Home Goes The Warrior

Home > Other > Home Goes The Warrior > Page 25
Home Goes The Warrior Page 25

by Jeff Noonan


  Then another man came in and took the seat to Saxton’s left. Lee didn’t recognize him, so he leaned over and asked Tom who this guy was. The answer shocked him.

  “That’s Bill Dolby, the head of the CIA.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “I agree.” All of this was in whispers.

  At exactly one o’clock, the doors opened for a final time, and Ronald Dumsfeld, the Secretary of Defense, walked in and took a seat at Saxton’s right hand. He was boisterous and made a big deal of shaking everyone’s hands at the table. He pointedly ignored everyone not seated at the table.

  When Dumsfeld finally was seated, the Attorney General slapped his hand on the table and asked for quiet.

  “I’m calling this meeting to order. I’m going to ask all of you to be quiet during the meeting except when I call on you. If you have something to say, raise your hand, and I’ll call on you when appropriate. Please do not talk while others are talking. This is necessary because we are recording the meeting. Also, the President will be attending via telecomm. Are you there, sir?”

  “Yes I am, Bill. I’m sorry to have to meet with all of you this way. But my schedule didn’t allow anything else today.” Lee spotted the big black telecomm unit at the center of the table and immediately recognized the voice of the President. He glanced at Tom, whose mouth had dropped open.

  Saxton took up the lead again. “We are here today to discuss a matter of truly grave national implications. I caution all of you that this meeting is Top Secret. The handouts on the table are for your use during the meeting, but I want them all left here when you leave. I repeat, this meeting is Top Secret. Any questions?”

  Dumsfeld responded, “Am I getting copies for my files?”

  “If you want them. But they will be transmitted as Top Secret documents and are to be handled that way.” The Attorney General was firm.

  Dumsfeld grumbled something that Lee couldn’t hear. But the CIA chief, who hadn’t said a word so far, finally spoke. “Ronald, this situation is at the very least Top Secret and it has to be treated that way. There will be absolutely no exceptions for anyone.” His quiet comment was enough to get the garrulous Dumsfeld to quiet down. The Attorney General took over again.

  “Okay, gentlemen. We are here because our people have uncovered what we believe to be a Soviet sleeper cell operating in the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. If we are correct, and we sincerely believe we are, this cell has been operating there for at least two decades, maybe more. What is worse, they’ve had access to the blueprints for all of our shipboard electronic and weapons systems. They’ve also been able to get our ships’ radar and radio frequency information, and have even been able to compromise our cryptographic transmissions.”

  A murmur went up around the room.

  Saxton slapped his hand on the table. “Quiet!”

  The room quieted down and Saxton continued, “When I heard this the other day, I wasn’t sure how big it really was, since I’m not that familiar with the Navy. So I looked into it, and, believe me, this is the biggest security threat we’ve encountered during the Cold War. If we don’t handle this right, it could be a real game-changer. The United States may be, right now, totally unable to defend itself from the Russians on the high seas. This fact has apparently been known to Russia for years, and we’re just figuring it out.” He paused to let that sink in. Then he continued, “Now I’m going to ask the Mr. Gold from the FBI to brief you on the details of this security breach. His division in the FBI is the one that figured this out, so they are the closest to it. Mr. Gold, the floor is yours.”

  George Gold stood up and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Saxton, Mr. President, gentlemen. Before I start, I’d like to introduce two people who will help me with the details of this situation. They are two of our people who have been at the center of the investigation and are far more knowledgeable than I. They’re sitting behind me here. First, Special Agent Tom Wright of the FBI.” Tom stood and waved. “Sitting with Mr. Wright is Navy Lieutenant Lee Raines. Lee was recruited by my people and received FBI training at Quantico. For the past few months, he’s been our on-site person in the shipyard. He’s really the one who uncovered this mess. Incidentally, he also discovered a bunch of thieves that were stealing Navy money and recovered over a hundred million dollars for us.”

