Guardians of the Secret
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved
22.
Hilliard was up when the attack occurred. It was doubtful that he would have gotten any sleep anyway. He began receiving calls updating him. He tried not to focus on the heat he would be taking for having blown it, but get on with the job of getting a handle on the investigation. He was told that the FBI was already working on the fragments of the two green vans.
The teenager and the vets had been interviewed. Along with recounting the events on the Memorial, they told of a missing vet as well as a person who helped them. Hearing their description, Hilliard began speculating almost immediately that it could be Michael.
If it turned out it was, it was a hell of an opportunity. Michael was following Everett and winds up at the Memorial. He might be able to link Everett to the attack. Hilliard weighed the option of turning them toward Michael. He would definitely get some finder's points. But if it came out Michael was trying to lay the whole thing in his lap a half an hour prior to the attack, how would that look? By their questioning Michael would know Hilliard was involved. That might lead to a free fall of revelations.
It might be better to skip the credit and let them find him themselves. They might get lucky and get some prints somewhere? They would connect them to the man wanted for murdering a cop. In the meantime it might turn out not to be him. Hilliard knew he couldn't wait. He passed the word to associates in the FBI he trusted would be discreet, that the person wanted in connection with the murder in Georgia might be also connected to the events in Washington.
* * *
There was an emergency meeting at the White House. Everybody expected Pierce to be unraveled. After all history is what happened at arms length, you didn't have spent bullets in your living room. He could have raged about the breakdown of intelligence, or being made to look foolish. He didn't. Reason had to prevail in all situations or lose its province. If history did come calling, even if it left spent bullets in your living room, you had to be ready with a response.
Pierce's aides summarized the obvious ones like having the heroes to the White House for picture taking. Start drafting a speech calling for tougher legislation aimed at the militia. It was apparent they made a feint toward New York and attacked Washington. There were calls claiming militia responsibility as well as prompt denials and claims of a frame up by the government. Connect March to any of this, and they can knock him out of the race before he's even started.
Hilliard was contacted. Did he have anything that would contradict militia involvement? It was too early he cautioned. He tried to make his warning emphatic, but at the back of his mind was a growing certainty that Michael was at the Memorial and that led right to Everett and the militia. He signed off knowing the President would proceed unless he quickly produced evidence to the contrary.
* * *
Hollings was more than surprised by the attack. He felt betrayed. He thought he had accomplished a number of things by tipping off the FBI to its possibility. If it was nothing, he had a chance to play the patriot and get them off his back at the same time. If it turned out to be a real threat, with his advance notice the FBI would stop it and save March considerable embarrassment. Enough to chill any election hopes.
Hollings had just arrived at a party when he heard the news. He sat in his car and listened to the reports. His worst fear was that March would respond with one of his shoot from the hip remarks. March's wife didn't make it any easier. Laura was outspoken when she should be silent and silent when she should be outspoken. Hollings rushed to March's house to try to head off disaster.
He got there expecting to find March and his wife following the tv reports word by word in a serious if not somber mood. Instead Laura was having fun trying on hats, only giving the tv an occasional glance, while March was chatting affably on the phone. Their bizarre detachment did nothing to set Holling's mind at ease. He kept motioning for March to get off the phone. He finally did.
Hollings smiled nervously. "I hope you're allowing your remarks to ripen a bit before you start shipping them out."
"Don't worry, I haven't given away the ranch," March responded.
Laura noticed Hollings' critical look. "You don't like the hat?"
"No, the hat's okay, it's just this doesn't seem to be the time for such things."
"What better time. If we're going to do battle, let's do it in style. Or do you think being drab will improve our chances?"
Hollings was about to respond when he heard a commentator on the tv, who had been speculating about militia involvement, mention March's name.
"Here it comes," Holllings warned. The commentator spelled it out.
"If it turns out that the militia were involved, and this is pure speculation of course, it would stop the momentum that March got from his announcement speech. Pierce would do everything to tie March to it and keep him tied to it. It would be a death sentence to March's chances in the upcoming election."
Laura waved her hand dismissively. "It's just pay back time for Pierce's help with that legislation. They should force them to say this is a paid political announcement."
"This is nothing," Hollings responded. "They'll have everybody but the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the same song before we're through."
The three fell silent. "You think the militia were involved?" March finally asked Hollings. He knew what Hollings answer would be.
Hollings nodded. "The sooner you can go on the record denouncing them the better."
"That's what Pierce will do," Laura responded angrily. "Allan doesn't back down."
"This is no place for South American machismo," Hollings shot back. "It may be good for your sex life, but he's running for President not caudillo."
