed along his report to the White House with proceed with caution not just written between the lines.
The White House read his report and duly noted his concerns, but put them down to Hilliard having lost his nerve. They had more than enough confirmation that the attack on the UN was scheduled for tomorrow night. Both political and tactical reasons demanded immediate action. What did he want them to do, wait for more data and absolute certainty? Well they had certainty. They had a man on site.
* * *
March had scheduled a major address for later in the day. He would have liked to focus all his attention on it. Everett's warning about a possible militia attack had changed all that. The last thing he needed as he was about to launch his campaign with a bombshell, was to be put on the defensive about his "support" of the people behind some ill conceived attack. It wouldn't be better for Pierce if it had been cooked up in one of his strategy sessions.
What was even more frustrating for March was that his efforts to find out if such an operation was in the works were yielding nothing. All his sources were telling him was it was either government propaganda or it was renegades out on their own. How could he try to head off an attack that no one knew anything about? He kept trying to contact Everett.
His speech was to take place at a baseball field in his home town of Galveston, Texas. Caterers, technicians and advance men were setting up an informal mix of a press conference and Texas style barbecue. A soundman hooked up a mike on the improvised podium. He tested the hookup.
"Testing, testing, one, two..."
Feedback blared. The soundman made an adjustment.
"Testing, testing, one, two, three. One if by land, two if by sea."
There was no feedback, and the soundman smiled in satisfaction.
* * *
Tess and Michael were a thousand miles away driving highway 95 in North Carolina. It was a beautiful day. It served only to mock their mood. They were in pain. Tess' scalp was burnt, Michael had a concussion. The adrenaline of their recent ordeal had worn off, leaving them to endure their injuries with coffee and aspirin.
Tess offered him something stronger. It was tempting, but there was no predicting where that road might lead. For the time being he would go on trying to think things over with the counterpoint of a pulsing headache.
It bothered him as it had bothered Hilliard that too many people knew about the attack. It wasn't like Everett to leave tracks all over the place. On the other hand for Hilliard to be that positive, they must have somebody in Everett's camp. Tess interrupted his musings.
"You feel any better?"
"Some. In fact if I space my thoughts between the throbbing in my head, it seems to work. I've had these before. It's the kind of headache that feels just like you've been hit by a heavy metal object."
They both laughed. Tess had something on her mind.
"I know you've explained about Hilliard. But I still don't get why you trust him?"
"I said I trusted the situation. He thinks I've got something."
"Do you?"
"For one thing I've got a transmitter on the back of one of their trucks. If we can get close enough we can...."
"That sounds like we can find them if we can find them. You have anything else?"
"What they're going to use as a back door for their plan. The airport."
"The one on the matchbook?"
"I know it really well. Back in the eighties they used airports like this for their operations. It's not a stone's throw from Washington, Philadelphia and New York, but it's close. I have a hunch they're going to use it. I was planning to check it out before we meet Hilliard."
"Because of a matchbook?"
"Pretty much."
"You weren't kidding when you said it was a dim hunch. I'm not very impressed with what you've got, but if Hilliard shows I'll be very impressed with how you played it."
A highway patrol car approached in the opposite direction. Michael and Tess braced until the car passed.
* * *
The Texas style barbecue had come up to speed. Guests were enjoying themselves listening to a band play patriotic favorites. March and his wife Laura were shaking hands with well-wishers. Everyone who saw her thin, refined good looks came away thinking she must have been a fashion model. Her features were actually too full and sensual, her figure too ample to fit the mold. She had successfully pulled off the transformation, but it required effort, an effort she disguised with considerable grace. It was the same grace that made people comfortable with her despite her stunning looks and upper class manner.
March stepped to the podium and the band stopped.
"Today I thought it appropriate to officially announce my candidacy for the President of the United States!"
The crowd cheered their approval.
"I'll be brief. I can compete with the other candidates, but not with Texas barbecue."
The crowd laughed.
"America has a representative form of government. Unfortunately it represents the few and the powerful. Those people you elect every four years are already spoken for. I'm not spoken for, so I can do a few things they can't. For instance. You want a drug free America?"
The crowd cheered, but a little uncertainly, like they feared March of all people was about to offer them pie in the sky.
"I know you've heard this sort of promise before, but I'll let you in on a little secret. The shameful truth is it's really possible. I've recently learned that we have the technology to do it and have had for some time. I know it sounds hard to believe, but what's hard to believe is that the other politicians have done nothing about it.
"I want to fill you in on a few of the details so you won't think this is the usual election year eyewash. I've learned that scientists have genetically designed a microorganism that will kill cocaine plants and only cocaine plants. They went to a lot of effort to make sure that it was harmless to any other living thing.
"In the operation that I will launch, the organism will be spread from helicopters across prime coca growing areas of Colombia, Bolivia, and Peru. It will completely eradicate the entire production in South America. Using the same principle we are now developing a microorganism to go after the opium plant.
"Operation Black Forest will be a three prong attack on drug growing areas of South America, the Middle East, and the Golden Triangle in Southeast Asia. With this research we can take the war on drugs out of the middle ages and make it winnable. It can be done. So the real question is why hasn't the government done it. I know they don't have to answer to me. Believe me they don't."
The crowd laughed.
"But they have to answer to you, if you make them. If you want a government that will answer to you, choose me as your President. If you want a President that will carry out this plan, vote for me. I make this sacred promise to you. If I'm elected President of the United States, every last cocaine tree and opium poppy in the world will be dead. I don't say no to drugs, I say good-bye forever."
The Guests were stunned.
