Three

by William C. Oelfke

  From beginning to end, this flight was a learning experience for the brothers and a continual source of quiet amusement for Benton Spencer. It helped him relax and rest. Ahead would be a busy and tension-filled week in Beirut carefully laying out plans for all the coming attacks.

  After a change of air carrier in Paris, they finally arrived in Beirut at 3:00 in the morning, something that Benton had failed to explain to the brothers, who were oblivious to the change in time zones anyway. Benton decided to skip a tutorial on world time zones, but would eventually have to tell Barry and Milford how to reset their wrist watches, and why it was necessary.

  They claimed their bags and made their way through customs with no delays. Because of the early morning hour it took some time for them to find a cab, but eventually they made their way into the eastern part of Beirut.

  Spencer had made a reservation for them at a convenient hotel near the Sassine Square in the center of the Greek Orthodox area now called Achrafiea. After unpacking they all bedded down for the remainder of the early morning. As he drifted off to sleep Benton ran through the coming week’s schedule of important meetings, including a secret rendezvous at the top of Saint Nicholas’ staircase.

  The following morning after a Middle-Eastern breakfast of strong coffee, cheese, and fresh figs, Benton Spencer took the two Smith brothers on a walking tour of Achrafiea. The late morning air rising from the Mediterranean was cool and filled with the aromas of onions and garlic being browned in olive oil with hints of cumin and za’atar, as the surrounding homes and restaurants began to prepare lamb and chicken dishes for the daily meals. They stopped to admire the nearby Saint Maroun Cathedral near their hotel, as Spencer gave a detailed account of its history sounding like a seasoned local tour guide. Most of the surrounding buildings were newly constructed high-rise offices and apartments, hiding the fact that this area had been almost completely leveled by three decades of fighting. Spencer said nothing of this constant Middle Eastern conflict until he heard Barry exclaim to Milford, “Look Milford, somebody shot at the side of that old building over there!” pointing at one of the few remaining old structures.

  “Yeah. I see where the bullets chipped them bricks!”

  “How do you two know those are bullet holes?” asked Spencer.

  “Because they look just like them we made in the side of the old brick school in Boz,” replied Barry.

  “You shot at the Boz schoolhouse!?”

  “Why not? There weren’t nobody around,” explained Milford.

  Benton just shook his head and rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, what have I gotten myself into, bringing these two along on this critical mission? He quickly continued the tour, pointing out the on-going repairs of war damage, and finally stopped at the foot of the Saint Nicholas Staircase.

  He first pointed out their historical significance, watching to make sure no one was nearby, and then motioned the two brothers to come closer to him. Lowering his voice he said, “I have a very important mission for you to carry out tonight. Just before midnight I will bring you to this spot. You must climb the steps to the top where you will find a man standing in the darkness holding a suitcase. He is expecting you and will say, ‘God is great’. This is a code. You must answer, ‘Power and might are in your hand’. He will then give you the suitcase to bring down to me.”

  “What’s in the suitcase?” asked Milford.

  “It contains important and holy artifacts that we must protect in secret. They are so powerful we are not allowed to open the case and look upon them!” For the rest of the afternoon Reverend Spencer went over the details of the transfer mission, rehearsing the pass-word exchange with Barry and Milford until the three were each tired of hearing the phrases.

  The Smith brothers, impressed by their mission, hardly slept that evening. At midnight Spencer awakened them. They left their hotel and walked through the darkened streets of Achrafiea.

  The Reverend accompanied them to the foot of the staircase. The three walked in complete silence, which only served to unnerve the brothers. Spencer silently gestured with both hands, ushering them up the steps. The way was covered with overhanging vines and they tried not to stumble in the darkness as they ascended. At the top of the stairs Barry and Milford met a shadowy form with a suitcase.

  “Allahu Akbar” (God is great), he announced.

