Guardians of the Secret
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved
24.
Hollings didn't take March's coolness over the phone too seriously. Friction between March and himself was nothing new. You couldn't go through what they had without real bouts of it. All you could hope is to keep to the issues, and not let the skeletons in the closet come out and do a dance macabre.
March was just finishing a pep talk to supporters who were setting up his campaign headquarters in Austin when Hollings walked in. March cut short his remarks, and the workers got the message that the two men wanted to be alone.
"I hear you've been talking to some friends," March began, trying to retain a casual warmth in his voice.
"I have lots of friends," Hollings replied matter of factly.
"You do, but you know who I'm talking about."
"They wanted to talk to me. They're worried about you."
"What about Pierce? This Colombian thing has opened the door for Black Forest. He might just go through it."
"They think he's afraid of his own shadow. It's you they're concerned with."
"Me?"
"They think you're crazy enough to do it. I keep reassuring them you're not going to win this time."
"That is reassuring. What about next time?"
"I've convinced them you'll be older and wiser."
"Older I can't seem to help, but wiser like that I hope I never am. By the way how much do you tell them?"
"As little as I can and still keep them happy and you alive."
"You've always had a finger in every pot."
"Right, and you get to find out what everybody's cooking."
"A friend to all, enemy to none, it's a neat balancing act. I don't know why I trust you."
"We go back to when it counted. Besides you don't trust me. You tell me next to nothing about the whole Everett side of the campaign, and believe me it shows."
"I don't know that much more than you. That's the way he works."
"You trust him?"
"I do. I know his politics."
"I don't know. Talk about a finger in every pot. You've got to wonder."
"We're talking about the Presidency of the United States," March said with finality.
* * *
Michael and Tess were driving a newly "acquired" Land Rover as they approached Sara's bank. Tess was dressed to look "pregnant" and disguised with a wig, while Michael had on a baseball cap and sunglasses. He finished going over a profile of Everett's men, with the admonition that Tess should leave immediately if any of them were there or there was any sign of the police.
She told him not to worry. This job like all the others was like a chess game. Every possible move and countermove was considered. She proceeded only if she had a response for every crucial outcome.
What if Everett's men were there? The police? What was her legal vulnerability at each step of the way? What if the teller returns? What if she were discovered? She knew under no circumstances would she be found with the bank keys and how Sara's papers might be passed as her own. When she was younger she thought it out awkwardly and painstakingly from beginning to end, but now it came to her instinctively.
"That's bullshit," Michael responded.
"Not as much as you think."
"I think you've never done a job like this before. You're defiant and reckless and a natural and have reasons all your own for going in there. Just be careful."
Michael looked over the street. He didn't see anybody that didn't seem like a civilian. No sign of the police or Everett's people. He handed Tess the safety deposit key.
"Good luck."
"Luck better not have anything to do with it."
Inside the bank Tess satisfied herself that the few customers and the personnel were not a problem. She purchased a safety deposit box from a woman teller.
Tess sized her up as they went through the transaction. Late thirties, divorced, been at the bank long enough to get a little sloppy about routines, carries bank keys in right pocket, easily flattered and distracted. Tess noted her physical habits, boundaries, blind spots. All this was done effortlessly thanks to her experience.
As the teller escorted Tess to the safety deposit area, Tess concluded her evaluation. Nothing much happens in this woman's life and she isn't expecting it to.
"So, when are you due?" the teller asked.
"Three months."
"Your first?"
"Yes."
Tess stopped suddenly. The security officer for the bank emerged from a back office talking with what looked like a bank manager. Tess got closer to the teller to shield herself from his view. She was supposed to get the hell out, but she didn't. To their right was the room that housed the safety deposit boxes. They entered it.
Michael was parked down the street with a view of the bank. He saw a police car pull up in front of it.
Inside the safety deposit room, Tess opened one lock, and watched as the teller opened the other. The teller handed Tess her key and the strongbox, and put the set of bank keys in her right pocket.
"Just let me know when you're done."
"Thank you...."
Tess appeared faint. She started to fall. The flustered teller practically grabbed her in a bear hug to steady her, and Tess adroitly stole the woman's keys.
"Oh, my God," the teller exclaimed and then called to the other room. "Someone, help!"
"I'll be fine," Tess said, recovering somewhat.
The teller grabbed a chair and assisted Tess. The bank manager entered with the security officer, who stared at Tess.
"I'm fine really," Tess assured them.
"Would you like some water?" the teller asked.
"You're sweet, but no thanks. I really feel better."
Again reassuring the teller she was all right, Tess got up and walked into the adjoining room with the strongbox. She entered a viewing cubicle. She knew she had to make her move before the teller's next customer. She pulled out the bank keys from her pocket and opened the cubicle door slightly. She watched as the teller walked away, but the manager and the cop were still by the entrance. Tess closed the cubicle door. She looked as if she was trying to will them to leave.
The teller was about to go on a break when a customer walked up holding a safety deposit key.
