by Jake Aaron
Justice Jesus interjected, “Living within our system of laws, we must hope that everything will work out.”
“Where I come from,” Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Nate seriously interjected, “hope is not a strategy.”
Beau joined, “All of this makes me think of that Winston Churchill quote: ‘Americans can always be counted on to do the right thing… after they have exhausted all other possibilities.’ I hope that cheeky Brit was right.”
Tony replied, “Ye of little faith, as an undergrad, my major was economics. Predicted disasters tend to be mitigated by external forces. You can’t straight-line a bad trend from a depressed economy and say we’re going to run out money… One example, folks forecasting running out of a commodity like oil ignore the fact that higher prices will eventually curtail use of that increasingly scarce and costly commodity… or the fact that substitute fuels begin to get attractive to use instead of oil — as oil becomes too expensive due to scarcity. Indeed, for the time being, oil prices have plummeted due to excess supply as fracking has made fuel more abundant.”
“I admit you have a point there,” Nate agreed. “Systems may be self-correcting. But tell that to Robespierre or Marie Antoinette. You may not want to be in shouting distance when the correction occurs. Nor should self-correction of systems be a rationalization for bad behavior and profligate overspending… Tell me, Tony, do you ever feel as I do about some groups: You can get the effective IQ of the group’s decision-making ability by dividing 100 by the number of members in the group? When it comes to congressional spending of late, the IQ would be 100 divided by 430-plus in the House. Didn’t want to spotlight the Senate, out of respect to you.”
“… Nate, let me get back to you on that.” Tony’s sweaty forehead belied his attempted confidence. He hoped Nate would drop the IQ business. “… Even the vaunted Tea Party, no matter how nuts it is, is a countervailing force against overspending. Built right into the System,” Tony continued.
“You really think it’s nuts to limit spending to within our means?” Sam chortled.
Tony continued, “Our country has great needs that must be met, and a great economic engine that must be harnessed…”
“My experience is that ‘needs’ are infinite; our resources finite,” Beau joined in. My years on the Rhodes taught me… I was surrounded by the kind of communist/socialist thought that the American media construe as mainstream American today. No offense, Tony, but to me it seems to start with populist politicians promising entitlements for votes. The entitled grow ever larger and demanding — in number and in appetite. There is not enough money to fund our growing entitlements and invest sufficiently in what remains of the free enterprise system. The government borrows too much or inflates the currency. And then the public demands more entitlements. It’s a death spiral.”
“Folks,” Tony leaned forward, “we are the richest country in the world and, historically, the most generous to our citizens and the world…”
Beau’s face reddened, “Tony, new friend, that’s nuts! Historically, we are running record deficits. How can we give away money we don’t have? Put turbos on the money printing machines?” Beau emphasized his point banging his right fist on the table.
Justice Jesus dampened the rising tempers, “So, Beau, really, how did you escape becoming a Fabian socialist or one-worlder, as so many Rhodes scholars have become?”
“I almost fell into that trap of elitism until I stumbled across the words of my old pal Winston Churchill:
Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery.
“Foremost, I realized my fellow Rhodes Scholars were brilliant but a product of a narrow focus. Socialism is, at best, half-brained: It looks only to short-term spending without a view of long-term revenues. My typical youthful good intentions to help others with giveaways was soon tempered by words sometimes attributed to another Brit, Samuel Johnson:
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
“And it didn’t hurt that my granddad was a Calvinist minister, and my pop was a Marine major. They both understood the need to earn what you get. Granddad always preached: There is no free lunch. Dad liked the old Spanish proverb: Take what you will — but pay for it.”
“A toast to your dad and granddad,” Sam approved.
“Here, here!” the group saluted.
“Oorah!” Nate voiced in honor of the Marine battle cry.
“Oorah!” Jesus got on board.
“Oorah!” Sam’s voice.
“Hoohah!” Tony tried to mimic and failed.
