“Yes?”
“Assure General Rhee that he will be playing a considerably bigger role in the new order than he might have imagined. We need him motivated.”
“I’ll pass the message on.”
“Good.”
Chapter 52
Nampo, North Korea Saturday 15 June 2007
1000 KST
General Rhee was standing in the entrance to the number two warehouse when the first truck arrived. He watched as Pok waved his arms furiously at the guards to open the inner gates, then directed the driver in Rhee’s direction. The truck lumbered forward in a cloud of blue diesel smoke and stopped outside the open door. Two forklifts quickly unloaded the pallets and stacked them inside. As soon as it was empty the truck turned around and drove out of the compound as the next was let inside. Once the cargo had been safely stored, the doors were closed. Pok—now walking with the aid of a cane—approached Rhee.
“Two days late,” Pok said, pointing his cane up at the sky as if God himself were to blame.
“Hardly a disaster,” Rhee replied.
“Perhaps not,” Pok observed, “but they add up. Two days here, one day there, and before you know it you’re a month behind.”
“I’ll have a word,” Rhee said, intending to do no such thing.
They walked down the row of warehouses, half of them now alive with the sound of men and machinery. When they reached the last one Rhee opened the door and held it for Pok.
Sitting in the middle of the warehouse beneath bright floodlights was a bizarre frame made entirely of aluminum tubing. It consisted of six upright cylinders welded into a floral pattern that made it look a little bit like a speed-loader for a giant six-shooter revolver. Each of the empty cylinders had a lid that was secured in place by a dozen threaded clamps. As they watched, several men guided it into position on the train wagon that had been made to carry it while another handled the electric pulley mounted to a rail beneath the rafters above.
“A perfect fit,” Pok said.
“Impressive,” Rhee agreed.
“When can we expect the cargo?” Pok asked.
“In a week.”
“Even better.”
Chapter 53
Washington DC
Saturday 16 June 2007
0900 EDT
Wentworth put the phone down and nodded to Caroline. “It’s done. I’ll have someone from the office in Montreal pick Jasper up and drive him down as soon as he arrives.”
“And the feds?” Caroline said.
“All they know is that he was last seen in Dubai. They’ve already been through his apartment and the office. Richard has told them everything he knows, which is nothing at all. But he can’t stay here. You know that, right?”
“So what the hell are we going to do with him?” Caroline asked.
Wentworth shrugged. “There’s only one thing you can do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that what you were doing in the first place?”
“There’s no way Richelle will take him,” Caroline said. “Not after this. That’s assuming he would even agree.”
“Then I guess you’ve got your work cut out for you. Because I’ll tell you this, he can’t go back to Wisconsin. He may not know anything about us, but he knows enough to give the Chinese a very good reason to either take him again or shut him up permanently.”
“I know,” Caroline said.
“Are we any closer to figuring out what he was doing on that ship in the first place?”
“Not really. And if I’m honest, I’m not sure I even want to. The Foundation is about to take a thirty percent hit across the boards, and that’s a best case scenario. Mitchell says the Emirates are going to pull out of the deal with Albion when the hammer falls. Half our stock portfolio has already stopped paying dividends, and it’s only a matter of time before the rest follow suit. Christ, our Asian operations are going to be the only productive assets we’ve got left.”
“You could always short the market,” Wentworth suggested. “There’s still time. Use the cash to pick up a few bargains from the wreckage?”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it.”
“And?”
Caroline sighed. “When dad asked me to take over the foundation he told me that breaking the rules because everybody else does would probably make us twice the money in half the time. And he was right. He also said that when you join that club, you have to join it completely, whether you like it or not. I’m pretty sure he was right about that too. If we start meddling in this shit now, we’ll be up to our ears in it before we know it.”
“Wise words,” Wentworth said. “It’s a shame more people don’t think that way.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Caroline said. “I’ll speak to Richelle as soon as I’m back in Zurich. In the meantime, don’t let the little shit out of your sight.”
“It’s a deal,” Wentworth said. “Just don’t leave it too long. I won’t be of much use to you if I’m in jail for kidnapping.”
Chapter 54
Tesuque, New Mexico
Saturday 16 June 2007
1230 MDT
By the time they drove through the gate and onto the dirt track that led to the Mason family ranch, Susan was a bundle of nerves. On this occasion her anxiety actually helped to calm Mike’s own nerves.
Will Mason was a native of the Land of Enchantment. He could trace his family line back to 1910, when New Mexico had been a territory rather than a state. He stood a full six foot three—six seven if you added in the Stetson that rarely left his head when he wasn’t at work—and had the shoulders to make it mean something. He was standing halfway up the road as they approached, leaning against the white rail fence and stroking the muzzle of a large black and white Appaloosa mare.
When Mike stopped the car Mason tipped his hat and said, “Welcome to Blueridge, Mike. I see you’ve brought your better half. How do you do, Mrs. Banner?”
