The Territory of Lies

by Ana Stone

  Blake made his way to the side door and let himself in with the key Steve had provided. Steve was in the front room, staring out of the window, smoking and thumping his ashes in an ashtray that overflowed onto the floor.

  "Anything happening?"

  Steve turned and shook his head. "He got home about half an hour ago. So far there's nothing on the audio except him and his old lady arguing about him eating too much red meat and drinking too much scotch. I'll relieve you in the morning."

  Blake nodded and took a seat in the chair by the window. It was going to be a long night. Not only was surveillance a lonely and boring job, but now he had his own personal problems to torment himself with. Or so he assumed. Ten minutes later he changed his mind. The Senator's car was backing down the drive.

  He left the house, went quickly to his car and pulled out onto the street, following the Senator at a discrete distance. The Senator drove to the Watergate Hotel. He left his car with the valet and went inside. Blake parked his car in front of the hotel and showed his identification to the valet, telling him not to bother the car. He followed the Senator to the elevator and got in with him.

  "What floor?" he asked over his shoulder.

  "Penthouse," Tyler replied shortly.

  Blake pressed the button for the fifth floor and got off when the doors opened. He took the next available car down to the lobby and went directly to the desk. "Excuse me." He showed his identification to the desk clerk. "Could you tell me who is registered in the penthouse suite?"

  "No one is there at present," the clerk replied. "That suite is reserved exclusively but is not being used right now."

  Blake frowned. "Reserved by who?"

  "Mr. Zayne."

  "Thank you," Blake made a mental note of the odd name and walked back outside to his car. A few minutes later Senator Tyler emerged from the hotel. The valet brought his car around and he got in.

  Blake followed him from Washington, across the river and into the suburbs of Maryland. The Senator stopped in front of the entrance to an enormous estate and Blake drove slowly past him, seeing him talking on his cell phone.

  He made a left turn at the next corner, stopped and looked back. The Senator was pulling away from the house, headed back the direction he had come. Blake turned around and drove back by the estate, making note of the address. He had gone less that a block when his attention was taken by a car coming toward him.

  His eyes widened as they passed. It was Sydney. He looked into the rear-view mirror ande saw her pull up to the gates of the estate where the Senator had stopped. A moment later her car disappeared through the tall iron gates.

  Blake frowned tightly and pulled out his cell phone to call the Bureau. "Put me through to George We'zel," he said as soon as the call was answered. "It's Blake Edwards. . . . Weasel, hey. Listen I want you to run down a name and also an address for me. The name's Zane . . . No, I don't know how it's spelled. . .

  As soon as he had relayed the address he added, "and I want that as soon as possible, okay? . . . yeah, call me on my cell. Thanks."

  He ended the call, lit another cigarette and inhaled slowly. Maybe this assignment would not be so dull after all.

  

  Adrian was waiting at the door when Sydney pulled up in front of his house. She got out of the car and walked up the steps to him.

  “I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?” he asked.

  “Probably not.”

  He sighed and stepped aside, gesturing for her to precede him inside. “Then let’s get it over with, shall we?”

  She nodded and entered the house. She wasn’t going to enjoy it either, but it was necessary. Once she ended the friendship, she might be able to convince Blake to give their relationship a chance. At least that was her hope.

  Wednesday, April 19

  John F, Seiberling Federal Building Akron, Ohio

  As the city filled with cars; people hurrying to their jobs and to drop their children off at day care, a yellow Ryder truck pulled up in front of the north side of the John F, Seiberling Federal Building. No one paid much attention to the man who got out of the truck and walked away.

  Minutes later an explosion rocked the city. Intense light flashed as the force of the explosion ripped up through the federal building. The first massive boom was followed almost instantaneously by the deafening roar caused by the collapse of the building. One after another, the floors collapsed onto the next below in a domino effect. With the flying glass from the windows rained down a barrage of office furniture, chunks of concrete, tangled wires and human bodies.

  On the second floor of the building, just moments before the bomb exploded, people sat at a conference table, laughing and talking as they waited for a meeting to begin. When the explosion occurred, the windows imploded. Many of the people in the conference were tossed, still in their chairs, across the room, others burned by the heat.

  On the fourth floor of the building a sixty-two-year old secretary for the Department of Housing and Urban development crawled dazed and bloody toward the stairs. Two floors below a man crawled free from where he was trapped beneath a table to see daylight instead of walls surrounding him.

  The normal sounds of traffic were not to be heard. Instead there was the sound of groaning metal, shifting concrete, falling glass, wood, and plaster and worst of all, screams of pain and fear.

  The destruction did not stop at the federal building. On the opposite corner of the street in a day care center, children sat at rows of tables in front of the windows, eating breakfast, filled with the enthusiastic joy that only children seem to possess. Workers raced to get the children outside to safety, heedless of their own safety or injuries. In wide-eyed terror the children huddled around their day-care teachers, desperate for some measure of assurance that the world had not suddenly turned into a place they could not understand. But that was exactly what had happened.

