Giovanni knew the time was near. He had seen the helicopters race in over the wall of the track. They sat down in an area that he couldn't see from this position. Soon people were being escorted to the VIP seats. He looked at his watch. 11:22 A.M. The drivers were mostly in the cars. Only a few were still standing around. The crew members were thinning out on the track as well. Most were making their way to the pit area.
Some were putting on head phones, others uniforms and helmets, much like the drivers wore. Many were exact replicas of the driver’s suits. At 11:26 the First Lady, Harriett Richards was escorted by four agents to her seat in the VIP area.
She was waving to the crowd and talking to several people that were trying to reach out to her. The agents were doing a good job of keeping most of the well-wishers back.
"Ladies and Gentlemen please remover your hats for our National Anthem," the announcer said.
The crowd stood, almost in unison. It was weird to watch from Giovanni's perspective. It got relatively quiet, considering there were close to half a million people present.
"OH Say can you see, by the dawns early light......"
It was 11:40 A.M.
"We go in five minutes Mr. President," Terry said softly.
He just shook his head in understanding. He was deep in thought. They could hear the muffled notes and the Purdue University Band playing the National Anthem.
It was starting to wind down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you will remain standing. We would like to remember all of the brave men and women who gave their lives for this great nation of ours. In honor of our fallen comrades," the voice of the 500 said.
Taps were starting to be played. Giovanni looked at his watch. 11:44 a.m. Soon. Very soon.
"Time, Mr. President," Terry said.
The door opened and the agents were standing there. He walked over and stepped outside. He was immediately surrounded. They started in a brisk walk to the starting line.
The President was mumbling something as they walked along. PJ and Sean didn't care. They were trying to look in all directions at once.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Indiana's favorite son. Jim Neighbors, to sing "Back Home Again In Indiana."
The crowd was starting to get into the mood, not that they were ever not in the mood. The frenzy level took another jump.
"Back home again in Indiana...Indiana...."
"Approaching the stand," One agent said into his lapel microphone.
"Roger. System started."
"Copy that."
They rushed the President into place and he mounted the raised platform.
"Indiana, my home, sweet home," he sang the last notes.
The crowd went wild. It's show time.
Many had seen the President as he took his place and started cheering louder. A half million people were standing and cheering around the track. It was unbelievable to watch.
Giovanni saw the President as he cleared the tunnel and was whisked to the start/finish line. He could see the President waiving to the crowd and the roar of the people as the song ended. For Giovanni, this is what it was all about. It was time.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, It gives me great honor to introduce this year’s starter for the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race. The President of the United States. Calvin Richards."
The crowd cheered as the President leaned into the microphone.
Giovanni has sighted in. He checked the distance. Centered the cross hairs and depressed the button.
“Racers," he said.
"Shit," the First Lady thought. It was supposed to be 'Gentlemen'.
"Start."
Giovanni held his breath and checked the distance once more.
"Your."
Giovanni started to release the button.
"Engines."
The crowd went crazy. The sound of thirty three race cars filled the air. The noise was deafening. Over 26,000 combined horse power released at once. Calvin was waving to the crowd. The track was a blur of activity. Thousands of brightly colored balloons were released.
Giovanni released as well. The button snapped forward. He felt the slight vibration and the faint hiss. It was done. He watched through the scope in fascination.
The cars were starting to move forward, row by row. The crowd was on its feet, waving as each car rolled slowly by. Crew members attending to each car were starting back over the wall into pit lane.
The announcer was saying, "The fastest field in Indy history is under away. Less than four miles an hour separate the front row from the slowest car in this year’s field. We caught up with the sensational rookie, Damon Hill, to see how he was going to handle the first lap. Here is what he told ESPN."
Something was wrong. PJ knew it immediately. People were starting to react differently from the rest of the crowd. It had happened. He could sense it. The hair on the back of his head stood up. Out of the corner of his eye he could see people starting to move away. A red mist
was filling the air.
"Oh God," He said racing towards the reeling crowd
The Secret Service agents were starting to react. They immediately started pushing, shoving and pulling the people out of the way.
"Code Red, Code Red, Code Red," one of the agents started yelling into his microphone.
Pandemonium was breaking loose in that area. Agents were looking in every direction.
The half million people were oblivious to what was going on. They were transfixed by the slowly circling cars that were weaving back in forth, to scrub in and heat up the tires.
The sun sparkled off the technological marvels and the incredibly skilled drivers. The fans were standing, cheering and waving as each row came by. Thousands and thousands of pictures were being taken. Beer and chicken were forgotten for the minute.
The VIP party was being rushed out of the area and to the underground area beneath the bleachers. The Agents were in a controlled panic. Everything that they trained for had just evaporated.
The crowd in the immediate area was starting to sense that something was terribly wrong. It was starting to dawn on them that another drama, besides the one on the track, was taking place. They were starting to react. It was spreading slowly through the section.
