“Did they arrest him?”
“I don’t know. All I know is he didn’t come home last night, so I thought I should call you.”
Henry glanced at his watch. “Okay, I’ll be on the next flight from Chicago back to Toronto. We’ll sort all of this out when I get there.”
After he hung up the phone, Henry turned to Laura. “Change of plans. I have to head back home.”
Laura had only heard a bit of the telephone conversation. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but David is in some kind of trouble. I’ll call you when I know more.”
Henry quickly threw his clothes into a bag and was out the door in a matter of minutes. As he was in the taxi to the airport, he called Greg Blackwood, one of the lawyers in the Toronto office of their firm. Greg was a litigator and didn’t practice any criminal law, but he was the lawyer Henry trusted the most.
“Hi Henry,” Greg said when he answered the phone. “How are things in Chicago?”
“They’re fine here, but there appears to be a problem brewing back home. I’m on my way to the airport as we speak.”
“What’s going on?”
“My oldest son Robert just called me to say the RCMP showed up at their residence last night and searched their computers looking for some files. They didn’t find anything, but David didn’t come home last night. Robert thinks he might have been arrested.”
“Arrested for what?”
“I don’t even know that he has been arrested, just that he’s gone missing. Can you find out if the police have got him and what they think he’s done?”
“Absolutely,” Greg said. “I’ll give Ray Peterson a call and find out what’s going on.” Ray Peterson worked in the criminal division of their law firm. Although Henry didn’t know Ray very well, he knew that Greg would make sure they got some answers quickly.
As he flew from Chicago back to Toronto, Henry was filled with worry about his missing son. He had a weird feeling of déjà vu as he recalled the worry he had experienced when his brother Alan had gone missing a few years ago. Alan had died in a mysterious plane crash along with Edward Bronson, a media magnate who many people speculated was the head of some kind of secret society. It had taken the police several months to find the plane and Henry was convinced that it hadn’t been an accident – all because of his involvement with that damn secret society. He reached for the air sickness bag as he suddenly felt quite nauseous.
* * *
Henry didn’t realize that David was actually about 30,000 feet below his plane getting ready to cross the border into the United States. The team bus had just gone through the tunnel from Windsor to Detroit.
“Okay guys,” the customs agent said as he boarded the bus. “Have your passports and your player cards ready for presentation and we should be able to get you out of here and on your way as quickly as possible.”
There was a collective groan from the players. Most of them were trying to sleep and this was an unwelcome interruption.
David watched as the customs agent slowly made his way down the aisle of the bus checking the credentials of each player. David wondered whether the fact that the police were looking for him in Waterloo would somehow be flagged as he tried to cross the border. He would soon find out.
David reached into his soccer bag to pull out his passport and his player’s card. When he looked at them, he was surprised to see that he had Alex’s identification in his hand. It was only then that he remembered that he had picked up Alex’s ID when he had dropped it after practice. He dug into his bag again and pulled out his own ID.
He had a decision to make; should he show his own ID and risk getting arrested, or show them Alex’s and hope they wouldn’t notice? If he got caught, he could simply claim he had pulled out the wrong ID by mistake, which technically, was true. He decided to give it a shot.
David pretended to be sleeping when the customs agent poked him on the shoulder and asked for his passport. David barely raised his head as he passed the agent his ID. He figured it was a fifty-fifty chance as to whether the agent would even notice, because David and Alex looked quite a bit alike. The agent barely looked at David as he threw his ID back onto the seat and moved on to the next player.
David knew he had dodged yet another bullet.
* * *
Henry turned his phone on again as soon as he landed in Toronto and saw that he had a voice-mail from Greg Blackwood.
“Hi, it’s Greg. Ray Peterson has confirmed that David hasn’t been arrested, but the RCMP said that he is a person of interest in an ongoing investigation. Ray is trying to find out more about the investigation, but he’s running into a lot of roadblocks. Call me when you land and I’ll update you with anything else we find.”
Henry felt relieved to hear that David hadn’t been arrested, but it was quickly replaced with a new anxiety about where he could be. He called Greg to see if he’d found out anything further.
“I just landed. Got your voice-mail. Anything new?”
“Not much. The only thing we’ve found out is that the RCMP were following up on a request from the CIA.”
“What would the CIA want from David?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll continue to dig.”
After he hung up, Henry took a taxi home, hoping he’d find David there, but there was no sign of him. Henry quickly jumped in his car to head off to Waterloo to see Robert so they could begin their search. He didn’t notice the unmarked police car parked down the street. The RCMP were also hoping that David would head home. No one realized that David was exactly where he should have been – hiding in plain sight.