Hollings expected Laura's angry response, instead she smiled. Mona Lisa couldn't do it better Hollings thought and then apologized. "Forget the part about sex life, I'm just jealous. But if he loses support over this he gets dangerously weak."
"So Allan loses, at least it's not some shadow of himself."
"You're missing the point. Allan's already a target, he becomes a vulnerable one. I know what's good about him is that he's not so self protective he can stand for something, but what good is all that if he gets himself killed."
Hollings ended the sentence with as much emphasis as he could muster, but still wasn't getting through.
"Either you two know something I don't, or I've got to get hold of some of the air you breathe. You might be satisfied with a commemorative statue of Allan with an inscription about a dead hero who stood for what he believed in. But I'm hoping he'll live long enough to outgrow his current penchant for over the top politics and develop into a fine politician excuse the profanity, and an effective leader if a little of me rubs off in the meantime, and actually change this country for the better."
* * *
It was five in the morning and still dark when Michael and Tess got to Sara's. The security system was easy for Michael to disable. As he worked on it he wished it was more challenging. Instead of occupying him entirely, it left too much room for the throbbing pain in his knee and replaying what he should have done to save Sara. Having Tess there helped him to stay focused. What he didn't need was some absentminded mistake that brought the patrol. "Let's just stick to fucking up the big things," he said to himself.
Michael checked out the surroundings before letting Tess and himself in. They began searching the pitch dark house. Tess took the upstairs, Michael the down. Everything was neat, abandoned and lifeless. Michael sat at Sara's desk in her workroom. There was a touching photo of her and her family. He allowed himself a brief glance at it before turning his attention elsewhere. He was looking for answers not tears.
It was hard enough seeing her in all her articles and research, all the work and heart and hope brought to an end. He went through them all, including her most recent papers she had shown him at the radio station. The contents of her computer didn't appear promising. He made copies of all the files.
Tess joined him carrying Sara's purse. They went through it together, emptying the contents on the desktop. Keys, wallet, make-up, a pocket phonebook. Seeing them there, Michael felt uncomfortably like he was performing an autopsy. It was distasteful, almost sacrilegious, but he wanted more than anything to know the cause of death.
The phonebook seemed to be filled with only personal numbers. As they left the house, Michael knew they hadn't got what he was looking for. Sara's last message to him was that she had something important she wanted to show him. Where was it? He had only found what he expected to find.
They parked a few miles away and he carefully read through the phonebook to make sure. They headed out on 95 toward Boston.
* * *
The FBI was still in the initial stages of sorting through the remnants of the vans, but already there was a clear link between the reports filed by the agent following Everett and the events at the Memorial. Everett disappeared with three green vans, two of them are at the scene. They had pieced together enough metal fragments to identify an M2 machine gun described by the missing agent.
The media was getting leaks of all this information as well as others pointing to the involvement of the militia. The President didn't like it. In addition to making it look like he was learning what was going on from CNN, the public response put Pierce under considerable pressure to take some action. After all they had the "smoking gun" even if it was in a thousand pieces.
The President had his speech writer prepare an address asking for strict anti terrorist legislation. There was the question of alluding to the militias. He put in a call to Hilliard as his aides debated the content of the proposed address. The consensus was that they wanted to at least indirectly hit the militias and March. Without it the speech seemed vague and weak.
The President asked Hilliard once again if he had anything contradicting militia involvement. Hilliard knew that everything pointed in that direction. He had just been informed that the vets had identified Michael from a photograph as one of the two missing persons that helped them.
Hilliard reluctantly told the President about Michael following the militia and winding up on the Memorial. He knew that it would help ice the case for militia involvement and it made him very uneasy. The President wasn't much interested in Hilliard's cautioning remarks about jumping to conclusions. He was only interested in confirming what seemed to be obvious.
"If finding this guy is so crucial, why the hell isn't the Bureau going public yet with his involvement?"
"There's a chance that the people involved in this don't know that Flaherty was right in the middle of it. The Bureau would like to keep it that way. It might mean we get to him first."
Two hours later Hilliard heard that Pierce was planning a major address prime time that evening. He called the President. He told Pierce that the agency was devoting considerable resources to finding Michael and to delay the speech until he was found. In the end Pierce compromised. He decided to go ahead with the speech, but have it carefully revised line by line.
* * *
Kit was hoping that Tess had managed to get herself clear of all this and wouldn't show. Even if it meant his giving up the pleasure of seeing the look on her face when he told her. What she didn't need was more danger and that's what he had to offer. That and a guess that there was enough at stake to make it worth taking the risk. He wondered if she would choose to be free instead. He knew she wouldn't. The money alone. That's why he was hoping she wouldn't show. For him the money was just the beginning.