  They were left speechless. Having heard this same thing uttered in newscasts of Muslim fighters attacking U. S. troops in Iraq, Barry and Milford now expected him to lunge at them with a weapon.

  They stood trembling until they heard him repeat, “God is great!”

  Both brothers responded, “Power and might are in your hand.” Benton, who had waited in the darkness, took the suitcase from the brothers as they stumbled back down Saint Nicholas’ Staircase.

  6

  The Usual Suspects

  Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast:

  For it is the number of a man.

  -Revelation 13:18

  Boarding the flight from DFW to O’Hare, Forrest Pierce became more and more concerned about the death of Dr. Newbury at the lab and the following attack at Dr. Saxon’s apartment. Had he stirred a hornet’s nest of federal agents who would eventually question anyone who worked on the fifth floor of Wilson Hall? Since it was known that he had traveled to Texas to see his ailing mother (in truth he had visited her gravesite near the ghost town of Boz and transferred money from her account into that of Reverend Spencer’s, keeping a small amount of cash for himself), he feared agents may well be waiting for him at the airport. He had not checked any luggage, but carried a modest carry-on and hoped he might quickly slip past any agents.

  Taking a window seat, he turned his head and stared out the window thinking that at any moment a federal agent might be entering the plane looking for him. He was afraid to look at the passengers as they boarded the plane and occupied seats nearby.

  Forrest jumped and recoiled when the man who had taken the seat next to him said, “Hey buddy.” Turning, he smelled the man’s whisky breath and saw a ruddy-faced Texan in a broad cowboy hat, grinning at him. “Y’all rootin’ for the Rangers?”

  Forrest responded automatically. “Sure, I always root for the Rangers.”

  “Goin’ to the Rangers/Cubs game?”

  “Don’t know yet; I gotta work in Chicago and don’t know if I can get off. But I’ll be rootin’ for them just the same. Maybe catch some of the game on TV if it’s not blacked out.” Forrest began to formulate a plan in his head as he continued to talk to this fan. “Looks like you‘ve got a good crowd of Rangers fans on this flight.”

  The ruddy faced man replied, “Yeah, there are ten of us, and we plan to party on the way to the game. Want to join us?”

  “Sure, I’m a big fan.” Forrest realized that by becoming a part of this overly enthusiastic fan club, he might be able to pass through O’Hare without being spotted by FBI agents who he imagined were now seeking him. Having shared drinks with his new-found friends, when his plane landed in Chicago he continued to participate in the traveling fan club. He wore one of their hats as he exited the aircraft with them, and continued to work his way through the O’Hare terminal, mingled in with this somewhat inebriated group of Texas Rangers fans on their way to a Cub’s game.

  As he walked with them to the transportation terminal and onto the Blue Line into downtown, he was pretty sure he had seen a number of suited young men looking carefully at male passengers from the DFW flight. He parted company with the group and rode the Blue Line into the center of town. He exited the elevated train near Union Station and walked a few blocks to the stairs leading down to the underground set of Amtrak ticket windows and passenger gates.

  Forrest paid cash for a ticket to Michigan City on the eastbound train and rode it along the southeastern side of the lake and into Indiana, or as the locals like to call this merger of Chicago and Gary, “Illiana”. He found a hotel room with a view of the main street intersec
tion and grocery store where he could keep an eye on most of the coming and going of people, and possibly police, as well as hitch a ride if he needed to escape a manhunt.

  Later that day, when Oliver exited his flight at O’Hare, he was met almost immediately by a polite young man who identified himself as a federal agent and said, “Dr. Saxon, I am here to escort you to a hotel near the airport where you will meet with FBI investigators along with Peter’s team members.” The agent walked with Oliver to a waiting car driven by his partner and helped him into the back seat with his bag. They each acknowledged Oliver politely but did not introduce themselves, not out of rudeness but out of standard protocol.

  Oliver had anticipated all of this because Director Clark had called him just as he was walking to his flight at DFW. There was no conversation with the agents during the five minute drive to the nearby hotel where Oliver was shown to his own room and told he could freshen up before dinner.

