Endangered Species: PART 1 (8 page)

“
What’s their role in
this?”

“
Greed. They want a
planetary banking monopoly. Their goal is to create a one-world
government.
The
international bankers control it, but they include among their
membership lackeys in
the mass media,
education, and entertainment who push propaganda of ‘humanism’ and
world brotherhood, while opposing such ‘selfish’ things as
nationalities and patriotism. Their strategy includes eliminating
middle classes, destroying confidence in currencies, massive debt
structures. They intend to weaken America and take it out of the
international mix.”

“
Why is the current
administration playing along with this?” Whelan said.

“
A recent editorial in
the
Wall Street Journal
summed it pretty nicely.
It pointed out that those on the left don’t seem to grasp that
the one-grand-scheme-fits-all compulsion is out of sync with the
individualization that technology lets people design into their
lives today. Rather than resolve the complexities of public policy
in the world we inhabit, the left’s default is to simply acquire
power, then cram down what they want to do with one-party votes or
by fiat, figuring they can muddle through the wreckage later.
Making the unworkable work by executive decree or court-ordered
obedience is one way to rule, and maybe they like it that way, but
it isn’t governing. And it certainly isn’t in the best interests of
the American people.”

“
What about the opposition
party in America? Aren’t they capable of combatting these
actions?”

Levell snorted. “That’s a good one. That
bunch of bozos is ineffective and useless. They seem incapable of
formulating or presenting alternatives and solutions. They’re
devotion is preening for the cameras, and to insure their own
reelections, and spending a lifetime feeding at the public
trough.”

“
That leaves the Ship of
State rudderless. There’s only one possible outcome, and it’s not a
happy one.”

“
That’s why the Society has
to safeguard our freedom any way necessary until the electorate
comes to its collective senses and puts a trustworthy leader back
in the Oval Office.”

Levell terminated the call and handed the
Sat phone back to Rhee.

* * *

He wheeled himself back down the hall and
into the lounge. McCoy was chomping on a fresh unlit cigar and
engaging in an animated conversation with Maureen Delaney. As
Levell rolled up, McCoy saw the serious look on the other man’s
face.

“
Something up?” McCoy
said.

“
Yeah, I had a call from
Brendan Whelan. I’ll tell you about it later.”

McCoy got both messages. He stood up and
said, “I’m going to get a fresh drink and step outside for a
smoke.”

As he was walking away, Delaney said, “You
had a call? I thought communications in and out of here were
difficult at best.”

“
That’s not quite accurate.
We have a Sat phone system that utilizes 1024 bit asymmetric
encryption. IT would require three hundred billion MIPS-years to
crack it.”

“
MIPS, meaning one million
instructions per second?” Delaney said.

“
Yes, a MIPS-year is
thirty-one and a half trillion instructions. Multiplied by three
hundred billion, cracking the code becomes virtually impossible. In
addition, the system utilizes a second layer of 256 bit symmetric
encryption. It converts voice to encrypted data using a constantly
changing mathematical formula. Typically, the encrypted stream
would be deciphered by the receiving unit, which converts it back
to voice. All calls are routed directly to the receiving unit by
way of a direct space link, thus avoiding use of a ground
station.”

“
So your caller also had a
Sat phone?”

“
Yes, but in situations
where the receiving unit is not a part of the system, and therefore
susceptible to interception, we use a different strategy. In that
case the call is directed to a special ground station where the
encrypted data is converted to voice and directed to the
non-systemic receiver through any transmission link on the planet.
In addition, the special ground station is mobile and can be
transported quickly to a new location by truck, ship or aircraft.
For example, the call could be routed through a ground station in
Kenya, so that a tracer would indicate the call was being
transmitted from Nairobi.”

“
Technology is my world,”
Delaney said. “But the state of encrypted communications just
amazes me.”

“
Mostly sounds like
techno-babble to me,” Levell said.

