“First you have the old guys; the ones that provide the bench level in conspiracy circles. You have the UFOs, missing Vietnam MIAs being held in China, the grassy knoll, the Mafia connection, and my favorite conspiracy subject; Elvis.
“Looking at the newer crop, they are centered on zombies, global warming, global cooling, and turning into zombies because of global warming or global cooling. Throw in some mutant biological virus and you have yourself a real page turner. I guess I need to point out that we, in our own time, have engaged in some of the chat rooms; just to shake the tree.”
Brad continued, “And may I point out that it is the crap like you just shared with us that makes people search for ulterior motives. The President of the United States is killed by a group of right wing Bible Thumpers and the country is kept in the dark. Way to go, gentlemen!”
Pat replied, “I agree with you to a point, but be careful making rash judgments about the players. I expect in the end we will find people who are in this for only one reason; the love of money.”
Cole speaking, “Director, taking the main context of what Brad was trying to say; we did all of this off duty. We didn’t care about their identities; we just enjoyed studying the patterns in what they wrote.
“So, we developed a software program to catch phrasing, words, and content. This way we could map out different theorists. Some of them stay on the same point for years, a continuing saga for truth on a related subject matter.
“In some writers we read indications of; for the lack of a better word, mental problems. These included acute paranoia and schizophrenia. So when we tell you that Jimmy wrote this theory, we are 99.9% sure.”
Pat stood from the table, “Let me make sure that I am hearing this correctly. You are telling me that you know who wrote this paper?”
“Yes and No,” Cole shared. “What we are saying is that yes, Jimmy wrote the theory. Take the document in its entirety and it’s definitely his words and phrasing. The no comes from the knowledge that Jimmy isn’t this creative; this imaginative. Either someone fed him the information and he ran with it, or he ripped off the idea from someone else.”
“I have had a team of Secret Service Agents working on this paper for the last four days. They have been unable to connect it with any known theorist. Trust me; our people are knee deep in this type stuff on a daily basis,” Pat said.
“Director Drice, we only can tell you what we know, or what we believe as true. Maybe they couldn’t tie this to Jimmy because it is so far-off his standard garden-variety crazy letters. I can’t answer for the Secret Service, but trust us, it’s Jimmy,” Brad replied.
Pat sitting back down at the table, “OK, who's this Jimmy, and where in the hell do we find him?”
“We have not one clue. And for the record, we just call him Jimmy. We give names to all of them; Jimmy, Billy Bob, George.”
Lansing interrupts, “Brad, that’s not exactly true. You might not remember but we didn’t name Jimmy. I don’t recall who it was, but Jimmy pissed off another writer a while back. It was something about Jimmy being caught plagiarizing one of his papers. There is an unwritten code of honor in the conspiracy game.”
Exasperated, Pat says, “If that’s the case, can you find out who mentioned Jimmy and track that person down for us?”
“We can give it the old college try,” Cole answered. “Before we can begin the search we will have to work all night getting the new system operational. Don’t get us wrong; killer stuff, but we are unfamiliar with some of the encryptions and algorithms.”
“If you come up with the identity of our writer I will send you two back to Vegas with a whole lot more than a thousand bucks,” Pat promised.
“If one of you could check on the theorist, I have another job for the other. I need to find fund transfers from Charles King to Doyle Preston. I have had a couple of people looking into it already, but nothing has surfaced as fact.
“I need you to find me something that I can use to tie these two together. I would like it to be more substantial; more than fingerprints on an ink pen. Gentlemen, this team needs a starting point and I believe the two of you may have just provided us with it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early the next morning, Pat and Emily left Groom Lake, heading to Colorado. Agent Watts worked her magic to gain permission from the U.S. Marshal Service to meet with Reed Morgan, aka Daniel Stone.
When they arrived at the airport, U.S. Marshal Hawkins was waiting for the pair. After a brief conversation they took the forty five minute trip to the Marshal office in Denver. The Marshal Service had arranged for Reed to meet them there.
