Veil. Part 23

They shook hands and Andre sat down in front of the square shouldered black man's government issue gray metal desk. Captain Reason's picked up a file folder Andre recognized marked Personnel: Cla.s.sified Information.

"Thomas Flagg. Born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio."

"Cleveland Browns country," Andre added, for effect.

"I see you transferred in from the Federal Building in Los Angeles and spent some time in Oklahoma City."

"Yes sir. Oklahoma City was my first a.s.signment out of training. I moved to L.A. just before the bombing." Andre let his voice quiver slightly.

"I understand, son," said the Captain, sympathetic and sincere.

"Thank you sir. I'm glad they buried him," Andre lied. He considered Timothy McVeigh a hero.

Captain Reasons continued to thumb through the file. "I was considering you for a.s.signment on the main floor, near the Justice's chambers."

Andre forced down the urge to smile. "Thank you sir, that would be an honor."

Captain Reasons stroked his chin. "But I noticed you have extensive experience in electronic surveillance, so I'm putting you in the watchroom at the monitor's desk in the bas.e.m.e.nt. We can't let experience like yours go to waste."

Andre forced a smile. "Thank you sir. I'll do my best."

33.

Edward watched the 60" inch plasma television imbedded in his conference room wall, eager for the morning proceedings to start.

"You can't really believe this is putting pressure on Veil," said Vernon.

Edward spun around and faced his three minions. "Never underestimate the heart, Vernon. I have it on good authority, no thanks to you, that she's something very special to him. And I know for a fact he's feeling the pressure." He leaned forward. "What I don't know is why Robert Veil and his partner have spent so much time at cemeteries," he said, playing dumb. "Who can fill me in?"

"Obviously that's where the evidence is hidden," said Marilyn. "In one of the crypts."

Edward brightened. "Please tell me you know which tomb it's in." n.o.body spoke. Edward let them stew in the silence.

Simon cleared his throat. "We haven't a clue as of yet."

"We've gone through the files at Parklawn, and several of the cemetery offices they've visited," added Marilyn. "So far, nothing stands out."

Edward leaned back in his chair. "What about the names of his parents?"

"Negative," answered Vernon. "No such luck."

"Then we'll have to make Veil tell us," said Edward.

"That is, if he knows," said Simon. "What if he doesn't?"

"It doesn't matter at this point," said Edward. "We're going to kill them anyway, whether they give up the evidence or not." The three of them looked curiously at each other.

"Is there something I'm missing?" he asked.

Neither of them spoke.

"I said, is there something I'm missing?" Simon cleared his throat again. "There does seem to be a small problem, Edward. You see, we've been following Mr. Veil and his partner closely... and we were wondering if you've hired another team to kill them."

Edward didn't answer.

"Yes," said Marilyn. "There were reports two shootings took place a couple of nights ago. One at Parklawn, and the other at the Congressional Cemetery. Simon trailed Thorne, and I followed Veil with several of Vernon's men, to Parklawn."

"Yes," Vernon chimed. "Then a group of Middle Eastern men, followed Veil into the mausoleum. My guys heard machinegun fire a few minutes later somewhere in the woods." Edward calmly drummed his fingers, trying to decide how much to tell. "There is a team, a hit squad, after them," he finally said. "I didn't hire them. My partners brought them in. It couldn't be helped."

"Couldn't be helped!" Vernon barked. "Dammit, you should have warned us!"

"Yes,"added Marilyn. "We could have gotten killed."

"It wasn't necessary that you know," said Edward, stoic and cold.

"My partners are not patient men, and they wanted this taken care of immediately. As far as getting killed is concerned," he continued, looking over at Marilyn. "It's part of the job."

"You know what'll happen if a Middle East death squad is caught here in Washington," said Vernon. "All h.e.l.l will break loose and they'll dime us out. We can't trust them and you know it."

"It's not about trust, it's about money," said Edward. "Where the h.e.l.l do you think your millions are coming from, the tooth fairy?"

"We understand that, but how many more people are involved?" asked Marilyn.

Edward sprung to his feet, and slammed his fists down on the table.

"If you'd find the evidence we wouldn't have to worry, now would we?"

"So where do we go from here?" Simon asked, unmoved by the outburst.

Edward stroked his chin. "Where's Veil now?"

"My men are due to check in within the hour," said Marilyn. "We'll know then."

"Well, wherever they are, pick them up and take them to my ranch in Virginia. It's quiet there and the servants are off for the week. You can question them without interruption, but I don't want them killed there.

Do that somewhere else after you finish."

"Why not just kill them and get it over with?" asked Marilyn.

"I want the evidence if I can get it. So give it a chance before you end them."

Vernon and Marilyn nodded their understanding. Simon turned his attention to the television. "They're about to get started," he said, pointing to the screen.

Senator Stuart Hall sat down and glared at the judge. The other six members of the committee included Eileen Sa.s.sin from California, Oliver Franklin from Pennsylvania, Nicholas Alexander from Ma.s.sachusetts, Carmen Udesco from Hawaii, Lawrence Echols from Georgia, and Ramona Arnold from Arkansas.

Hall guaranteed at least three of them would play ball and trash Judge Patrick completely. Hall asked Edward why he wanted her eliminated, but a hundred grand shut him up.

Fiona smiled, raised her right hand, and swore to tell the truth.

Edward turned up the sound.

