MICHAEL SAT ABOVE THE REST OF THE MORNING traffic as he rolled through downtown D.C. in his forest green Chevy Tahoe. He was tired and nervous. His nerves were shot from a lack of sleep and too much coffee, not to mention the little excursion involving Arthur. When he was about four blocks away from the Hoover Building, he dialed the phone number for the main switchboard. After several rings a woman with a pleasant voice answered.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may
I help you?”
“Special Agent McMahon,
please.”
“Just one
moment.”
The phone started to ring again and then
another person answered. “Special Agent McMahon’s
office.”
“Special Agent McMahon,
please.”
“Special Agent McMahon is away from his
desk right now. May I ask who is
calling?”
“Is he in the building this
morning?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to answer
that. May I ask who is calling?”
Michael hit the brakes to avoid ramming a
cab that pulled out in front of him. “This is Congressman O’Rourke,
and I need to speak with him . . . it’s extremely
urgent!”
“Special Agent McMahon is very busy right
now. It would help if I could tell him what it was that you
wanted.”
“I don’t want anything. I need to give him
something that I think he will be very interested
in.”
“What is it
regarding?”
Michael let out an audible sigh. “Listen,
I know you’re only trying to do your job, but this is something
that I can’t talk about over the phone.”
“You said your name was Congressman
O’Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see if I can track him down, but it
would help if I could give him even the slightest hint as to what
you wanted. He has been getting a lot of phone calls from
congressmen and senators lately.”
“I don’t want anything from him. I want to
give him something. Something that will have an enormous impact on
his investigation.”
“Just one minute, Congressman. I’ll see if
I can track him down.”
With his digital phone clutched to his
ear, O’Rourke circled the Hoover Building. Several minutes later,
McMahon answered the phone.
“Congressman O’Rourke, sorry to keep you
waiting. How are you doing?”
“I’ve been
better.”
“Sorry to hear that. What can I do for
you?”
“I have something that I need to give
you.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it over the
phone.”
“All right, let me get my Day-Timer and
see when I have an opening.”
“This can’t
wait.”
“Congressman, do you have any idea how
busy I am right now?”
“Yes, I do. Believe me, it won’t be a
waste of your time.”
McMahon paused. “When do you want to
meet?”
“I’m down on the street, in my
truck.”
“Ah . . . I’m in the middle of something
right now, can you give me an hour?”
Michael tried to sound as relaxed as he
could. “Special Agent McMahon, do you want to know who killed
Senator Olson and Congressman
Turnquist?”
There was a moment of silence on the line
and then McMahon responded, “All right, I’ll be down in five
minutes. Pick me up at the south
entrance.”
O’Rourke completed one more circle and
pulled up to the curb. McMahon came out of the building a moment
later and approached the truck with someone Michael didn’t
recognize. Michael rolled down the passenger window and McMahon
leaned in, sticking his hand out. Michael grabbed it and said, “Who
is she?”
“This is Irene Kennedy. She works for the
CIA and has been helping out with the
investigation.”
“Get in,” replied
O’Rourke.
McMahon climbed in the front seat and
Kennedy got in back. Michael put the car into drive and pulled back
out into traffic. Looking in the rearview mirror, Michael asked,
“What do you do for the CIA, Dr.
Kennedy?”
“I’m an
analyst.”
“What do you
analyze?”
“Terrorism is my
specialty.”
“Are you familiar with a guy by the name
of Arthur Higgins?”
Kennedy moved forward. “Very. . . . What
do you know about him?”
Michael reached down and grabbed a
letter-sized manila envelope from the center console and handed it
to McMahon. “I found this on my doorstep this morning along with a
tape, and you’re not going to believe what’s on it.” Michael put
the tape into the cassette player.
Stansfield and Roach entered the Situation
Room and sat across the table from Nance and Garret. Both directors
said hello to the president, but ignored his national security
adviser and chief of staff.
Nance hadn’t planned on Roach coming. He
forced a slight smile onto his face and said, “Director Roach, we
weren’t informed that you would be joining us this
morning.”
“I asked him to come,” replied Stansfield.
“Arthur was transported across state lines and killed. The
investigation falls under the jurisdiction of the
FBI.”
