by Greg Sandora
As soon as Gene opened the window, I heard glass shattering, and boom, he hit the floor.
The plan was for me to leave immediately so I told Hobbs people that I was having severe chest pains from the anxiety and had to leave. Of course, I’d be available to help police with a statement. I laid it on thick, while Hobbs lay there in his own blood; I went to the bar and splashed water on my face. It looked to his men like I was sweating profusely and in distress.”
Bud asked Tip, “How do you keep your hand steady enough to take that shot I’d be shaking like a leaf."
“It’s easy I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Tip added, “I had night vision goggles and ran around to the side wall. I through steel line over the wall, hooked it, and winched my way up. I trained the rifle on the window and waited until Bill did his thing, when I saw Hobbs I gently squeezed the trigger and took the kill shot.”
“Weren’t you afraid you’d get caught by the guards?”
“No the adrenalin rush is so intense I’m on a major high. I just slid down the line to the ground. I carried a vile of powerful corrosive to destroy the rifle. I laid the gun down into a narrow hole that I dug and covered the gun with acid and then buried it with dirt and leaves.”
“Where did you learn that trick?”
“It’s not my first rodeo Bud. The most important part of any operation is the getaway.”
“I would literally be pissing my pants. You actually get a rush from being perched on a twenty-foot wall in the pitch dark waiting to shoot a guy, and then have the presence of mind to get away unscathed.”
“It’s all in the planning. I know what I’m going to do and I just follow through. After I buried the gun, I ran through the woods and hid back along the road. When Bill left, he briefly stopped and picked me up. The acid dissolves any trace of evidence and most of the gun the only glitch was making sure Bill got out of there quickly enough to pick me up. I’m sure if he wasn’t Jacks right hand they would have kept him.”
Bill finished the story, “The cops questioned me in my office, and I just told them what I saw. The guy got shot. I added that he may have ties to organized crime but wasn’t sure, that it could be just rumor. I planted the seed though besides I said I hesitated to even bring it up him being friends with the president that could be embarrassing, and I mentioned career ending to any detective that might bring it out.”
“So you killed Hobbs and got away with it, how and I can’t believe I’m even asking this, do you plan to get the president?”
“Bud obviously getting Hobbs was easy by comparison.”
“Well, please humor me Tip, just hearing about this has my heart racing.”
“Imagine this bullet travels one thousand yards through Lafayette Park to the North Portico where the president is waiting to welcome the British Prime Minister. We will be in a suite at the Hay Adams House on the seventh floor overlooking the park.”
“Who’s we Tip?”
“Oh that’s the best part, I’ll get to it.”
“Jack, even if this does work, they will never stop looking for the killer. No stone will go unturned and it will never end. Fuckin-ay, fifty years from now they’ll be talking about this. Please reconsider, Jack. Sandy, talk to him.”
“I’ve tried, Bud, but his mind’s made up and there’s no changing it. These guys were coming after me, and they killed two people we love.”
“Jack,” Bud pleaded, “at least wait until after the election. No one will ever suspect one president of killing another; you’ll get away with it.”
“We’re going to get away with it now. Tip’s got every angle covered.”
“Bud, you’ll always have an excuse. I can just hear you, ‘Jack you’re president, let it go, you’ve got too much to lose.’”
“Bill is going to be downstairs in the restaurant watching on TV, when it’s finished, he leaves...” Bud cut him off.
“How can that work, Jack, the police are gonna know there’s maybe a few guys in the world that can take that shot? They’ll check all the cameras for miles around the Capitol and they’ll spot him.”
“Jack will vouch for me. I wasn’t feeling well and was resting at home. My cell answers his call just before the president is scheduled to meet the prime minister. I’ve prepared a tape. Jack asks Bob into the office in time to hear my voice faintly in the background. Jack has to be convincing. There’s one more thing, Bud.”
“What?”
“We’re gonna use a patsy.”
“Who?”
“Well… Jack wouldn’t let us get anyone innocent involved.”
“That’s fucking noble. Who are you gonna use then? The trigger man is probably at the bottom of a river somewhere.”
“We’re gonna use Tommy.”
“Tommy who…..Santoro?”
“Yes.”
Bud sat there silent for a solid minute just shaking his head. “They’ll say he never could’ve takin that shot… there’ll be one conspiracy theory after another. It’s fucking poetic justice if it works.”
Bud was still shaking his head, “Unbelievable.”
“What Bud?”
“You guys are really going to do this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well I’m not going to stick around for it.”
“We already thought of that. I’m sending you to Texas so you won’t have to worry.”
The festival was scheduled to run at the same time as the Republican National Convention with our convention the following week. The press would say we were trying to steal their thunder. We’d all leave to join Bud right after Tip had completed his task, giving us the perfect excuse to be out of town.
“Oh I’ll worry; I just won’t be around to panic.”
“Bud, you’ve got a bad ticker, we don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Sandy said, “Bud, this just isn’t your area.”
“You think? Jack, what about the convention, just as we’re about to get under way the nation will be in shock… have you thought about that? The whole thing will be a bust!”