Tony’s Freudian slip was not lost on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Chairman Nate smirked, “But sometimes, I have to agree with one of my Marines, Jack Nicholson: We can’t handle the truth. With all due respect, Tony, our Senate went six years without passing a budget. They didn’t want to admit they were violating the budget, so they just didn’t have a budget. A budget’s chief purpose is to prevent overspending. We had limped along with continuing resolutions in a time of record deficit spending. I’d call that denial. And that is not a river in Egypt.”
“Give that man a cigar!” Beau cheered. “And I would add austerity is not a country bordering Germany. It is the antidote to years of overindulgence.”
“Beau, do you geste?” the Senator defended with a bad pun.
“I kid you not, Big Spender,” Beau retorted. “Still glad you joined us, Tony?”
“I get worse from Fox News,” Tony smiled weakly. It wasn’t easy to be outnumbered.
“You’re a good sport, Tony,” Jesus again sought to mediate. “The regrettable climate of fear in Congress does seem to have had an effect. Seems the Congress no longer views itself as a perpetual lever to pull for more pork. Kinda highlights that habit may be subject to intervention… and maybe a twelve-step program.”
“I appreciate that, Jesus. Let’s be clear about something: This Custos is nothing more than an outlaw — an assassin, a murderer… I think you’ll all agree that decline of law and order is a milestone on the way to the end of civilization…” Tony retrenched.
“Tony,” Nate replied, “I think you’d agree that a worthless currency resulting from overspending is an equally ominous milestone on the way to the end of civilization. I think it was Lenin who said, ‘The best way to destroy the capitalist system is to debauch the currency.’”
“Touche!” Sam observed.
Tony sought to save face: “Do you validate [parking]?
Chapter 42
December 24
District of Columbia
Earth Angel, as Zach had dubbed the faceless supermarket shopper, had just been flown back to Washington, DC, by the government. Two nights ago, eleven homeless men had congregated around a nighttime fire blazing from a 50-gallon drum in Miami under a freeway. They were recounting their favorite memories of the holidays. One had told a bizarre story of being given $300 to buy anything he wanted in a grocery store in the District of Columbia just this month. An underground DEA agent identified Earth Angel from the BOLO. The local FBI office apprehended him within an hour.
Zach borrowed a page from Barb’s rapport playbook. He went out of his way to make Randy Guilfoyle comfortable. He insured Randy got a shower, shave, and some clean clothes the Bureau had on hand for similar interviewees. Then Zach and Barb brought in traditional turkey dinners for three with all the trimmings from the cafeteria. They got as much information as they could from small talk as all three shared a meal.
Randy, it seemed, enjoyed his life on the road, “Think of me as a multimillionaire who has given away everything to get back to basics. I have learned to appreciate everything I have. How many rich people can say that? They’re busy rushing around to get more, so they can rush around and get more. I have what they don’t have: satisfaction with where I am and what I have.” He started to beam with his insight, “Can’t say I’m not enjoying this fine spread of food, though; but as I
said, my gratefulness for the grub is way beyond what a rich man would feel.”
After pecan pie, Zach slowly began what would become a slow barrage of questions. “So Randy, where’s the hat you wore into the supermarket?”
“I swapped out that short brim for a booney hat. Better protection from the Florida sun. Even trade, how ‘bout that! I thought that raincoat guy who told me to wear it would take it back when he gave me the extra $300 he promised me. I did see him in the store, but he told me to act like I didn’t know him. I checked out of the store. I waited and waited. He never showed, so I kept the hat.”
Zach: “Did you take anything into the store?”
Earth Angel: “Yeah, the guy told me I had to buy lotion just like the one he gave me in the store. He said he was doing some kind of market research. That must have been part of it.”
Barb: “What did you do with the lotion you took into the store?”
“I got a clerk to mark it so I wouldn’t have to pay for it checking out. I bought one just like it as the guy in the raincoat told me to. So I had two lotions in my cart when I checked out. What’s with the lotion? I’m guessing you’re not doing market research.”