She leaned forward and smiled at him. It was
one of the most beautiful and radiant smiles he had ever seen. He
was momentarily transfixed.

“
It may be techno-babble to
many of us, Cliff, but there is no question that you are doing an
amazing job,” she said softly. “You are the only man who could have
built this organization.” She leaned over and kissed him gently on
the cheek.

Levell’s craggy features filled with color.
“Are you hungry?” he stammered. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 7—Dingle,
Ireland

The two burly Irish cops hadn’t reached the
door when Caitlin Whelan swept it open. Without hesitation she
threw her arms around the older of the two men and they exchanged a
tight embrace. Next she grabbed the younger man and repeated the
hug.

The older man said, “Are you alright,
Cait?”

She smiled. “Yes, Da.”

Her brother, Padraig, said, “And Brendan and
the boys?”

“
They’re fine; we’re all
fine. But there are some other buggers who didn’t fare as well.”
She motioned her father and brother to follow her. She led them
through the large foyer and headed toward the kitchen area on the
other side of the dining area. The two men couldn’t help but notice
the corpse stiffening at the bottom of the stairs that led up from
the foyer.

“
That would be some of
Brendan’s doin’, I suspect,” Tom, the older of the two men,
said.

“
It is,” Caitlin said.
There was unmistakable pride in her voice.

“
Your phone call said
there’d been an attack of some kind. I suppose there will be more
bodies scattered about.”

“
A few. Bren stacked them
out back except for the one you saw in the foyer,” she said as they
entered the kitchen. “Then there’s that one,” she pointed to the
gravely wounded intruder her husband had interrogated.

The two policemen swiftly surveyed the room.
It was like a scene out of a slasher movie. Blood and gore were
splattered over a large area. Clearly the dying man wasn’t the only
one who had bled out here. Their eyes came to rest on Brendan
Whelan.

“
So, Mr. Whelan, what have
you got to say for yourself, going about killin’ folk in my police
district?” Tom said with mock sternness.

“
Your daughter loves me
deeply.” Whelan smiled easily as he said it.

Tom broke into a broad grin. “I see. Well,
in that case I suppose Paddy and me will have to do everything in
our power to help you clean this mess up and see that no one else
learns of it.”

“
With the exception of a
couple of family members, commercial fishermen. It’d be best to
dispose of the perps at sea,” Paddy said.

“
You’ll be pleased to know,
Da, that one of your own grandsons, Sean, killed one of the
murdering scum himself’” Caitlin said.

“
Did he now? For sure the
apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. In this case, both trees,”
Tom said. “But, if these men didn’t get the chance to kill anyone,
we can’t really say they’re murderers, can we? Although I’m sure
they earned that reputation before they broke into the wrong house
tonight.”

Whelan said, “Unfortunately, they did kill
someone tonight.”

Both men’s eyes locked on Whelan.

“
Poor Miss Tankersley also
was in the wrong place tonight.”

Both of the cops were silent for a moment or
two. Then Tom said, “The poor old thing. She was a real sweetheart.
Wouldn’t have hurt a soul. What a pity.”

“’
Tis a pity,” Paddy said.
“She’s been comin’ here on holiday for as far back as I can
remember, since I was a kid at least.”

“
The bastards that done her
in will be easy enough to dispose of,” Tom said. “But I don’t want
to include Miss Tankersley’s remains with scum like that. Any
ideas?” He looked at each of the others in the room, ignoring the
wounded man on the floor.

“
We can’t send her remains
back to her hometown without generatin’ an official police report,”
Paddy said.

“
That would be
problematic,” Whelan said.

“
There’d be no way to avoid
an investigation,” Tom said.

Paddy nodded. “And there likely would be an
autopsy somewhere along the line.”

“
How did those bastards
kill her?” Tom said.

“
Smothered her with her own
pillow,” Whelan said.

No one spoke for a few moments. Finally Tom
said “An autopsy would determine that as the cause of death. People
don’t smother themselves, so foul play would be obvious.”