Sandy explained, “Bud, if all goes as planned we’re going to postpone the convention a month.”
Bill adds, “The Republicans will cancel and we’ll follow out of respect. The music festival will go as planned and Jack will have the perfect platform to speak. It will be like two events, a month apart. Once Barker is gone the Republicans will have to scramble to get the VP ready.”
“When were you planning to tell me all this?” Bud was pissed. “I’m the only one that was left out of the loop.”
“We waited for your own good, Bud.”
“I don’t like it, Jack. I don’t like any of this. What if something goes wrong, what would we do?”
Tip had every detail of the operation planned. He was a master of disguise and diversion. He started off by telling Tommy that he needed to meet to discuss covert work. There were things the government couldn’t do, things that required his expertise. Things the new president would need him for.
Tip told him to come alone, playing into Tommy’s massive ego and vanity, and he fell for it. The trip to the Hay Adams house would take about twenty minutes in traffic. The prime minister was scheduled to arrive at 5:30 in the afternoon—that would give Tip several hours to set up.
We agreed to keep me in the loop via an open cell line on the condition that my end be silent. The rationale—on the outside chance the Feds did pick up the line, they wouldn’t have my voice on it. I knew Tip was right; he told me that if anything went wrong, he planned to take the fall himself. He said, “I’ll keep you posted but no matter what do not take the phone off mute.”
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Congress was on the last day of its August recess. The morning started off as stale as the politics had been in this town. The sun was hot and there was no movement in the air. I tried to stay busy but spent the early afternoon in a semi daze just waiting. I hadn’t eaten any lunch and my nerves had gotten the bes
t of me.
Earlier I’d snapped at Sandy.
“You’re doing this because you loved Lisa,” she tried to comfort.
I told her that it was a matter of respect, that there would be a lot of dead bodies around if that’s what it took. I wished that I could take that back, it was uncalled for. I went into my bathroom; dry heaved and then shut myself in the office. The open phone line would at least allow me to hear the event. There’s no way I could just sit and wait for it to happen on television. I lay back on the couch with my feet up on the coffee table.
I had the TV on C-SPAN to capture a visual, not paying much attention as the commentator lauded Gil Barker for keeping close ties with the British.
I’d gotten in trouble earlier this summer when an open mike caught me deriding the queen. I hated the idea of royalty, thinking they wasted resources that could feed and clothe thousands.
‘The queen is an inbred whore’ is not something you want caught on tape. We had meetings with our PR people and spent days trying to figure out the best way to spin it.
Sandy came up with the idea.
“Jack why don’t you say that you’re for the poor and that the idea of royalty is contrary to the ideal of equality, you meant whore in the sense of waste, with no sexual intent. While you admire the queen for her statesmanship you are against subservience and class strata.” Anyway, the story lasted several news cycles, we ended up using Sandy’s strategy adding my profuse apology and moving on.
To her credit, the queen accepted my apology. Then in a gracious gesture to the cheers of her subjects, she told the world that she too felt angst for the poor. I learned a new respect. She turned the whole affair to suit her, and handled herself with dignity. All the while probably wishing I’d drop dead. In private, I’m sure she made comment that I was American trash and that she’d have to endure meeting me at some point.
My mind was wondering, thinking about the next few days, broken by waves of anxiety and dread. What would happen if we were caught? Our freedom was at stake. Bud was right I’d be visiting with my kids from behind a glass wall in a maximum-security prison somewhere.
I was freaking out in the office with all the shades pulled. The TV was on low when I heard from Tip, “Van is parked, heading up to the room.”
We'd been over the plan. Tip had parked the white panel van on the north side of the hotel the furthest away from Lafayette Park. Bill was to park down the block and drive by to pick Tip up afterwards.
Tip wore a Bluetooth around his ear and spoke short sentences. It was amazing the features these cheap phones had and purchased for cash they were untraceable. I listened as Tip spoke, pushing the wheelchair to the elevator.
Tip had checked in earlier disguised as an old man, he had the bags dropped off in the room and gave the bellhop a good tip but nothing worthy of attention. The room directly beneath had been rented under the guise of wanting it for relatives who would be arriving late. Tip told the attendant that his sister wanted nothing more than an equivalent view of the White House. The desk attendant gladly gave him the key card and Tip was on his way, changing out of the old man disguise just before picking up Tommy. Tip liked using the old man disguise - he said old people are nearly invisible. He loved the wheelchair; he thought people will even try to avert their eyes being careful not to stare. Tip told me if Daphne walked in the clerk would remember something her long dark hair her slightly turned nose her big eyes. If asked about an older person seventy plus people usually respond just that they were old. Tip had used the wheelchair and old disguise to enter many places including airports in foreign countries for the agency.
“You drive a van?” I heard Tommy asking Tip when he picked him up.
Tip answered, “It's rented” and he’d be driving it down to Texas for the festival we were having.
“You should come down,” he told Tommy.