  However, before leaving, the agent said, “You must realize that these quarters are set up as a safe house for all those close to Dr. Newbury. We’ll provide for your needs for the next few days as we carry out our investigation and hopefully make a final determination of cause of death. In the meantime, you must not try to communicate with anyone outside this complex. I must therefore ask you to relinquish your cellphone and any other electronic communication devices. If you need to contact someone on the outside you must do so through the investigation team. If you will give us your car keys and a description of your car and its location at the airport, we will bring it here to this hotel later this evening.”

  Oliver knew about this protocol, and was expecting it. He turned over his cell phone and keys without complaint, but wondered how he would report to Maxine back in Washington, D. C. Remembering what Max had told him about the ricin and the evidence found in David’s desk drawer, he also knew that this “safe house” was also a temporary holding cell for “the usual suspects.”

  He imagined a scene from an Agatha Christie novel where the suspects are all trapped in the mansion during a violent storm and after dinner are ushered to the parlor for a glass of port while the investigator begins to rattle off all the motives of each person present for committing the murder as he paces back and forth in front of them.

  The rapid series of events and trips of the past few days had left Oliver thoroughly exhausted. A warm shower and change of clothes revived him somewhat, but he was still not looking forward to having to meet with this team of investigators and rehash the details of Peter’s death.

  He sat down at the small desk and read over his notes from the past few days, realizing he had merged his discussions with Father Pat and Peter’s team with what he learned at Waxahachie. He began to separate the two sets of notes to conceal his identity as a Homeland Security analyst from this group of friends.

  As he examined what he had written, he remembered Peter’s words, “You must find the three,” and began to contemplate a possible link. Was this secret communication link between Damascus, Jerusalem, and Waxahachie somehow linked to Fermilab? Did the media inflame the iconoclasts in these three regions with their sensationalizing of the “God Particle”? After all, a charismatic preacher like Benton Spencer might have the power to bend minds to commit murder. It certainly has happened before. I don’t know how I can bring this up in tonight’s interviews without exposing my intelligence connection with Homeland Security.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at his door. The agent who had accompanied him from the airport quietly spoke, “Good evening Dr. Saxon, the others are expecting you at the dinner table.” The polite invitation somewhat softened Oliver’s mood, and he began to anticipate a pleasant dinner with his close friends.

  When he entered the small dining room, he was met first by Alice who gave him a warm hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

  Oliver embraced each member of Peter’s group; Elizabeth, David, and Khalil all seemed worried and tense. They must know about the ricin and the finding of evidence. The other guests were Albert Penny and Bill Carson, two of the three support staffers assigned to the fifth floor of Wilson Hall. They each took a seat around the long dining table that had been neatly set with four places on either side. Their symmetry was broken by the one empty seat that awaited Forrest Pierce, the third support staff member. Their three-course dinner was served by an expert staff of waiters who, Oliver suspected, worked for Homeland Security and were perhaps also sequestered for the duration of this investigation. All the suspects are present and accounted for except Pierce.

  Conversation was somewhat tense and hesitant at first, but as the food came to the table everyone began to relax.

  “Where’s Pierce?” someone finally had the courage to ask, as everyone else stopped talking to hear the answer.

  Albert Penny, who had been with Fermilab as long as Pierce, answered, “He’d been visiting his elderly mother in Texas and was expected back today. He must have missed his flight from DFW.”

  The hair bristled on the back of Oliver’s neck, but he managed to ask in a calm voice, “What part of Texas does Forrest come from?”

  “Right in the middle of the Superconducting Super Collider project. His family ranch was sold to Uncle Sam when the digging started in the 80’s. Forrest and I both got jobs as support staff at the control center even though there were only contract management and engineers there. When the project closed in 1993 he and I both came to Fermilab.”

  “Where does his mother live?” asked Oliver.