* * *
Michael and Tess reached Harvard Square at half past two. There wasn't much time to figure out how to make the meeting with Kit as secure as possible. They didn't even have a chance to begin. As they walked down a side street off Mass Ave, they noticed a crowd that had gathered near a restaurant. There was a police car parked nearby.
Keeping a good distance from the police, Michael and Tess entered the crowd. Accounts of what had happened were being passed along. Someone had been shot. What was the world coming to, Washington and now this? He was Chinese. Japanese someone corrected. Some said armed. Belonged to the mafia. The Japanese mafia. Maybe it was about drugs. There had been a shooting in a Thai restaurant a while back. The descriptions of the victim varied considerably. Kit didn't seem to fit them.
Moments later several other police cars with their sirens blaring made their way through traffic to the restaurant. Michael and Tess walked away from the crowd back to the appointed meeting place in the Square. Kit didn't show up. Tess called the contact number. There was no message.
"What do you know about his girlfriend?" Michael said in response to the news.
"Kit said she had a condo with a great view of the river and..."
"They probably put up a new one every Tuesday around here. Anything else?"
"She drives a bright red Austin Healy."
"That's it?"
Tess nodded.
"Well at least there aren't many of those."
They went to a real estate office, described what they wanted to buy, and got a list of likely prospects to go look at. They started down the list. They searched the parking lots for her car, and asked tenants if they knew her. Three hours later they were nearing the bottom of the list when they spotted a red Austin Healy parked on the street near two high-rises. Tess smiled.
"Is it me, or does that car scream steal me?"
"It's you."
"Come on, that's some spot to leave a car like that. The driver's door isn't even shut."
"I know, I'm just kidding you. Something's off."
"Either that or she gets them weekly like a magazine subscription."
They got out the car and walked toward the Austin Healy.
"Let's search it," Tess suggested. "She might have left something interesting in it, maybe with her address."
Tess didn't get a response. Michael was thinking about searching another car. Now he remembered there had been traffic noise in the background of Sara's last message. If she had called from her car, maybe she had whatever it was with her. In a moment, the possibility grew to a certainty in his mind. He wanted more than anything to find her car and search it. It was so stupid he hadn't thought of it. Maybe not just dumb. Maybe he didn't want to see where she died. Feel the force of her agony in the twisted metal.
A car drove up interrupting his thoughts. A woman got out. She had an excess of style that made a workshirt and jeans seem elegant. She looked suspiciously at Michael and Tess.
"Not a great spot for Sumiko to put her car," Tess said.
"Blame it on the guy that was staying with her. He was using it when he got himself arrested."
Michael and Tess exchanged a worried glance.
"A neighbor saw it. She said the police pulled him over just as he was leaving the building. I wonder what happened. I thought he was okay for a guy." She gave Tess a wink.
"Does Sumiko know about it yet?" Michael asked.
"She's in Japan."
Michael and Tess called the police. There was no record of any such arrest. Everett had gotten Kit. Michael told Tess about his idea of searching Sara's car. It made sense. The sense included the fact that it was all they had.
* * *
Disregarding the advise of Hollings and the rest of his aides, March flew back to Washington. They had wanted him to stay put until some of the smoke had cleared. He wanted to be in the middle of it. He was in the air when Pierce delivered his address.
The speech was forceful, calling for tough legislation while cleverly denouncing the militia and March's connection to them without mentioning either by name. He had seized the high ground Pierces aides agreed, pointing to his first positives since March's speech.
March fended off reporters as he and his wife got off the plane. "It's a national tragedy. I'm sure these criminals will be found and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." Then he got the question he knew was coming.
An up and coming Sam Donaldson tried to draw blood.
"Some claim the people behind this attack might be sympathetic to your campaign."
"First of all, I'm pretty sure the President's name is Pierce not Some."
March got a laugh from the reporters.
"Second, that sort of garbage is one of the things people in this country are sick of. You want a quote, let me give you one."
The reporter wondered if he was going to be lucky.
"How miserable is the man that governs a people where six parts in seven are poor, indebted, discontented and armed."
"That's pretty strong stuff," the reporter replied sensing a story. "You willing to be quoted?"
"The quote was by a governor of Virginia. Have any idea when he said it?"
The reporters drew a blank.
"1676. Three hundred years this has been going on. I think that calls for strong stuff. Instead the President is scapegoating these people, rather than solving their problems."
