by Gary Starta
Then, as now, his work took a serious toll on his relationships. It was pretty much the same for all officers of the law, and most certainly, for the ones that got ahead and were assigned to positions of importance.
But the work is more than important. It’s critical. If she can’t give a little, she’ll have to decide what she wants to do and do it. I sacrificed too much to give up my big chance now.
It wasn’t an easy choice to live with. He often felt lonely and alone, with no one to talk to who really wanted to listen, and no one who gave a damn enough to help him through the rough patches. He needed someone to love him, to save him, but he knew Amelia was only interested in saving the world from a safe distance. He also knew he’d never ask her to move out.
A man in a dark blue Lexus slowed down and lowered his window. “Good morning! You’re in luck. Hop in.” It was an unmarked livery car, and the driver looked about twenty years older than himself.
Fischetti was instantly on the alert. “No thanks. I’ll wait for a yellow cab.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Deputy Director, free of charge. You can’t do better than that.”
Shit.
He suspected he might be put under surveillance after he met with Breen, so he wasn’t all that startled.
“Who are you? What’s this all about?”
The old gentleman possessed an elegance and charm that came naturally to him. Intelligence sparkled in the depths of his eyes. He had a lopsided grin that whispered boyish chagrin and merriment. “Please. Get in, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll explain. I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about. As you see, I am a harmless, old man, and you? You are very famous in this neck of the woods.”
His smile became even more dazzling. “I’m here to give you some guidance from the sidelines, but you’ll have to decide if you want to get in or keep walking.” He glanced in his rear view mirror and back to Fischetti.
“Shit! All right. I’m armed, so no sudden movement.”
The old man chuckled and pulled his fisherman’s cap closer to his bushy white eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fischetti knew the D.O.D. wanted him off the case, but how far were they willing to go to make sure of it?
The car pulled away from the curb and maneuvered into the growing downtown traffic. “So, what’s this all about, Mr. - I didn’t get your name.”
“With all due respect, that’s because I didn’t give it to you. Mr. Fischetti, I’ve worked behind the scenes for a long, long time and that’s where I have to stay. Consider me a ghost.” He looked at Fischetti in the mirror again and smiled, revealing a host of crinkly laugh lines around his eyes. Fischetti looked into the mirror as well and made his decision. “Have it your way, Mr. X. I can dig deep enough to find it later.”
What’s his game?
“All you need to know is that I’m an ally. I know about General Breen’s visit, the murders, the drug, and the video you have of the Collective and Senator Pressman. I can help you catch the people organizing it all. After that, it will no longer be an F.B.I. issue.”
“How do you know…?” Fischetti paused. “You must have hacked my phone and bugged the office.”
He seemed amused. “I did do a little eaves-dropping. I apologize. In any case, it wasn’t very difficult to put the pieces together once you got a visit from the D.O.D.”
The son-of-a-gun is enjoying himself!
“Just who are you, Mr. X, and what’s your interest in this mess? And no more cloak-and-dagger nonsense. I want to know.”
“It’s about time we restored a little integrity to the F.B.I., don’t you think?”
“Restored the integrity of…what the hell do you mean by that?”
“I’m implying that the F.B.I is mixed up in all of this.”
“Look, you haven’t told me one damn thing I don’t already know, and I still don’t know who the hell you are or what it is you’re after. So, let’s start with something else. What do you know about Senator Pressman? Is he involved in this?”
“I’m not certain yet, but there are a few other things I think you should know. The drug was probably developed by a foundation that serves the military. Take a look at Meese Corporation in Langley, Virginia. It would have been approved and funded by a top-secret government-sponsored think-tank that was first a legend and then a myth. They called themselves the JASONS, and they were responsible for the development of every major technological and pharmaceutical giant leap on this planet since the 1960’s.”
“The JASONS? Are you kidding me?” Fischetti pressed fingers against his temples. “Look, Mr. X., we’re officially off this case as of tomorrow, as I’m sure you already know, so I appreciate your offer to help catch the mythological JASONS. I think I’ve got it under control, but the city thanks you and so do I.”
Crackpot.
The lopsided smile returned. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more than that right now, but you’re on the right track. Keep pushing along, and you’ll get there. I’ll be there to help when you need me. I don’t care much about consequences anymore. There’s very little left they can do to an old man like me.”
He winked into the rear view mirror. “The drug and all the documentation concerning it must be destroyed when you find it. If they can’t find it, they can’t duplicate it, and this compound is screaming their name. If we don’t end this now, quickly and completely, there will be no end to them.
“Now, where can I drop you?”
***
“First and 20th.”
They rode along in silence for a few minutes.
He seems like a nut, but he knows a little too much. He didn’t meet me on the street by chance, either. I’m knee deep in this investigation now. If Agent Seacrest is forced to take a drug test, she’d go to prison. If the military wants to screw with me, we could all be arrested for high treason by Monday night. Still, if an anonymous entity and the government are colluding in an operation involving drugs and murder, will it risk exposure to protect the secret? No. They won’t both arresting us. They’ll kill us.