“What investigation?” asked
Nance.
“The investigation into his
death.”
“Surely you aren’t serious. We can’t have
what Arthur did for the CIA brought under public
scrutiny.”
“That will be up to Director Roach and the
Justice Department.” Stansfield looked at the president. “Sir, may
I be blunt?”
“I would prefer it,” responded an
aggravated Stevens.
“Arthur Higgins was privy to a rather
large amount of highly classified information. My foremost concern
is to identify the correlation between his being taken from his
estate and being left at Mr. Garret’s house. I have to know what
Arthur’s relationship was with Mr. Garret so I can assess any
possible damage to the Agency. We can go about this one of two
ways: Mr. Garret can either tell me and my people everything he
knows under the protection of the national secrecy act, or he can
tell his story under deposition to the
FBI.”
The president looked at Garret and said,
“Stu?”
Garret turned to Nance for direction.
Nance cleared his throat and said, “Director Roach, would you
excuse us for a minute?”
Roach didn’t say a word. He looked to
Stansfield, who nodded, telling him it was all right. Roach got out
of his chair and left the room. As soon as he was gone, Stansfield
zeroed in on Garret. “What was your relationship to
Arthur?”
Again, Garret glanced at Nance for
support. Nance looked back across the table and said, “Arthur was
helping us with a little project that had nothing to do with the
CIA or the intelligence community.”
“What was the
project?”
“I would rather not say.” Nance didn’t
want to give in too quickly.
“That’s not how this is going to work,
Mike. You either tell me, or the FBI starts digging, and neither of
us want that.”
“It was purely a domestic issue . . .
political in nature.”
“All the more reason that the FBI should
be involved,” responded Stansfield.
“Thomas, I’m telling the truth. What we
were doing with Arthur had nothing to do with the Agency. He was
simply doing some freelance work for us that was political and
nothing else.”
Stansfield looked at his watch and then at
Garret. “Do you want me to bring Director Roach back
in?”
The speechless Garret had beads of sweat
forming on his forehead and upper lip. He was so flustered all he
could do was shake his head from side to
side.
“What in the hell is going on here?” asked
the president. “A former employee of the CIA shows up dead on your
lawn, Stu, and you look like you’re about to have a nervous
breakdown. I want some answers!”
“Sir, as I said earlier,” responded Nance,
“for your own protection, I think it would be best if you remained
in the dark on this.”
“For my own protection, I want to know
what in the hell is going on!” Stevens’s complexion
reddened.
Nance took a deep breath and paused, as if
gathering his thoughts. “We recruited Arthur to help aid in the
passage of your budget through the
House.”
“How?” asked the
president.
“He did some . . . background checks on
several congressmen.”
Stansfield shook his head sideways knowing
full well what background
checks really meant.
The president asked, “What do you mean by
‘background checks’?”
“Arthur gathered some information for us
that we used to convince some of the more reluctant congressmen to
vote for your budget.”
“You did what?” asked an exasperated
Stevens. “Stu, was this your idea?”
“No . . . well, kind of . .
.”
Stansfield watched the president grow
irate and decided that he had likely been kept in the
dark.
Kennedy was too engrossed in Arthur’s
taped confession to do anything but listen. When it was over, it
dawned on her that she needed to get ahold of Stansfield
immediately. Grabbing the digital phone from her pocket, she dialed
the direct line to her boss’s office. After six rings it rolled
over to his secretary. “Director Stansfield’s office. How may I
help you?”
“Pat, this is Irene. Where is
Thomas?”
“He’s at the White
House.”
“Get ahold of him immediately!” said
Kennedy tersely. “It’s very important.”
McMahon was in the front seat doing the
same thing, but trying to get ahold of Roach. Michael continued to
drive and prepare himself for the inevitable landslide of
questions.
Back in the Situation Room, Stansfield
waited for the president to stop yelling and then asked, “Who did
he blackmail?”
“I think we have cooperated more than
enough,” responded Nance. “You don’t need
names.”
“Yes, I do. Because I am going to have to
talk to them.”
“Thomas, I would prefer to let this thing
die,” said Nance.
