“Don’t forget to research the psychological journals,” said Bennie. “There’s been a lot of politically incorrect discussions in the mental health community about converts to Islam. Some people question whether a later-in-life conversion could mask an underlying psychological problem. It drives the lefties nuts, but I think it’s a legitimate area of inquiry. I was going to write a paper on it myself, but I figured it best not to compromise my reputation or identity. Also, I mentioned it to the NYPD Police Commissioner, and he advised me that he’d place my nuts in a vise if I wrote the article.”
Buster scribbled notes.
“Bennie, you’re fucking brilliant. But you already know that.”
Chapter 34
My husband still isn’t convinced that MacPherson International didn’t have something to do with all of the attacks, and neither am I, even after the investigation. I feel uncomfortable spying on a client, especially a big client who pays big fees, but everything that’s happened since 10/15 has put me squarely on the side of protecting our country. Maybe I’m turning into a secret agent type like Rick. He finally convinced me to carry a pistol – and yes, I got a concealed carry permit. Rick even gave me intensive training on the use of an assault rifle, an AK-47. I don’t like to carry a gun, but suddenly I’m on the inside of all this stuff. It might sound crazy, but I have a feeling I may need my gun to protect Rick someday. I would have no problem shooting any bastard who lifted a finger against my Rick.
I sat in the waiting room adjacent to Angus MacPherson’s office. I decided to chat with Magda, his Middle Eastern assistant.
“So, Magda, what do you think of the plans for the big shopping center project?”
She looked at me as if I just tried to steal her purse.
“Why do you ask me this?” said Magda.
“Oh, just wondering. It’s such an exciting project I figured you’d have some thoughts about it.”
“I have no such thoughts,” said Magda, observing me through squinted eyes. “I come here and I do my job.”
“I think it’s a great idea to have one big security firm in charge of all the sites. That should save a lot of money. What do you think?” I’d be damned if I was going to let Magda off the hook.
She gave me another look, a look that made me glad I was wearing a pistol. Then she asked me a question.
“Why are you so concerned about our security force? Aren’t you an architect? Do architects always ask so many questions?”
A buzzer on her desk sounded and Magda picked up the phone.
“Mr. MacPherson will see you now, Mrs. Bellamy,” said Magda, looking at me as if I were a rattlesnake that just dropped in for a visit.
***
“So good to see you again, lassie. Please help yourself to some coffee.”
He asked about the schedule for the shopping centers.
“We’re good to go, Mr. MacPherson, I mean Angus. From my view, I don’t see a problem with opening all of the centers on the day we planned. At the risk of annoying you, I still think we should give up the idea of the sloping stainless steel ceilings. You’re giving up so much valuable retail space.”
“Yes, I know, lass, but let’s go forward as planned. And no, I’m not annoyed with you. I know you’re thinking of my best interests.”
He shrugged his shoulders and showed that same sad look as he did at our last meeting, like he was resigned to something. I knew damned well that he agreed with me. He’s one of the most successful businessmen in the country if not the world, and we were going forward with cutesy artistic plans that were just plain stupid – and he wasn’t telling me why. Maybe I was reading too much into this, but I wished to God I could figure out why he was committed to a bad design.
I finished my update, gathered my drawings, and headed for the door after a warm handshake from Angus.
Magda, my waiting room buddy, gave me a parting look of friendliness, like a scorpion observing a beetle. I patted my hip and felt comforted that my Glock was there.
Chapter 35
“Hey, Rick. Long time no see.”
Frank Palmara, my old friend from the FBI Academy, popped into my office with his usual burst of enthusiasm. I don’t know why, but Frank always seems excited about something. It probably helps his career. He’s a good guy, and I was sorry we didn’t work together any more. He was assigned to headquarters in D.C.
“So what have you been up to, Frank? It’s been a year since I last saw you.”
“Just a lot of boring gumshoe work. Nothing glamorous and exciting like counterterrorism. I envy you, Rick.”