Agents all around the track knew that the worst had happened. They reacted to the code red but there was nothing they could do or see. Almost every agent had his gun ready but there was nothing to lock on to.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Giovanni sat down on the floor and wiped his face. He felt nothing. Empty. It was the after math of the adrenalin rush. He took out his 9mm Glock and set it on his lap. There was nothing more for him to do except wait and see what happened next.
He could hear the agents racing around and talking on their mics. They had nothing useful to report. Somehow it seemed hotter inside the unit how.
He waited and let his mind go on cruise control. It was apparent that they had no clue as to where the shot had come from.
The drivers were some of the first to know that something was wrong. The lights around the track changed from yellow to red. They were being signaled to stop when they got back to the start line. Nothing appeared to be wrong with any of the thirty three machines. They stopped weaving and slowed even more. When they reached the front straight they stopped. The crowd was realizing that something was not right.
Row by row the cars came to a stop. Crew members were going over the wall to talk to the drivers as they sat in the cars. The engines were stopped. The crowd was starting to become quiet. It was eerie.
"Ah...Ladies and Gentlemen. We regret to inform you that the race has been stopped. Please stand by for an update shortly," the announcer said.
PJ and Sean were in the underground area. The VIP party had all been rushed in as well.
"Choppers are in bound,” an agent informed them.
"Get everybody to the pad. I want them out of here as quickly as possible."
"Anyone see anything that can help?"
"I just caug
ht it out of my peripheral vision but I couldn't tell a damn thing," PJ said bitterly.
"I was watching the roof line above the main straight. Nothing," Sean added.
"Every penthouse and box seat was checked before the President was in place and then immediately again after the code red. Not a thing changed," Terry said.
"We don't have shit. This is un-frickin’-real. We're the Secret Service for Christ sakes. We can't just set here with our thumbs up our ass," one of the frustrated agent lashed out.
"Cool it Riley. That won't help. Let’s just get the rest of these people out of here safely."
"Yes sir," he said dejectedly.
"Choppers are over the wall, let’s move em'."
"Your attention please,” the voice of the 500 said.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that the race has been canceled. No date for reschedule has been set at this time, but all ticket stubs will be honored. I repeat, the race has been canceled for today."
A stunned silence spread around the track. A half million people at the track and millions of viewers watched, many open mouthed.
PJ took Sean aside after the choppers departed.
"What gives?" Sean said.
"I have a hunch. Just a gut feeling. Let me run this by you," he said.
PJ outlined his plan and they went over the best way to proceed.
"I think we need Terry and some of his people as well," Sean said at last.
"Fine by me. But you agree, in general?"
"What do we have to loose. It's so screwed up at this point, what can it hurt?"
They went to find Terry Logsdon.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The crowd was slowly starting to pack up and make its way out of the facility. There was no mass rush to leave. Several rumors were starting to circulate and grew more bizarre with each telling.
By 2:00 p.m. the track was mostly deserted. The cleanup crews were starting to clean up after the massive crowd. The track's security force was released. They made a great show of pulling out.
Choppers were brought in and the majority of the combined forces left as well. Only a handful of selected agents stayed behind well out of sight. Giovanni would look through the scope every hour or so to see what was developing. He could see the agents climbing aboard the military helicopters. He wasn't about to try to leave before dark. He settled down for the long wait.
Sean looked at his watch. It was 5:30 p.m. and PJ was setting on the floor in the small mechanical building on the walkway by the entrance to the penthouse suites. They were convinced that the assassin was still in the area. He would not want to leave the SILVER-2 behind. If they could capture him alive, they might just get the people behind the plot. They wanted to recover the weapon almost as bad as they wanted the shooter. They waited.
The helicopters with the Presidential Party had already transferred the group to Air Force One and it was heading at full power back to Washington. Robert Henderson, who was much improved and resting at home, had already been notified and was being escorted to the White House. The nation waited. Something had gone terribly wrong but only rumors were circulating at present.
Sean and PJ took turns watching and dozing off from time to time. The sun had set and darkness was swallowing up Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Shadows had begun their ghostly walk across the track as the moon rose higher in the sky.
"What do think?" Sean said.
"Let’s work our way up on the roof. This guy is Nam trained; he isn't going to move until he is sure it's clear."
"If he's there," Sean said.
"He's up there some place. He just has to be," PJ said determinedly.
"Were moving into position. Take it easy and get ready," Sean said into his microphone.
Sean and PJ split up. Sean took the ladder going up to the roof, near penthouse number six. PJ took the one by the first penthouse. They both climbed slowly and crawled out on the roof.
PJ lay down and just scanned the area. He decided to not stand up.
"Anything?" PJ heard over his earphone at 2:00 A.M.
