ALL IN: Race for the White House (36 page)

When Tip and Bill arrived, we all sat down and broke the news to Bill that we believed the president was involved. We all agreed that we needed to listen to the tapes to get the details and find out if the screw up the president was speaking of was about us. I had to eliminate any doubt from my mind, so the four of us spent the next few days on the bus listening to the tapes. We laid down wherever we could, wearing headphones, with the shades pulled. Most of the tape consisted of Gene’s staff preparing meals or talking about Mrs. Hobbs. Apparently, she was quite a bitch in her own right—at least the staff thought so. We filtered through so many trivial conversations it was mind numbing. Occasionally, we’d hear something and interrupt if it was interesting.
 

The morning of Super Tuesday, Sandy showed up and surprised us all. It was about 9:30 in the morning when the door opened. Seeing it was dark, she stepped carefully over to the big windshield and opened the shade… the light flooded in. Standing before me framed in a bright sun, Sandy looked like an angel.
We’d been holed up like moles searching for evidence linking Hobbs and Barker to the killings.
 

“What are you guys doing sitting here in the dark?”

“Sandy?” Squinting my eyes against the light, “What a surprise.”

“This place looks like a frat house - you boys are living in a mess. I had to come down here to find out what’s going on. The press has this place staked out and they’re wondering what you guys are doing in here. I wanted to see it for myself, now I wished I’d called.”
 

Sandy started picking up fast food wrappers. Picking up a half drunk cup with two fingers, “Ewe!”

She was right, the bus was a disaster, bags and wrappers and drink cups all over the place. None of us was used to picking up after ourselves and we had Daphne running back and forth like a gopher bringing us fast food for the last couple of days.
 

“I’m so glad to see you, Sandy. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Everyone else echoed the sentiment. “We’ve been hanging out in here.”

“I can see that, what, pray tell, are you boys up to?”

“Sandy, stop cleaning and sit down, I’ve got news.” I motioned to Tip. “Tip, can you queue up the first tape you gave us.”

“Sure,” Tip nodded and spoke softly.
 

Sandy listened intently, shaking her head. I explained what we had been up to and then played her the second tape of Hobbs and the president.
 

“Are you sure, Jack?” Sandy didn’t want to let herself believe.
 

“That’s what we’ve been doing, we’re listening for proof.”

“Do you have an extra set of headphones? I want to help. “I went over to the front windshield and pulled the shade to halfway and then settled in to finish listening to my tape. Tip handed Sandy a small player and set of ear buds and she took a spot next to me on the couch.
 

About an hour after Sandy showed up, I was hearing a conversation between what sounded like two maids cleaning when I heard a phone ring. A woman answered and walks the phone over saying
‘excuse me, Mr. Hobbs, it’s the president.’ My ears perked up and my heart started racing, I was straining to hear the voice
.
It sounded like Gene had taken the phone and walked across the room.
 

I could only make out bits and pieces, “I know... but it’s
Tommy
that fucked this up; he’s the idiot that got the wrong girl…”

Then there was a long pause, “This is the last you’ll hear of it. We’ll get it done.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“Aren’t you fearful that you’ll be caught?” Bud was asking Tip.

It was three weeks before the Democratic National Convention. The last few months had been a whirlwind of back to back campaigning. With the nomination locked, we had set our sights on the president. Fueled by our hatred we launched an all-out negative assault that set new bounds. The economy hadn’t improved, and Iran was threatening to launch a test missile into Israel. Earlier in the summer, the president had locked them out of International Commerce and the situation had reached the boiling point. Barker’s approval ratings were at an all-time low at forty-one percent.
 

Tip asked Bud, Bill and me to meet with him to hear the plan. Against Bud’s strongest warnings, I invited Sandy to join us. Gathered in my office at Campaign Headquarters we all listened intently as Tip spoke.
 

“The president has a State dinner scheduled with the British Prime Minister on the night before the Republican Convention.”
 