“I’m sure you would, but I’m not going to
let it. Whoever killed Arthur also interrogated him. The
pathologists told me he was loaded with sodium pentothal. If you
two think you’re out of the woods by telling me you blackmailed
several congressmen, you’re wrong. Whoever took Arthur got some
information out of him, and it obviously had something to do with
Mr. Garret.”
A look of sheer panic flashed across
Garret’s face and he shouted, “They interrogated
him?”
Nance stayed calm and smiled. “You’re
bluffing, Thomas.”
“I’ll show you the toxicology reports if
you’d like.”
“Don’t insult me.” Nance smiled with a
wide grin and said, “You could doctor them to say anything you
wanted.”
“Come now, Mike, who is insulting who?
Look at your friend Mr. Garret. He’s wound up so tight he’s about
to snap. You’re not telling me everything there is to know about
your dealings with Arthur, and that’s fine.” Stansfield held his
hands up. “I’m sure Director Roach and his people will have more
success in finding out what really
happened.”
“Enough!” snapped the president. “Stu and
Mike, I want to hear the whole story right now. No more
games!”
There was a knock on the door and a Secret
Service agent entered. “Director Stansfield, your office is on the
line. They say it’s an emergency.
You can take the call
right here.” The agent pointed to a phone on a table by the
door.
Stansfield walked over to the phone and
grabbed it. “Hello.”
Kennedy sat in the back of O’Rourke’s
truck and spoke rapidly into her phone. “Thomas, this is Irene.
Where are you?”
“I’m in the Situation
Room.”
“I have something that you are going to
want to hear immediately.”
“What?”
“I can’t say, just trust me. Leave there
immediately, and get back to Langley as quick as you
can!”
Stansfield looked over his shoulder at the
president, who was yelling at Nance and Garret. “Irene, I’m in the
middle of something really important.”
“Thomas, I have a taped confession from
Arthur, and you’re not going to believe what’s on
it.”
Stansfield hesitated for a second and
replied, “I’ll get there as quickly as I can.” After hanging up,
Stansfield walked back to the table and looked at the president.
“I’m sorry, sir, but something very important has come up. I’m
going to have to head back to Langley.”
Stevens shook his head. “What could be
more important than this?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll call you as soon
as I find out. We’ll have to continue this later.”
Adjacent to Director Stansfield’s office
was a soundproof conference room. Kennedy, McMahon, and Michael sat
at the conference table and waited for Director Roach and Director Stansfield
to arrive. Michael kept wondering when the questions would start.
He knew that eventually McMahon would ask why the assassins chose
him to be their courier. Michael would play dumb and profess his
hatred and open contempt for Washington politics. The tape was his
trump card. As long as the FBI and the CIA thought that hundreds of
copies could be mailed to the media at any moment, they would watch
where they dug. Even if they did find something, where could they
go with the information?
The door flew open and Stansfield and
Roach entered, agitated and out of breath. Stansfield yanked off
his overcoat and said to Kennedy, “Irene, this had better be for
real. You just pulled me out of a huge
meeting.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t be a waste of your
time.” Kennedy pointed at Michael. “Thomas, this is Congressman
Michael O’Rourke. He came to us with some information that you’re
not going to believe.” Kennedy looked back at O’Rourke and said,
“Congressman, this is Director Stansfield and Director
Roach.”
Michael rose and shook both of their
hands.
McMahon pointed at Michael. “When the
congressman awoke this morning, he found a package on his front
step. It was from the assassins. Inside was a taped confession of
Arthur Higgins.” McMahon held up the tape and shook it. “It
contains some disturbing information. Along with the tape is a list
of conditions the assassins want met.”
Stansfield gestured for Roach to take a
seat and said, “Let’s hear it.”
McMahon inserted the tape and pressed
play.
Some static began hissing from the small
tape player, and then Michael’s computer-altered voice asked, “What
is your name?”
“What?” asked Arthur’s drugged
voice.
“What is your
name?”
“Arthur . . . Arthur Higgins.”
Stansfield’s eyes closed.
“When were you
born?”
“February thirteenth,
1919.”
“Who were your
parents?”
“Arthur and Mary
Higgins.”
“Who do you work
for?”