* * *
Everett's man had his instructions. Twelve hours after the President's speech he was to call in the anonymous tip about the downed plane. Everett gave himself the twelve hours on the chance he would get lucky in the meantime. He was hoping some campers or even better a wildlife outing would discover it in the morning. A self contained local militia group nobody ever heard of was on night reconnaissance practice, when it came across it around eleven o'clock and notified the local police.
* * *
Michael and Tess were halfway to Philadelphia when they heard the end of a newsflash. "Six bodies were discovered in the plane and over 400,000 dollars on board. The FBI has identified the men as Colombian nationals. At first thought to be drug related, authorities are now looking into a possible connection with the events in Washington."
"Possible connection," Michael said sarcastically. "Everett probably left their driver's licenses on Lincoln's lap. It'll turn out they were the ones that did it and Pierce is left looking like a fool blaming the militia. Colombian nationals. Could be our Puerto Rican salsa band. Let me guess. A plane takes off from an airport outside Washington, one we're familiar with, crashes in some remote area. An anonymous tip phoned in conveniently after Pierce's speech notifies the police, and suddenly Pierce's election chances crash right along with the plane."
Michael found the start of the news item on another channel. Everything fit except the part about a militia group finding the plane.
"Why would he use the militia?" Tess asked
Michael didn't have an answer.
* * *
"Gentlemen I think it's possible we've just seized the low ground," the President began the early morning meeting. Pierce and his aides had been up all night. "We've got dead Colombians with the bunch of money, false passports and drug cartel connections."
"Who were found by some militia group, which makes one wonder," an aide interrupted.
"The FBI checked them out," Pierce responded. "It doesn't look like they're connected to anybody. I wish they were, because it turns out the Colombians have traces of bomb making material on their clothing. If we've got the wrong folks, we're going to have an uproar over this."
"We have next to no exposure. We didn't say the militia did it or didn't, that was the beauty of the speech."
"And a beauty it was," Pierce added. "But March pinned it on us anyway."
"What he did was pin himself in a corner with the militia. They haven't got a lot of friends."
"Just noisy ones."
Pierce wasn't cheered. "It still isn't our best hour. We have to look into the possibility that Everett and his associates were just running around in the woods and somebody else did this."
"There's too much evidence pointing to the militia," an aide pointed out.
"Maybe it was supposed to look that way. With Everett's background."
"It can't be discounted."
"This isn't Guatemala," Pierce said angrily. "I'll be damned if we'll be destabilized by some ex CIA mercenary. If Everett's involved in March's campaign, that's another reason to be tracking the money."
Pierce turned to Hilliard. "All right Hilliard give me one good I told you so, so I can feel free to light a fire under your ass and the investigation."
Hilliard smiled.
"I guess that will have to do. You have someone in March's camp, why the hell aren't we getting more on the money?"
"We're pushing him hard."
"Your agent's still missing, you haven't found ..."
"Flaherty."
"What's happening with that film?"
"It was badly burnt before it went into the river, but they're working on it as well as the tapes. The therapist on it could be Flaherty's. There could be a problem of privilege."
"That's swell. But I'm a little more concerned about the privilege of Mister Flaherty's company."
"We're devoting everything we can, but if we short other parts of the investigation we could end up with nothing."
"Meanwhile we've got these Colombians."
"We're due for an update on that from DEA and State," an aide interjected.
"I don't think they're going away," Pierce continued. "What are Flaherty's politics these days? He may be there just to point us in the wrong direction."
Hilliard shook his head.
"Or at least being fed disinformation," the President added.
"We've been going over his radio broadcasts. They were exposes on the militia. His partner on the radio show was killed in an auto accident."
"Recently?"
"Right after a broadcast which included a reference to Everett."
"Everett?"
"There's more to it. There was actually a death threat on the air, which doesn't seem like Everett's style. We've gotten the woman's files from her house and we weren't the first to search it. Another thing, the therapist is East German and we're already getting contradictory signals about a possible intelligence history. There might be international implications, I mean besides the Colombians."
Pierce saw the waters getting deeper and murkier. If Everett was orchestrating March's campaign, that's exactly where he wanted Pierce, knee deep and thrashing about.
"What about going public with Flaherty?"
Hilliard knew it wasn't a question. He resisted the President's pressure.
"If there are leaks we might have to. But I still think that's an excellent way of getting him killed. The Bureau's divided on it. If it makes it any easier, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure if he had the Rosetta stone in his pocket, he'd be in here bargaining with it. He's still out there hunting or he's already dead."
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved