Baiting & Fishing

by Meredith Rae Morgan

  “Come to my house when you are finished. I'll only need fifteen minutes notice.”

  He stood up and walked her to the door. She patted his arm and stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. He said, “Thank you for being here.”

  She smiled and said, “It's what friends do.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was still early enough to call Karen. He wanted to let her know what was happening. He also hoped against all hope that she had uncovered something new which would clarify the situation. When she answered, he blurted out an abbreviated version of his conversation with Marcella and told her he had contacted the FBI. There was a long pause. She said softly, “Ray, I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. I want you to know I am really sorry for you. If I can help in any way, please, you have only to ask.”

  He smiled into the phone and answered, “You know, I think the one good thing about this whole situation is that I am finding out who my real friends are. It's good to know who's got your back, and I have to tell you I feel good knowing that I have you and Victoria in my corner.” He laughed, perhaps a little hysterically, “Lord knows I'd be scared as hell to have the two of you on my bad side.”

  She laughed too, but not with any real amusement. She told him she had come up with nothing else. He told her to stop looking. The FBI could take over. They would just have to read about it in the newspapers. He said, “One thing for sure, you won't see my byline on any of those articles.”

  She said, “Let me know how your conversation goes with the agent.” Then she added with a slight catch in her voice, “Call me if you need me.”

  Chapter 25

  The next morning Ray sat at his desk reading the newspaper, or pretending to. Mainly he was staring off into space listening for his phone to ring. He dreaded meeting with the FBI, but he also wanted to get it over with. Even though he was expecting it, when his cell phone rang, he jumped. He picked it up and tried to keep his voice calm. Steve Johnston suggested Ray come to his office, and bring with him whatever information or notes he had. It was a ten minute walk from Ray's office. He had all his notes and printouts of the emails from Karen in his briefcase. He had known Steve would want to keep the originals, so he had made scanned copies of them which he saved on his computer at home.

  Steve met Ray at the reception desk and ushered him into a conference room. Ray was pretty sure there were cameras in the room. He tried not to think about that. Steve offered coffee. Ray told him he'd take a glass of water. The agent left him there alone for a few minutes while he went to get the water. Ray noticed there was a person standing outside the door the whole time Steve was gone. He sighed, wondering for the first time, what kind of evidence might have been planted to implicate him in Marcella's criminal activity. For a minute he felt as if he might panic. He wanted to leave, but knew the officer, now leaning casually against the wall outside the door, would make sure he stayed put.

  Steve returned with a pitcher of water and some glasses. He also had a woman with him who was carrying stenographic equipment. Steve sat down and said, “Ray, I want to make this as easy as possible for you. We'd like to transcribe your statement. We'll go through this very carefully once. If we are careful and thorough, we will not have to trouble you again.”

  Ray nodded. “How do you want to do this?”

  Steve said, “You're a writer. You tell me the story from the beginning. Take as long as you need. When you're finished, we'll go back and I'll ask questions. I have all day. I hope you do, too.”

  Ray took a sip of water and began, “I don't know how to separate out what I know about Marcella Wilson from the relationship I had with her at the time the information became available to me. It also just occurred to me that if someone is trying to frame her, they could also have put out some incriminating evidence about me. Therefore, I am going to include the parts about my personal relationship with her. I sure as hell would love it if you did not need to use the personal parts in any reports you write.

  “Anyway, I managed to get an invitation to the Yacht Club fund raiser, where I met Marcella.....”

  He went through the story in chronological order, referring to his notes. When he finished with a page of notes, he slid it face down across the table to Steve, like a poker dealer. Steve placed the notes, face down in the growing pile in front of him. The keys of the stenographer's transcribing machine clicked softly. Johnston took copious notes, written in pencil on a yellow legal pad. Ray found the scratching of the pencil on the pad irritating; he tried to drown it out with his words.

  When Ray finished his narrative, Steve referred to his notes and led Ray back through the story, asking a lot of questions about certain events. Ray found it especially interesting that Steve asked very few questions about Marcella's involvement with Techtron. He asked a lot of questions about Collonia.

  They went through the story three times in all. By then Ray was sick of talking about it, and he felt the agent had every bit of information he had. On top of that the agent had managed to solicit every opinion or theory Ray had come up with to explain the craziness.

  Mercifully by early afternoon, they were finished. Johnston asked Ray if he wanted to go out for lunch. Ray shook his head and said, “No, thanks. I have lunch plans.”

  He walked out to his car and called Victoria to let her know he was on his way. Then, on a hunch, he called Marcella's home number. The number was disconnected. He called her cell number. It, too, was disconnected. He called Karen Thompson's cell. He knew she didn't answer her cell phone at work but he left a message asking her to recheck her sources on Marcella's various identities, and to call him as soon as she had done so.

  He drove to Victoria's house on automatic pilot. They talked little about the events of the morning. Mostly they chatted about the kinds of local news and gossip they ordinarily discussed. Ray knew he needed to get back to normal. Now was as good a time as any to start that. Victoria seemed to understand that as well, so she chattered on about a variety of subjects.