  Dumsfeld interrupted then. “Why the hell didn’t I know about this? How can you conscript one of my people without me knowing about it?” Lee saw George Gold go pale. Lee was startled at this. It had never occurred to him that his superiors might object to his work.

  George was stumbling with an explanation about how Lee had been recruited. Dumsfeld raised his voice to drown him out. “He’s a Navy officer, not a frigging policeman. He works for the Defense Department, not the FBI. I demand an explanation, in writing, from you.” He was pointing his finger and glaring at the Attorney General.

  The black phone spoke then. “That’s enough, Ronald. This is too big to be sidetracked by Washington turf wars. If an FBI and Navy team was instrumental in finding and stopping this, both Defense and Justice deserve kudos, Now, please, I’d like to hear more before I have to go. Mr. Gold, please proceed.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.” At that point, George Gold went over all of the known details of the Symington cell, speaking from the handout that had been provided to all of the participants. Periodically a hand would go up and be recognized. When the questions were too detailed for Mr. Gold, Tom would answer. Occasionally, he would ask Lee to answer the question. Finally, George’s presentation came to an end and the Attorney General took over again.

  “Okay, gentlemen. That’s the situation we’re faced with. A lot of our case is based on conjecture, but our information is solid, so I don’t doubt the truth of what we’ve heard. Now comes the real question. The question that brought us together today. That question is: What do we do about this? We can probably go arrest them right now and try to prove our case. Or maybe we can leave them in place and feed them bum dope so the Soviets are taken off track. Or we can probably just make them disappear. Or maybe there are other options you guys can help us find.”

  Again there was a murmur around the room. This time, Saxton let it go on for a time before slapping his hand gently on the table.

  “I’m open to suggestions, gentlemen.”

  Again Dumsfeld was the first to speak. “My vote is to go arrest them and have a tragic shootout with the arresting officers. Do away with them.”

  The CIA chief was next. “I kind of like the idea of keeping them in place and feeding them bad information. Anything that misleads the Russians is good in my book.”

  The Attorney General looked around the room. “What do you people think about leaving them in place?”

  No one spoke for a long while. Finally Dumsfeld said, “I guess we could try that.” There was a long pause while everyone seemed to agree with this plan. Finally, Lee raised his hand and was recognized by Saxton. “Yes, Mr. Raines?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. But that idea just wouldn’t work. These people are not just conduits for the information. You have to take into account that one of them, the key one, is actually in charge of the installation and testing of electronics aboard ships in the shipyard. He’s hands-on with this stuff every day. If you try to feed him bad information, he’ll spot it immediately. There’s just no way to give him bad information without it being contradicted as soon as he tries to implement it aboard ship.”

  Saxton looked at Dumsfeld, who nodded his head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re right on that.”

  Saxton looked around the table. “Okay, fellas. Any other thoughts?”

  Bill Dolby, the CIA chief spoke up. “I don’t like the thought of killing these people. At least one of them is an American citizen, even if he’s a turncoat. The America I grew up in doesn’t just kill people, even bad people. But, having said that, we need some options. If we arrest them and charge them with espionage, the Russians are going to be beating our doors
down trying to deny everything or trying to trade these guys for other people. The KGB may even try to kidnap some of our diplomats to use for trading purposes. I, for one, wouldn’t want these guys free in Russia with the knowledge of our Navy that they have in their heads. We need a better alternative.”

  Saxton nodded at that. “Anyone. Ideas?”

  There was a long moment while heads turned around the table as everyone looked to see if anyone had ideas. Finally, Lee raised his hand again.

  “Mr. Raines?”

  “I may be way out of line here, Mr. Saxton. I don’t know a lot about politics or legal matters. But it strikes me that we think at least one of these people, Randall Symington, is guilty of both murder and attempted murder. If that’s true, the others are accomplices. Why can’t we just arrest him and his kids for committing murder and attempted murder on a federal reservation? We can take him to federal court on those charges and never bring up the espionage thing. They can go away to a federal lock-up, and the spy thing would just disappear. In fact, if we do it right, we just might get a lot of good intelligence by searching the Symington mansion and grilling the spies.”