“Maybe I will,” Tommy said, just as Tip stuck him with a dose of drugs large enough to tranquilize a bear.
Tip mentioned that Tommy struggled for a moment, but with the drugs in him, and the size difference, Tip just held him in a chokehold until Tommy went to sleep. Tip narrated as I listened, he put the front of a dress over Tommy and a short gray wig, and then he placed a black veil over his face.
“I’m getting into costume,” he said, careful not to say my name. Tip made the whole thing sound almost fun, like he was having a decent time. Meanwhile my stomach was in knots and I was sitting motionless sweating profusely from anxiety. Minutes were passing like hours, and the slightest hint of sound on the other end of the line made my heart pound.
I thought I’ll be so glad when we’re all on a plane to Texas for the festival. We were scheduled to leave at 7:30 tonight, that way I wouldn’t have to go home and face Kathy right away. By the time she joins us in a couple of days, I’d have a chance to calm down.
There was a knock at the door. It startled me. Sandy stuck her head in, “Can I please come in and watch with you Jack? I’m feeling so tense. I’m jumping out of my skin. I don’t want the staff to see me like this.”
“Sure, why not,” I said. “Just know that I’m a basket case and nothing like Tip. I guess it’s better you know the truth.”
“Jack, I don’t think any less of you for being nervous about this! Are you kidding, if you were nonchalant about it then I’d be worried. My bladder has let loose three times already, and every time the phone rings or the elevator opens, I feel like the cops are coming for me. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Well, Honey, that makes two of us. This is like skydiving without a parachute; it's unreal.”
Sandy settled in on the couch, I turned the phone on speaker, laid the receiver on the desk, and we heard as Tip continued the narration for my benefit.
We could hear Tip dragging something across the floor.
“I’m moving the desk over near the window so I can set up my tripod on something stable.” Tip had purchased a high-powered sniper rifle, a replica to the one he’d used to take out Gene Hobbs.
The prime minister wasn’t scheduled to arrive at the White House for another hour. Tip was training his rifle site on the North Portico where the president would be standing. Tip put Tommy’s wig, dress, and veil into a plastic bag and placed it in a holder under the seat of the wheelchair.
Sandy and I strained to hear as he told us he was setting Tommy up in a chair in the corner. Placed a small tube down Tommy’s throat and pushed a funnel into it. He poured a fifth of Kentucky Bourbon down the tube into his throat, adding, “I thought you’d like the fact that this liquor came from your state, Jack.”
I whispered to Sandy carefully, even though the phone was on mute and Tip couldn’t hear us, “Can you imagine he can joke during this?”
Sandy shaking her head, “I’ve never known anyone who could do this, my heart starts racing if I see blue lights in my rear view mirror, and it takes a half hour for me to calm down just from that. You know I’d probably die of shock walking into that hotel room right now.”
“Sandy, can you imagine that scene? Tip is setting up to shoot the most powerful person in the world, ready to frame a known gangster whose out cold only a few feet away.”
“I’m writing a suicide note for Tommy,” Tip said.
There was silence on the other end of the line, and we waited for Tip to talk. The window was open in the hotel room and we could hear a siren go by; it sounded like an ambulance. There was a knock at the door. Our hearts dropped into our stomachs.
Tip answered in an old man’s voice, “What is it I’m trying to rest?”
We heard a muffled voice call back, “Oh, sorry to disturb you, sir. I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“No, go away. I’m sleeping.”
Tip lowered his voice, “If I’m caught, I’ve got enough C-4 strapped to me that they’ll never identify my body. No matter what happens, this will end here. There’s too much you need to do. I want you to know it’s been my privilege to serve. There
was silence in the office. Sandy and I sat completely still looking at each other.
The words struck me cold, “Sandy, can you believe that?”
“Jack, will you hold me. I don’t think I can stand even sitting by myself.”
After ten minutes, which felt more like an hour, Tip read the note quietly but aloud in his best attempt at a broken New Jersey Accent, “First off, nobody kills my friend and business partner and gets away wid it. Second, the President of the United States ain’t no angel like you think. Thirdly and most important, he told me that he killed Gene Hobbs and that he was gonna get me and my family if I didn’t do like he said. The End. Oh ya, so everybody knows, I ain’t got nobody in on this wid me. I’m gonna get him and then do myself cause dis guy ain’t goin’ to no pen. Signed, T. Santoro.”
“That note is chilling. Can you imagine the Feds will be analyzing it for years. I hope he gets away with it,” Sandy said, looking like she was ready to faint.
“If he doesn’t we’re all screwed, Honey.”
“I’m rubbing Tommy’s finger over the trigger and putting his prints on the barrel and stock of the gun Jack,” Tip continued. He had no idea that Sandy was listening, and he wouldn’t have liked it if he knew. He’d agreed to me only on the basis that I told him I’d go crazy if I didn’t know what was going on.
“I’m setting him upright in a chair in the corner of the room.” He told us he took a metal ice bucket from the bar area and jammed over the top of Tommy’s head saying, “The bucket will contain the mess.”