  Too soon, he found he had had enough. He was preparing to leave when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and flipped open the phone. “Hello, Karen. What's up?”

  “You caught me on a day off. I did what you asked. Your hunch was correct. I can't find any record of a Marcia Pappas or M. V. Papillon. Even Marcella Pappias is gone. Once again Marcella Wilson seems to have not existed before she married Roland. It's kind of creepy. Those records are just gone.”

  Ray said, “So is she.”

  “Where'd she go?”

  “What does it matter? She's gone.”

  In the next few days, he waited for news of her arrest. There was nothing. He called Steve Johnston's office and learned that Johnston had been transferred to another post.

  One day on a hunch he called the Captain of the fishing vessel he had chartered in Marathon. The guy did not remember him at all. He had no record of the charter. Ray gave him the date and the name of the boat. He laughed and said, “Nah, you must be confused. At that time that boat was chartered out for a week to a guy from New York. He took it to the Bahamas. I took advantage of the opportunity to go on vacation.”

  Ray put down the phone. It had all been a lie. That fishing trip was a set up for the purpose of corroborating the tale Marcella had told him about her background, to convince him she was telling the truth.

  Why?

  He wondered and worried and wracked his brain about that, and most of all he wondered why on earth she had picked him, of all people, for whatever it was she was up to. He could come up with no possible explanation for that.

  The days and weeks rolled by with no news about Marcella Wilson at all. He couldn't understand it. He had been certain the FBI would arrest her soon, but nothing appeared in the press.

  Chapter 26

  One morning, Victoria called Ray at work and left a message asking him, in a strained voice, to come to her house just as soon as he could. He returned her call to make sure she was okay and, once he was
sure she was alright, he told her he would be there by mid-afternoon.

  When he arrived, Victoria escorted him into the parlor and introduced him to her son, the newspaperman from Chicago, and another man, who by his accent, appeared to be British. They engaged in small talk for a few minutes while Victoria laid out tea. Ray noticed with amusement the Brit seemed very impressed that she took the time and made the effort to put out a “proper tea”. Ray knew that was simply the way Victoria did it. Ray wondered for a second where Victoria had learned the art of British tea-time. He knew he was allowing himself to be distracted because he had a really bad feeling about where this encounter was headed.

  He became even more concerned about what was coming when Victoria chose a seat next to him on the sofa and put her hand over his. That seemed to be some sort of signal for the ordeal to commence. Ray found himself holding his breath. Victoria must have noticed because she patted his hand and then held it very tight.

  Victoria's son, Hank, began, “Ray, I'm not going to waste time pussy-footing around. We are here today to give you some information about the woman you knew as Marcella Wilson. I don't know that what we have to tell you will make you feel any better, but you deserve to hear it.

  “This is Peter MacNeil. He is with British law enforcement. He contacted me the other day requesting me to put him in touch with you. This entire conversation, as you might already suspect, is not just deep-background, it has not happened at all. Do you understand?”

  Ray nodded.

  MacNeil said softly, “Please acknowledge that out loud.”

  Ray raised his eyebrows, “You are recording a conversation that is not supposed to be happening?”

  MacNeil nodded, “Yes, sir, we are.”

  Ray sighed, “Yes, I acknowledge that what is said in this room stays here.”

  MacNeil took over, “First of all, I am here today because the woman in question insisted we have this conversation. It is very irregular and, from the standpoint of normal procedure, it is highly improper. The only reason we are doing it is because she made it clear that if we didn't do it through channels she would do it herself, in person. Naturally, you will come to understand why that would probably not be a good idea. I will add here that the reason I am recording the conversation is not for any purposes of police business. The woman insisted we record the conversation so we could prove to her we have made all of the disclosures she wants us to make. For reasons you probably already can surmise, and which will become excruciatingly clear as the story progresses, the woman is not a particularly trusting sort,” he paused and sighed, “with excellent reason.”

  “I have actually two stories to tell you. The first is a sort of general outline of the events that were going on in the world that are pertinent. Then I will tell you how the woman fit in, and your role in the story.

  “As you are aware, Tonio Collonia ran a smuggling operation from the United States. He started small in the early 1950's but by the mid-1970's he had a worldwide operation moving jewels, art and small arms that would impress the people who run Federal Express. Every law enforcement operation in the world knew about the operation, but Collonia was so good, nobody could catch him. At a meeting in Paris in 1972 law enforcement from several countries decided that they would continue to try to catch Collonia, but they wanted to do it by finding out who his contacts were and trying to break up the whole operation instead of just arresting a mule now and then. The participants in that meeting decided to plant an operative inside Collonia's organization. They were in no hurry. It had to be the right person at the right time. All agents working on the case were urged to focus on finding a person who could be planted on the inside, or a person who was already on the inside whom law enforcement could enlist.

  “In 1975 they found the perfect person. More on that later.