"Ladies and gentleman, we're here today to examine the President's choice for Supreme Court Justice," began Senator Hall. "Ours is an awesome responsibility. One that will help decide not only the fate of Judge Patrick, but the direction of our nation. It is a responsibility we do not take lightly."

"He missed his calling," said Vernon. "The p.r.i.c.k should've been an actor."

They all laughed.

"How many votes does he have with him?" asked Vernon.

"He guaranteed three," answered Edward. "That should be more than enough to get the ball rolling."

Marilyn pulled out her cell phone. "I'd better catch up on my voice mail," she told them, moving to a spot on the other side of the room.

"Judge Patrick," said Senator Franklin, "Your background in the law and reputation on the bench is well-known and very distinguished."

"Thank you Senator," Fiona responded.

"But, as you know, members of the Supreme Court must be above reproach, and the investigation and background check performed by the FBI prior to this hearing revealed several questionable contacts of yours.

Namely, a major player in the Colombian drug trade." Murmurs erupted in the chamber. Fiona didn't flinch.

"She's a strong one," said Simon. "I don't think she'll break that easy."

Simon's comment annoyed Edward.

"I'm just saying she's strong, that's all," Simon repeated. "It's not prudent to underestimate one's enemies."

Edward, about to speak, stopped when Marilyn walked back to the table. A broad smile on her face.

"Good news?" asked Vernon.

"Oh, it's better than that," she said. "I just spoke to our good friend Mr. Veil. He wants me to meet him at Parklawn. Says he needs my help with a very important matter."

Edward's face lit up. "Now we're getting somewhere. What kind of help does he need, and with what?"

"He wouldn't give details on the phone. He just said meet him at Parklawn right away, and something about a court order. I'd say we hit pay dirt."

Edward stood. "Vernon, make sure Simon here has access to several of your best men." "Simon, trail Ms. London. As soon as Veil identifies the crypt, take them and the evidence to my ranch and contact me. I want to be there when the casket is opened." All three headed for the door. Edward cleared his throat. "And ladies and gentlemen. Don't f.u.c.k this up."

The trio left and he turned back to the hearings, encouraged by the sudden turn of events.

"We interrupt these hearings to bring you a special news bulletin." Edward watched a solemn looking, gray haired newsman, adjust his tie and earpiece. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "President William Claymore was shot today as he exited a breakfast reception at the National Gallery of Art. The President was on his way back to the Oval Office to monitor Judge Patrick's hearing. Witnesses say shots rang out from a car on the street as the President walked to his limousine. The Secret Service gave chase, but no one has been apprehended. President Claymore has been rushed to Capital Hill Hospital and, as of yet, there is no word on his condition."

34.

Robert and Thorne listened to the news report on the car radio in their rented Ford Excursion.

"My G.o.d," Thorne exclaimed. Rothschild can't be that far gone." Robert's head reeled. "I don't know, but he did it once. I don't see why the b.a.s.t.a.r.d wouldn't do it again."

"There have been no updates given on the President's condition," said the reporter. "However, there is new information on the shooters. The D.C. police and Secret Service chased the gunmen, possibly Arab, through Washington into Maryland, just outside of Annandale. The suspects crashed exiting Route 66 killing the driver, but the other suspects, also believed to be from the Middle East, exited their vehicle and began shooting. All three died at the scene. For now, that's all we've been to able to learn."

Robert banged his fist down on the dashboard. Thorne cursed.

"It's them, Robert. Same group that tried to hit us. What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

Robert pulled into Parklawn. "Sounds like Edward Rothschild has killed another President." He pulled over to the curb just outside the main office, where he told Agent London they'd meet. They drew their guns and exited the vehicle, surveying the area for anything out of the ordinary. Robert counted four groundskeepers mowing the lawn and attending to the grounds. Another two absently picked dead flowers off gravesites.

"All clear," called Thorne.

Robert took another look around.

"How do you think they'll come at us?" asked Thorne.

"I'm not sure, but let's antic.i.p.ate the worse. Once we get our hands on the evidence, we'll drive it to Terence Riker's lab in Salem, West Virginia. I gave him a heads up, so he's expecting us." Riker, the most talented forensic a.n.a.lyst Robert knew, and an avid conspiracy theorist, went back almost as far as he and Thorne.

"Did you tell him what it's about?

"No, but he knows it's hot. So he'll be ready for us." Robert saw Thorne's mind race. "We can't take a chance and make that drive," she said. "We better fly it out. My twin engine is ready at Reagan Airport."

"Fine with me. The quicker, the better." Thorne grimaced, eyes cold with anger, body ready for war. "The President, Robert. Those a.s.sholes killed another President."

"I know. But this time..."

A dark blue sedan pulled into the cemetery and made its way toward them. He saw Thorne touch the Mac-10 machinegun hidden under her jacket. He felt the imprint of the automatics under his arms, and readied the Uzi submachine gun hanging from his shoulder.

Thorne walked across the street and circled around the back of the car. It stopped five feet from where they were standing. Marilyn stepped out, hands raised, all business.

"I take it you've heard the news," said Robert, lowering the machine gun.

"Who hasn't? The entire department is on high alert. Everyone has been called in, so I hope what you need is serious. I'm gonna take heat for disappearing"

Thorne offered no greeting. Marilyn kept her eyes on Robert.

"So, what's so important?" Marilyn asked.

Robert motioned for her to follow him inside the truck. Thorne stood sentry while he ran down every detail.