“
After all these years of
comin’ here on holiday,” Paddy said, “everyone knows she stayed
here at the Fianna. Her personal habits are well known, too. Always
eats at the same places, often retires early, isn’t very
adventurous.”

“
She did occasionally drive
over to Tralee,” Caitlin said, referring to County Kerry’s largest
town. “She liked to attend shows at
Siamsa
Tíre
.”

Her brother, Paddy, gave
her a puzzled look. “
Siamsa Tíre
is the home of the National Folk Theatre of
Ireland. You mean to say she enjoyed Irish history and culture? And
a Brit at that.”

Caitlin shook her head and smiled at her
brother’s naiveté. “No, Paddy, the theatre schedules those
performances between May and September. From October to April, they
host a wide variety of programs, including touring productions of
musicals and dramas.”

“
How would Miss Tankersley
travel to Tralee?” Tom said.

“
By car,” Caitlin said.
“It’s the blue and white Mini Cooper parked out front.
Why?”

“
An automobile accident.
Perhaps at Connor Hill on R560,” Whelan said.

“
Exactly,” Tom said.
“That’s a nasty bit o’ road, especially in the dark. Worse yet if
you’re not a local.”

Padraig said, “A car tumblin’ down that
cliff would surely catch on fire and burn up before anyone could
get to it.”

“
And burn up whatever was
in it,” Tom said.

Paddy nodded and said, “Burn it beyond a
coroner’s ability to determine that the cause of death was other
than the plunge down the hillside and the fire that followed.”

“
Or,” Whelan said, “that
the death may have occurred a few hours earlier than the
fire.”

Caitlin had been listening to the
conversation. “The poor dear and I once had a conversation over tea
about the afterlife. She was clear that she wanted to be cremated
when she passed.”

* * *

By late the next morning, Tom’s brother and
two of his sons, commercial fisherman from Dingle, had disposed of
the remains of the Ukrainian would-be assassins. The fifth man also
had died of his wounds. The fishermen sailed around Slea Head, the
closest point in Europe to America, and through the Blasket Islands
into the North Atlantic. The corpses had stiffened and being buried
under a load of ice hadn’t helped. The fishermen sawed them into
smaller pieces and packed them in thick burlap sacks along with
heavy stones. The grisly parcels plunged swiftly through the icy
waters to the barren mud far below.

Tom and Paddy personally
handled Miss Tankersley’s final arrangements on Connor Hill, the
highest mountain pass in Ireland. They picked a place where the
R560 made a sharp, blind turn to the left in a series of s-curves
along a steep escarpment. As the Sergeant in Charge of the
An
Garda Síochána
station in Dingle, Paddy had primary
responsibility for the routine investigation of the accident. He
reported in turn to the District Superintendent for County Kerry in
Ardfert, about 9 kilometers west of Tralee. Tom was the District
Superintendent.

Tom and Paddy hadn’t left
the Fianna House the previous evening until several armed members
of their extended family had been posted as sentries. The Irish are
close. Family ranks as the top priority along with religion. The
residents of the Dingle Peninsula are particularly tightknit and
hardy. During the Dark Ages, when literacy was extinguished in
Europe, Irish monks living in beehive-shaped stone huts
called
Clocháns
near the tip of the Dingle Peninsula kept it alive. Later,
when the English occupied the Island, they banned the use of
Gaeilge
, the Irish form
of Gaelic. It survived on the Dingle Peninsula.

The Whelans spent the remainder of the night
scrubbing away the gruesome evidence of the evening’s activities.
By dawn, the only thing that differed from the night before was a
patch of carpeting at the foot of the stairs where one of the
intruders had bled out. They cleaned it as best they could, but
traces of the bloodstain remained. Caitlin solved the problem. She
poured bleach on the spot. At eight o’clock in the morning, she
called a friend who was in the carpet business and explained that
there had been a cleaning mishap. He promised to send out a crew
that same day to replace the carpeting.