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Authors: Alton L. Gansky

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BOOK: Terminal Justice
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“And because you’re afraid of the shoe of death.”

David laughed. “Actually, you look wonderful today. Do you want some breakfast?”

“No. I’m still full of popcorn and candy. Breakfast of champions, you know.”

“So I hear.”

“Besides, I need to get to the office. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be busy today, considering the news.”

“How do you think A.J. will take it? He’s no fan of Mahli.”

“I don’t know anyone in their right mind who’s a fan of Mahli. The man is a murderer. We can’t prove it, but we know he killed
Dr. Rhodes. A.J. hasn’t forgotten that. Now that the president has invited Mahli to come to the States, A.J. is going to be in a foul mood—and rightly so.”

“Do you think he’ll issue a statement?” David asked.

“I doubt it, but I’m going to be getting calls from the media. I need to be there to run interference. Besides, I’m sure A.J. is going to have a general staff meeting about all of this, to reassure the troops, as it were.”

“Why do you think the president did what he did?” David asked. “I mean, asking Mahli to come to the United States?”

“Who knows,” Kristen said seriously. “Maybe he doesn’t know about Mahli. Maybe he knows but doesn’t care. Maybe he knows something we don’t and feels compelled to take this action.”

“Surely the CIA knows about Mahli. That’s their job to know, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but not necessarily,” Kristen said as the waitress brought her coffee. Kristen shook her head when offered a menu. “Remember, Somalia isn’t strategic, and the famine has pushed back its development. The CIA may have limited involvement there. They may not know.”

David thought of Stephanie Cooper, of her determined attitude and her resolve. Both Stephanie and Special Agent Woody Summers had visited David twice over the last three months; both times he refused to speak to them other than to turn down their request for help. “But they must have done some research before they extended an invitation to a warlord like Mahli. They wouldn’t expose the president to danger.”

“Mahli won’t be dangerous over here,” Kristen said. “He needs the endorsement of the U.S. to enhance his world image. That’s the only reason he would come over here. In Somalia he tells the people the Americans are poisoning the food to get even for what happened in 1994. He’ll return to Somalia and tell the people that he has made the food safe once again and that he has influenced our country to be more sympathetic to their plight. We’ll send supplies
directly through Mahli, and he’ll be a national hero. That’s my best guess anyway.”

“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” Kristen drank deeply from the coffee cup. “Personally, I think someone ought to shoot the little—”

“Kristen!”

“—the little man as he steps from the plane. If someone wants to hire an assassin, I’ll contribute to the cause.” Once again David thought of Agents Summers and Cooper. This was the kind of thing they had been talking about.

“That’s pretty harsh, isn’t it?” he asked seriously.

“No harsher than the way he treated Dr. Rhodes,” Kristen opined.

“We don’t know that.”

“No, we don’t, but if I were a betting woman, I’d bet the mortgage to the house and the pink slip to my car that that’s what happened.”

David said nothing, for there was nothing to say. Mahli was probably as evil as Kristen had said, and there wasn’t a member of Barringston Relief who didn’t want to see him gone. That realization saddened and worried David. It also brought up a question that he had forced to the back of his mind: Is it ever right to do wrong?

“Anyway,” Kristen continued, “be ready for a full staff meeting. I’m sure A.J. will have a few things to say to us all.”

“How do you think he’ll respond to the news?”

“It probably isn’t news to him. A.J. is well connected in Washington, so he probably had some warning, a day or two at least. But to answer your question directly: He’s most likely livid and frustrated. I wouldn’t play racquetball with him today. He’s likely to fire the ball through the wall, or maybe even through you.”

David had begun to play racquetball with A.J. at least twice a week since early October. He did it at first to alleviate his guilt over disappointing A.J. with his failed little espionage adventure, but
after a few weeks David began to enjoy the sport. He had improved markedly as the weeks passed, enough so that he could actually gain up to ten points before A.J. reached the game-winning twenty-one.

“I’ll take your advice and stay off the courts for a couple of days. It wouldn’t do for me to be run through with a little blue ball.”

“True. Besides, I like you the way you are,” Kristen said in soft alluring tones. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You know I was only kidding about the movie last night. I really do enjoy going out with you—even if you do eat my malted milk balls.”

David laughed and lightly caressed her hand. They gazed at each other for a moment, David staring deep into her blue eyes. Her eyes were so rich, so captivating that he felt he could fall into them in endless, blissful descent.

“You had better walk me to my car,” she said moments later. “People are going to start wondering about us.”

“What people?” David asked romantically. “There’re only the two of us in this universe.”

“You do wax poetic.”

“You bring it out in me.”

“I still think you had better walk me to my car. And if you do a good job of it, I might even give you a little kiss.”

“You’re on.”

Kristen had been correct about the staff meeting. When David arrived in his office he found a memo with IMPORTANT emblazoned across the top. The memo itself was short, only a paragraph long, and announced a mandatory meeting at eleven that morning. All other appointments were to be rescheduled.

“This promises to be interesting,” David said aloud.

