SILVER-2 (NORRIS FILES)

by Marshall Huffman

  "Look Ron, I screwed up okay? I......."

  "Shut up PJ. don't even want to hear it. I have here, you’re walking papers. Signed all the way up the line. This is one time that your big mouth has gotten you into too much trouble. I thought you would have enough sense to not try and take on someone of Schranz's enormous power. You don't look stupid, but I guess that just shows how wrong I am. This isn't a movie PJ. The good guys don't get to push the powerful around here in the real world. What in the world were you thinking?"

  "Well..."

  "Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Schranz is more powerful than the damn President in this town. God, you're a jerk at times. Unless you can catch him with a smoking gun, ten witnesses, two of which had better be Supreme Court Justices, you back off and leave that man alone. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

  "Yes sir," It was one of the few times PJ had ever said 'sir' to Ron in a face to face meeting.

  "I was told that your future with OPS3 was directly dependent on Linden Schranz and me. If he makes a fuss about you, you’re out of here. I had to give my personal guarantee that you will never approach Schranz again without direct orders from me. In writing. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, I..."

  "Shut up. I don't want to hear a damn thing you have to say. I was ordered, at first, to pull you off this detail, but I convinced them, that aside from this lapse of good sense, you were the best person for the job. My butt is on the line for you. You damn sure better be worth it. Your job is to get the shooter. You have his name and military records. You find that son of a bitch and forget the rest of this shit. I want that guy. I want your ass out of this office until this thing with Schranz blows over as well. I don't even want you to report in.

  You're on leave from this office for the time being. You and Sean are to work out of the F.B.I. I'll have any information sent over to you. I mean it PJ. Don't come back until I tell you too. If you commit suicide tomorrow, don't leave a note. I don't want to know. Now, get whatever you need out of your office, grab Sean, and get over to Director Johnson. He will be waiting for Sean, I'm sure."

  PJ didn't say a thing, but turned and left the office. He closed the door gently this time. He went back to his office, packed up what the thought he might need and got Sean.

  "So what's up?"

  "Don't ask. We'll talk in the car," PJ said.

  He loaded his stuff in the back seat and climbed in.

  "So?"

  "Close. I almost got pulled off the operation. Maybe even fired."

  "Hey, what can I say? You did it to yourself, man. You should have kept your mouth shut."

  "I know. You’re absolutely right."

  They drove in silence the rest of the way.

  When they arrived at the F.B.I. building Sean had a message that the Director wanted to see him.

  "Sorry Sean, you want me to go with you?"

  "That's all I need. No, this is my deal. You just stay here in my office until I get back."

  Sean returned fifteen minutes later.

  "Bad news?"

  "I've had better. Schranz wasn't too hard on me according to Johnson. I think you need to keep a low profile here as well, until this all blows over. Everything is now going to be channeled through this office. So this is where we will work out of, if that's okay with you."

  "Like I have other options?"

  "You mean besides of not being fired? Not really."

  "Well you do. You could refuse to work with me and get a new partner. I wouldn't blame you."

  "Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. I'll stick it out with you. We have come this far, I guess I'm in all the way. Johnson informed me that the President has changed his travel plans. He is going to scrap all appearances except the golf outing in Phoenix and the Indianapolis 500."

  "Hey, that’s great news. I think we had better meet with Terry Logsdon at Secret Services and see how he wants us to fit in."

  "Alright. I'll call him and set it up. So what do you want to do next?"

  "Hell, let’s go roust Schranz again,” PJ said straight faced.

  "In your ear PJ."

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Linden Schranz was not a man to cross. Not if you intended to live on this planet. Under his friendly, soft exterior, was a cold blooded bastard. He wasn't as upset as he might have been.

  The exchange told him a couple of things. They knew the basic plan, but had no idea where to find the shooter or Wells. They might think they had it figured out but it would do them little good. He knew he could squeeze Ron Neilson until he crapped his pants, and shit always runs

  downhill. It would bury Mr. Matts. He called Ron's office.

  "Ron, Linden. Fine. Listen about that agent of yours. What do you intend to do with him?"

  "Well sir, he has been placed on leave of absence technically. I haven't decided what to do with him at the moment but I will do whatever you suggest."

  "Oh, I have no suggestions. I was just curious. He really pissed me off Ron. I'm as nice as the next guy, but I don't like some little jerk trying to lean on me, understand?"

  "Yes sir. You will not hear from him again, I give you my word."

  "Well, your word is always good enough for me Ron. You know I would never stand in the way of one of your investigations. Especially one as important as this, but there is a right way and a wrong way to get things done. Your Mr. Matts seems to excel in the wrong way."

  "Yes sir, he does from time to time. He is really good. One of the best we have. I'll keep him out of your hair, sir. It would be a serious loss to our organization if I were to replace him."

  "I guess there is no need for that at present. Just see that you keep him under control. If not, well, you know the rest."

  "I will Mr. Schranz."

  "Be seeing you, Ron. Give my best to your family."