“I don’t work for anyone. Why don’t you
take those masks off and we’ll talk. . . . I’m a very wealthy
man.”
“Who did you used to work for, Mr.
Higgins?”
“The CIA.”
“What did you do for the
CIA?”
“A lot of things. . . . Why don’t we talk
about releasing me before you find out something that you don’t
want to know.”
“When you were at the CIA, which
directorate did you work in?”
“Operations.”
“Specifically, what part of the Operations
Directorate?”
“Black Ops . . . I did a lot of
stuff.”
“What did you do for the Black
Ops?”
“I ran it.”
“Why did you leave the
CIA?”
“I quit.”
“Did you quit or were you forced
out?”
“I was forced
out.”
“Why were you forced
out?”
“They were afraid of
me.”
“Who was afraid of
you?”
“Everyone.”
“Specifically, who was afraid of
you?”
“Stansfield and Olson.” Stansfield didn’t
bother looking up. He kept his eyes closed and
listened.
“Mr. Higgins, were you the author of a
covert operation back in the early sixties that resulted in the
assassinations of several French politicians?” Stansfield felt a
sharp pain shoot through his forehead.
“Yes,” responded Arthur’s thick
voice.
“Who were you working for at the
time?”
“The CIA.” Irene Kennedy looked to her
boss. She had never heard of the covert operation, but it was long
before her time.
“How many French politicians did you
kill?”
“Two.”
“Who were
they?”
“Claude Lapoint and Jean Bastreuo.”
Stansfield gripped his forehead and squeezed hard, wondering how
the interrogators had managed to find out about one of the most
classified operations in the history of the
Agency.
The generic computer voice continued, “Why
were they killed?”
“Because they were ungrateful
bastards.”
“Could you be more
specific?”
“They were the leaders of a movement
within the French parliament that wanted all U.S. nuclear weapons
removed from French soil.”
“Did anyone in the French government know
that the CIA had killed two of their elected
officials?”
“No.”
“How did you kill them without getting
caught?”
“We made it look like French
revolutionaries did it.”
“While you were with the CIA, did you
conduct other operations similar to
this?”
“Yes.”
“Since you left the CIA, have you
conducted any operations similar to the one that you ran in
France?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever conducted an operation like
this in the United States?” Stansfield’s eyes opened with the
realization of where the confession was
headed.
“Yes.”
“Did you use the recent string of
assassinations as a cover to kill Senator Olson and Congressman
Turnquist?”
“Yes.” Roach shook his head and said, “Oh
my God.”
“Why did you kill Senator Olson and
Congressman Turnquist?”
“I had Olson killed for my own personal
reasons and Turnquist . . . we killed him to confuse the FBI and
the CIA.”
“Why did you kill Senator
Olson?”
“I hated him. He was a weak man who had no
business interfering in the operations of the
Agency.”
“Why did you hate
him?”
“He blocked my nomination for director of
the CIA. I should have been the next director, but instead
Stansfield, that weak imbecile, got it, and it was all Olson’s
doing.”
“Who else was involved in your plot to
kill Senator Olson and Congressman
Turnquist?”
“Mike Nance and Stu Garret.” Roach shook
his head and said, “Unbelievable.”
“Why did they want Olson
killed?”
“Olson was going to announce that the new
coalition was a sham. That their proposed budget cuts were
fake.”
“Garret and Nance wanted to have him
killed for that?”
“It was my idea, and Nance brought Garret
in on it because we knew how desperate he was to get control of the
situation. Besides, we knew if we killed some federal agents, it
would undermine the public support for the
terrorists.”
“What were you getting out of the
deal?”
“Garret said he would get the president to
force Stansfield out and replace him with me. With Olson gone no
one would block my nomination.”
“Did the president know about your
plans?”
“I don’t know.” After several tense
moments of static, the tape ended.
Roach and Stansfield shared a long,
shocked look. Michael watched them from the other end of the table.
O’Rourke knew that Stansfield was taking the new information the
hardest. It was his agency that would suffer the most if the tape
became public.
Roach leaned over and whispered in
Stansfield’s ear, “Is there any truth to the story about the
CIA assassinating two members of the French
parliament?”