At first it seemed Susan would be unable to compose herself long enough to respond. Mike nudged her with his elbow and whispered, “Should I tell him you’re mute?”
Susan elbowed him back and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator.”
“We’ll have none of that here,” Mason said. “You call me Will. Go on up to the house. Jessica’s in the kitchen getting dinner ready. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When they were out of earshot Mike laughed and said, “I’m not sure I can even remember the last time you looked at me like that.”
“What?”
“So you’re denying it?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Susan said.
Mike laughed again.
“Fuck off, Mike,” she said, but she was smiling.
Jessica Mason turned out to be Miss Mason, a pretty young girl of twenty-five with a mane of dark blonde hair. When she saw their confusion she laughed and said, “My father is an amateur comedian, if you haven’t guessed yet. I’m Jessica. He didn’t exactly lie; my mother’s name was Jessica too.”
“She’s—” Susan began.
“She passed away when I was ten,” Jessica said.
“I’m sorry,” Susan said.
“Thank you.”
Jessica put down the knife she was using to cut steaks off a huge slab of rib-eye and washed her hands.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Jessica said, holding out a hand to both of them. “Dad doesn’t invite many people here. It’s a shame, really; we used to have guests all the time.”
“I would have thought your father had more friends than he could count,” Mike said.
“Well, that all depends,” Jessica said. “If you mean in Washington, I’m not sure he has any.”
“That’s because they’re all a bunch of self-righteous thieves,” Susan said.
Mike turned to her, his mouth open in astonishment, but Jessica only laughed and said, “You two will get along just fine. Now how do you like your steak?”
>
“Raw please, sweetheart.”
As soon as Mike turned around Mason had his hand in a death grip. “It’s good to see you again, Mike. Mi casa es su casa isn’t just a hollow phrase in these parts. People actually say it, and they mean it. You make yourselves at home while I go get out of these rags.”
By the time Mason returned both Mike and Susan were busy helping in the kitchen. Mike had taken over the job of slicing steaks, something he’d never done in his life.
“That’s a fine piece of meat,” Mason said. “Thirty-two days on the hook. Neighbors brought it over this morning. I hope you’re both hungry.”
“We’re starving,” Susan said.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Mason said.
Dinner lasted almost two hours. In all that time Mason didn’t make a single reference to his job or Mike’s plans. He talked about his childhood, growing up on the ranch, his daughter, and when asked by Susan, the year during which his wife had fought a harrowing but ultimately futile battle with ovarian cancer. And he asked as many questions as he answered, seeming to prefer listening to talking.
When they were done Susan had expected Mason to excuse himself and make off for some corner of the house with Mike to talk shop, but that didn’t happen. He invited them both out into the back yard with a six-pack of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other and sat them down at a large picnic table near the brick barbeque pit. Mason took a seat across from them, offered them each a can before opening his own and said, “So, you two ready to run for public office?”
“Sorry?” Susan said, sure she had misheard him.
“The two of you,” Mason said. “Are you both ready? It’s not a trick question. No man or woman ever entered politics on their own. It’s never been easy, and it’s never been harder than it is today. Nor have we ever been in more dire need of good people on the Hill. It’s a team effort, and the core of that team is the home. I only wish my wife were still here to tell you. She understood that long before I did, and she was a much better talker. So unless the two of you are in this together, you’ve already lost. Mike here might win an election with the help of his friends and neighbors, but he’ll be as much use as balls on a cow if you’re not in it together.”
Susan took Mike’s hand and said, “If it’s what he wants, I’m behind him all the way.”
Mike, who hadn’t realized just how badly he did want it until that moment, felt a surge of determination unlike anything he had ever experienced.
“I do,” Mike said, then turned to Mason. “We do.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mason said, holding up his beer.
“So do you think it could actually be done?” Susan said. “I mean, I don’t really know how it works, but—”
Mason nodded to indicate he understood the problem. “Nobody knows him. No one in Phoenix, much less Arizona, has ever heard of Mike Banner. I’d say that was pretty much an insurmountable obstacle under normal circumstances, but these are far from normal.”
“They are?” Susan said.
Mason regarded her for a moment, seeming to size her up for what he was about to say.
“I told my wife a lot of things over the years that I probably shouldn’t have,” Mason said. “Not because she needed to know them, but because I needed her to. A friendship can only handle so many secrets, and it doesn’t seem to matter what they are. I don’t know if that’s just how God made us, or if it was something peculiar to the two of us, but I’m guessing it’s probably the first. So I’m going to tell you something that I shouldn’t and I need you both to promise me you’ll keep it between the two of you. Can you do that?”
They both nodded.
“Alright,” Mason said. “Senator Richmond is stepping down because he’s been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. All the talk about letting someone else have a shot is just that; talk. He’s been asked to endorse the party’s candidate for the seat before the election. But he’s not going to. He’s going to endorse Mike instead.”
