He shrugged.
"After Oklahoma City there was a journalist" Kunze's voice got quieter and he leaned closer "who suggested McVeigh and Nichols were actually duped by a federal informant acting as a provocateur."
"Are you suggesting the government provoked the Oklahoma City bombing?"
"Not the government as in the administration. God no. But maybe someone within the government. Someone with enough power and political ties. Someone upset that we virtually ignored the warning of the first World Trade Center bombing in '93. Someone who thought there should be a wake-up call. Sound familiar?"
"You believe Henry Lee's secret group exists?"
Another big-shouldered shrug.
"You thought it was CAP," she reminded him.
"He told you it was a smokescreen, a distraction. He didn't deny a connection. Could be how they recruited those college kids. They may have used CAP just like they used those kids."
"And they being ?"
"Is it so far-fetched to believe there might be other businessmen like Henry Lee who started with honorable intentions then got sidetracked? He mentioned business contracts. There were a helluva lot of contracts that came after Oklahoma City to reconstruct federal buildings, add security equipment, personnel."
"I have to tell you," she told Kunze. "I'm not much for conspiracy theories." Perhaps she was simply exhausted but she couldn't connect the dots Kunze was laying out in front of her.
"Just keep in mind, there's some major legislation coming down concerning Homeland Security. Not just the dollars for Phoenix. There're a couple of huge bills coming up for a vote, maybe before the holidays. I don't know all the details but it reinstates some stiff regulations for security, regulations that need to be in place before the beneficiaries receive any of the federal dollars attached to the bill."
"Let me get this straight." She braced her elbows on the table and laid her chin in her hands. "You think this Project Manager, by making a reference to Oklahoma City, was tipping his hat, so to speak? Perhaps revealing that, just like Oklahoma City, these bombings are being orchestrated as a government conspiracy?"
Kunze started to interrupt but she put up her hand. "Correction, not the government but a group of businessmen with political ties, have hired a professional terrorist to carry out two fatal attacks just to move a bill through Congress?"
A.D. Kunze sat back and released a sigh. "You're right. It does sound far-fetched." He stood and stretched his arms above his head, rotating his thick neck back and forth and definitely putting an end to their conversation whether or not he was finished. Then as if it was an afterthought, he pointed to the file folder. "Do me a favor. Just skim through that."
CHAPTER 71
In flight
Leaving Minneapolis
Patrick had never been on a private jet before. The huge leather captain chairs swiveled and reclined. The walls were paneled, the floor carpeted. They were being served beverages in crystal glassware. The pewter coasters were indented into the wooden side table and had the Senator's initials, A.F., engraved. It was pretty amazing and yet all he could think about was his phone conversation with Rebecca.
It was short, way too short.
"I'm so sorry," was one of the first things she said. After all she had been through and she was apologizing to him.
"Dixon made me think you might be involved somehow," she explained. "He was scared. He made a mistake. I was scared. Can you ever forgive me?"
He was simply relieved to hear her voice, to know she was finally safe. He couldn't, however, tell her about Phoenix. Couldn't explain what was going on, except that he would see her in a couple of days.
He looked around the inside of the plane, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into. A couple of days ago he would have steered clear, content to be on the sidelines. He still wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, needed to do this.
Deputy Director Wurth and Mr. Morrelli were at the back of the plane. They had a map of Sky Harbor spread out on a table and were going over details. Assistant Director Kunze had taken one of the chairs on the other side of the aisle and was stretched out, fast asleep, or at least it sounded like it from his heavy breathing.
Maggie sat directly across from Patrick, staring out the window into the night. She had been reading what looked like poor photocopies of documents that had black rectangles stamped throughout the pages. Classified stuff, no doubt. He didn't think the documents held all her attention. She looked preoccupied, thinking about something else. But then how would he know? He kept telling himself that Maggie didn't know him at all. Yet how hard had he tried to get to know her?
One thing he did knowshe wasn't happy that he was coming along.
"I guess I really just want to help," he said, out of the blue, almost as if he had only now found the answer for himself.
She looked over at him as if she had forgotten he was there.
"I don't want you to get hurt."
He smiled at that. Couldn't help it. He caught himself trying to hide it with a swipe of his fingers to his mouth. If she'd only seen what he had already gone through in the last twenty-four hours.
"What?" she asked, her voice sounding defensive.
"I've never had anyone worry about me."
"Your mom worries about you."
This time he laughed. She obviously didn't know his mom either. "I've worried about my mom for a lot more years than she's worried about me."
Her eyes met his and there was something he recognized before she looked away.
She glanced out the window again.
"We have more in common than either of us realize," she told him.
"Probably why I need to go along."
This time she smiled.
"I really can take care of myself," he told her and only hoped she never found out about the dryer incident.
They sat in silence, a bit awkward, but Patrick knew she was letting him control the silence. Leaving the decision to him and what, if anything, he wanted to share. Maybe it was time he told her some things about himself if he ever wanted her to get to know him.
"I changed my major," he said.
Before he could continue, she surprised him by saying, "I know. Fire Science. How do you like it?"
CHAPTER 72
Something nagged at Maggie ever since they'd left Minneapolis. She couldn't put her finger on it. Even Patrick's charm and boyish naivety couldn't distract her. She was pleased that he wanted to move their relationship beyond the barriers they had imposed, though both of them seemed to tiptoe around each other. He was a good kid, smart, kind and self-reliant. But she knew he had no idea what he was getting himself into. His adventure over the last day may have left him feeling invincible. But tracking professional killers was something that should be left to the professionals.
She'd already talked to Charlie Wurth about how they could utilize Patrick at Sky Harbor, but only at the lowest level of risk. She wanted him in her sights at all times. All of them would be connected with a wireless communication system. Not two-way radios that could be tapped into, but something limited only to their task force. They'd all wear Kevlar vests under their traveling clothes. And GPS tracking systems. She tried to put in place as many precautions as possible, but she knew if Patrick ended up getting hurt she'd never forgive herself.
She glanced at Nick poring over the maps with Wurth in the back of the plane. How could he believe she didn't trust him? That she'd lied to him? Who was she fooling? As soon as she had seen him sitting at the controls in front of the surveillance monitors and knew he was the investigator for the security company, she didn't trust his judgment. Whatever chemistry existed between them didn't seem to run deep enough to include trust and loyalty.