Marshal Hawkins told Pat that one reason they moved Reed to Edgewater was because of the proximity to the Denver International Airport. If they had to move the Morgan clan, they could reach out to them quickly.
When Reed saw Pat exit the elevator he stepped from the office to greet him. Pat apologized to Hawkins, but asked him to leave the room and to make sure no one was recording this interview.
Pat waited a couple of seconds after the door closed, then addressed Reed, “So they chose the name Daniel Stone for you. Rather a rugged name, don’t you think?” Pat said smiling.
“Pat, don’t tell me that you came all the way from Washington to give me grief about my new identity. Whatever the reason, it must be crazy important. They have never let me within ten miles of this place since I arrived in Colorado. Does it have anything to do with my family’s safety? Pat, is that it?” Reed asked.
“Relax Reed, as far as I know, you secrets are safe. We are here because there has been some movement in the last few days concerning the assassinations.”
Reed excitedly replied, “Tell me you are about to bring this down on the heads of the ones who killed Doug. Did President Ward finally grow a set of balls; is he going to move this forward?”
“We’ve discussed in length the reasoning behind not coming forward sooner. Charles King’s death left us back at square one. He chose to jump out of a skyscraper other than turn on the group. Back to your question about the President’s balls, the President still isn’t eager to have this story out; but he may not have a choice. The truth already surfaced on its own.”
Reed looked at Pat, “Explain.”
Pat handed Reed the conspiracy theory and watched as he read the brief. “So Reed, now I believe you understand why we are visiting you today.”
“Who wrote this?”
“We do not know. But the brightest minds in government are on the case; they will find out.”
Reed leaned back far in the chair, “All I can say is good. I don’t know who wrote it, but it is about damn time. When do you think that it will hit the streets?”
“We don’t want it to hit the streets; at least not until we find who wrote it. I want to believe when we find them; they will not be so willing to throw themselves off a building.
“Pat, how do you know it was one of the conspirators who wrote it? It could have been one of the people on our side? Wait a minute; is this why you are here? Do you think I had something to do with this?”
“To be transparent, the question did come up. We are all under scrutiny since this appeared; including me. You’re a lawyer; tell me you wouldn’t make a strong suspect in this.
“Agent Watts was assigned to our team by the CIA Director personally. As a card-carrying member of the Central Intelligence Agencies Behavioral Science Unit, her priority is to profile each of us.
Emily tried not to look shocked when Director Drice mentioned her true mission. She was not looking forward to having to explain to her new boss why she hadn’t come clean with him right off.
Reed now looking at Agent Watts, “Miss Watts, what do you think? Am I clean or did I write this document hoping the truth behind the assassinations would clear my brother’s name?”
Emily, taken back with the entire last few moments of this conversation, was momentarily at a loss for words, “Mr. Morgan, if I had been in your shoes I probably w
ould have camped out at the Washington Post until someone listened.”
“I appreciate that. Doing exactly that came to mind on more than one occasion. At the time my family was dodging both death threats and bullets.
“Pat is the real reason I have held my tongue. We have stayed in protection because he promised he would continue searching for the truth. And as long as he is searching, I believe that my family is in danger.”
“Unfortunately, I am afraid that it might be more the case since this letter has surfaced. I am going to ask you to continue holding tight. The Marshal Service is ready to move you, and your family, at a moment’s notice. I wouldn’t alert your family just yet, but let’s stay on our toes. If warranted we will pull you into our camp until all threats are neutralized.”
Reed answered, “I am not sure that Washington would be the safest place to take us. Don’t you think we are much safer staying put?”
Pat smiled, and said, “No, our place is pretty safe. Ever heard of Area 51? If they can keep aliens a secret for over 60 years, they can probably hide a family of six.” They shook Reed’s hand, and thanked Marshal Hawkins for arraigning the visit. Pat told Hawkins they would stay in touch.
-----
On the ride back to the Denver International, Pat’s cell phone rang; Collins was on the other end. “Pat, we are in a chopper heading to Virginia City, Nevada to run down a lead. The twins found the person who mentioned the name Jimmy. We are in route to meet Storey County Sheriff, Horace Bottoms.”
Pat stepped from the SUV and walked toward the plane. “How sure are the twins that this man knows Jimmy; how did they find him?
“I have no earthy idea how they found him but they are adamant it’s him, so we are headed that way. The subjects name is Mitchell Fields. From speaking with Sheriff Bottoms, Mitchell is a loner. He did mention Fields comes into town fairly regularly for supplies. He apparently lives in a shack beside an old silver mine he supposedly still prospects.
“The twins said that Mr. Fields is old school and they have traced his correspondences as far back as twenty years. Brad told me up until a couple of years ago everything he sent out was handwritten. He has either gotten skillful with computers, or has someone uploading his theories onto sites for him.
“And get this; over sixty five percent of the articles Fields has written mention our new home away from home. He seems to be fascinated with all that is, or isn’t, Area 51. We pulled arrest records to find he made an un-invited visit to the West gate at Groom. He demanded entry as a United States taxpaying citizen. They detained him; wrote him a summons to appear, and sent him on his way.”
Pat told Agent Watts to hold the plane at the hanger, and idle the engines, as the noise was hampering his communication. “Did he appear in Federal Court?”
Collins laughed, “What do you think?”
“Ron, I don’t want another Waco. Do you understand me?”
“Yes Sir, I don’t either. I am going to speak with the Sheriff and use his best judgment on approaching Mr. Fields. I am hoping the Sheriff can get him to come down to his office for meeting with us.
“And just so you know, I am not too keen to the idea of maneuvering through rattlesnakes and booby-traps. I am certain that I would also have a hard time getting Chance to repel down a mine shaft. Don’t worry, we will work whatever angles needed to get Mr. Fields to speak with us.”
Pat reassured, “I never had a doubt. We will head to Washington as planned. Let us know if you need anything. I’ll call the twins to let them know how much we appreciate their hard work. Collins, I believe that this is shaping up to become a solid team; don’t you agree?”
Ron answered, “You might want to talk with Brad Wilson about nixing the “Daddy” thing. I think Doliver is close to coming unglued on him.”
Pat smiling, “Consider it done; but it was damn funny. Good hunting.”
Collins had the pilots land the OH-60L Black Hawk helicopter in an open field across from the High School. The Black Hawk was the current workhorse of the Army National Guard. This helicopter was on permanent assignment to Groom Lake, but still had the Army paint scheme and lettering.
The team exited the craft dressed in ACU’s, Army Combat Uniforms. Collins told Chance and Kenny to stay with the bird. Several people, including some school kids, headed toward the chopper to get a closer peep. The pilot cut the engines and you could hear the whoosh of the blades as they began to slow in motion.
Collins and Doliver grabbed a duffle bag from the chopper and headed toward the courthouse. Inside they were greeted by an overweight deputy who escorted them to Sheriff Bottom’s office. The Sheriff was tall and lean, and appeared to be in his mid-sixties. He wore a cowboy hat, white shirt, leather vest, a pair of well-worn blue jeans, and a dusty pair of ostrich boots.
To complete the look, a model 1911 Colt 45 semi-automatic pistol hung low on his hip. Collins thought to himself that this man probably had a lot of good stories to tell. The Sheriff invited the two men in and asked them to sit. He offered them coffee and they both accepted a cup.
After a deputy brought the coffee, Ron started the conversation. “Sheriff, let me first say that we greatly appreciate your help with this. I am a firm believer that someone with boots on the ground is our best approach to Mr. Fields.”
The sheriff looked at the two of them, and said, “I was under the impression that you boys were Federal. I wasn’t aware that this was some type of Army investigation. I certainly don’t see what the Army would ever have to do with Mitch Fields. I heard he was in Vietnam, but that was a helluva long time ago.”
“I should have been clearer during our conversation Sheriff. We are with a branch of the federal government, and this is a federal investigation. We felt that coming in under the umbrella of the National Guard would create less attention. Again, I should have been clearer Sir.”
The Sheriff sat up in his chair, “Gentlemen, our townsfolk aren’t exactly used to seeing any kind of helicopter land in Virginia City.”
Pointing out the window they looked out to see Chance and Kenny in the middle of about a fifty people. Many were kids, and his agents were letting them take turns sitting in the rear of the chopper.
The sheriff continued, “As I was saying, what branch of the Federal Government is allowed to commandeer an Army Chopper and dress in Army uniforms? As Paul Harvey used to say, I think that I want to hear the rest of the story.”
Doliver looked at Ron to ask for permission to speak; Ron shook his head agreeing. “Sheriff Bottoms, it wasn’t long ago the two of us were military. That also includes those two young men outside; who wouldn’t surprise me if they started offering helicopter rides in a couple of minutes.
“We are currently working with Homeland Security. We speak with individuals who send correspondence to government agencies that could be considered threatening. It is our responsibility to determine if this information poses a threat.
The sheriff now smiling, “So what you’re saying is that one of ole Mitchell’s letters has finally blown someone’s skirt up back in Washington.”
Ron Collins replied, “Sheriff, what do know about the letters?”
The Sheriff set back in his chair. “Boys, everybody in town knows about Mitchell’s letter writing escapades. When he first started writing them their content was mostly centered on our town. He didn’t like the way that we ran the Ghost Town tours. They weren’t authentic enough to suit Mitch. I think I even have a letter that took it in the other direction, arguing against his earlier points.
The sheriff now laughing, “You Homeland people sure just wasted a lot of jet fuel. Mitchell is about as harmless as they come around here. He just has opinions that he doesn’t mind sharing. I believe it was Hank, down at the Drugstore, who got him off our town and interested in some military installation out toward Vegas.”
Doliver smiling, “Sheriff, I have to admit that right about now you have us questioning how smart this visit is. However, we’ve been assigned this
mission and we are going to need to speak with Mr. Fields. Can you tell us how to get out to his place?”
Trust me, I don’t think that you want to land that monstrosity anywhere within a mile of Mitchell. Back a few years ago I had an IRS agent come to town needing to see Mitch. Something about a letter he had written to the IRS. After checking, they found that Mitchell hadn’t paid taxes for upwards of twenty years. I am going to give you the same advice that I gave him. If you go out there; you might not all come back.”
Collins stood from his chair, “Not three minutes ago you were telling us that he was harmless. Now, we may not make it back alive?”
The Sheriff leaning back in his chair: his face no longer smiling, “No, what I said was that Mitchell was about as harmless as they get around here. Our people are private people and I’m afraid that if you gentlemen start poking around his shack, especially his silver mine, all bets are off.
“I have no clue as to what he has out there; but you did luck up. Tomorrow is the first of the month and Fields always comes into town to pick up supplies, check his mail, and eat lunch at Lucy’s diner.
“I will see him at the diner and ask that he come over to take a look at our new Silver Mine display, located at the Ghost Town. I’ll tell him that I need his expertise in setting it up correctly. That should get him into the building.
“Ditch the chopper and I will set you up rooms at the Silverland Inn for the evening. I don’t think you have a chance in hell in getting Mitchell to even speak with you; but I am willing to bring him to you.”
Collins and Doliver stood, shook the Sheriff’s hand, and started out of the office when Collins turned back to the Sheriff. “Sheriff Bottoms, please allow me to offer my apologies beforehand. When we speak with Mr. Fields, I am afraid that you cannot be in on the questioning. Our superiors would have our heads; if you understand?”
The Iscariot Factor (Half Staff Book 2) Page 10