At least I have one ace in the hole; the lab’s inventory programming is only capable of cataloguing the dosage as a single unit, so tomorrow morning when I hand it over to General Breen, there’s no way of proving we ever recovered more than half of it. That ought to burn his britches.
“You have a nice smile when you use it, Deputy Director Fischetti. We’re going to get along just fine.” At the next light, Mr. X twisted around in his seat and extended his hand for a shake. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your number. I’ll be in touch with you. Soon.”
Fischetti nodded, extended his hand and left the car feeling deflated.
I only wish he was the real deal. I could use some help from an old-timer with all his marbles.
Mr. X lowered the front passenger window. “Don’t trust anyone. Not your colleagues, not even me. It’s going to get ugly, Deputy Director. I’ll be watching.”
Fischetti stared at the car until it disappeared into the traffic. He felt like a person who’d just seen a U.F.O. Who would ever believe a story like this?
***
Fischetti received an email later on containing preliminary news about the video footage from the last meeting of the Collective. As he scanned the message, he wondered how many other eyes and ears had already been privy to it. How many more men like Mr. X were listening and watching?
The report indicated that technology was used to create the “talking head” of Senator Pressman. Any good film editor could have done the same job and much better.
Whoever did it knew it would lead straight to the Senator’s door. And keep us busy running in the wrong direction. Pressman is a blind.
The buzzer outside his office interrupted his thoughts. He sighed and pressed a button underneath his desk to unlock the door.
Is there anyone left on this planet who hasn’t figured out how to get past Liz? What does she do out there, anyway?
Agent Deeprose’s lavender sweater whispered hello. He liked that color; it was calming.
I wonder if she chose that color on purpose...?
“Well, Agent Deeprose, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Deeprose smiled quizzically. “What’d Ah miss?”
“Oh, conspiracy, murder, mind control, high treason…you know, the usual.”
Deeprose made a beeline for his coffee maker. “Would you mind, sir? Ah just gotta have a decent cuppa coffee!”
“Help yourself. I want to talk about your trip to Washington and fill you in on Carter’s end of things, but I also have a piece of news. We might have an ally.”
***
Agent Deeprose completed her report to Fischetti.
“Too bad you didn’t catch the rest of what Pressman was yelling about t when you left. He was in the military and he says his past record is classified, so the drug must have been developed for military use. We’ll keep an eye on him. Once he starts to think, he’s going to get good and scared. Then he’ll come to us.”
“Yes. Sir.”
“Agent Deeprose, I don’t want to give you the impression that I run this office as if we were shooting it out at the O.K. Corral. We’re, very regrettably, engaging in highly questionable actions I would never sanction if I thought we had any other choice. If we survive, we won’t be thanked. We’re more likely to find ourselves executed.
“You have a rare talent for dissembling that we could sorely use, but you’re also a rookie; you haven’t even completed your field training yet. I have no right to ask an untried agent to engage in this operation, but I do ask. If you want out, no one will blame you, but I need your decision by the end of the day.”
“Then Ah suggest y’all quit wastin’ it, sir. Ah’m in. What’s next?”
Fischetti cleared his throat and nodded his head once in an awkward attempt to express his thanks. “It’s imperative we make the most of whatever we find out from Agent Seacrest. She took a godawful chance for us. It has to count.”
He opened a drawer and handed Red’s cell phone to Deeprose. “Why don’t you pay a visit to our young hero to return this and give him our thanks? When you get back, your priority is to focus on a company called Meese. See if you can tie them to our museum murders. I have work to do, Agent. That’s all.”
“Yes, sir. Is the lab still working on the Pressman video?”
“Yes, but they have what they needed from the phone, so it can be returned now.”
Deeprose was half way down the hall when he called her back.
“Agent!”
“Sir?”
“Remind Red not to speak to anyone about this. We’ve got him covered by plainclothesmen, but I don’t want to spook him, so don’t tell him the extent of the danger he could be in. That’ll just make it worse for everyone. Just tell him to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and to call us right away if he obtains any further information. Let him know we value his cooperation and that we’re working on getting him compensated for his help. There are still some decent kids out there; I want him to know his contribution is noted and appreciated. “
***
Knowing that Fischetti felt she did a good job with the senator and that he wanted her on the team, she was able to relax and enjoy the pretty drive to Westchester, where Philip Dean, or ‘Red’, as she called him, grew up and still spent his weekends. She parked the car and looked around the neighborhood.
It’s so quiet around here that I feel like whisperin’. No wonder he let his friends drag him to that meetin’.
The door opened almost before she rang the bell. “Oh, hi! Agent…Deeprose. Right?”
“Live and in color!” Deeprose flashed her I.D.
Red led the way to the kitchen. He opened up a couple of cans of soda, and they settled themselves at the kitchen table to chat. “My parents are away, so we can talk without being overheard. They’re snow birds – you know, they travel to warmer places when it gets cold. I love the seasons.” He stopped short and turned beet red from his forehead down to his shirt collar. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“Not at all, Red! Ah think y’all are a very charmin’ young man, and Ah enjoy your company very much.”