  "Will do sir, and thank you."

  "No thanks needed," he said and hung up the phone.

  That would be the end of Mr. Matts nosing in his affairs. What bothered him the most was the fact that such a simple thing as fingerprints linked him back to Wells. Screw up such as those had unraveled many a well thought out plan.

  CHAPTER FORTY -TWO

  Giovanni moved the SILVER-2 to the elevator machinery room with little trouble. Once in place, he powered up the weapon and checked out the distance. 6,074.5 feet to the curb and 6,1346.8 feet to the entrance of the building.

  With the enhanced scope he could see the screws holding the door handle in place. Everything was ready. Once he was sure of the set up, he took the SILVER-2 back down and placed it in the truck.

  He changed motels again and started lying in provisions. He had planned to move into the elevator room at least 24 hours before the scheduled event. Even if they placed snipers on the roof he could still get off the shot and no one would know he was there. All was ready. He could do little more than wait.

  PRESIDENT CANCELS VISIT - Louisville (AP) The White House announced that the scheduled visit to the NOW Convention in Louisville, Kentucky, has been canceled due to

  tense negotiations between the First Lady and Khated Meshaal. Meetings have been going on almost nonstop. “While I fully support the NOW organization and recognize their contributions, the Peace Talks must take precedent”, the President said from the White House.

  “We are in too delicate a phase to break off talks at this time”. Vivian Maxwell, President of NOW expressed her deep disappointment at the decision of the White House to cancel the engagement. Mayor Susan Huff, echoed the disappointment. “Louisville has been an All American City for the past three years and we were looking forward to sharing our pride with the President and First Lady. We are saddened to hear that they will be unable to visit our great city. We fully understand the nature of the importance of the Peace Talks but it is still a big disappointment,” she said.

  Giovanni laid down the newspaper and closed his eyes. There was not much he could do about it. They must know that the President was taking too
much of a risk by coming here. Would they cancel his entire remaining schedule?

  All that work for nothing. He would have to get ready all over again, this time in Indianapolis. If the President canceled the golf outing he could almost be sure that Indianapolis would be scrapped as well.

  Nevertheless he had to make reparations. He decided that he would do better to alter his appearance from this point on. If they had this much figured out, they may have discovered that he was the shooter as well. He checked out of his motel and headed to Indiana.

  CHAPTER FORTY -THREE

  Unitech was making progress on the disrupter system now that the funding was fully in place but the finished product was still several weeks away. They assured PJ and Sean that it would be ready in time for Indianapolis if it was still needed.

  Talks were still underway to convince the President to drop the trip to Phoenix, but had met with little success to date.

  Resigned to the fact that the event was still on, PJ and Sean were assigned to the detail covering Phoenix.

  The President managed to play a respectable game and it was amazingly uneventful. They were all smiles as they sat around the oval table. Even Wainright seemed happy. Phoenix had gone off without a hitch. Only one person, a protester, had been arrested.

  The President and First Lady had attended the premier event and it was judged a success by all.

  "Nice work everyone," Wainright told them.

  High praise from him.

  "The security was some of the tightest I have ever seen and yet it didn't stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “PJ, you look like hell in nickers. And that hat. You really should buy a mirror," Terry Logsdon kidded.

  "That just goes to show you what you know. Several people mistook me for Greg Norman. I even signed a couple of autographs," PJ joked back.

  "Well gentlemen, you can congratulate yourselves on a job well done. The President and First Lady wanted me to convey that message," Wainright said.

  "We are not off the hook yet," Terry warned, "We still have a shooter lose someplace out there. We may have kept him at bay in Phoenix, but that doesn't mean we can relax in Indiana. Any change at all in locating Wells or DeRosso?" Terry asked.

  "I'm afraid not," Sean told them.

  "The people at Unitech believe they are just about ready. Sean and I are going out there later this week to see the latest development. They sounded very positive."

  "Good. I think we are going to need all the help we can get," Terry said.

  "Sean and I are taking off for Indiana as soon as that's over. We have already talked to the Speedway officials and they are aware of our concerns. I have not told them the exact details. If too many people find out and it will be all over the papers."

  "Is that so bad?" one of the agents asked, "Maybe that would cause them to drop the whole thing."

  "I appreciate your thoughts, but it has been decided. No leaks of any kind. It would only cause us further problems, and anyway the President will not hear of it. Is that clear?" Wainright told them.

  "Besides, it could cause them to make other arrangements that we will be even less prepared for. It stays in this room people," Terry warned.

  “I hate to mention this; we really need for Unitech to come through. We don’t have much of a backup plan except for flooding the place with every cop we can get. I don’t like putting all my eggs in one basket but that is kind of what we are doing,” PJ said.

  “Then I suggest you either run this guy to ground and take his ass out or make damn sure Unitech comes through,” Wainright said.