  Around the point of the explosion there was other damage. Cars that had been overturned were on fire in the streets. Windows that were blown out of buildings added glass to the debris. The center of the city had abruptly changed from a normal spring morning to a terror stricken scene from a nightmare.

  Almost immediately a call was placed to the police. Seconds later a message was entered into the NCIC, the FBI's massive computer system. Before the first emergency vehicle could arrive on the scene, bureau offices all over the country were receiving the news, as was the White House and other government offices. The unthinkable had happened again.

  

  At five minutes after nine in the morning, Blake was sitting at the kitchen table with the laptop in front of him. He’d been there for hours, going over everything time after time. He lifted his cup to his mouth, grimaced at the taste of cold coffee and set it back down. As he scrolled down the list he’d composed he frowned.

  After he saw Sydney turn into the same estate he had followed Senator Tyler his curiosity had run wild. What was she doing there? Was it coincidence that she had shown up right after the Senator or had they planned to both be there? Who owned the estate? And why had the Senator not been allowed in? Who had he called on his cell phone?

  The questions had kept him busy half the night until Steve showed up for the next shift. Blake picked up his cold cup of coffee and went into the kitchen to get a fresh cup. As he did he continued to think about the events of the previous night.

  Weasel had finally gotten back to him with the information he’d requested, but it led only to more questions. He wasn’t sure how any of it fit together but he was sure that he was going to do whatever it took to find out.

  Blake retuned to the computer and sat down to read over what he had entered:

  1.Senator Ned Tyler: possible illegal campaign contributions from someone involved in the big mortgage sandal of mid 2000s. No evidence to back up allegations, but proven acquaintance between Tyler and several big hedge fund owners who were involved.

  2.Sydney Forrest: Tyler's psychiatrist
. Taken into custody by FBI for refusing to turn over Tyler's patient files and tapes of sessions. Suddenly released. Someone with clout pulling strings - but who and why?

  3.Senator Tyler put under surveillance by FBI – no firm reason behind surveillance other than allegations of possible bribes being accepted from hedge fund owners.

  4.Tyler goes to Watergate Hotel to see Adrian Zayne. Zayne not there. Tyler then goes to an estate in Maryland owned by Zayne and is refused entrance. While in front of gate he makes a call from his cell to Maryland number of Zayne.

  5.Tyler leaves at almost the same time Sydney shows up. Why was she there? Is this her mystery man?

  6.Adrian Zayne: Age 42, never married, no children. Billionaire, no arrests, no traffic violations. Record squeaky clean. Graduated Harvard Law with honors – took over family empire. Parents both deceased - killing in IRA terrorist car bombing in London when Zayne was 18. Zayne has connections with numerous politicians as well as connections to the White House specifically through the president. They were both at the openings of two golf courses in Russia and Zayne contributed heavily to the President’s election campaign. He has been referred to as an advisor on more than one occasion. No political aspirations of his own and registered as a Republican.

  Blake finished reading and leaned back in his chair to frown at the screen. After reading what he had entered he was struck with the thought that maybe it was all just some strange coincidence. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that Tyler and Zayne were simply friends. Or Zayne could be one of Tyler's campaign contributors. Tyler was Republican.

  But how does Sydney figure in? Did Tyler introduce her to Zayne or did Zayne recommend her to Tyler? Why would the FBI be interested in Tyler for no more than illegal campaign contributions - or is there more to it than that? If so, then where does Zayne play into things?

  "Same questions - over and over," he mumbled and reached for the keyboard to clear the screen. "This is getting nowhere fast."

  The phone rang and he reached for it instead of the keyboard. "Yeah?"

  "Report in immediately. We have a situation."

  Blake did not bother to ask why or what. He hung up the phone and went into the bedroom to change from his jeans into a suit and tie. Five minutes later he was on his way out the door.

  He had not made it to his office before he met Steve in the hall. "What's up?"

  "That's what we're about to find out."

  They made their way to the meeting room where a number of people were already gathered. For the next ten minutes as the room filled to overflowing there was much speculation as to the reason they had all been called in. Blake saw Weasel come in the door and motioned him over.

  "You know what's going on?" he asked as Weasel took a seat beside him.

  Weasel cut a look at Steve who leaned forward to look at him then shook his head and faced forward in his seat. Blake got the distinct feeling that Weasel did know something and opened his mouth to question him further. At that moment a hush fell over the room and he turned his eyes forward.

  The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, Robert Mueller took a position at the front of the room. He took one look around then began to speak. "At approximately nine o'clock this morning, Central Daylight Time John F, Seiberling Federal Building Akron, Ohio was bombed. At present we do not know the number of fatalities or the extent of the damage. The ATF and this bureau has people on the scene and will forward updates as soon as more is known. At present, we believe the device used to be a car bomb but no confirmation has been made."

  Blake could feel the sense of shock and consternation from the people around him as Director Mueller looked out over the assembly. "I do not need to stress the seriousness of this matter nor the importance of locating the responsible party or parties as quickly as possible. Attorney General Gonzales assures me that we will be given every assistance we need from the U.S. Attorney's Office. We will be working in cooperation with the ATF and local and state authorities. Your individual assignments will be posted at the end of this meeting.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I have given the President my personal guarantee that we will get whoever is responsible for this heinous crime. I have every intention of keeping my word. Thank you."