At 10:50, David walked into the cafeteria, the only room large enough to hold all the Barringston workers at once. Scores of people were already seated around tables, and many more were
pouring into the room. David looked for Kristen but didn’t see her. He did see Eileen Corbin seated with Sheila. A man who looked familiar to David was with them. It was Roger Walczynske, the man whom David had met briefly in one of the relief camps in Ethiopia. He had arrived with George Wu and Gerald Raines. David could recall A.J. walking away from the others with Roger. George, Gerald, and Sheila had joined them a few minutes later, and then they all, except A.J., left together. A.J. had explained that Sheila was going to Somalia with the men to talk to some of the camp workers. Sheila had come back to the States about a week after David and the others had returned. He had not seen Roger since that night in Ethiopia. David also noticed that they all looked glum, depressed, and even angry.

When A.J. entered the room, the constant drone of conversation ceased. Timmy was with A.J. and sat at a table near where A.J. was standing. Once seated, Timmy began to play with a handheld video game. A podium had been set up in the corner of the cafeteria.

At precisely eleven o’clock, A.J. stepped behind the podium. “Good morning,” he said. A few dozen people responded; the others smiled or nodded their heads. “Thank you for being here and being prompt. I shall not take up much of your valuable time.” David felt proud of the way A.J. had grown in his public speaking. A.J. had taken immediate control of his audience, was making good eye contact, and was enunciating clearly and powerfully.

“I’m sure most of you have heard the morning news,” he continued. “My sources in Washington have verified the story. The president has indeed invited the Somali warlord Mahli to visit the United States.” Murmuring rippled through the crowd. “To some of you that name may mean nothing; to others it means a great deal. It has been no secret in this building that Mahli may have been responsible for the death of at least one of our noble doctors in Somalia. I personally suspect him of other crimes. We are saddened by the president’s invitation, and I plan to telegram our concerns
immediately following this meeting. I do not criticize our president, for he may not—must not—have the full story. As you know, Mahli has been active of late and seems, at least to the eyes of many, to have achieved some good in his land and in other African countries. We are thankful for the good he has done, but we remain dubious about his motives and about his plans for the future.” Heads in the audience nodded in agreement.

“Nonetheless, we will continue our good work around the world, including Somalia and Ethiopia. So far as we are allowed, that is. It is important that we not lose heart and …” A.J. paused as his eyes caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. David, seeing A.J.’s glance, turned to watch as Kristen hurried into the room and headed for the corner where A.J. stood. He stopped speaking until Kristen had made her way to him. She whispered in his ear. A.J. scrunched his face in a puzzled and surprised expression. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but it seems that I have an … interesting phone call: the president.”

The crowd chuckled, a few gasped, and one man shouted, “He must have heard you talking.”

A.J. laughed with the others and then motioned to Peter Powell, who was seated nearby. “Peter has a few things to share with us about our new health and dental insurance. I’m sure you’re going to like the changes, but there are some details you need to know. Peter, come and use this time to share those issues. In the meantime, I’ll go see what the president wants. I promise to come back and fill you in.” A.J. stepped from behind the podium and quickly walked from the room.

Kristen, who had seen David when she entered, walked over and sat next to him. “The president,” David said. “I’m suitably impressed. I bet he really wanted to talk to you.”

“Flattery always works with me, but this time I have to tell the truth. He wanted to speak to A.J.”

“What about? Do you know?

“No. Haven’t the foggiest. I started to ask, but it’s hard to
formulate questions when you’re stammering.” She made a face, crossed her eyes, and said in a voice an octave higher than normal: “You wish to speak to A.J. Barringston? Certainly President Gain, I mean Mr. Pain, I mean President Laine.”

David guffawed loud enough to be heard across the cafeteria. Several people turned and looked at him.

A.J. walked purposefully but unhurriedly to a nearby office. The office was shared by several accounting clerks. He snatched up the nearest phone and dialed the access code that would open the line that Kristen had secured. The code was part of the Building Utility Security System that protected everything from the elevators to the computer network. Many of the calls made and received at Barringston Relief were sensitive and required protection from prying ears. The coded system allowed executives to put someone like a high-level diplomat on hold without fear that someone would pick up the line accidentally, or not so accidentally.

“Mr. President?” A.J. said evenly.

“Mr. Barringston, I presume,” Gillian Laine said.

“Yes sir, Mr. President. I’m sorry to keep you on hold. I was in the middle of a staff meeting.”

“I should apologize for calling at such an inconvenient time, but I need to ask a favor.”

“A favor?”

“First, let me say that I have been a big admirer of both you and your father. I appreciate the excellent work your organization does, and I also appreciate your father’s help over the years. As you know, he’s been a big supporter of my administration.”

A.J. knew that and also knew when he was being set up with a compliment. “Thank you, sir. The kind words mean a great deal to me and to my staff.”

“I mean every word of it. Now, down to business. I assume you know that we have invited the Somali warlord Mahli to the United States for a little face-to-face chat.”

“I am aware of that, sir.”

“What you may not be aware of is this: He’s made two requests.”

“Only two.”

“So far,” the president replied, overlooking the gibe. “The first request is to see Disneyland. He studied in England years ago and learned of Disneyland from some students. I mentioned that Walt Disney World would be closer, but he insisted on California. I think it’s because of his second request.”

BOOK: Terminal Justice
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