“Really? Maybe you’d like to join me in a bowl of Maalox. This glamorous shit makes me afraid to turn on the TV in the morning.”
“Well, what you do is a lot more exciting than working and reworking stuff like the MacPherson case.”
What the hell did he just say? My professional gut told me that Frank just blurted out something he wasn’t supposed to. My mind was suddenly on high alert, but I had to act casual so Frank wouldn’t realize he just blew something.
“Oh, yeah, the MacPherson case,” I said, as if I knew what he was talking about. “What’s new with that?”
“Nothing, as usual. His wife and daughter were kidnapped by a group we think is affiliated with al-Qaeda. We’re stuck. He seems distraught over it, but he doesn’t want us to do anything clandestine to try to locate them. He gets photos and videos regularly, showing that they’re okay, but he seems like he’s walking on eggshells. And the worst part is he won’t tell us about their demands.”
Holy shit. It’s hard to act casual when a bomb blows up in your face, and one had just blown up in mine.
“Frank, you mean that one of the most powerful men in the country is a kidnap victim, a man subject to coercion, which is what kidnapping is all about, and this is a fucking secret?”
“This comes right from the director’s office. No publicity. Completely hush, hush. Shit, I probably shouldn’t be telling you about this,” Frank observed accurately.
“Don’t worry, Frank. Your secret is good with me,” I lied.
I didn’t tell him anything about my part in the investigation of MacPherson. Time to play this close to the vest. I needed to talk to Ellen.
Chapter 36
“Can we have lunch, hon? There’s something I’ve got to talk to you about.”
“Is everything okay, Rick? You sound troubled.”
“I am. I’ve got to see you. How about I order sandwiches and we’ll meet in my office. We need privacy, and you’ll find out why when I see you.”
***
Ellen walked into my office at 12:15. She wore Chanel N°5, my favorite perfume, which always distracts me. But I had to focus. Not before a hug and a kiss.
“I can’t believe this, but MacPherson’s wife and daughter were kidnapped by al-Qaeda. It happened about eight months ago. For some reason, it’s totally Top Secret. It’s never been leaked to the press. You met with MacPherson this morning, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Oh my God, Rick, this explains a lot. I’m not sure what it explains, but let me tell you about my meeting with him. I told you that I think he agrees with me that the shopping mall plans are nuts. He’s giving up over $3.5 million a year in rent because of the weird ceilings. I politely reminded him about my opinion again this morning, and I got the same reaction. He looked resigned, almost sad.”
“Like he’s not the guy calling the shots?”
“Yes, you’re right, that’s exactly how he acted. Now that you tell me his wife and daughter are being held for ransom, I’m positive he’s not calling the shots. He’s a man in a vise, and al-Qaeda’s squeezing it. But I still don’t understand why anybody, al-Qaeda included, would want to give up so much rental space just for a visionary design.”
“Anything else about the meeting that you found interesting? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Yeah, his assistant, Magda. The last time I met with MacPherson, I casually asked where Magda was fr
om because of her heavy accent. He just mumbled something about her being from the Middle East. So today, while waiting for MacPherson, I decided to have a chat with the mysterious Magda. I could have had a more interesting conversation with the wall. I asked her about her thoughts on the plans, and also about the in-house security. She treated me like I was a burglar. She wouldn’t answer a question or give her opinion on anything. Nothing I can put my finger on, but that woman gives me the creeps.”
“Somebody is calling the shots for MacPherson International,” I said, “and I don’t think it’s MacPherson. But I’m totally stumped about the ceilings. Why the hell would he lose so much rental space because of a design? Put on your architect’s hat, Ellen. Do those sloped steel ceilings serve any purpose at all?”
“No purpose that I can figure out, Rick, other than aesthetics. But I’ll keep thinking. I gotta get back to the office.”