When this bombshell failed to produce the effect Mason had clearly expected, Mike nodded and said, “Governor Kelly stopped by my office last week.”
“Kelly’s a good man,” Mason said. “A little less discreet than I’d like, but a good man all the same.”
“And why is he endorsing Mike?” Susan said.
“Because I’ve asked him to,” Mason said. “Although it’s not quite that simple.”
Mason was about to go on when Mike said, “You can’t let him endorse Redman because Redman’s about to end up in jail. Probably in a cell next door to Ortega.”
This time is was Mason who looked surprised. Susan, for her part, was completely lost.
“Wentworth showed me the file,” Mike said.
“What file?” Susan said. “And who the hell is Wentworth?”
Mason and Mike both looked at each other, but said nothing.
“I need to tell her,” Mike said.
“It’s up to you,” Mason said.
Susan listened to this exchange with growing incredulity. When it was over she stood up and said, “Don’t sit there and give me a speech about secrets and then act like I’m not even here. If you want to know the truth, I’d sooner not have anything to do with politics if this is what I’m in for. As for what a friendship can and can’t handle, I’ve never asked Mike about his work and we’ve done just fine up to now. Maybe because he doesn’t bring his work home with him, I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not spending the next ten years smiling at cocktail parties and fancy dinners being treated like a witless moron. I’m not Nancy fucking Reagan.”
Mike took a long sip of beer and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked up at Susan he said, “Charles Wentworth is Peter’s boss. He came to see me at the office a couple of weeks ago to ask if I’d consider running.”
“A couple of weeks ago?” Susan said.
“Let me finish,” Mike said. “I didn’t go to DC for work, I went to accept the offer. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Go on,” Susan said.
“When I told them I didn’t see how I could possibly win an election like this, Wentworth showed me something—a file. Both the Republican and Democratic nominees for Richmond’s seat have accepted illegal campaign contributions from a syndicate of companies operating in the state.”
“They’re both in on it,” Mason said. “It doesn’t matter who wins. Either way they both go to work for the defense lobby; one in government, the other one gets a seat or two on the board of directors.”
Susan considered this for a moment and said, “And you’re keeping it out of the press so Mike can win. Isn’t that…?”
“Yes,” Mike said. “I’d be in a world of shit if anyone finds out I knew and didn’t report it.”
“We both would be,” Mason said. “We’d also have one less honest man on the Hill. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“And you?” Susan said to Mike. “Is it a risk you’re willing to take?”
“Yes,” Mike said.
“You’re willing to stake your marriage and your family on a gamble like this? Because that’s what you’d be doing, Mike. We’d lose everything. You do see that, don’t you, or has the idea of rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful gone to your head already?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it,” Mike said.
“Really?” Susan said. “Then explain it to me, Mike. Because all I see is us risking everything we have.”
“Someone needs to stand up and do the right thing,” Mike said. “Even if it means breaking a few rules.”
“Great,” Susan said. “And where does it end? A few rules now. And what about later? How many rules will you have to break before—”
Mike stood up, his face now a deep red from the neck up.
“Alright,” Mason said. “Let’s all—”
“You want to know why I have to do this?” Mike said. “I’ll tell you exactly why. This country is falling to
pieces. At this rate I’m not sure there will be anything left by the time our son grows up. That’s why. You want to know what really happened in New York? A man tried to stop the White House from killing whoever it wants to and it upset someone. There was no terrorist group involved, no cell operating in Vermont or anywhere else. The whole thing was a cover-up and I went along with it because I had no choice. I wasn’t kidnapped, Susan. And nor were you and Josh. You want to know why you were treated like you were on vacation rather than thrown in some cell to rot? Because the same man who saved my ass paid someone a lot of money to get you out of the country before a lunatic by the name of Norton Weaver at the CIA could have you both killed to shut me up. My transfer to the Phoenix office wasn’t a favor from Washington; it was my reward for playing nice.”
Susan was speechless. The look on her face was matched by the one on Mason’s, who had unconsciously crushed the can he was holding as Mike spoke. As for Mike himself, he had come within a split second of moving right on to the pictures on the hard drive and their meeting with Maxim in London. What stopped him was the realization that it would have been too much to take in, not to mention the fact that Wentworth would probably call the whole thing off if he found out.
“There,” Mike said. “No secrets. Now you know what I know. If it’s simply a question of right and wrong, I guess we should bring that one to the attention of the American people first. Or we could do what we have to and try to make a difference where it really matters.”
“My God,” Mason said. “I was on the committee that held the hearings on Vermont and the mess in Canada. I actually thought we gave Director Fairchild a run for his money.”
Susan stood up and put her arms around her husband. “I’m sorry, Mike. I never—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mike said. “I’ve wanted to tell you. I just—I don’t know. It’s all so crazy.”
“Then you need to do something about it,” Susan said. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Origin - Season Two Page 18