We had planned a three-day Woodstock-like event with live music and a festival leading into their convention. The press will probably say to steal their thunder. Nineteen acts had signed on and some of America’s largest corporations were sponsoring the event. We expected several hundred thousand people to show up. The event would be in Texas on Anne Griffins home turf on a one thousand acre ranch owned by the Hobbs Family. The Governor’s staff would handle the organization and logistics.

Bud pleaded, “Jack, I can’t go along with this, the fucking president?” Then turning to Tip, “You’re either the bravest guy I’ve ever known or the most stupid. Have any of you thought of the consequences if he gets caught?”

Then to me, “Jack, you’ll go from the most popular politician of your generation to...”

Sandy put two fingers up to Bud’s mouth and I waved him off. “Are you done, Bud?”
 

Bill spoke, “Bud, if you don’t have the stomach for this - shut-up and listen. This fucker killed my son.”

Bud pushed Sandy’s hand, “Jack, please at least wait until after the election. At least then you’ll be untouchable.”
 

“No, Bud. Tip has this well thought out, and I think it will work.”

Tip answered coldly, “The plan is simple, Bud. It boils down to putting this bullet into Barker’s head.”

Tip held out a long brass colored shell shaped like a miniature missile.
 

I knew that Tip had been part of an elite sniper team called Cobra. The group was trained in lead-time, arc, and wind, anything that affects a projectile on delivery. Tip could hit a moving target one thousand yards away with a one-second viewing time. He described how everything had to be taken into account, his breathing, the slight movement from the squeezing of the trigger, the lead of the target. He used a gradated scope to sight and was an expert with high-powered rifles.
 

“Jack, I object. You’re a father. What will your girls think if we get caught? We’ll go down in history as the guys that killed the president. You’re going to
be
president…”

“Bud, what kind of father would I be if I let people get away with something like this? I have thought about it, and I couldn’t live with that. Listen to what Tip has in mind.”
 

“Well it’s basically like when Bill and I went up to New York and got Hobbs.”
 

Bud’s face went cold. He breathed out all his breath in one big sigh and then tried to say, “That was you guys?” Catching his breath back in a gasp, “When were you going to tell me”?

“Bud, I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be a wreck.”
 

“Jack, you spoke at a Hobbs’ funeral, the president was there. That was over two months ago and you never let on. You people must have nerves of steel. So the night Bill was up there asking for cash and the ranch to have the festival, Tip was the one that shot him?”

“Yup,” Tip said.

Bill said, “I have been working with Betty Hobbs on the thing ever since. Part of the festival will be in Gene’s honor. She’s going to come down to Texas and speak. We’re pretty friendly, actually; she’s in love with Jack.”

Bud said, “You were the only one with him when he got shot through the window in his library.”

“It was pretty straight forward, Bud. I made an appointment with Gene, told him we needed another fifteen mil, and mentioned that I wanted to talk about a festival. He agreed to see me; he didn’t want us to have any inkling that there was anything unusual, and he played it cool. We figured he was probably planning to shut us off from any more cash, but he didn’t suspect a thing. The guards were expecting us because we had an appointment, when we got close to the house, we slowed briefly, and Tip slipped out of the car about a hundred yards before the driveway. My part was easy; I only had two things I needed to do. The first was to ask to see the library that Hobbs had shown Jack. I told Gene I was a British history buff. Hobbs had all those King Henry artifacts, and he loved showing them off. The second was to get Hobbs near the window. That was easy. I told him I needed a little air. I said to open it a crack.

As soon as Gene opened the window, I heard glass shattering, and
boom
, he hit the floor.
 

The plan was for me to leave immediately so I told Hobbs people that I was having severe chest pains from the anxiety and had to leave. Of course, I’d be available to help police with a statement. I laid it on thick, while Hobbs lay there in his own blood; I went to the bar and splashed water on my face. It looked to his men like I was sweating profusely and in distress.”
 

Bud asked Tip, “How do you keep your hand steady enough to take that shot I’d be shaking like a leaf.”
 

