Chapter 29
March 13
Norman Ducharme studied the invitation. On the one hand, it was a group on his A list. The Society of New Hampshire Women was a powerful statewide organization, one a New Hampshire governor, with an election to contend with every two years, ignored at peril. On the other hand, it was being held in North Conway, and it was Ducharme’s conviction - one shared by many in Concord - that north of that capital city there were more moose than votes.
“Stafford!”
The call brought his aide through the door. “Yes, Governor?”
“What am I doing June 20?”
“It may not matter.”
“What?”
“Take a look at this.” The aide put a letter in front of his boss. “I just opened it.”
Ducharme read:
Are you familiar with the word “Armageddon”? Become so. It is what will occur in your fair state should some important financial arrangements not be made. This same letter is being sent to your colleagues in the five other New England states asking the six of you to deposit the sum of six billion dollars to account number 7C869M54HR-GV at Closter’s Bank on Gruber Street in Lausanne, Switzerland by twelve noon on March 17. We are aware that it is entirely possible you receive other such requests from cranks and loonies who have no means or intentions of carrying them out. Do not make the mistake of assuming this is one of those. Our credentials can be verified by contacting Governor Whalen of Massachusetts and asking him to relay the events that occurred in the town of Stewart. This was our doing. Find that hard to believe? Then ask Governor Whalen if any animals died in Stewart. They didn’t, and this bit of information has never been released to the public. Why did no animals die? Because what was used only attacks humans. And outside of the CDC, FBI and other bureaucratic types only we know that fact. Picture the same scenario in a hundred new locations, many in New Hampshire. Would you ever hold political office again? Would there be anyone left to vote for you? The danger in doing business with most of us who obtain funds through duress is that we’ll return for more. That’s why we are seeking a substantial sum right up front, enough to cover our needs forever. We won’t be back; this is a one-time contribution.
It was unsigned.
“Get Nate Whalen on the phone.”
“Right.”
Within minutes the governor of New Hampshire was talking with the governor of Massachusetts.
“You’re the third,” said Governor Whalen
“Tell me about Stewart,” said Governor Ducharme
“Ten people died there last fall.”
“Some sort of a germ, wasn’t it?”
“We don’t know.”
“You don’t know yet?” Incredulity crept into Ducharme’s voice.
“No, we don’t. The FBI and CDC have both worked it.”
“But for Christ’s sakes, Nate. What did the autopsies show?”
“That they just stopped living. One minute they were alive, the next they weren’t.”
“Something contagious?”
“No one outside Stewart was affected.”
“Did the animals die?”
“No.”
“What’s the situation in Stewart today? Has there been a recurrence?”
“No. It lasted only a few days last October.”
“This may be it then. Pandora.”
Governor Whalen knew just what he meant. Sort of like a ghost story told in hushed voices around a political campfire, the conjecture of a “Nutcracker” - a person or group that had gained the power to “crack” the valued assets of a city or state, physically or financially - had been heard at meetings of mayors and governors.
As the threat of nuclear war diminished, the threat of nuclear terrorism increased. There were too many bombs in the hands of too many people, and, human nature being what it is, some will seek military and political advantage for their religions, tribes or countries. As far back as the Oklahoma City disaster the lesson was learned; how easily it could be accomplished by only one or two men.
In the midst of this fear, the demands may come from those who take advantage of terrorism to blackmail for personal benefit, use fear to collect dollars. They won’t take on the nation. But a city? Or a state? Who’s going to come to their rescue or pursue the bombers after the strike? And, since such extortionists are likely to have little concern for government finances, eventually someone will ask for such a large amount as to “crack the nuts” financially of the city or state if it were paid, or so the thinking went. The tiger was behind both doors, and the city or state was the loser, no matter what the decision of its executive.
The “bomb” could, of course, be something other than an explosive. It was no secret that infinitesimal quantities of some frightening substances could wipe out humans as quickly and in as great quantities as the noisier members of the arsenal.
“Jean Tentas thinks we should pay it.”
“Sure. Connecticut has the highest per capita wealth in the nation. She also probably thinks because it’s a multiple of six we should split it evenly.”
“We didn’t get to that.”
“You know we can’t pay, no matter how little or how much. Once we start we’ve opened ourselves to anyone with a mass weapon.”
“We decided on a conference call at three o’clock. Can you do it?”
“Yeah. I don’t need to check my schedule for this. Does the press have it yet?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Who knows about it in your office?”
“Just Stafford. He opens all my mail.”
“The rest of us the same so far. Only one person other than the governor.”
“Yes. It will be out by this evening. Jean thinks we should go public. She wants to in Connecticut.”
“Who haven’t you heard from?”
“George Crothers in Vermont and Les Petrocelli in Rhode Island.”
“I’ll call George.”
“Okay. I’ll take Les.”