Not wanting to give a verbal response,
Stansfield nodded his head yes.
Roach took a deep breath and said, “We’ve
got some major problems.”
“There’s more.” McMahon held up a white
piece of paper covered in plastic. “This is addressed to the two of
you.” McMahon looked at Roach and Stansfield and started to read
aloud: “ ‘After hearing the tape, it should be painfully obvious to
you why we left Mr. Higgins’s body at Stu Garret’s house. If we
were the crazed terrorists that the president and his people have
portrayed us to be, we would release this tape to every media
organization in the world. The damage to America would be
devastating. We would become the pariahs of the international
community, the office of the presidency would be ruined, the
American people’s faith in the system would be destroyed, and the
CIA would be shut down within twenty-four
hours.
“ ‘We do not want to see America torn
apart over the selfish and evil actions of a select few, but the
actions of Mike Nance and Stu Garret cannot go unpunished. In
exchange for not releasing Mr. Higgins’s confession, we demand the
following: Mike Nance will announce his resignation by noon
tomorrow and retreat permanently from public life. Thirty days from
now, Stu Garret will also announce his resignation and cease any
involvement in the American political process, at any level. Within
six months, both Nance and Garret will be expected to convert half
of their net worth and donate it anonymously to the families of the eight
federal law enforcement officers they killed. None of this is
negotiable. If at any point Nance and Garret attempt to renege on
this arrangement, we will hunt them down and kill
them.
“ ‘We are unsure as to what involvement
President Stevens had in this plot and, for now, are willing to
allow him to stay in office if he meets the following conditions:
He will act as a bridge between the two parties and cease all
partisan politics. He will put together a balanced budget for the
next fiscal year, and he will meet all of our previous demands
regarding a national crime bill and a national sales tax to retire
the national debt. If these demands are met, we will allow Stevens
to run for reelection. If the president wavers at any point, we
will release the tape to the media.
“ ‘The second part of our demands involves
the FBI. Director Roach, we do not expect you to condone what we
have done, but you must at least recognize the differences between
what we did and what Mr. Higgins, Mr. Nance, and Mr. Garret did. We
murdered four corrupt politicians in an attempt to restore some
integrity and common sense to a political system that has none. Mr.
Higgins, Mr. Nance, and Mr. Garret murdered two of the only honest
politicians in Washington and eight federal law enforcement
officers, all for their own perverted
self-interests.
“ ‘If you agree not to prosecute Mr. Nance
and Mr. Garret, you must also agree to never bring forth any
indictments regarding the assassinations of Senator Fitzgerald,
Congressman Koslowski, Senator Downs, and Speaker Basset. We understand
the compromising situation this puts you in, but considering the
piece of information in our possession, we think it a reasonable
trade-off.
“ ‘For your own safety and the integrity
of the FBI, we would also suggest that the president, Mr. Nance,
and Mr. Garret be kept in the dark about your knowledge of our
deal. It would be best for all if Director Stansfield handled the
negotiations with the White House. We will await the announcement
of Mike Nance’s resignation. If it is not made public by noon
tomorrow, we will be left with no other option than to release the
tape.’ ” McMahon set the letter down.
Director Stansfield closed his eyes and
gently shook his head. Everyone waited for him to speak. He rose
and said, “Please excuse Director Roach and me for a moment.”
Stansfield walked to the side door that led to his office and Roach
followed.
Stansfield closed the heavy, soundproof
door and walked over to the large picture window. “Well, that’s one
hell of a confession.”
Roach looked at Stansfield’s back and
asked, “Do you believe it?”
Stansfield nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
His answer was followed by more silence.
Roach placed a hand under his chin. “I’m
not sure it would be admissible in a court of
law.”
Stansfield shook his head and waved his
hand as if batting the idea out of the air. “Let’s not even
entertain that line of logic. If they release that tape, we are in
serious trouble, and I mean the entire country. Arthur’s body has
been identified by the media, and they have footage of him lying propped
up against Garret’s fence. Those two French politicians were in
fact killed back in the early sixties, and the CIA was behind it.”
Stansfield pointed toward the conference room. “Brian, everything
those assassins said is true. That tape will tear America
apart.”