“It’s easy I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Tip added, “I had night vision goggles and ran around to the side wall. I through steel line over the wall, hooked it, and winched my way up. I trained the rifle on the window and waited until Bill did his thing when I saw Hobbs I gently squeezed the trigger and took the kill shot.”
 

“Weren’t you afraid you’d get caught by the guards?”

“No the adrenaline rush is so intense I’m on a major high. I slid down the line to the ground. I carried a vile of powerful corrosive to destroy the rifle. I laid the gun down into a narrow hole that I dug and covered the gun with acid and then buried it with dirt and leaves.”
 

“Where did you learn that trick?”

“It’s not my first rodeo, Bud. The most important part of any operation is the getaway.”
 

“I would literally be pissing my pants. You actually get a rush from being perched on a twenty-foot wall in the pitch dark waiting to shoot a guy, and then have the presence of mind to get away unscathed.”
 

“It’s all in the planning. I know what I’m going to do and I follow through. After I buried the gun, I ran through the woods and hid back along the road. When Bill left, he briefly stopped and picked me up. The acid dissolves any trace of evidence and most of the gun the only glitch was making sure Bill got out of there quickly enough to pick me up. I’m sure if he wasn’t Jacks right hand, they would have kept him.”
 

Bill finished the story, “The cops questioned me in my office, and I told them what I saw. The guy got shot. I added that he may have ties to organized crime, but wasn’t sure, that it could be a rumor. I planted the seed, though besides, I said I hesitated to even bring it up with him being friends with the president that could be embarrassing, and I mentioned career ending to any detective that might bring it out.”
 

“So you killed Hobbs and got away with it, how and I can’t believe I’m even asking this, do you plan to get the president?”
 

“Bud obviously gets Hobbs was easy by comparison.”

“Well, please humor me, Tip, hearing about this has my heart racing.”
 

“Imagine this bullet travels one thousand yards through Lafayette Park to the North Portico where the president is waiting to welcome the British Prime Minister. We will be in a suite at the Hay-Adams House on the seventh floor overlooking the park.”
 

“Who’s we, Tip?”

“Oh, that’s the best part, I’ll get to it.”

“Jack, even if this does work, they will never stop looking for the killer. No stone will go unturned and it will never end. Fuckin-ay, fifty years from now they’ll be talking about this. Please reconsider, Jack. Sandy, talk to him.”

“I’ve tried, Bud, but his mind is made up and there’s no changing it. These guys were coming after me, and they killed two people we love.”
 

“Jack,” Bud pleaded, “at least wait until after the election. No one will ever suspect one president of killing another; you’ll get away with it.”
 

“We’re going to get away with it now. Tip’s got every angle covered.”
 

“Bud, you’ll always have an excuse. I can hear you, ‘Jack, you’re president, let it go, you’ve got too much to lose.’”
 

“Bill is going to be downstairs in the restaurant watching on TV when it’s finished, he leaves...” Bud cut him off.
 

“How can that work, Jack, the police are going to know there’s maybe a few guys in the world that can take that shot? They’ll check all the cameras for miles around the Capitol and they’ll spot him.”

“Jack will vouch for me. I wasn’t feeling well and was resting at home. My cell answers his call just before the president is scheduled to meet the prime minister. I’ve prepared a tape. Jack asks Bob into the office in time to hear my voice faintly in the background. Jack has to be convincing. There’s one more thing, Bud.”
 

“What?”

“We’re going to use a patsy.”

“Who?”

“Well… Jack wouldn’t let us get anyone innocent involved.”
 

“That’s fucking noble. Who are you gonna use then? The trigger man is probably at the bottom of a river somewhere.”

“We’re going to use Tommy.”

“Tommy who….. Santoro?”

“Yes.”
 

Bud sat there silent for a solid minute shaking his head. “They’ll say he never could’ve taken that shot… there’ll be one conspiracy theory after another. It’s fucking poetic justice if it works.”
 

Bud was still shaking his head, “Unbelievable.”

“What, Bud?”