*** Chapter 10 ***
Laura knew exactly who was standing behind her looking over her shoulder before she turned around. The smell of cigarettes and scotch were a dead giveaway that it was Lou, her editor.
“Have you got anything we can use yet on that JFK conspiracy story?”
Laura had spent hours and hours going through the digitized records in the National Archives. The Assassination Records Review Board had released thousands of documents before they were shut down in 1998. In their final report, they’d complained that they hadn’t been given enough time or money to complete their mandate. They had also reported that organizations like the CIA, FBI and Secret Service had obstructed their investigation, claiming some evidence had been lost or destroyed since 1963. Laura focused her search on the documents most recently added to the database.
“There’s some new stuff here supporting the conspiracy theory, but nothing that confirms a second shooter was involved.”
“What’s the new stuff?” Lou asked.
“There’s been speculation for years that the police altered the records about the rifle used in the assassination, and now there’s evidence to support it.”
Laura showed him the page from the Warren Commission report on her computer screen. “It says that the shots that killed Kennedy and wounded Governor Connally were fired by an Italian 6.5mm Carcano rifle owned by Oswald.” She then flipped to a screen showing the report from the ballistics lab.
“Yeah, they both show the same thing,” Lou said. “What’s your point?”
Laura brought up the report filed by Deputy Sheriff Eugene Boone and Deputy Constable Seymour Weitzman, the first officers on the scene. “Weitzman signed an affidavit describing the weapon as a 7.65 Mauser bolt action equipped with a 4/18 scope and a thick leather brownish-black sling on it." She also showed him a picture of the rifle found in the building. As she zoomed in on the photo, it clearly showed a marking of 7.65 Mauser on the barrel.
“The bastards changed the records,” Lou said. “Have you found anything else?”
“No, but there are still thousands of documents to go through. But I did find something strange.”
“What’s that?”
“My contact gave me the count of the records that had been released to the National Archives.” Laura showed him the number of records he had given her, whic
h was well over a million. Then she showed him the number of records currently available on the website.
“There were more before,” Lou said.
“Yep, just over a thousand documents have been deleted. I think those are the documents they accidently released that they’re now trying to recover.”
“Aren’t they out there forever – in the cloud somewhere?” Lou was old-school, so he didn’t understand what the term cloud meant or how the Internet worked. But there had been numerous stories of celebrities trying to have naked pictures of themselves removed from the Internet – without success.
“The National Archives deleted the documents from their servers as soon as they discovered their mistake – within an hour or two of when they were posted. Any links to them on search engines now just show up as broken links. It’s only people who downloaded them before they were deleted that have them.”
“Do we know who those people are?”
“We don’t – but the CIA does. They’ve been seizing the computers of anyone they know who downloaded them – using the Patriot Act as their justification.”
“Well somebody must have them,” Lou said. “Find me those documents. That’s what will tell us what actually happened back in sixty-three.”
* * *
David sat in his darkened hotel room. He was supposed to share the room with Alex, but Alex’s last minute cancellation meant he had the room to himself. He pulled the laptop out of the hidden compartment in his soccer bag.
“Welcome, Goliath” appeared on the screen after he had entered the complex password.
“Retrieve instructions,” he typed. David desperately hoped there would be some message telling him what he should do, but there was nothing.
He was startled by a knock on the door. “Bus leaves in fifteen minutes,” his coach yelled from the hall. Their friendly match against the U.S. National team was in a few hours.
David quickly entered “EOT” on the computer to end his transmission and then packed the computer back into his soccer bag. He decided it was probably best just to go to the soccer game with his teammates. Besides, he didn’t know where else to go.
* * *
David sat on the bench wearing a yellow bib over his jersey, just like all of the other substitute players. His coach had already told him there wasn’t much chance he would get to play in this game, but to be ready just in case. David knew the Canadians had some pretty good midfielders, so his chances of making the team weren’t that great.
David glanced up at the stands and wondered if anyone was watching him. Probably not, he surmised. There were only about a hundred people watching the game, so he had time to get a good look at practically every person there. He wondered if the police were still looking for him back in Waterloo.
David turned his focus back to the game. They were well into the second half with the score tied at one apiece, but the Americans were starting to put the pressure on.
Suddenly there was a violent collision between one of the American strikers and a Canadian defender. Both players lay on the ground for several minutes.
“David,” his coach yelled.
David sprang from his seat and sprinted over to his coach.
“You played defense in high school, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but that was quite a while ago. I’ve been playing midfield for a few years now.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like Adams can continue, so I’m going to put you in at right defense. Since Alex didn’t make the trip, we’re a little short on defenders right now.”
“Whatever you need, Coach.” David took off the yellow bib and sprinted onto the field.
