Term Limits (53 page)

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.