Talk about lonely at the top, thought Norman Ducharme. Despite the depressing feeling that nothing positive could result from the call, it was surprisingly comforting to feel others were in the same impossible position. But being in the same position didn’t mean they’d all view it the same. Les Petrocelli came down on Jean Tentas’ side, plumping for going along with the demand. His argument was this was a hostage situation - all six New England states the hostages - and in hostage psychology you never turn those holding them down cold. Talk is better than confrontation and while they were gathering the funds, the FBI would have opportunity to develop leads.
The others were willing to at least discuss this line of reasoning right up until Governor Petrocelli suggested proposed payment of the six billion be split amongst the six states on the basis of land area. This brought Arthur Calley of Maine in with a loud bark that he was damned if it would be any way but by population, and prompted humor from Vermont’s George Crothers who declared the only fair apportionment was by ocean frontage. In the end, reality prevailed. There would be no payment, lest every grifter who could form whole sentences be at their doors.
Language of a joint press release to be issued that afternoon was agreed to after opposition from Les Petrocelli, who felt there was a chance they could get away with saying nothing for a day, and maybe the FBI could turn something up. One more day the threat was kept secret was one day less of public panic. The majority view was more cynical -“realistic” was the word employed. If one person knew something it might stay a secret; since twelve knew, it would be common knowledge tomorrow, and better the story get out in a form causing least panic. The release would be distributed at five PM, in time to catch the evening television news, Internet blogs and morning papers, but after state offices would be closed for the day and unavailable to supply further comment. Each governor would have a memo on the desks of his staff when they arrived the next morning that all questions were to be referred to him or her personally. Tomorrow will be a free-for-all, thought Ducharme; the National Guard put on standby. The FBI had been notified by Nate Whalen at the end of the conference call. After strongly regretting the decision of the governors to go public, the Bureau stated it would take full charge of the investigation and promised to put every available agent on it, though there was unspoken understanding on both sides that if they hadn’t solved the Stewart case in five months, there was little likelihood they could do anything with this one in four days. However, for the first time the FBI had confirmation of human causation and six letters and envelopes to “play with in their lab”, as Jean Tentas rather unkindly put it.
Governor Ducharme closed the door of his house behind him and stood leaning on it. After a minute his wife poked her head into the hallway.
“Well hi. What are you doing standing there?”
“Come into the study, Grace. We have to talk.”
“That sounds serious. What’s up?”
He said nothing until he’d hung up his coat and they were both seated in his favorite room. If either drank, this is the time to pull out a bottle of old something, he thought.
“It’s come, Grace. The unthinkable.” He told her about the letter and the joint actions being planned.
She sat quietly, listening. “Is it just New England?”
“As far as we know. Nate talked to Carol Sorrentino in New Jersey, not mentioning the letter of course. He’s convinced she’s gotten nothing.”
“Do you think everyone will pick up and head south?”
“Anyone who can probably will. There aren’t that many who can just walk away from their lives, for something that may be an empty threat.”
“Do you think it is?”
“No.”
“The business in Stewart, that only lasted a few weeks?”
“The deaths all occurred over four days.”
“Perhaps businesses will just shut down until after the 22nd. Maybe you should even encourage it.”
“Maybe. We don’t know how soon after that they’ll strike. It might take them awhile to make arrangements, whatever they are.”
“Do you suppose they’ll drop something from an airplane? Is that how they’ll do it?”
“No. That will be covered. The skies over New England will be kept clear. Any plane without proper identification will be forced to land. Or be shot down.”
“Then how will they distribute whatever it is?”
“We’re going to make it just as difficult as possible for them. Starting tomorrow, we’ll have roadblocks on all the major highways, with state police searching each vehicle. Just a gesture. We don’t know what we’re looking for, and it could be very easy to conceal. I’ve read about poisons and germs so concentrated that just a few drops can wipe out a city.”
“In the water supply?”
“Yes. The guess is that’s what happened in Stewart, though when they tested it they found nothing. We’ll have armed guards around city reservoirs. The smaller towns will also be protected, but we’ll have to ask for volunteers from them to help.”
“Won’t they up the timetable if they know you aren’t going to pay?”
“We’re not going to come right out and say that. Over the next three days we’ll have our state budgets analyzed by the press. They’ll draw their own conclusions.”
“You’re not going to respond directly? Is that wise?”
“The only direct contact is with an account number in a Swiss bank. That doesn’t allow for much dialogue.”
“But you’ll have to tell the press what you plan to do.”
He nodded. “Better a slow realization than an abrupt shock.”
Far from Bedford, New Hampshire, a white ambulance with side lettering imperfectly painted out slowly cruised a broad expanse of Arizona desert. The driver was looking for something. Later he appeared to find it, for he stopped and got out to walk a distance from the vehicle, wiping the sweat off the band of his wide-brimmed hat. Then he returned for his passenger who got out slowly, revealing hands bound in front of him. The two walked a few hundred feet to a clump of burroweed and cactus framing a small declivity, the passenger in the lead, the driver prodding from behind with a pistol. They disappeared behind the sparse vegetation. Presently there was a shot. After a long silence, the wide hat could be seen emerging, the pistol at the man’s side. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. With a last look around, he drove off, leaving the desert to its late afternoon heat.