  “Mr. Raines, I begin to see why you have been so invaluable to us. Can I have comments on Mr. Raines’ proposal?”

  The telecomm device on the table beat everyone by speaking immediately. “Mr. Saxton, can we prove the murder and attempted murder charges?”

  “I believe so, Mr. President. A search of the mansion would probably turn up the rifle and other evidence. Right now, I have to admit, it would be touch and go as to whether we can get a conviction out of a jury. But if we do this and can’t get enough evidence, we can always fall back on the espionage charge. We can prove that one. I think Mr. Raines’ idea is worth a try. If it works, it’ll put them away without roiling any international waters or making big press headlines.”

  The CIA chief spoke up then. “I would love to see what’s inside of Old Man Symington’s mansion. If he’s been spying this way for years, I’d bet there are direct links and coded radio systems and other things that would give us a lot of insight into how the Soviets manage their active cells in this country. We may even be able to ferret out other cells. But we need to get into that place before they know we’re looking at them. If they think we’re coming, they’ll destroy everything.”

  Saxton spoke again. “Do any of you see problems with us going this way?” He waited a long while and got no comments from the attendees. “Mr. President, it looks like the consensus is that we try this.”

  The device spoke again. “Okay, Bill. We’ll give it a try. I want this to stay with the team that has handled it so far. The CIA should have some experts detailed over to Mr. Gold so he can get into the mansion as soon as this goes down. But no inter-agency squabbles. I’m sick of them, and I don’t want this thing screwed up. Does everyone understand that completely?”

  There was a chorus of agreement around the table. The black speaker spoke again. “Okay, gentlemen. This is settled then. Oh, one more thing. I’d like to see the service records of Mr. Gold, Mr. Wright and Mr. Raines. Have them delivered to my secretary this afternoon. Thank you, Gentlemen. I sincerely appreciate what you are doing here.” As he hung up his phone, the click seemed to echo in the total silence of the conference room.

  The Attorney General finally interrupted the quiet. “All right, people. I guess we have our directions. Mr. Gold, please have your team stay here after we adjourn. You too, Bill.” He was speaking to the CIA Chief.

  “Okay, everyone, you can go now. Please leave the handouts on the table, and do not forget that this entire meeting was Top Secret. If I hear of even a hint of a leak, I will send the leaker to jail for a long, long time. Do not test me on this. This meeting is now adjourned.”

  George turned in his chair and indicated to Lee and Tom that they should stay. The other people in the room filed out silently. Lee and Tom were waved up to the big table by the Attorney General. As Lee stood, the Secretary of Defense paused in front of him on his way toward the door. “You’ve done good, Mr. Raines. Ignore my bluster. Sometimes I need it. Today I didn’t.” He looked at Lee’s chest. “Silver Star and Purple heart. That’s heavy stuff for a lieutenant.” The way he said it made it more of a question that a statement.

  “Former enlisted, sir. Spent some time on river boats.”

  Dumsfeld smiled and held out his hand. “Thank you Mr. Raines.” They shook hands and he was gone.

  Lee moved to the table where the others were waiting.

  When they were settled, the Attorney General opened the conversation. “All right, men. What’s our game plan?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - JUST ORDINARY CRIMINALS

  t was a beautiful summer day. Randall opened the sun roof on the Cadillac and drove down his long driveway. Soon he was on the Schuylkill Expressway, heading toward center city. Today he’d decided to have lunch at the old City Tavern, long a personal favorite of his. For once, he even turned up the volume on the radio and let the “oldies” remind him of parties long past.

  Once again a crises was averted, he mused. For a short time, he had actually been worried about this Navy guy, Raines. Particularly after the Skimmer incident. But all had been quiet for weeks now and the only thing that Raines seemed interested in was that long-legged nurse of his. Randall chuckled. Pussy is a wonderful thing. It keeps the blinders on even the most dedicated of men. He laughed aloud. Life was wonderful.