“About the other evening. I was a little smashed. What I mean is, I’m not usually argumentative or insistent. In fact, I’m usually kind of invisible, except for my hair. I hope I didn’t make an ass of myself. ” He stared at a spot on the table.
He looks like he’s waitin’ for the earth to open up and swallow him.
“Red, you are the bravest man Ah have ever met. Y’all knew somethin’ wasn’t right, and you spoke your mind regardless of what anyone mighta thoughta you. That’s the stuff that heroes are made of. You are anythin’ but invisible, and your whole bright future is right there in front of you, rolled out like a red carpet, just waitin’ for you to start your journey. Y’all don’t cut loose enough, if you ask me!”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. You know, going without my phone for the past few days has been serious cold turkey! Never wanna do that again. Can I have it back, now?”
“Here it is all safe an’ sound. Ah hope you don’t mind, but the Bureau thought it’d be best to remove the video from your device.”
“Uh, sure. Was I was right about the host? Was it Senator Pressman?”
“Ah can’t discuss it with you, Red, even though y’all deserve to know. After the case is closed, we’ll talk again. You know, we’d still be in the dark if it wasn’t for you.”
She paused briefly and then plunged on to her real reason for visiting. “Red, wouldja help us out, just one more time? It’d mean a lot to our investigation if you would; you can help us break it wide open. How about directin’ us to the next place the Collective plans to meet?”
“I don’t know if I can. I mean…” He looked away for a moment. Deeprose watched him struggling to make a decision. After a moment, he answered her in great excitement. “Yeah, sure I can. Hell, yeah!”
Golly! He just grew up right in front of my eyes...
He explained the problem to her. “It’s just that you’re not allowed to attend any meetings without an invitation, and I highly doubt I’ll get another one. They’re held in a different location every time they meet, so I’ll ask my friends to respond to the next one they get. I’ll be able to tell you the ‘when and where’ after that. Cool?”
“Cool. But promise me that none of y’all will attend any more of those events. It’s trouble all the way.”
“I promise.” Philip raised his right hand. “So, we really uncovered something criminal, huh?”
Deeprose cocked her head. “Again…open investigation…”
Red laughed. “Yeah, I forgot. The thing is, it’s so cool.” Philip tapped his hand on the table. “I did something really important. I’ve always had pretty good instincts, you know. Trouble finds me wherever I go; that must mean something, Agent Deeprose. Maybe I’ve been missing something that’s been right in front of my face all the time.”
“Like what?”
“Like I think I picked the wrong major. I should’ve chosen criminal justice. I considered applying to Quantico, but I wasn’t sure I had the right stuff. If I could turn back the clock, I wouldn’t think twice; I’d do it.”
Deeprose was amazed. The goofy college kid was gone. In his place was a man who knew what he wanted.
Ah hope Ah never forget this moment.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Red, and you don’t have to turn back the clock; we can use all the help we can get, but think it over carefully. Once you make that choice, you won’t have much time for yourself or your friends an’ family, anymore. It’s not an easy road, but it’s a rewardin’ one. C’mon, walk me to the door.”
***
When Deeprose finally got home, she was worn out, but the deputy director had made it clear that he needed her to research a company called Meese to see if there was any connection between them and the museum killings. She made a
big pot of coffee to reenergize herself. About a quarter of a can of Reddi-whip went into her steaming mug.
The Internet was a vast jungle of misdirection and misinformation, making it difficult to find real answers. It was also a haven for thieves, spies and modern day pirates who used the web as vessel and hiding place. A natural snoop, Deeprose was also an expert researcher, so if there were any answers to be had, she’d find them.
She found Meese easily enough; it was a corporation in Virginia. Then she did search after search looking for something that might connect it to the Cloisters.
Nothin’. No mention of the victims or our suspects. Ah need a new startin’ point. What can Ah try next?
Deeprose realized she hadn’t yet started her routine background checks on Michael Santiago, David Florio or the new temporary museum curator, Arthur Moreland. There hadn’t been any time for that yet. She crossed her fingers and looked for Michael’s history.
No surprises there!
Next, she moved on to Arthur Moreland.
That’s funny. Nothin’. It’s like he sprang up out of nowhere.
Deeprose began to feel the familiar excitement of the hunt. Her gut told her she was onto something, so she redoubled her efforts and started again. The F.B.I. database of criminal records was available to her at home, so her next move was to search for any mention of his name in the major newspapers in the past twenty years. Maybe he had a prior conviction and changed his name. That wasn’t a crime. She looked for Moreland mentioned as an alias, too.
So he doesn’t have a criminal record. O.K., Mr. Moreland, Ah don’t give up that easily. There’s one more thing Ah can try. It’ll be a miracle if it pans out, but before Ah even consider askin’ for an A.P.B. and pullin’ him in for questionin’, Ah just GOTTA have somethin’ on him that’ll scare him to death!
If Ah assume Moreland IS connected to Meese but not by the name we know, the only way Ah can make a connection is through a visual identification. Ah’ll search the Virginia newspapers and state public records for anythin’ mentionin’ Meese that includes photos of their employees over the past twenty years.