"It's really very simple. If you want a President who's your President, vote for me. The government of the special interests, by the special interests, and for the special interests, is going to perish from the earth. You and I are going to take back America."
The crowd applauded wildly.
* * *
There was no applause at the White House. The President quickly called an emergency meeting. In addition to his immediate staff he had his scientific advisor and the Secretary of State, hoping they would provide him with ammunition to label March's idea as scientifically and politically irresponsible. The scientific advisor was not very encouraging.
"With the caveat that my review of this is on short notice, it's conceivable you might be able to fray it a bit, but you're not going to poke a hole in it. On the contrary there seems to be decades of research behind it, the stuff from Beltsville alone fills a folder."
As he continued his report the Secretary of State was in a dark mood, reflecting on statecraft in the era of international interlocking directorates. Although the public saw the usual hands at the wheel of the ship of state, they were as decorative as the figureheads on the bows of old sailing ships. The ship of state had become a supertanker, a computer guided ghost ship controlled by distant unseen hands. He was just another exhibit in what amounted to a governmental theme park.
"You could proceed along the line that it would upset the delicate political balance in the hemisphere. Undermine the trust we've so carefully nurtured, that sort of thing."
"That's fine, but the downside is, if we push it too hard, you care more about those countries than your own people."
"What he's advocating amounts to outright invasion. There ought to be something there."
"There might be. But it's tricky. There's a lot of precedence for doing just that. March could point to Reagan invading Panama with a good deal less reason."
"Maybe we can get the Joint Chiefs involved. They're not thrilled about this policing stuff."
"Unfortunately I don't think we're going to get much soul searching for sending some helicopters with the clear goal of ridding the world of drugs."
The President wasn't getting what he wanted.
"Some of it must be classified or secret. Find out his access. I know March is supposed to self destruct, but make sure he's in everybody's sights. I don't want any more surprises."
* * *
After crossing from North Carolina into Virginia, Michael and Tess found a gas station off the main route where they stood some chance of being the only customers. Tess went into the convenience store to pay as Michael gassed the car. Minutes went by. Michael was uneasy. They made these stops no longer than necessary and it was taking her too long. Michael started to pull the car around the side of the store when Tess suddenly appeared.
She wasn't in a hurry, that was a good sign, but her expression didn't reassure him. She looked shocked. She got in the car and Michael drove off. Tess didn't say anything right away.
"What's up?"
"Black Forest. These women were talking, said it was on the radio."
"What?"
"They didn't know much, they heard about it from somebody else. They said some politician made a speech about drugs and something called Black Forest. The guy at the counter didn't know, he was busy listening to a game."
For the next half hour Michael kept switching channels, trying to get a replay of March's speech. He never did. What he got instead was the talk of talk radio, and he listened with frustration as the information came out in dribs and drabs.
"I guess I deserve this."
"Your show wasn't anything like this."
"I hope that's more than a half truth, like about seven eighth's."
Finally there was a replay of the speech. The two listened in disbelief as March laid out the details of Black Forest and his commitment to its execution. Michael was the first to comment.
"So much for Everett's secret."
"Terrific. I almost get murdered to keep a secret for a week."
"With what's at stake he'd do it for an hour."
"What for? What am I going to do? A small time thief is going to take a paper she knows shit about, walk right up to the President or the CIA and say look what I stole? Everett's a stiff if he thinks that."
"Maybe you know the right people."
"I know only the wrong people. The kind of people that get your ex boyfriend into debt and when he splits want it from you. So I did a favor to even up. Someone tells me to steal an attaché case with supposedly no problems attached, I do it, that's it. Be stupid like Everett, go make something of it."
"It's easy to see why your employer wanted the papers. Black Forest might really cut into their drug business. I wonder how they knew about the papers."
"They need lots of friends and they've got them. We on the right side here?"
"It's a good guess with Everett, even if he's doing good, it's for no good. And then there's the militia thing."
Michael fell silent.
"What are you thinking?" Tess asked.
"They went a little hot and heavy with us last night considering March's speech. Maybe we're missing something. Anything else in the attaché case?"
"Nothing besides the money and the big secret."
"What about his wallet?"
"Just what you saw. Hey, maybe you're right about that matchbook thing. They're going to use that airport. But how could he think I would know about it?"
"Maybe Kit did."
"I'll give you a better maybe. Maybe I should have just shot Everett and March in that kitchen and we wouldn't be talking about maybes."
* * *
It was Sumiko who told Kit about March's speech. Kit had secluded himself in the bedroom while he was working his way through pages of printout provided by her brother. The list of scientists who could be involved in a project like Black Forest seemed endless. And there were more pages to come. Akira had asked him for some criteria they could use to narrow the search. How about nationality or age or area of specialization?
"How about recently murdered," Kit finally responded. If the dealer was killed maybe the scientist shared his fate.
"Great filter," Akira replied.
Kit had a second thought. "They could have made it look like an accident."
"You'll still have a very short list," Akira concluded, promising to get right back to him.
Kit knew he was reaching, but he still had a good feeling about it. That is until Sumiko interrupted him. Black Forest was now public. There were no dead Black Forest scientists to speculate about. There was no reason to wait around for Akira's reply. Kit went out for some air while he speculated on his own chances of mortality.
* * *
The van with KC, Memphis and Earl arrived in Charleston, West Virginia. Earl went to get a pack of cigarettes. He didn't come back. KC sent Memphis to go look for him. Memphis came back without Earl and they drove on.
* * *
It was dusk and the last group of tourists were leaving the Washington Monument. The park ranger started to close up. He was surprised when a second park ranger walked in. He was even more surprised when the ranger pointed a gun at him.
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved