by Paul Harris
Now Lauren understood and fear and panic replaced her confusion.
“Oh my God,” she said and she began to cry. Mike held her close and hugged her for a precious few seconds as he felt the world that he fought so hard for begin to collapse around them.
* * *
THE INCESSANT buzz of the phone on Dee’s night-stand dragged her into consciousness. This would have been the first morning in weeks that she was able to sleep past 7:00 a.m. and she planned to do just that. But now she rolled over and saw Mike’s number flash on her mobile.
“Oh merde,” she said as she turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She knew she had to take it and flipped open the phone.
“This better be good, ami. You’re taking away my beauty sleep.”
Mike ignored her attempt at humor. “Dee,” he said. “We’re fucked. We’re beyond fucked.”
Dee heard the panic in Mike’s voice and bolted upright. “What did you just say?”
“It’s over, Dee. Hodges helped Carillo run a death squad down here. Real bad stuff; torture, extra-judicial killings, massacring villages. The money Christine paid to him must be hush money.”
For a minute Dee thought this was a joke, a sick prank that Mike was trying to pull.
“What are you talking about, Mike?” she said. “This is crazy.”
“No, Dee. It’s the truth. I’ve got the documents. Carillo is a psychopath. The woman who tried to kill Hodges is named Natalia Robles. She was a government assassin. Hodges worked with them both during the civil war. They ran a death squad, Dee. A fucking death squad. Now Carillo killed a priest here who knew about it. We’ve got to pull the plug on this campaign.”
Dee took a moment to gather her thoughts. It was as if time ran slowly for her as she digested the information. “What’s your evidence, Mike?” she asked.
“I knew the priest. He was killed right after he handed me the documents that proved all three of them were linked. I’ve got those documents with me. It’s all Natalia’s personal effects. She kept a record of her whole career.”
Dee thought fast now. “Okay, Mike. Calm down. We’ve got to think about this. Stay where you are,” she said.
“No,” Mike snapped back. “I’m coming back to America. I need you to meet my flight when it lands in Washington.”
“Okay, Mike. Go over to my apartment there.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“No, Dee,” Mike said. “A bar at the airport. It’ll be public. In daylight.”
Dee was amazed. “You’re joking right?” she asked.
“No, Dee. No joke.”
The phone line went dead and left Dee holding the receiver. She was stunned and sank back down onto her bed. She looked over where someone pushed a copy of the local newspaper underneath the door. She read the headline touting the latest polls that put Hodges comfortably ahead with just two days to go. She walked over, picked it up, and screamed loudly as she shredded it in her hands, tearing it up and flinging it into the air like confetti.
* * *
MIKE PUT a hand on Lauren’s shoulder but she shrugged it off with great, jagged, angry sobs. A few other passengers near them on the plane looked at him with pity, and assumed they were witnessing a lovers’ tiff.
If only. The drive to the airport was a panic-stricken one of fear and anger. They hurriedly packed and hailed a taxi from the street, not knowing if Federico would return or arrange some other attack. Mike stared at the back of the cab driver’s head the whole way to the airport and looked for the slightest hint something was wrong. His hand gripped a thick, glass ashtray in his jacket pocket. At the first sign of betrayal by the driver he planned to ram it into the back of the man’s skull.
But they made it onto the plane safely, buying tickets at the counter, with no further incident. And now, as the plane lifted up into the air, they reflected on exactly what happened. Lauren wept as the wheels left the tarmac.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said.
Mike knew she was out of her depth. “We have to go public with this,” he said. “It’s the only way to ensure his death means something. He died because he talked to us. Because he knew who Natalia was and that that trail led back to Carillo and Hodges.”
“So what?” said Lauren. “None of this will bring him back. None of that alters the fact that if we had not poked around in this then he would still be alive.”
“But Lauren, this is the biggest story of your life. You can break this story and if you do, you’ll break Hodges’ campaign.”