  “In 1989, when the Soviet Union collapsed, several nuclear warheads disappeared. Military and law enforcement personnel around the world have been looking for those warheads ever since. We put intense focus on the Collonia operation because we believed, rightly it turned out, that Aurelio Collonia, who had inherited his father's business (after murdering his father), had the only arms dealing operation sophisticated enough to move nukes. Collonia took his time and laid his groundwork perfectly.

  “Collonia decided to use his dad's technique of running his crime business out of the back rooms of legitimate businesses. He looked around for an international company he could take over, but he could not find one. Instead, he decided to essentially create on from scratch after hearing Roland Wilson make a speech at a Palm Beach party they both attended sometime in the late 1980's. Essentially, Collonia decided to use Roland Wilson as a front for his arms dealing operation and an entrée into the developing countries where there were private militias, terrorist organizations or rogue governments who might be interested in buying nuclear weapons.

  “The next part was just an unholy disaster. Because we had people on the inside of Techtron, not just our deep plant in the Collonia organization, but a significant number of employees were plants as well. We knew in advance that Techtron would collapse. I can't tell you how many meetings were held between American authorities, the FBI, SEC, IRS and international law enforcement in the years immediately prior to Techtron's collapse. The Americans, rightly, wanted to move in, shut down Techtron and salvage the personal fortunes of its employees, who were virtually all American citizens. International law enforcement insisted that, as unfortunate as the personal financial fate of the Techtron employees was, the key thing was not to lose sight of the nukes. We knew by then that Collonia was offering nuclear warheads for sale to every manner of nefarious bastard in the developing world. A number of them had expressed serious interest. We believed he was very close to making a couple of deals.

  “One of the groups Collonia was negotiating with – that he thought was a terrorist organization – was actually a sting orchestrated on by an international team under the aegis of Interpol. By 2003, a deal was immanent and we were very close to recovering the warheads, but Techtron collapsed before we had a chance to complete the deal. We needed to buy a little more time. By then Collonia was very suspicious. He knew there was someone inside his operation, and he was nervous. The only way we had managed to keep our operative relatively safe was to keep her out in the open, in public. After Collonia murdered Roland Wilson, it became even more important to keep Mrs. Wilson out in the public eye until we could wrap up our operations.

  “I can tell you that recently all of the nuclear warheads have been secured. They are under UN control, and are now in Europe where they will be dismantled. You will not read that story in the press, and if either of you,” he looked pointedly at both Caruthers and Ray, “print it, there will be serious and dire consequences.”

  He continued, “The story you will read in the papers tomorrow is that Aurelio Collonia is dead. He was killed yesterday in his sleep while he was vacationing in Belize.” He chuckled. “Actually what you will read is that an 'American businessman with suspected mob ties' was murdered in an apparent robbery. The crime will be unsolved. What you will not read,” he looked at Victoria, “Mrs. Caruthers, I apologize. What you will not read is that his throat slit from behind one ear to the other by a small knife.” He paused. Ray thought he might vomit, but he managed to keep still and swallow furiously. Victoria gripped his hand like a vise; he was not sure if it was for his benefit, or hers.

  MacNeil leaned back and changed his tone. “That's the framework and background. Now I'm going to back up and fill in the details you really want to know.

  “The woman you knew as Marcella Wilson nee Marcia Pappas was almost a complete fiction. She was created for the purpose of making you fall in love with her. There is a whole area of intelligence that works on stuff like that, roping people into helping us. It is sort of like Fantasy Island meets James Bond. They picked you to be the person who could keep Marcella Wilson in the public eye and away from Collonia on a daily basis while a
t the same time allowing her to continue the final stages of her assignment. She was so close after thirty years under cover she wanted to finish it. She was in grave danger every minute of every day and her handlers begged and pleaded with her to let them pull her out, but she insisted on finishing what she had started. With serious misgivings they agreed to allow her to do that, but she needed a new cover. She needed someone who would be able to keep her in the public eye but who would also at some point turn her in to the authorities. That was key. It had to be someone who would give her time to operate, but who would ultimately be willing to let her go.

  “How a team made up almost entirely of Europeans operating out of London and Paris came up with you, I don't know, but you were perfect. You were a prominent person in your field even though you lived in a small market. I won't go into detail with the factors they looked at. The key things were that you would investigate her background but not jump to conclusions too quickly, which would give us time to finish our operation, and you would, in the end, turn her in and be willing to let her go. That was key, of course.”

  Ray interrupted, “Did those people have anything to do with Deborah's visit?”

  He paused. “We knew she was sick. Someone who knew someone who knew her husband gently suggested that closure in your relationship might be a good thing. That may have been somewhat manipulative, but I have to tell you that the result of that appeared to have been beneficial on both sides. It served its purpose of priming you for an encounter with another woman, but I think it also had the added side benefit of accomplishing something for you and Mrs. Bashears that was necessary.” He shrugged, “Or perhaps I am simply rationalizing to avoid feeling guilty for the way we manipulated you both.”

  Ray nodded and said impatiently, “Go on.”

  “They completely invented Marcia Pappas for your benefit. She was the bait they used to hook you. No such person ever existed, I am sorry to tell you.” Ray sighed. Victoria took his hand in both of hers.