Capitol Conspiracy (18 page)

Ben let several more moments pass, wiping his eyes dry. After he thought he had collected himself, he finished. “That’s why I support this amendment, ladies and gentlemen. And that’s why I hope you will do the same.”

Silence blanketed the caucus room.

Less than an hour later, the committee recommended that the proposed amendment be presented to the full Senate as soon as possible, by unanimous vote.

25

N
IGHT
O
WL
H
OTEL
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

F
ortunately, none of the bullets had lodged in Shohreh’s body, so Loving was able to use his medic experience to clean and dress the wounds. Her arm was in a sling and her leg and the left side of her face were bandaged, but it was nothing she wouldn’t recover from in a few weeks. He couldn’t offer her anything for the pain, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was a tough woman; he knew that already from the way he’d seen her fight in the cemetery. He’d offered to take her to a hospital, but she had refused.

Once she was resting properly, Loving returned to the cemetery to question the sniper who attacked her. Unfortunately, he was gone.

When at last she was well enough, he sat down on the edge of the bed to ask her some questions. She began questioning him before he had a chance.

“Where am I?” she asked, then immediately clutched the side of her face. Loving had bandaged the scrapes and gashes, but he knew they still hurt, especially when she talked.

“You’re safe. I’ve brought people here before. I know the manager. And I trust him. Omar Khasban. Nice old Iranian guy.”

She looked at him cautiously. “So you do not believe that all people of the Middle East are brutal killers?”

“I know better. Some of my best friends—”

“And you do not fear those of the Islamic faith?”

“The core teaching of the religion is love, ain’t it? Teachin’ people to be good to each other? Like pretty much every other religion I ever read about.”

“You do not think we are all barbarians?”

“Stop me if I’m wrong, lady, but didn’t I read that over half of all Muslims live under democratic governments?”

She continued to stare, obviously evaluating, being her usual cautious self. “You are very enlightened for one who seems so…simple.”

Loving grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Works well in my line of work.”

“And that is—?”

“Private investigator. Work for Ben Kincaid, first when he was a lawyer, now when he’s a senator. Either way, he manages to get into trouble pretty much constantly. Ben is working to pass this new amendment the president has proposed, and his wife hates it, and she’s got this crazy idea that the Oklahoma City attack wasn’t about terrorists at all.”

Shohreh’s voice grew quieter. “Indeed.”

“Yeah. Christina’s got some notion—I don’t really understand it—but it’s got somethin’ to do with the first lady. Like maybe, she thinks Emily Blake was the target, not just fallout from the attack on the president.”

“This…Christina…is a very unusual woman.”

“You got that right. And you haven’t even seen the way she dresses.”

“Has she shared these ideas with the authorities?”

“I think she’s tried, but no one’s listenin’.”

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Well, that’s a long story.”

“Condense it for me.”

Loving laughed. She almost did too, but it made her face hurt too much. “The first lady died because of a change in procedure made by a Secret Service agent, Tom Gatwick, who was on the spot in Oklahoma City. I’ve reviewed the tape to see who he spoke to before, during, and after the attack.”

“You saw me.”

“Yes, I did. And so did the kajillions of law enforcement types who have been reviewing the same tape. The problem is—none of them knew who you were.”

“But you figured it out.”

Loving waved a hand in the air. “Aww, I got lucky.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“I happened to be visitin’ my pal with the DCPD—Lieutenant Albertson. We’ve worked on some cases together in the past.”

“You were partners.”

Loving shrugged awkwardly. “More like…friendly antagonists. When he wasn’t trying to arrest me, we exchanged information.”

“America is a very strange country.”

“You got that right. Anyway, I happened to be visitin’ one day when I heard an eyewitness talk about the strangest thing. He’d seen this tiny little Middle Eastern woman walkin’ down an alley not far from here. He saw three other men walk into the alley and thought she was about to be mugged. Bein’ a resourceful citizen, he got out his cell and called 911. ’Cept, as it turned out, by the time he was off the phone, she’d already trounced two of the chumps and sent the third hidin’ in the darkness. Said she was some kinda ninja fighter or somethin’.”

A thin smile crossed Shohreh’s face. “I have been trained in the art of the Muay Thai.”

“Thai kickboxin’? I’m impressed.”

“I’m impressed that you know what the Muay Thai is.”

“I try to stay up with all the new ways people have of killin’ each other. Pays off in my line of work.”

“But this witness—it was dark—he had no camera.”

“He had a cell phone camera with a flash. True, the picture pretty much sucks, but he also gave a description to a sketch artist, and between the picture and the sketch, the cops came up with somethin’ that I thought looked a hell of a lot like the woman in the video. Uh, pardon my French.”

“I speak French. That is not French.”

“It’s an expression. Uhm…” How to explain? “Never mind. So that’s what put me on your trail.”

“How did you find me?”

“I trolled the area where the fight broke out for days. Staked out the corners with video cameras. Paid people. Eventually got a line on your apartment. Watched this evenin’ as you came out and followed you to the cemetery. And a good thing I did, too. Who was that creep?”