Lauren looked at him horrified. “I don’t care,” she said. “Don’t you get that, Mike. I. Don’t. Care. People are getting killed for this. It’s just too much. I don’t want anything more to do with it.”
She leaned forward and buried her head in her hands, as if the aircraft were about to crash and she was bracing herself. “I’m not brave enough. I want out,” she said.
Mike could not push her to breaking point. He looked out the window as the plane climbed through thick towers of cloud surrounding Guatemala City that roiled up into the sky like fat, angry fingers. He was alone. Utterly alone and flying to a fate that he could not imagine. But somewhere, he knew, in the maelstrom of the last 24 hours he made a choice. You could not bury the past. You faced it.
He glanced down at the landscape below him, a patchwork of green fields and thick jungles that shrouded the mountainsides. It looked pristine, not a human stain upon it. He turned his eyes away and did not look out again until they were safely over the ocean, leaving the visual lie long behind.
CHAPTER 23
THE SHORT WALK through the brightly lit terminal towards the airport bar seemed like a marathon. Mike’s feet felt heavy as concrete – like they dragged every single mile from Guatemala to Washington. He was alone too. The moment she was back on American soil, Lauren unleashed her pent-up emotions. She burst into loud sobs and fled from his side, hauling her luggage behind her, as soon as they cleared customs.
“I’m sorry,” were her last words to Mike, mouthed over her shoulder.
Mike did not follow. He just watched her ragged figure disappear and then looked at the bar in the distance. His eyes immediately settled on Dee. She watched them both implacably with arms folded across her chest. Then Mike started to walk towards her.
Dee ordered him a double scotch. She pushed it across the table without words and Mike watched the brown liquid slosh from side to side and listened to the clink of the ice cubes. It was like time slowed down. He felt Dee’s gaze weigh on him as he reached for the drink. He downed it in one gulp and winced as the fierce, cold spirit seared the back of his throat.
Dee finally spoke. “Now, calm down and talk to me, Mike,” she said. “Whatever’s happened is something we can get through together. Okay?”
Mike did not know where to begin. The last few days were an intense blur. The drive to Santa Teresa, the meeting with Maximón, the anger and terror of Rodolfo and the villagers and finally the revelations of Father Villatoro: Natalia’s whole, damning life contained in a single box. He told her about the murders and tortures that Natalia committed. How she worked at Carillo’s command in the dirtiest corners of the civil war. How Hodges was a liaison for Carillo and consulted on missions. How Hodges signed off on interrogations during which suspects were tortured and killed. How he agreed to orders that led to the massacre of Santa Teresa, carried out by Natalia. Finally, he told her of how Natalia – spurred on by motherhood – came to regret her life.
Dee listened intently without saying a word or moving a muscle. She never flinched at the descriptions of murders and killings even as Mike’s voice rose and fell like an angry sea. Then, when it was over, and Mike’s shoulders slumped, Dee leaned back in her chair.
She gestured at the barman who popped open a bottle of beer and placed it in front of her. She took a deep swig and wiped her mouth with a flourish.
Then she began to laugh, though there was a hysterical
edge to the sound and her bravado could not disguise that fact that her hand shook. “Relax, Mike,” she said. “If this gets out we can handle it. It will be okay. But first things first, where’s Lauren? What’s she planning to do with this?”
Mike was appalled. He stared at Dee, his mouth agape, like he no longer saw her in front of him, but some unknown devil who took her place. He struggled to speak.
“Dee… a man has been killed. Villatoro is dead. Hodges has been involved in war crimes,” he said.
Dee frowned.
“Hodges is a great American, Mike,” she said. “Now what about Lauren? You’ve handled that, right?”
Mike felt unexpectedly calm, like he emerged into the eye at the center of a hurricane. The howling winds left him battered and bruised, and they surrounded him, but his mind was quiet and still. He saw things clearly now; his thoughts blinked in the sudden sunshine in his mind. Dee did not care. She believed this was a contest to be won; a great game to be played. There were scores to be tallied and battles to be fought. But that was it.