Zach then produced pictures of Inez and Lem Pfister. “Recognize either of these people?”
“I may have seen the lady in Miami, but I’m not sure… Not the guy, I don’t recognize him.”
“Randy, what did the man who offered you the $300 look like?”
“Big guy, over six feet, dark skin. Under 30, good head of hair. Had a gray, maybe brown, raincoat… It’s been a while, you know.”
“Anything distinctive about the way he walked or talked?”
“I didn’t see him walk. He kind of snuck up on me. He spoke clearly and distinctly when he gave me directions. He spoke slowly. About right for giving directions. I remember that it was appropriate… Most times, folks think of us street people as mentally deranged. They speak slowly — inappropriately — and loud.” Randy laughed. “They seem to think dirty clothes make you hard of hearing.”
“Randy, I heard your question about the lotion,” Zach showed uncharacteristic respect as an interrogator. “Poisoned Sumoat lotion in a bottle like you brought into the supermarket was used to kill a congressman. Serious stuff. We’re trying to figure out just how it got into Congressman McClain’s house. What did you do with the two bottles of Sumoat lotion you had in the grocery cart.”
“Those lotions — I shared them with some of the guys on the road. We went into a McDonald’s one at a time to get cleaned up. Between three of us, the winter had taken its toll on our skin. The two bottles were gone in one stop, totally empty. At least, I didn’t have to carry them anymore!”
Barb nodded. Zach summed up, “That’s it for now. We’re going to put you up in a hotel for a couple of days in case anything comes up. We may think of something related to this. You may think of something. You need to stay there until we say it’s okay to leave. Okay?”
“Yeah, I like the street life, but sometimes it’s nice to have a warm bed and clean sheets. You can count on me staying there most of the time, at least at night. I’d like to go out some so I don’t go crazy, okay? Oh yeah, I remembered something. I told you I didn’t see the guy walk. I did see the guy with the raincoat in the store a couple of times while I shopped, as I said. He said to act like I didn’t know him. I noticed then his walk seemed pretty normal, with a slight tendency to avoid leaving each foot on the ground too long. Like it hurt to put full weight on either foot. Does that help?”
“Randy, it helps a lot. If anything else comes to mind, call my cell phone. Number’s on the card. Agent Flannery will take you to the hotel. It’s okay to go out; just come back at night. Keep this cell phone with you so we can reach you. My number’s the only programmed number. Call if you think of anything we’ve talked about or should talk about. Get some rest. Merry Christmas!” Flannery et al. would also shadow Randy for any contacts he made and to keep him available for more questioning. The cell phone is a marvelous tracking device.
_______________
After Randy had been transferred to his hotel, Zach and Barb compared notes. “Well, we did some elimination with that interview. I think he’s the real deal,” Zach offered.
“Good interview, Zach. I’m not even going to give you any jazz about being Father Christmas.”
“You better not… I know about your activities at the homeless shelter, Mother Christmas.” Zach had a smug grin.
“Everyone has to be somewhere, doesn’t she?” Barb said with modesty.
“Don’t give me that. I’m proud to know someone like you. I’m glad you’re my partner… especially since you’re almost up to FBI standards,” Zach gaveth and tooketh away.
“So, Super Agent, where do we go from here?”
“Barb, I’m thinking we look at men wearing raincoats entering the supermarket. Start around the times Inez entered and left, then expand out from there if need be… Yeah, I know, the surveillance camera quality leaves a lot to be desired — even when enhanced.”
“What was that Don Rumsfeld said, Sailor Boy? You go to war with the ships you’ve got, or something like that.”
“In the Marines, we went to war with the Corps we were given, but point well taken, Barb… For an intricate plot like this to come together, I wouldn’t think the planner would rely on happenstance for Inez to pick up the one contaminated lotion out of 20 or more bottles then on the shelf… We already ruled out the other bottles on the shelf being contaminated, so it’s time for the Chinese water torture of viewing the miserable-quality surveillance footage.”