And I’ve got to get inside this MacPherson case, I thought. Every time I learn something new about MacPherson, I hear a bomb ticking. But what is it?
Chapter 37
“Hey, Frank, it’s Rick. Glad you’re still here. Could you drop by my office? I need to talk to you about something important.”
Frank Palmara walked into my office, but without his usual enthusiasm.
“Frank, let me get to the point. I’ve got to get inside the MacPherson matter. My wife is the architect in charge of his planned shopping centers, and something isn’t right. I can’t go into detail now, but my team needs to get inside the case. And, because the last thing I want to do is fuck up your career, I want you to suggest it to Director Watson. You don’t have to tell her that you told me about the MacPherson kidnapping. Tell her that I started talking about my wife’s work and that I seemed suspicious.”
“What if I refuse, Rick?”
“Then, my friend, and you are my friend, I will go to Watson myself. I’ll just tell her I heard it from somebody. Frank, this is about counterterrorism. This is about national security. Please make this happen.”
“I’ll do it right now, Rick. And thanks for covering my ass.”
Chapter 38
Frank Palmara, bless him, worked fast. At 3 p.m. I got word from Sarah Watson’s assistant that she wanted to see me. Watson was visiting the New York headquarters.
“Hello, Rick. Please have a seat. Your old friend Frank Palmara suggests that I bring you in on a case. It’s a Top Secret matter. About eight months ago, Angus MacPherson’s wife and daughter were kidnapped by al-Qaeda. I ordered no leaks to anyone because the situation is so sensitive. I know that your wife, Ellen, is the architect for a big MacPherson project. Frank thinks you’re on to something. Tell me about it.”
I faked surprise at what she told me, concerned about the career of my friend Frank Palmara.
I discussed the bizarre design for the buildings and the enormous sacrifice of retail space for no good reason. I also told her Ellen suspected that MacPherson was being coerced by someone and that my hunch was al-Qaeda.
“What should we do, Rick? Give me your suggestions.”
“I recommend that we bring in Buster, that CIA guy you met, and also Bennie Weinberg. I want Bennie to interview MacPherson, as a NYPD detective or FBI agent, not as a psychiatrist. MacPherson won’t be surprised that another detective wants to interview him. I want Bennie’s opinion of MacPherson’s truthfulness. It could lead us in an interesting direction.”
“I’ll call MacPherson myself to set it up and tell him about Bennie. You explain it to Ben.”
“Thanks, Director Watson. I’ll keep you in the loop on everything, of course.”
“Rick, good work. Keep it up. Let me know about Bennie’s meeting with MacPherson. I’m beginning to think you’re onto something.”
Chapter 39
“Bennie, if we ever needed a bullshit detector, it’s now,” I said.
Ellen and I met with Bennie in my office.
“Something’s missing, Bennie,” said Ellen. “We’ve told you about the weird design for Angus MacPherson’s big shopping center project. From a business point of view, the plan is absurd. As an architect, part of my job is to make sure the client is served well, and I’ve told MacPherson more times than I can remember that this plan is a loser, a money loser. With only one floor of retail space in each of the five planned buildings, I’ve calculated that MacPherson International will lose $3.6 million a year on rentals, all because he wants to have this strange one-story design with inwardly sloping steel ceilings. The buildings will look beautiful, but at an enormous cost.”
“What did MacPherson say when you tried to talk him out of the plans?” asked Bennie.
“That’s the strange part of this whole story. As I told Rick, MacPherson seems to agree with me, but he acts, I don’t know, like he’s powerless to do anything about it. He looks resigned, almost sad. It’s as if he’s going through the motions with something he doesn’t want. Rick thinks MacPherson may not be calling his own shots.”
“Ellen, Rick told me this morning that MacPherson’s wife and daughter were kidnapped eight months ago. Without even talking to the man, I can tell you that he’s definitely not in charge of his own mind. From what I’ve heard, the MacPhersons had a long and loving relationship. The whole idea behind any kidnapping is coercion. The kidnappers either have the typical demand, like a ransom, or they want to somehow control the behavior and decision-making of the victim.”