David did some sprints and stretches as he watched the Canadian defender helped off the field. The American player who had been involved in the collision was also subbed off.
When play resumed, David found it difficult to keep up with the complicated forward attack of the Americans. Just when he had marked one player, another slipped in behind him. Fortunately, his speed allowed him to recover.
“Just hang on for a few more minutes,” David said to himself. They were now into injury time and he was hoping they would be able to escape with a draw.
Suddenly, David saw the ball coming toward him up the middle and he left his man to step forward to challenge. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he did it, as the American player chipped the ball over his head to the unmarked player behind him who now had a clear attempt on goal.
David raced back to cover as he saw their goalkeeper move out to challenge the shooter. The American striker cut back toward the middle and rifled a shot toward the net. The Canadian goalkeeper dove to his left and got a hand on the ball, but it wasn’t enough as the ball ricocheted high into the air continuing toward the net.
Just as it was about to enter the net, David leapt and scissor-kicked the ball away from the goal. His momentum carried him into the webbing of the net and he had to get several of his teammates to help him get untangled. But they didn’t seem to mind at all. He’d saved the game.
* * *
It was about seven-thirty the next morning when David heard a knock on his hotel room door. He peered through the peephole to see that it was Assini, one of his teammates.
“Ready to head down for breakfast, super-star?” He held up a picture on the second page of the sports section showing David’s heroics from the night before.
“Holy shit!” David said as he grabbed the newspaper.
“It was a great play, but don’t let it go to your head,” Assini said. “There’s also a picture showing us untangling you from the net that’s less flattering.”
David read the caption underneath the picture that identified him and let out a heavy sigh.
“What’s the matter?” Assini asked. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”
David knew this was not good news, but put on a brave face for his teammate. “It must have been a slow news day. You go ahead for breakfast. I’ve got to finish packing. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
* * *
Assini impatiently pushed the elevator button several times. Finally, the doors opened and he was surprised to see two big guys in suits standing in front of him.
“That’s not him,” the first guy said as he gave Assini the once-over.
“Have you seen David Shaw?” the second man said, blocking Assini’s path onto the elevator.
“Yeah, two minutes ago. He’s in his room, third from the end.” He pointed down the hallway.
The two men shouldered their way by him and walked briskly down the hall. When they got to the room, the door was still partially open.
“FBI,” the first man said as he slowly pushed the door open. He took one step into the bathroom on the right as the second officer moved into the main room.
“Clear,” the first man said from the bathroom.
“Clear,” the second man said as he opened the closet doors.
They scanned the room looking for any trace of David, but he was gone.
*** Chapter 11 ***
Laura was just about to head off to work when she heard the door. “So much for our secure entrance,” she mumbled to herself. No one was supposed to be able to get into the building without a key, but people campaigning in the upcoming election or selling Girl Guide cookies seemed to have no trouble at all.
“David – what are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for my Dad.”
“Come in, come in,” Laura said, “but he’s not here. He flew back to Canada to look for you.”
Laura led him into her living room. David slumped onto her couch and hid his face in his hands. “The police are after me.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Could you call my Dad? I ditched my phone. The police were using it to track me.”
Laura picked up her phone and hit the speed-dial button. “Hi Henry, it’s me. David’s here and he needs you.” She handed the phone to David and
then headed into her bedroom to let them talk in private.
“David, I’ve been worried sick about you. What’s going on?”
“I’m in trouble Dad. I don’t know what to do.”
“Robert told me the police searched your computers at school looking for some files. Did you hack into something?”
“No, not really.”
“What do you mean – not really? Either you did or you didn’t.”
David could sense his father’s anger rising. “Dad, it’s complicated. I don’t think you’d understand.”
“Well, you better figure out a way to explain it to me.” Henry tried to calm himself. “I’ll help you – I promise – but you have to tell me what’s going on.”
David paused. “You know the secret society that Uncle Alan was a member of…”
“He was off his meds and wasn’t thinking straight. I never really believed any of it. What’s he got to do with this?”
“It was all true. There really was a secret society and now I’m a member of it too.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m sorry, Dad. We’re not terrorists or anything like that. We’re trying to do good things. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. But now, I seem to be in way over my head. I don’t know what to do. The police are after me.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s because of what’s in those computer files.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. All I did was package up the files and deliver them to my contacts.”
“Contacts? What contacts?”
“Just other people in the group. I don’t know their real names, just their code names.”
“This isn’t making any sense.” Henry thought for a few seconds. “Just stay there with Laura and I’ll catch the first flight back to Chicago. You can explain it to me then.” Henry took a deep breath. “It’s okay, son. We’ll sort everything out when I get there.”
The Second Shooter Page 6