"Negative," he whispered back with his face towards the ladder.
At 2:45, PJ heard a sound. It appeared to be coming from one of the air conditioner units but he couldn't make out which one.
"Stand by. I've got something," PJ whispered.
"Want me to come over?"
"Slowly. Don't make any noise," he answered.
Sean began to cautiously make his way towards PJ. Inching his way on his hands and knees.
A sharp scraping noise made its way across the roof.
"The first unit," PJ said.
PJ riveted his eyes on the air conditioner unit. Suddenly a dark opening appeared in the side of the unit. Nothing happened. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as he waited, hardly breathing. An object appeared and was set on the roof. Seconds passed before a figure stepped partially out of the opening.
The figure picked up the box and started towards where PJ was laying. PJ waited until he could almost make out the features of the man. He sprang to his feet.
"Freeze. Don't move asshole or I'll blow you away," PJ shouted.
Sean heard PJ shout and yelled into his mic, "Move, move, move," as he stood and sprinted towards the sounds.
Giovanni froze. He knew the man had the drop on him.
"Hey man, what give? I'm just the repair man. I was....."
"Shut up. You even breathe deep and I'll burn your ass right here," PJ said.
Sean came up with his gun at the ready.
"If he moves, kill him," PJ said to Sean.
"Now set the box down. Easy. Real slow and easy."
"Sure. No problem," Giovanni said setting the box down, "You guys are making a mistake," he said.
"We'll apologize later. Sean, cuff him."
"Put your left hand on your head and your right hand behind your back," Sean said with his gun still trained on Giovanni."
"Do it DeRosso," PJ said inching forward.
Sean placed the cuffs on his wrist.
"All secure," Sean said to PJ, and into his microphone.
"Start walking this way,” PJ said.
As they got near the ladder PJ circled around to the side. Sean had his gun out and was covering DeRosso as well.
"Hold it," PJ said.
"Hey, I can't get down off here with my hands behind my back," Giovanni said.
"Cool it," PJ said. "Sean give me the key and you go on down to the walkway."
Sean started to go down the ladder.
"Wait a minute," PJ said, "I want to get the box. Just hold him there for a second."
Sean stood on the top rung of the ladder with Giovanni standing in front of him. PJ started to retrieve the box. Just as PJ reached the box, Giovanni leaped at Sean, catching him in the face with his shoulder and knocking him backwards.
Sean grabbed for the ladder but missed and he could feel himself falling back. He yelled. PJ spun around and saw Sean topple back. Giovanni was trying to stop his momentum as well. He looked like a tightrope walker trying to regain his balance.
"Nooooo," PJ yelled, sprinting towards the ladder. He made a grab at Giovanni but his overalls slipped out of his grasp and Giovanni did a slow motion dive head first off the top of the roof.
PJ could do nothing but watch. He could see DeRosso tumble over as he bounced off the handrail and then hit the ground five stories below. He looked down and saw Sean laying on the walkway, not moving. He hurried down the ladder to where Sean was laying.
"Shit," he said when he reached him. Sean was either dead or hurt badly.
"Hang in there partner. You’re going to be alright. We got the son of a bitch. Just hang on Sean."
PJ yelled down to the men on the ground, "Get help over here. Sean is down."
He gently rolled Sean over and felt for a heartbeat. It was there, but weak.
"Don't quit on me partner. Help is on the way."
He looked down and could see that Giovanni w
as lying in an impossible position. He had to be dead the thought. Seconds later the remaining agents converged on the area. He could hear an ambulance coming in the distance. He stayed with Sean.
"He's still alive, someone said from down below. It looks bad. don't think he is going to make it."
Several agents had joined PJ and were looking after Sean.
PJ bent down and said, "You’re going to be okay buddy. You just hang on. I'm going to check out DeRosso."
He left Sean and went over to where Giovanni was lying. He knelt down by his ear and said, "Who? Who set this up?"
"You'll get nothing out of me," he gasp.
"Why did you do this? You knew you couldn't get away. Why did you try to kill my partner? What was the point?" PJ asked.
"Always take someone with you," Giovanni said, coughing up blood. "The dumb butt had it coming."
PJ stood up and looked down at him for a second. He took out his gun and shot him through the heart. The agents standing there just looked away. Strangely enough, none of them saw a thing.
CHAPTER FIFTY -FIVE
"This is almost De´ja` Vu," the somber announcer said on the television. The camera was showing Pennsylvania Avenue lined with people standing quietly in respect. The horse drawn casket, draped with an American flag was moving slowly along.
"It is a scene that I regretfully witnessed in 1964. The only difference this time is that it is the President walking behind the casket that holds the First Lady, Harriett Richards."
PJ turned off the screen.
"Son of a bitch," he said out loud, "It was her they were after all along.”
- THE END -
SILVER-2 (NORRIS FILES) Page 24