“What do we do
then?”
“We have to take the deal, and we have to
work fast.”
Roach sighed. “Can we trust these
assassins?”
Stansfield turned around with hatred on
his face. “Apparently we can trust them a hell of lot more than the
national security adviser and the president’s chief of
staff.”
“What in the hell were they
thinking?”
“I have no
idea.”
“Do you think the president knew what they
were up to?”
“My gut tells me no, but I haven’t had
enough time to thoroughly analyze the situation.” Stansfield looked
at his watch. “Brian, we have to move on this. A lot has to happen
between now and noon tomorrow. My decision is a foregone
conclusion. We have to do everything in our power to make sure that
tape never goes public.”
Roach paused. “I don’t want that tape to
go public either, but I sure as hell don’t like the idea of Nance
and Garret just walking away.”
“Brian, I have a feeling that within the
next year these assassins will take care of Mr. Garret and Mr.
Nance, and . . . if they don’t . . . I will have them taken care
of. That is between you and me, friend to friend, not director to
director.”
Roach looked into Stansfield’s eyes and
reminded himself that his friend played by a different set of
rules. “We really don’t have much of a choice, do
we?”
“No . . . so you agree to meet their
demands?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I can guarantee
that no indictments will be brought forth. What if Skip finds out
who these assassins are?”
“I’ll gladly deal with that problem if it
ever happens, but something tells me we’ll never know who was
behind this. They were right about another thing. You have to be
left out of the loop. If this blows up in our face, the FBI must
have complete deniability. The American people are going to have to
turn to something for hope, and if the FBI is implicated in the
cover-up, it will really look bad.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Roach considered
his options for a minute and then said, “Let’s go talk to the
others.”
Michael, sitting next to McMahon, was
trying to stay in character. Acting mad was not hard, but acting
naive was. He kept reminding himself what he should and shouldn’t
know. Fortunately, everyone was so shocked by Higgins’s confession
that they’d been too preoccupied to ask him
questions.
Roach took a seat and Stansfield remained
standing. The director of the CIA crossed his arms and said, “It
goes without saying that this is a very difficult situation. For
reasons that we are all aware of, Brian and I have decided to try
and meet the demands of the assassins. If you have any opinions,
now is the time to voice them.”
Stansfield looked to Irene Kennedy first.
Kennedy glanced up at her boss and shook her head no. Kennedy knew
full well that they were boxed in. The only reasonable action was
to take the deal.
McMahon was next. He shifted uncomfortably
in his chair. “I understand that our options are limited, but I
think Garret and Nance are getting off way too easy. I think they
should be strung up by their balls and left for the
vultures.”
“I can relate to your desire for
retribution,” said Stansfield. “As I was just telling Brian, I
would be surprised if these assassins let either of them live for
more than a year.”
“What about my investigation?” asked
McMahon.
“If you catch them, we will cross that
bridge when we get to it. Do you have it in you to let them go if
it comes to that?” asked Stansfield.
McMahon glanced over at Roach while he
thought about the question. From the very beginning he’d had a
gnawing respect for the unknown group. “If they turn out to be the
type of people I think they are, and they really do have patriotic
motives . . .” McMahon paused. “I’ll look the other
way.”
“Congressman?” asked
Stansfield.
Michael leaned back and said, “I’m not
crazy about the cover-up, but given the situation, I don’t see any
other alternative.”
Stansfield nodded. “We are all in
agreement then. Before we proceed, I need to know if anyone else
knows about this tape. Congressman?” Stansfield looked to Michael
for an answer.
With a calm face Michael replied, “I
haven’t told anyone.”
“Skip?”
“No. As soon as Congressman O’Rourke
played the tape for us, we came straight
here.”
“Irene?”
“No.”
“Good.” Stansfield looked at his watch. “I
am going to go to the White House alone to handle the
negotiations.”
Michael cleared his throat and got
Stansfield’s attention. “Sir, I would like to come
along.”
Stansfield studied O’Rourke briefly and
replied, “I think it would be best if I handled it
alone.”
“I’m sure you do, but Senator Olson was a
very good friend of mine. I want to see the look on their faces
when they realize they’re not going to get away with
this.”