Michael drove away from the bank, his mind racing for a plan. He passed an ambulance parked in front of a fast food restaurant. A twenty two year old ambulance driver was sitting in the driver's seat eating his lunch. He was reading a dog-eared Raymond Chandler paperback instead of the anatomy text he planned to study. Michael pulled his gun, opened the passenger's door and got in.
"I don't carry any drugs," the ambulance driver said nonchalantly as if this sort of thing happened every day.
"I need your phone."
"And I need peace of mind, an ever expanding sense of self and a Cuban cigar. But at least you get your phone."
The ambulance driver handed Michael the cellular phone.
Inside the bank cubicle Tess picked up the strongbox and opened the door a crack. The manager and the cop were standing with their backs to her. She weighed the chances of them leaving against the chances of the teller coming back. She walked quickly into the safety deposit room.
As the teller and the customer headed for the safety deposit area, Tess went to Sara's compartment. She set down her own box, quickly inserted the bank key and Sara's key and opened the compartment. The manager and the cop were still talking as the teller let the customer through the security gate.
Tess pulled out the box and lifted the lid. She had a moment of elation at seeing file folders when she heard the teller from the next room. Tess stuffed the file folders under her clothing, replaced the box and started to close the compartment. She didn't have time to lock it as the teller and the customer were coming toward her. The teller began reaching into her right pocket for the bank key. Tess stepped toward her, concealing the partially opened compartment behind her.
The teller was puzzled the keys weren't in her pocket. The cop and the manager walked over to the teller as she started to check her other pocket.
"Just hold it there," the cop said unfastening his gun.
Everybody stopped.
"You, over here."
The cop motioned to the customer. Tess glanced over at him. She could see that he resembled Michael. As the cop began interrogating him, the teller was momentarily distracted. Tess seized the opportunity.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked the teller.
"Certainly."
"It's personal," Tess said, moving closer to the teller as if she wanted to whisper what she had to say. Tess put her hand lightly on the woman's right arm and captured her full attention with a desperately earnest look.
"It's about my husband. This morning I found out he's having an affair."
"Oh my God."
"With my sister."
Agony suddenly replaced the teller's professional smile as tears came to her eyes. Tess had expected a distracting moment of sympathy in which to make her move. Instead she had hit a nerve and was distracted herself by the woman's sudden intensity. Fortunately the woman made it simple. She hugged Tess, who quickly dropped the keys in the teller's left pocket.
"I know how much you've been hurt," the woman said.
A strange feeling that the woman really knew filled Tess. It was both comforting and disturbing. Tess withdrew from the hug.
"Thanks, I feel better just telling someone," Tess heard herself say in character. The emptiness of the words somehow bothered her.
The teller "found" the keys in her left pocket, put back Tess' box and she and Tess turned to leave. Behind them Sara's open compartment was visible as they passed the cop still questioning the customer.
Tess started to walk toward the exit. She was hurrying as slowly as she could. She heard the cop's voice behind her call out for her to stop. She kept going, pretending not to hear him. He yelled to her again and drew his gun. She was nearing the exit. She decided to gamble that he wouldn't shoot her in the back before she walked through it. A bomb squad rushed in right by her shouting to everyone to clear the bank. Tess escaped in the confusion.
Tess hurried away from the bank, taking in the sight of police, bomb squad, and fire engines everywhere. She glanced around quickly, but there was no sign of Michael. She knew the cop would be out any moment. A siren wailed as an ambulance pulled up.
"Get in!" the ambulance driver yelled to her.
Tess had no time to think it over. She got in as the ambulance sped off. She looked at the driver with a mixture of puzzlement and paranoia until Michael appeared from the back. The ambulance weaved through the maze of police and fire trucks and drove off.
Michael and Tess left the ambulance driver with a long walk to the nearest phone, a short explanation and a kiss on the cheek from Tess for his trouble. They abandoned the ambulance and Tess acquired a new car. She drove as Michael examined the files.
"This is very detailed. Sara definitely had a high level source."
"Who?"
Michael rapidly flipped through the pages.
"Can't tell, but judging from the different sorts of information there might be more than one."
Michael scanned more pages.
"It gets better and better. Whoever supplied this must have been inner circle."
What Michael read next stopped him cold.
"I can't believe this, Richard Coulter was involved."
"Who's Richard Coulter?"
"Sara's father in law."
"Her own family?"
Michael nodded. "That's what she was calling to tell me about. Money went from his group to Everett to the militia."
"And she knew this and her family killed her?!"
For a moment Michael let in the horror of that possibility. "Unless Everett was on his own. Or even one of his men. That's operating procedure. No one's accountable."
"So we'll make him accountable. That'll be our operating procedure."
"There are plenty off leads here. But Everett's not going to wait around for us to put this together. I'm sure he's already heading out of the country. Which is what we should be doing. I want to do the negotiations with Hilliard and the government from a safe distance."
"You're going to leave his fate to them?"
"They'll never get the chance. We'll make him such a liability his friends will kill him."
copyright © 1998 by Cary Shulman
All Rights Reserved