  Mueller walked out of the room and for a moment there was complete silence. Blake thought about what the Director had said. He did not doubt his declaration of intent for one moment and he suspected no one else in the room did either. If Meuller gave his word you could take it to the bank that he would do as he promised. That was the kind of man he was.

  The Deputy Director stepped forward. He called several agents' names, directing them to meet him in his office after the meeting to go over their assignments in Akron, Ohio. Blake hoped to hear his name but was disappointed. When the meeting was concluded, he made his way to the front of the room where the Assistant Director of the Criminal Division was speaking with several of the agents whose names had been called.

  "Excuse me, sir. Could I speak with you?"

  "What can I do for you, Edwards?"

  "Sir, I'd like to request that I be assigned to the scene."

  "The assignments have been posted, Agent Edwards. You will proceed with yours as directed by your department supervisor."

  Blake started to protest but the assistant director turned away. Disappointed, Blake headed for the exit. He found Weasel waiting for him.

  "Bummer, huh?" Weasel asked. "You wanted to go."

  "Yeah," Blake grumbled.

  "Well, cheer up. Just because you're not there doesn't mean you can't work on the case."

  Blake looked at him with a puzzled frown. "You trying to make a point, Weasel?"

  Weasel smiled and shrugged as he started towards the door. "Seems to me you're already one step ahead of everyone else, Blake. You already know where to start looking."

  Blake stopped and looked at him in complete confusion. "I do?"

  Weasel did not stop or even turn around. "Surf's up, dude. Ride the wave."

  Blake watched him leave the room, wondering what in the world he was talking about. Then it dawned on him. Weasel was right. He was already one step ahead of the game. If it was a car bomb then it had to be terrorism and he had the file on all the groups in the U.S.. That was one of the things the address Weasel had given him had provided. Blake had downloaded it to his computer.

  If he just had it with him. The beginnings of a scowl changed to a smile. He did not need the drive. He had a computer in his office. All he had to do was like Weasel said. Get back online and find the site again. Feeling once more like a man with a mission he headed for his office.

  Once there, he turned on the computer in his office and logged onto the Internet. He keyed in the address Weasel had given him and tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk top. "What the hell?" he mumbled. The address was no longer active. There was nothing.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Weasel's extension.

  "Speak." Weasel's voice came on the line.

  "Weasel - Blake. Listen I was trying to get to something online and I can't find it. It's like it's not there anymore. An address can't just disappear, can it?"

  "People pull the plug all the time," Weasel replied. "Think of it like the ocean, man. Today you might surf a couple of regular waves and catch one killer ride. Tomorrow you go back and there's no guarantee the same killer wave will return. The tsunami comes and goes, dude. You ride it as long as you can then move on to the next one. Just look for the next wave and be ready to copy and save. "

  Blake frowned at the analogy. "Thanks."

  He hung up the phone, sat back and stared thoughtfully at the screen. The only thing he could do was to go home and get on his own machine. He needed to look at that file more closely.

  

  The phone buzzed and Sydney punched the intercom button. "Yes?"

  "Doctor, Senator Tyler is here. I think you should see him."

  Sydney sat up straight in her chair. "Yes, of
course, send him in."

  She stood up and started for the door. It opened before she reached it and Ned Tyler stumbled into the room. She caught him and helped him to a chair. He was trembling and crying and mumbling incoherently. At first she thought he was drunk.

  " Senator." She knelt down in front of him. "Try to listen to me. You have to calm down. Do you hear me?"

  "It's my fault!" he suddenly shouted. "I should have done something. Oh, God! My fault, all my fault."

  His words dissolved into another fit of crying. Julie returned with a glass of water and gave it to Sydney. "Hold all my calls,” Sydney directed. “And reschedule my last two appointments."

  As soon as Julie left, Sydney sat down across from the Senator. "Here, have some of this, sir."

  Tyler lashed out verbally. "You think that's going to help? How stupid can you be? Don't you get it? It's my fault. All those people are dead and it's my fault."

  Sydney realized that he was not drunk, as she had initially assumed. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said as she set the glass on the table between the two chairs. "Senator, look at me. I can’t help you unless you can talk to me calmly and rationally."

  He turned his red eyes to her and she leaned forward closer to him. "Listen to me carefully. I want to put you under hypnosis. It will help to calm you so that we can talk. Will you agree to that?"

  After only a moment's hesitation he nodded. She smiled gently and spoke in a slow even tone. "Good. Now I want you to concentrate on the sound of my voice. Only that."

  He blinked a couple of times and swayed slightly but kept his eyes on hers. "Good, now on my command you will take long slow deep breaths. Inhale. That's good. Now exhale, slowly, slowly. Inhale. Good, exhale.

  “Now as you continue to breath slowly, taking long deep breaths you will concentrate on the sound of my voice. I'm going to help you feel calm so that we can speak about what is bothering you. You're going to feel very calm and relaxed. In fact, you're beginning to relax now. Very good. Just let yourself relax.