“An emissary of a man named General Yaseen Daraji. A man who very much wants me dead.” She told Loving, in sketch form, of her troubled history—her life of privilege in Iraq before her family was killed, being forced to live with relatives, then being left with no one, forced to flee to Afghanistan, and eventually joining the terrorist cell organized by the General.

“And you think this Yaseen had somethin’ to do with what happened in Oklahoma City?”

“I know that he did.”

“’Cause the Feebs are all busy with that other group.”

“They are wrong.”

“Then why hasn’t this…General guy stepped forward to take credit for the killin’?”

“Because he does not want credit. He wants others to be blamed.”

“What’s the point of a terrorist attack if you don’t take credit?”

“You law enforcement people are being played. Deliberately misled. I believe the General is acting on behalf of another.”

“Who?”

“If I knew, I would tell you. But I do not.”

“But you were there. In Oklahoma City.”

“Because the General asked me to be there.”

“Why?”

“He did not say.”

“If you’re not workin’ with them—why go?”

“He promised he would grant me my freedom—sever all ties, end all grudges. I would be free of his cell forever. He would not try to kill me.”

“I can see where that would be temptin’.”

“Yes. I was so desperate for the peace he offered—I acted stupidly. I did as he asked. But it seems clear now, especially with what you have told me. I believe he may have been setting me up.”

Loving prided himself on being brighter than most people thought, but he was still having trouble with all this. “Why would you think that?”

“That Secret Service agent—Gatwick, you say?—was not the first to approach me. The agents said they had received an anonymous tip that a woman fitting my description might be carrying a weapon.”

“But you weren’t.”

“But I was supposed to. The General gave me one. I took it—but declined to bring it to the memorial service. I was…suspicious.”

“Damn good thing you were.”

“I did not want it to sully my person. The Qur’an teaches us to live in peace. I have sworn off all forms of violence.”

Loving arched an eyebrow. “You were doin’ pretty good back in that alley.”

“Self-defense is another matter. The Qur’an allows all people to defend themselves. We do not have your Christian doctrine of…how do you say it? Turning the other cheek.”

Loving nodded. “Easily the least observed principle in the whole Bible.”

“It is against human nature. We were meant to survive, to fight. Peace does not come naturally.”

“I think you may be wrong about that. But I can see where you might think it, given the company you’ve been keepin’. So why are you lookin’ for this General now? Seems like the best thing you could do is stay away from him.”

“I believe he was using me to draw attention away from his true accomplices. But now I know too much. I can tie him to Oklahoma City, among other crimes. He wants me dead.”

Loving nodded. “I know people who can make you disappear. Give you a new identity. IDs and everythin’.”

Shohreh laughed so hard, she clutched her bandages to ease the pain. “I have been that way before, thank you. The General is smart. A new identity will not stop him. But that is beside the point. I do not want to disappear. I want to seek out the General. And now I have lost my only lead.”

Loving allowed himself a hint of a smile. “Maybe not. I think the man who tried to kill you back at the cemetery can help us.”

“But—you said he had disappeared already when you returned.”

“That’s true. But I searched him before I left. And I found this address scrawled on a scrap of paper.”

Shohreh snatched the paper away from him. “I know this house. I thought it was long since closed down. They must have reopened it. They must have needed it to deal with…an upsurge in business.”

“Terrorism?”

“No. How they finance the terrorism.”

“Oil?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Will you help me? I must find the General. For Djamila’s sake.”

Loving’s forehead creased. “Who’s that?”

She suddenly grew distant. “A little girl. An innocent whose life was taken by the General and his cruel business.”

“And that business is?”

Shohreh’s eyes lowered. “Sex.”

“You mean—you mean he makes his loot off…hookers?”

Shohreh shook her head sadly. “Children.”

26

H
OMELAND
S
ECURITY
N
EBRASKA
A
VENUE
N
AVAL
C
OMPLEX
U
NDERGROUND
P
ARKING
G
ARAGE

A
gent Gatwick tried to stay in the shadows as he slowly made his way to the appointed rendezvous site. He hated this whole business. He hated meeting at night; he hated meeting in darkness. And he especially hated meeting in a parking garage. It was way too Deep Throat for his taste.

Why did they have to meet like this, anyway? The explanation he’d been given was that certain “enemy eyes” might be watching. To him, that was all the more reason not to meet in secret. Meet in their offices and close the door, for God’s sake. Surely even the NSA couldn’t eavesdrop in the Secret Service offices. And a meeting like that wouldn’t attract any undue suspicion. This one surely would—if anyone found out about it.

He would just have to make damn sure no one found out about it.

“Psst!”

Gatwick whirled around. There, huddled behind a Land Rover, was the director of Homeland Security, Carl Lehman. A huge over six-foot-tall black man wearing—swear to God—a trench coat.

Gatwick knew the man was his boss, but he still couldn’t manage to keep his mouth shut. “I’m sorry, but don’t you feel just a little bit—silly?”

Lehman frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The director of Homeland Security. Crouched in shadows.”

“May I remind you what happened to the last director of Homeland Security?”

Okay, there the man had a point. “Do you have some reason to believe we’re in danger?”

“Don’t you get it?” Lehman slowly rose, careful to keep himself in the dark and out of view of the concealed video monitors. “I’m always in danger.”

