That was a hell of a question. Justin figured the Triumph of Freedom Act had passed in Congress while he’d been incarcerated. It was on the verge of passing, and if it had, it made sense that he hadn’t been allowed to contact a lawyer or be in touch with the outside world. He had no rights whatsoever now-that’s what the T.O.F. Act was meant to accomplish. It was like the RICO laws put in place to stop the mob. There was no recourse.
So back to the question: Why did those three benefit? Because the government could do whatever it wanted now. If Anderson passes the Triumph of Freedom Act, it becomes his legacy, his holy grail of legislation. And it sets up his party as the one to turn to in times of fear and danger. There’s an even greater benefit for VP Dandridge: He’s running for president. He was losing-now he’s a shoo-in. Attorney General Stuller reaps the same benefit. The Triumph of Freedom Act gives him extraordinary power. Lots to gain for all three of them, particularly the last two. Lots to gain. .
But how can this be? The heads of the U.S. government perpetrating terrorist acts on their own people? It can’t be. It doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense. There’s something wrong, there’s got to be a gap in the logic.
And yet. . Why the cover-ups? Why the misinformation? Why else would there be so much resistance to and so much obstruction in the way of the truth?
Okay. Let’s go with it for the moment. As crazy as it seems, say it’s real. It still doesn’t solve the second part of the Harper’s equation: Who’s masterminding the bombing? Who was on the other end of the cell phone? That’s the key because even assuming the crazy assumption that Anderson, Dandridge, and Stuller-or any combination of the three-are involved, they couldn’t possibly be hands-on. They’d have to be many times removed from the physical reality of the plan. The FBI? Hard to imagine. Even someone as bloodless as that guy Schrader. . no. Just can’t see it. They might cover up the investigation under orders, but to actually perpetrate a terrorist act. Uh-uh. .
Hold it. Take a break. Getting ahead of yourself. Getting too complicated. Keep things simple. One step at a time. Time to see where we are. .
First Plateau: The explosion at Harper’s Restaurant was designed specifically to kill Bradford Collins. Collins was murdered to stop him from talking about EGenco’s illegal business dealings. His revelations would have implicated people who could not afford to be implicated-the list possibly goes as high as the attorney general, the vice president, and the president of the United States.
Unanswered Questions: Who was actually behind the bombing? Who made the cell phone call? And what was the specific information that Collins had that was so dangerous to such important people?
Okay, go to the next step. It’s related. It’ll help pull you up the mountain.
Step Two:. .
The door to the room opened, Justin was so absorbed in his thought process that he didn’t hear the initial sound, but when he realized that someone was coming in, before he even looked up, he stretched out casually on the floor, obliterating his scribblings in the dirt. As he slowly stood, he dragged his foot over the same area, further obscuring any trace that he’d been doing something other than staring blankly off into space.
His interrogator stood just inside the doorway. He was still wearing fatigues. They’d been washed and newly pressed.
“Tell me about Hutchinson Cooke,” he said.
Justin nodded accommodatingly. “What do you want to know?”
“Why were you talking to Martha Peck?”
“Looking for information.”
“What information?”
“Cooke was killed in my town. I was trying to solve the case.”
“Who killed him?”
He thought about his answer, decided to go with the truth. He had nothing to gain by lying. Not now. “I’m not positive. I didn’t get far enough. But I think it was someone who worked for Martha Peck. Someone named Martin Heffernan. He either rigged the plane or knew who did it and decided to cover it up, I don’t know which.”
“Did you kill Hutchinson Cooke?”
“For Christ’s sake.” He would have screamed but his throat was still too raw. Then he just nodded and said, “Yeah. I killed Hutch Cooke, and to throw everyone off the track, I decided to spend the rest of my life pretending to find out who did it. I arranged for myself to get thrown in here ’cause I knew that would really confuse the hell out of everybody.”
Justin waited for the attack, but it didn’t come. The man in the fatigues didn’t change his expression, just waited a moment or two, then said, “Tell me everything you know about Midas.”
For a moment, Justin thought he might burst into tears. Forget the pain and the horrendous conditions. He was being driven mad by the idiotic repetition, the boredom. “Look,” he said, “I’d like to tell you about Midas. I’d really like to tell you about Midas. But I don’t know what it is, where it is, or who it is. All I know is they paid Hutch Cooke’s salary. That’s it. I swear to God.”
“Who runs Midas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who owns it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does their money come from?”
Justin shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me about Theresa Cooke.”
Justin closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them before answering. “Some stupid bastard killed her because he thought she told me something. That’s all I know about her.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“What did Theresa Cooke tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me a goddamn thing.”
“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? If you knew something, you’d tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Because you want to get out of here.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to be beaten anymore, do you?”
“No,” Justin said quietly. “I don’t.”
“And you’d like to be clean. And have a good meal.”
“Yes,” he breathed. “I would like that very much.”
“Then just tell me what you know.”
Justin took a deep, long breath. The air that came in through his mouth and his nostrils felt particularly tropical. Warm and wet. “I don’t know anything,” he said. “I don’t know a thing.”
The man in the crisp, starched fatigues looked at Justin, who’d stayed standing during the entire conversation, and said, “I almost believe you.”
Then he left Justin alone again. From the world outside his tiny window, Justin thought he heard a bird screeching. It was a high-pitched noise, piercing and mournful. When the sound came again, Justin wasn’t quite so sure of its source. It was piercing enough to be a bird. But it was also mournful enough to be a human being.
He scribbled all the names into the floor again. He’d done it so often by now, he didn’t have to think or pause while pushing his finger through the dirt. As he’d done each time, he rearranged them in a slightly different order than the previous time. Looking for patterns and connections. To the left he kept the victims in one column. For the first time, he added Elliot Brown’s name to that column. Next he organized any of the names connected to either the military or the FBI-anyone with a connection to the government’s investigation of terrorism. To the right of that column he listed all government officials. In a column all by itself, he listed the Saudi connection and, after a bit of hesitation, added a final column: Midas. At first he left it blank under the company name, then he added Cooke, who worked for them, and then he remembered that Colonel Zanesworth had told him that it was the vice president, Dandridge, who had made the call asking Cooke to be assigned to Midas as a pilot, so he put Dandridge’s name under that column, too.
Collins Zanesworth Stuller Mishari MidasCookeSchrader Dandridge CookeBrown Stuller Anderson Dandridge Heffernan CookePeck Billings Ingles Lockhardt Heffernan T. Cooke R. Cooke H. Cooke