It was not enough for him. “Dee,” he said. “This is wrong.”
Dee was puzzled. “What is?” she asked.
Mike shook his head. For so long the campaign dominated every waking moment that he began to feel it became his whole life, his reason for being. But no longer. He realized with a sudden start that he saw life anew; he was outside the campaign now, peering in.
The bubble had burst.
“I’m going to end this campaign,” he said.
Dee understood his meaning. The air between them grew thick and the space narrowed. She leaned forward, her voice low and menacing, like a hissing snake disturbed in the grass; a sound that should freeze the blood of anyone walking by.
“Think about this, Mike,” she said. “Think about it long and hard. This is the most important decision you will ever make.”
Mike shook his head. “I can’t come back. Not knowing all this,” he said.
Dee’s eyes reduced to slits. She needed him. They both knew this. She made her pitch.
“Mike,” she said. “Look around you. Not here, but out there. Think of the millions of people this campaign will help if we win this goddamn thing. We are here because we believe in our candidate. We are here because we believe in his message. We believe we can make a difference. Don’t tell me you never believed, Mike.”
Mike thought for a moment. Dee was right. He believed in Hodges like nothing before in his whole life. It was a drug that coursed through his veins. It was like finally having faith. Not in a God. But in a cause and a mission.
“What’s changed, Mike? Nothing. Nothing has changed, Dee said.
But everything had. “I can’t go back,” he said. “We can’t elect a man who did the things Hodges did. Who helped people like Carillo torture and kill people.”
“He was a soldier, Mike. He took orders in a greater cause. He made tough decisions and sacrifices. Have you never done that, Mike? Have you not done things you never thought you would in the service of a greater good?”
The accusation stung home. He thought about the lies he told Lauren. The lie he told Father Villatoro. At the betrayals of his duty to friends and family. To Jaynie. At the way he abandoned his principles to fight as part of a ruthless political machine, focused on victory. At the way he passed out secrets from Dee’s “vault” to undermine and sabotage Stanton. He too became a loyal soldier in a dirty war.
“Be careful to cast the first stone,” Dee said.
Mike shook his head. He would not go there. “That’s bullshit, Dee. You know it. Hodges helped kill and torture people.”
Dee threw up her arms in exasperation. “The war was twenty five years ago! Christ! You really want to throw everything away on something that happened so long ago in a country most Americans have never heard of?”
There was a hint of desperation in Dee’s voice. Not exactly pleading. Mike knew Dee would rather die than beg for anything. But she needed him on her side. She needed him quiet. She needed this story killed.
“Mike,” Dee said. “What do you want? You can make this work for you. Whatever you need.”
Mike saw his future split in two. He saw a glorious path laid out ahead of him, rising up through the ranks under Dee’s protective wing. He could end up in the White House with his own office in the West Wing. This campaign would sweep into Washington like a victorious army. They would change this country. Millions of people would be helped. But even as the vision passed through his mind he knew it was unreal. A mirage. You can’t build such things on a foundation of lies. That was the problem. Mike would not bury the truth or the past. He owed that to himself. He owed it to Villatoro. And even Natalia too, silent in her cell.
“Dee,” he said and he grasped her hand. “You have to help me. Together we can do the right thing.”
Dee was stunned. Then she began to laugh. “Mike,” she said. “I gotta admire your balls. You want me to help you destroy what we’ve built here?”
She slowly and methodically pried her hand out of his grip. “Do you really doubt my will to win this thing?” she said.
She let the question hang in the air and raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m already doing the right thing,” she said. “The right thing is to see Hodges win. I’ll do it at all costs.”
Mike opened his mouth to speak. But Dee reached over and put a finger across his lips. “You’ve said enough, Mike. Take 24 hours. Think it over. Come back to me and I’ll forget all about this. But if you decide to go public and try to take us down, you should know one thing.” She looked at him, her eyes absolutely unwavering, her glare like an unbreakable promise.