  Then the car behind him turned on its red and blue flashing lights. The sound of the siren came in through the open sun roof. Randall glanced down and spat out an expletive. “Shit!” He’d been going 70 in a 55 mph zone! He could see the state trooper’s hat in his rear-view mirror. An unmarked police car! Such sneakiness always pissed Randall off. But there was no sense making a big deal out of it. He slowed and looked for a wide spot to pull off the road. He turned on his flasher to indicate a turn. Soon a pull-off area came into view. He pulled in and stopped.

  In his mirror, he saw the trooper climb out of his car, clipboard in hand. Randall reached in the glove box and found his automobile registration. Then he clicked the switch that rolled the driver’s side window down. He put on his best smile and asked the trooper, “Was I going too fast, Officer?”

  The trooper turned to face him, and suddenly Randall realized that the man had his big service revolver out and pointed at him. “What the hell?”

  “Get out of the car very slowly, sir. Don’t make any quick moves or I’ll blow your head off. Move very slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.” The trooper opened the door with his free hand and gestured with his gun barrel for Randall to come out.

  Randall eased out of the seat, keeping his hands in plain sight. “What’s going on, Officer? I know I wasn’t going any faster than the other cars on this road.”

  “It may be nothing, sir. We’re on alert for a car like this that was involved in a crime. If this isn’t the right car, you’ll be on your way in a few minutes.”

  Randall relaxed. He had almost reached into his pocket for his ever-present cyanide pills. But this was just a case of mistaken identity. He almost chuckled at the coincidence. After all these years, he’d finally been forced to buy an American car, and this is what it brought him! Mistaken for a common criminal! Soon he’d get rid of this thing and get another Mercedes, a real car. “Okay, Officer, I understand.”

  Then suddenly he didn’t understand anymore. Another car pulled in front of him and disgorged four more men, obviously plain clothes policemen, who hurried back to where he was standing. Two grabbed his arms and put him in handcuffs. Another was going through his pockets. They found the little plastic case with the cyanide pills.

  “Got ‘em!”

  “Keep looking. Take his clothes off. Look for anything that might be sewn into the seams. Get his shoes and socks off. Doc, are you ready?”

  “Yeah. But do you really want to do a cavity search here beside the expressway?”

  “Absolute
ly! We lost the last one because we left pills on her somewhere. I ain’t losing this one!”

  Suddenly, Randall knew it was over. The shock was too much. His knees gave way and he found himself hanging between the two men holding his arms. Dimly, as if from far away, he heard the leader say, “Mr. Symington, I am FBI Special Agent Thomas Wright. You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Bernard Shapiro. Anything you say may - -”

  Randall had come erect at this. “Murder? Murder? What the fuck are you talking about? I am above murder, far above murder! I am too big for you. I’ll be free and living in a real country while you’re still picking shit with all of the other ridiculous capitalistic pigs in this overrated sty of a country. I am far too valuable for your petty system to hold.”

  His aristocratic features were red with emotion, and his expression made it very plain that he considered this all to be simply petty harassment by his inferiors.

  Special Agent Wright seemed genuinely apologetic as he answered him. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mr. Symington. But I don’t think you understand. You see, we know all about your little spy games. For decades, we’ve been feeding you bullshit so you could pass it on to your Soviet friends. But you overstepped when you killed an American. Now you’re going to Leavenworth for a long, long, time. But thank you for helping us win the Cold War.”

  “What? That’s a lie.”

  “Nope. I imagine that your friends in Russia will eventually figure it out. When they do, you’ll probably be safe from them in prison. Too bad, but that’s the way it works. Now, please bend over. The Doc wants to check something.”

  The former playboy was nude and screaming as the paramedic did a thorough check of his anal recesses. It wasn’t until he’d repeated his words several times that they became understandable. He was screaming, “I’m not a common criminal! I’m a hero! I’m going to be in the history books!” He was still repeating this when he was pushed into the back of a police car for the ride to jail.

 

‹ Prev