“But today—”

“I was on national television today. My face was beamed all over the globe. Every terrorist on earth knows what I look like.”

Fine. Allow the man his paranoia. It seemed to boost his ego. “It wasn’t a terrorist who asked to meet with you. It was me.”

Lehman’s eyes darted left, then right. “You can never be too careful.” He paused, then added, “I think it’s best we’re not seen together, Tom. At least not until this amendment passes.”

So that was it. “Why would us being seen together arouse suspicion?”

“You support the amendment.”

“Along with virtually every other Secret Service agent.”

“Yes,” Lehman said slowly, “but there are…special circumstances in your case. You know it as well as I do.”

A deep furrow creased Gatwick’s brow. “Those special circumstances are exactly what we need to discuss. I’ve got Zimmer crawling all over my ass.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“He’s certain he’s uncovered some kind of conspiracy.”

Lehman’s left eyebrow rose. “Does he indeed.”

“Yeah.”

“What does he know?”

“Just enough to be irritating.”

“What are the goals of this imagined conspiracy?”

“He has no clue. But he thinks I’m in on it. I’m not sure he doesn’t think I’m in charge of it.”

“How flattering for you.”

“Not so much. He wants to blame me for the death of the first lady.”

“Wasn’t he shielding the first lady when she was killed?”

“Exactly!”

Lehman waved the air dismissively. “Guilt. He screwed up. Didn’t take the bullet. So now his superego has to find a scapegoat, someone else to blame, some way to tell himself he was not at fault. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I have no choice but to worry about it!” Gatwick said, raising his voice. Lehman drew a finger across his lips, hushing him. “The man is not stupid. And he has a very big mouth. People listen to him.” Gatwick folded his arms, suddenly very cold. “I think something is going to have to be done about him.”

“Something…done about him? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. You’re the director of Homeland Security. You tell me.”

“You want me to fire him?”

“At the very least.”

“Are you saying—?”

“Look, do you understand how much I’m hanging out here? I made the changes to Domino Bravo—just like you told me. And the first lady got killed, along with more than a dozen other people.”

“All I was doing was trying to fix one of my predecessor’s poorly designed protocols.”

“Zimmer doesn’t know that. My ass is totally hanging out on this one.”

“I will make sure your ass is covered,” Lehman assured him. “Haven’t I deflected all hint of blame thus far?”

“I don’t know what you’ve done so far, but I’m worried. I don’t want to become the scapegoat for a national tragedy. I need a comfort margin.”

“You need a prescription for Xanax, sounds like to me.”

Gatwick could feel his anger rising. Nothing was more irritating than the feeling that you weren’t being taken seriously—especially when there was so much to be taken seriously. “It’s not just me, Carl,” he said pointedly. “Both our necks are sticking out here.”

Lehman stiffened. “I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of.”

“That’s beside the point. If Zimmer talks enough about a conspiracy in the Secret Service—”

“—then absolutely no one will listen. There has never been a traitor in the Secret Service. Never.”

“So I told him. But it didn’t quell his suspicions. He’s been watching media tapes of the incident, looking for clues to what really happened. He volunteered for the investigation just to get access to the files.”

“You don’t know that. He might be motivated by a sincere desire to catch the killers.”

“Bullshit. He’s after
me,
period. This morning he was trying to access my personnel files. Didn’t have the security clearance, but I got a flash alert informing me of the attempt. So what are we going to do about it?”

Lehman smiled. Gatwick sensed he was trying to be reassuring, but somehow, when he was cowering in shadows and wearing that ridiculous trench coat, it just didn’t come across. “What we have to do, Agent Gatwick, is make sure this amendment passes.”

“I don’t see how that gets Zimmer off my back.”

“I do. Get this amendment passed and I’ll be able to do anything I want.”

“Didn’t the amendment get out of committee?”

“Yes, but we don’t know what will happen on the floor of the Senate. Unofficial polling shows those in favor and those against are about equal in number.”

“Just get that Kincaid kid to cry again. The rest of the Senate is sure to fall into line.”

“I’m a little worried about that young senator, actually.”

“Why? Didn’t he do exactly what you wanted him to do?”

“Yes, but he’s conflicted.”

“He told you this?”

“He didn’t have to. I’ve been around a long time. You don’t get far in law enforcement or politics if you can’t read a man’s face, and that man still has his doubts.”

“Well, as long as he keeps them to himself…”

“Yes, but will he?” Lehman batted a finger against his lips. “A change of heart at the wrong moment could throw a monkey wrench into our plans. We need some sort of insurance. Some way to make sure he plays ball until the Senate approves this amendment.”

Gatwick took a step backward. “Wait a minute, Carl—I don’t need to be taking any more chances.”

“You don’t need to piss me off, either,” Lehman said harshly. “Not if you like doing what you do and living like you live. And keeping your secrets secret.”

Gatwick’s nostrils flared. Lehman was using him. But what could he do about it? At this point, there was no turning back. “What is it you had in mind?”

“I’m willing to leave that to your discretion,” Lehman said, his eyebrows dancing. “But you know, the man is a newlywed….”