“I will destroy you,” she said, and with that she stood up and walked out.
* * *
MIKE DID not need 24 hours.
He stumbled out of the airport and took out his phone. He punched in a number and barked a few shouted orders down the line. Then he waited for the call back. He crouched down on his haunches and shivered in the familiar cold. The sunshine and warmth of Guatemala was a memory. Here it was still winter. He looked up at the thick gray clouds, blocking out even the promise of sunshine. Then the phone rang.
Howard Carver took just five minutes to call him back.
“Mike Sweeney?” he asked.
“Listen, Howard,” Mike said. “I haven’t got time to explain on the phone. But I have information that I want to give you. If you use it, you can save Stanton’s ass and maybe take Hodges down. You want it?”
There was the briefest silence on the other end of the line as Carver digested Mike’s words. Perhaps he sensed a trap.
“Where are you?” Carver asked slowly.
“Washington.”
“Rent a car. We’ll pay for it. I’m on the road in South Carolina with Governor Stanton but I can break off. Let’s meet in Columbia tonight. Shouldn’t take you more than five or six hours.”
“I’m on it,” Mike said and was about to hang up but Carver stopped him.
“Mike,” he said. “What do you want?”
Mike snorted in disgust.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
* * *
THEY MET on a bench in the park at the front of the State House in Columbia. The long drive south boosted the temperatures and the sun came out. The cold, weary skies of Washington were replaced by a sparkling pristine blue, not warm, but hinting at spring.
Mike found Carver already waiting for him. The man did not get up but he spread his arms wide in greeting and gestured for Mike to sit next to him, all the while grinning like a shark. They sat beneath a flagpole on which fluttered a Confederate battle flag, a reminder of past sins.
Mike got out a sheaf of papers. They were photocopies of some of the documents that Villatoro gave him from Natalia’s possessions. He handed them over and told Carver the whole story. He told him he suspected the payment to Carillo that Carver’s team uncovered was hush money. That Carillo was a former war crimina
l and he and Hodges were involved in terrible human rights abuses. Prompted by her daughter’s problems in the gangs, Natalia shot at him to atone for her own sins by inflicting the punishment that few other people even knew he deserved.
Carver could not disguise his glee as he leafed through the papers and listened to Mike talk. He fidgeted on the bench like a naughty schoolboy kept behind after class; desperate to leave as soon as possible.
“Hodges was involved in torture,” Mike finally stated. “I can’t stand by and let that be ignored.”
Carver nodded his jowly face. He looked puzzled, as if trying to figure out what game Mike played. It unnerved him to get something so valuable for free. It broke the rules. It was unnatural.
“We knew something was up with that cash going down to Guatemala. We just couldn’t figure out what,” Carver said.
“That’s why you slipped the money order under Lauren’s door?”
Carver nodded.
“Her and about a dozen others. We hoped the press would do its job. But everyone bought Dee’s spin about the college fees.”
Carver shook his head, but Mike knew there was admiration, not anger there. Then Carver turned to squint at Mike and his watery eyes glistened slightly in the sun.
“If we can bring Hodges down with this, we’ll have space for you,” he said. ‘Do you want a position?”
Mike suddenly felt tired. “No,” he said. “I just want people to know the truth.”
Carver shrugged. “You’re very old fashioned,” he said and got to his feet. He looked down at Mike and quickly stuffed the file into his brief case as if he feared Mike would make a sudden grab for it. He seemed awkward and then he stuck out a hand. Mike shook it. Carver’s skin felt clammy and cold.
“Good luck, Mike,” Carver said and he turned and walked away.
Mike watched him go. He stayed there for a long while and tried to feel the warmth of the struggling sun. He realized, almost as a surprise, that he had nowhere to go. He had no job. He had no purpose. It was all gone the moment he made the call to Carver. He got up. There was only one place to go. Back to Corinth Falls. Back home to wait out the coming storm.