“Keep in mind, Bennie,” I said, “that MacPherson is absolutely against any kind of publicity. The kidnapping itself was Top Secret information here at the FBI. The CIA knew nothing about it. I just found out about it the other day by accident. Director Watson told MacPherson that you’re one of the agents who knows about the kidnapping. If you just brought it up, we’re worried that he’d freak out. I’m guessing that al-Qaeda has a tight leash on this guy.”
“Has anybody come up with a theory that this MacPherson business may have anything to do with the recent terrorist attacks?” Bennie said.
“We don’t know,” I said. “None of us can figure out what these shopping mall projects can have to do with terrorism. Maybe al-Qaeda is just looking for an investment.”
“A stupid investment,” said Ellen. “Even a camel driver can see that these malls are designed wrong.”
“First things first,” I said. “Bennie, we need you to determine if MacPherson’s lying. We have to find out what he knows, or at least what he’s thinking. But I’ll settle for an up or down vote from you. Is he bullshitting or not?”
Chapter 40
I may be a smart psychiatrist, but this case has me stumped. I’m about to meet with a wealthy and powerful guy whose emotions are on the ropes. He wants to protect his family, but it looks like somebody else is making decisions. We’re guessing it’s al-Qaeda. But why? Nobody has an answer for that question.
Okay, my job as “Bennie the Bullshit Detector” – I’m starting to hate that nickname – is to put the guy at ease and get him talking. I plan to do that by telling him it’s just a routine follow-up call. I won’t tell him that I’m a psychiatrist, only that I’m a detective on loan to the FBI. That part is true, of course. It just doesn’t make sense to let him know I’m a shrink.
“Mr. MacPherson will see you now,” said the woman whose nameplate on her desk announced her as Magda. She was as cuddly as a hornet, just as Ellen described her. It was clear that seeing an FBI agent like me wasn’t the high point of her day.
“Good morning, Mr. Weinberg,” said MacPherson with a heavy Scottish brogue as he held out his hand. “It seems part of every week includes a visit from the FBI.”
“Director Watson has told you, sir, that I’m one of the few agents who’s aware of the status of your wife and daughter.”
“Yes, she has, laddie.”
I had to smile. Nobody’s ever called me “laddie” before.
“Mr. MacPherson, as we told you, my visit today is just a routine follow up to our continuing investigation. I’m sur
e you’ve noticed that detectives, including FBI agents, tend to ask a lot of questions. And we also have a habit of repeating a lot of questions. So please pardon me if I seem to be treading over old ground.”
“Not at all, lad. I’ve spoken to so many of you that I’m thinking of recording my answers so you don’t have to ask them again.”
Ellen was right. This guy was charming, with a self-effacing sense of humor.
“So if I may, Mr. MacPherson, I’d like to talk about the design for your new shopping mall projects. To the casual observer, and of course there’s no such thing as a casual observer who’s an FBI agent, the design of these malls doesn’t appear to make much sense from a business point of view. Hey, I’m no architect, but as an investigator I always wonder about things that seem to be out of the ordinary, things that don’t fit. Do you care to comment, sir?”
“Well, lad, I’ve been around for more years than I’d like to admit. I’ve made a lot of money and my real estate developments always turn out successful. But this time I’ve opted for beauty over practical business. Maybe you can call it an old man’s legacy, but for once in my life, I’ve turned my eyes toward art.”
I noticed that he began to perspire. When he said that bit about opting for beauty, he didn’t look me in the eye. As he blabbered on about how pretty the buildings would look, he stared at his lap. He also rubbed the side of his nose, repeatedly, and cleared his throat so many times I thought a moth had flown in. If I could choose a video for a lecture on lie detecting, this would be perfect. Angus MacPherson was bullshitting me.
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