  That pretty much brought an end to any further conversation.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, well done," Ron Neilson said, ending the meeting.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  President Richards was knocked to the ground today as he emerged from his limousine. He was on his way to address Congress on Capitol Hill when a bicyclist crashed into the President's party. A spokesperson said that the President was only slightly injured when he was knocked to the pavement. He suffered a sprained wrist and a bruise on his left knee. He was taken to the hospital for x-rays. No bones were broken, but according to doctors, he will be able to participate in the festivities scheduled in conjunction with the Indianapolis 500.

  The President will start the race, the first time any President has dropped the green flag for start of this famous race. The President and First Lady will still attend the awards ceremony and banquet as well.

  White House spokesperson, Cathy Berman, said that the President was experiencing minor discomfort but had refused any pain relievers other than common aspirin. The bicyclist, identified as Margret Lippton, suffered no injuries other than a small abrasion to her left knee. She said she was looking over her shoulder for a break in traffic and looked up just as she ran into the party getting out of the car........."

  Giovanni turned off the television set. So the trip was still on but they were worried about the coverage. It was a good sign, nevertheless. He had rented a small house in Speedway and had been working on plans ever since his arrival. He had watched the routine of the maintenance crews every day and was familiar with the features of most of them.

  He had made several visits to the top of the penthouses and had worked out a system for removing the access panel. He had removed each bolt and cut them off so only the head was left. He then siliconed the heads on the bolt holes so that it looked like they were still holding the access panel in place. He left two uncut. One at the top and bottom. Next he fashioned an inside locking device so that once he was inside, the panel would stay in place and could not be removed. The work had taken several weeks since he had to remove only a few bolts each time, take them to the house, and then replace them. It was slow going, but he was happy with the progress. He fashioned a bench rest that he could take apart and put in place when the time came.

  Giovanni noticed the rapid increase in activity. He didn't need a calendar to tell him that May was fast approaching. The population in the area was starting to swell and the activity at the track was becoming nonstop. He was glad he had done most of the work beforehand.

  Security took a dramatic leap. The local newspaper ran nonstop stories about the opening of the track for practice and qualifications. The Indy cars had just finished the Sao Paulo, Brazil Grand Prix and would soon be descending on Indianapolis.

  The tempo continued to build in Speedway. Huge transports were starting to arrive almost by the hour. The activity in the area known as Gasoline Alley was becoming frantic. A steady stream of people came and went. Giovanni had been spending a great deal of his time in the turn three area overlooking the maintenance buildings. He was keeping track of the comings and goings. He kept a log of their activities. Binoculars and clipboards were common place with the spectators that were showing up daily, so he did not look out of place.

  He found that most of the maintenance crew traveled by golf cart. Trucks were too hard to get through the

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  increasing traffic. He had been able to steal a set of coveralls from one of the trucks during a visit to the track. With only minor alterations he had been able to make them work.

  On May 3rd the track officially opened for practice, even though he had seen several cars out before that date. Again the crowds grew in size. People were showing up by thousands each day. Television crews were present everywhere.

  The focus of the entire city seemed to be on the drivers and speeds attained each day. Speculation on who would be on the pole and the winning speed dominated every news report. Indy Car fever had settled in on the city.

  A crowd of over three hundred thousand was expected for the first day of qualifications, depending on weather. The local weathermen were being put under pressure to reveal the track conditions, as if they had some mystical influence.

  Giovanni still had work to do. He rented a small cargo van from Ryder and drove to a small town just south of Bloomington, Indiana. There he bought a used EZ-Go golf
cart and hauled it back to Speedway. He drove the van to the track and was able to park it in the infield with no questions asked. He took the cart out, and drove it around among the hundreds of others. No one questioned him. It was almost too easy.

  He placed the cart back in the van and locked it. He wouldn't need it again until he was ready. The papers continued to talk of the new speeds being turned in again this year.

  Happy hour, the last hour of each day that the track is open for practice, was producing new records. On the last Friday before qualifications, James Alonso, last year’s rookie of the year and second place finisher, had set fastest time of the week at 227.559 miles per hour.

  Several others, including the new rookie sensation, Anthony Hill, from Formula One, was almost as fast. The first day of qualifications is when the pole position is decided, so the interest is at a peak.

  The weather was slightly overcast and cool. Talk of a new record was at an all-time high.

  Giovanni arrived at the track and slipped on his overalls. He removed the golf cart from the van and made his way to the penthouses in turn one. It was slow going due to the huge throng of people. He removed the tool box he had stored on the back of the cart and started the long walk up the stairs. When he got to the stairs leading to the roof a security guard was stationed there.

  "Hi ya’. We have a problem with the air conditioner unit on the roof. I need to get up there and see what's wrong."

  "You have a work order?"

  "Sure do," he said reaching into his pockets. "Shit, I must have left it down in the cart. You really need to see it? This will only take a few minutes with luck."

  "The first driver out will be Allen Spenser," the announcer said.

  The guard wanted to see this run.

  "Okay but you'll need it next time."

  "Hey, thanks. You going to be working here all month?"

  "I think so. I've been here for the last five years," the guard said, straining to watch the track.