  “She lives in a small home as near to the old family property as possible. Her kin were buried there and she’s been heart-broken ever since she was talked into selling the land. Pierce doesn’t talk about it very much, but he makes regular visits to look in on her. He always seems distressed when he returns.”

  Oliver tried hard to shield his shock and alarm as he listened, but now began to zero in on a scenario for Peter’s murder. What puzzled him, though, was how it could be linked to the three-way encoded communication to Damascus and Jerusalem. He needed to ask more questions about Forrest Pierce, but was hesitant to go beyond this point. Fortunately the serving of dessert brought a temporary halt to the conversation. The tension Oliver felt within himself, and to a certain extent around the table, began to melt along with the ice cream topped with hot fudge.

  After the excellent dinner the table was expertly cleared. All those present fell silent, waiting for the hound of the Baskerville to begin howling, or some other appropriate accompaniment for the trip to a nearby parlor. Nothing like that happened, however. The door to the dining room opened and a man bearing a cordial smile entered and graciously introduced himself as Robert Swift. Agent Swift was also a member of Homeland Security with extensive training as a field officer; however, because of his additional training in crime scene analysis, he had been assigned to head up this FBI investigation.

  Swift was in a separate division linked to the FBI and had not previously met Oliver or Maxine. “I am the senior member of this investigative group and I supervised the final examination of Dr. Peter Newbury at the coroner’s office. I will ask each of you for any information you can provide that may have bearing on this case. I’ve already spoken to Alice and Dr. Newbury’s research team members concerning my assessment of the cause of death.

  “I now wish to give you as much information as I can in hopes that you may be able to add anything else you think relevant. Upon examining Dr. Newbury, I discovered a puncture in his right thumb containing a tiny hollow sphere that showed traces of ricin. This has been seen before in the assassination of a Soviet defector some years ago; however, the wound site was partially hidden by tiny printings of two sixes separated by a vertical line covering the injection. The imprint used a special kind of indelible white engraving ink.

  “The nature of this act implies a possible international plot to kill Dr. Newbury. That is why those of you closest to him have been placed in protective custody. Some of you are
also aware that a ball-point pen containing the injector and engraving ink residue, along with the flash drive that was used to insert a virus into Dr. Newbury’s laptop, were both found in Dr. David Benjamin’s desk. We now believe that this evidence was planted in order to implicate Dr. Benjamin; however, with the exception of Alice and Dr. Saxon, everyone who has been requested to be here in this room had access to these offices before, during, and after the time of the murder, and therefore must be considered a suspect as well as a witness.”

  Agent Swift paused as the wave of emotion swept through those gathered in what had been a pleasant dining room moments before. He continued. “I’d now like to ask anyone present here if he or she can bring new insight into what we have found so far?”

  Elizabeth rose to her feet and spoke. “First let me say that David, as well as Kahlil, was with me from the moment Peter collapsed until the time we left Alice and Father Pat that evening. The offices were closed and locked as we left, and remained locked the next day when Dr. Saxon visited us in the outer conference area. Someone would have had to enter Peter’s office, contaminate his laptop, remove the pen, and then enter David’s office and plant the evidence.”

  “I believe you are right, Dr. Ward,” said Agent Swift, “those items were obviously planted, and that’s why Dr. Benjamin was not arrested. However, everyone here, including Forrest Pierce who is not here, may have had some way to access those locked offices.”

  Bill Carson, the other fifth floor support staff member said, “The fact that Pierce isn’t here is no reason to suspect him; he’s deeply religious and lives by the Bible. His mother may have taken a turn for the worse. I’ll bet he is still there with her.”

  “We’re looking into that and are in no way singling him out,” said Swift. ”We’ve already sent a person to her home in Texas this morning.”

  Oliver then rose to speak. “You mentioned that there was a set of white figures marked on Peter’s right thumb. Do you have a photograph of them from your examination?”