“At least, we’re moving toward a plausible path for the tainted lotion to get into Inez’s hands, if Pfister didn’t do adulteration himself. Maybe Pfister wanted redundancy. Maybe he wanted to misdirect us and confuse any potential jury.”
_______________
“Zach, so we’ve got fifteen men with raincoats entering the store from 9:45 AM to 10:15 AM on the footage. Seven more or less fit the description Randy gave us. Of those only one comes in with a bag already in his cart. Let’s follow him. Trench Coat keeps his gloves on… He’s around Inez numerous times. Whoa!… What’s that he’s doing?”
“I saw it! He switched carts with Inez. Very subtle. Well played! Trench Coat leaves his cart in back of Inez’s shopping cart. He takes a lotion bottle from a bag in his cart, strips off something from it, puts that presumable paper into his coat pocket. He puts the lotion back into his cart. He shops, doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He comes back to the two carts, takes Inez’s and strolls off… Let’s run that portion through one more time to make sure we’re seeing what we think we think we’re seeing.”
“Zach, go back a little. There he swaps carts with Inez! Eureka! Now, let’s see whether he gives Inez her cart back later… No, he picks up a couple more items. Goes to the cashier. Looks as if he pays in cash… So this could be the path of the tainted lotion into the house. Trench Coat brings it in. He swaps carts with Inez so that she doesn’t know it. Likely he has identical items in his cart at swap-out time to prevent any second thoughts by Inez. Only Inez is left with the likely poisonous lotion. Very small probability that the cart swap with Inez was an accident. And the FBI agent’s prints on the the lotion bottle validate this path.”
“Barb, you say probability… You know, I just don’t believe in coincidences where crime is concerned… We have a working theory built on several observations. We need to run Trench Coat’s enhanced picture by the supermarket personnel and talk with his cashier… Barb, you wanna call ahead to make sure the people we need to talk to are working today?”
_______________
Barb and Zach showed enlarged photos of Trench Coat from the surveillance cameras to every supermarket employee. No one remembered him except the cashier. She thought he paid cash. The supermarket manager pulled up the cash receipts from December 11. Trench Coat’s $299.67 receipt showed items purchased to be nearly identical to those on
the copy of Inez’s $285.34. receipt. The major difference was that Trench Coat purchased more candy bars and gum.
_______________
There was no record of Trench Coat after he left the supermarket. Barb looked at the the enhanced footage to observe, “Trench Coat is Caucasian, 6-foot-one, two hundred twenty pounds, black hair by my eyeballs. Mid 20‘s. Let’s see what facial recognition software does for us.”
Facial recognition programs gave five probables. Three were on the west coast. One was in New York City. The other was in New Orleans. Local FBI offices began surveillance and interviews of each.
In fact, Trench Coat was 5-foot-eleven, 170 pounds, mid-forties, with a shaved head. As a result of his disguise, he remained at large.
Chapter 43
December 25
Bethesda, MD
Barb was one of seventeen volunteers serving Christmas dinner at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. She wore a black Ann Taylor Jersey halter dress with matching Nine West four-inch pumps. Displaying her 1/2 carat princess-cut diamond earrings made her day, since she never wore jewelry at work. Other volunteers had similarly dressed up to honor several generations of America’s armed forces and special government employees undergoing care at the facility. The tenor was upbeat with holiday smiles and greetings. Gratitude flowed both ways between the serving and the served.
At two o’clock, Barb’s shift broke to have turkey themselves, as most ambulatory patients and staff had eaten. She shared a table with a retired admiral, an Air Force chief, an Army nurse, and an overseas security specialist. Barb tried to divide her attention to get to know each of them, but she really hit it off the security specialist. He had an infectious smile and sharp sense of humor. Barb’s mind immediately thought his charm was not what you would expect of a Blackwater-type.