Bannerman's Ghosts

by John R. Maxim

  “And she did shoot Roger’s driver?”

  Bannerman nodded. He said, “The driver’s name is Alex Rakowsky. Five hits, but small caliber, not much punch. Rakowsky managed to kill her after he had gone down. His shots pretty much took her head off.”

  Bannerman paused. He looked at his wife. He asked, “Should you be hearing this, Susan?”

  “I’m okay,” she answered, “but I’d better sit down.” She eased onto a sofa. She was cradling her stomach. “Who’s this Stride? Who’s Elizabeth Stride?”

  Molly tossed a hand. “She’s just someone we know. I jumped to a conclusion. No connection.”

  Bannerman said to Susan, “You don’t look so okay. Should I get you to…”

  “No.”

  “Well, at least let me get you upstairs to lie down.”

  She said, “This baby will either come early or it won’t. Your friend Roger is the one who’s in trouble.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Please finish,” she said firmly. “I’ll deal with it.”

  He hesitated before saying, “This part won’t be on the news. One of them tried to scalp Roger with a knife. No other knife wounds. Just that one.”

  Molly was staring into his eyes. She’d seen something there. She’d seen a lack of surprise. Her eyes were asking, “What is it that you know?” He stared back with the message, “We’ll talk later. Not now.”

  Susan saw the exchange. She asked, “What’s going on?”

  He pretended distraction. “I’m just trying to get it straight. I mean as the captain described it.”

  Roger’s driver, he told them, dropped him off at his garage, but came back a few minutes later. Maybe Roger had left something in the car; we don’t know;

  but the doorman saw him pass and then return. He pulled in and must have seen Roger being attacked. Figure two men. They’d been waiting for him. When they jumped him, Roger managed two squeeze off two shots even though he had not cleared his weapon. The bullet casings were still in his pants.

  The doorman, at this point, heard what seemed to be shots. They were muffled and he couldn’t tell their source. He stepped out on the street, looked up and down, but saw nothing. He then went back inside to check his video monitors. This is maybe a minute after he heard the shots. By that time, Rakowsky was back in the garage. The doorman saw him on one of the monitors. The doorman said that he had his gun drawn and he had a phone to his ear. He was calling 911. He never finished that call.

  “But that call was recorded,” said Molly. “Any names?”

  “Just a call for assistance. Stay with me.”

  Bannerman resumed the D.C. captain’s summation. “The doorman saw Rakowsky pointing his gun at a man who was holding an umbrella. The umbrella was open even though he was indoors. He was coming, said the doorman, from between two parked cars. It looked as if he’d been trying to hide there. The doorman said he couldn’t see the man’s face. He saw that he was wearing a dark business suit and that he seemed to have a knife in his hand. Rakowsky must have told him to get down on the floor because right then he started to kneel. At this point the doorman made his own 911 call, but cars had already been dispatched.”

  Molly asked, “That’s all he saw? One man? Both hands full?”

  Bannerman said, “I agree. There had to have been others. They had to have already gone out. The doorman didn’t see them, but they might be on the tape. They must have taken Roger’s briefcase out with them. The umbrella man didn’t seem to have it.”

  Susan asked, “That’s what they wanted? His briefcase?”

  “It would seem so,” said Bannerman. “And his watch and his wallet. Someone wanted this to look like a robbery.”

  Susan asked, “So they got them. Why hurt him so badly? And why take the time to do that to his hair?”

  He said, “I have no idea.”

  Once again, however, he felt Molly’s eyes. Once again, he knew what she was thinking. She was thinking, “You know a lot more than you’re saying. Let’s talk when we’re alone. And then let’s fix this.”

  Bannerman cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to the doorman. While he was calling 911, he heard more shots being fired. On the monitor he saw the umbrella man get up and start to run toward the ramp. He saw Rakowsky, who’d been hit by that time, shooting in that man’s direction. We know he winged him because there was new blood on the floor. No trail leading to it, so it must have happened there.”

  “So now we have two who were wounded,” said Molly. Her eyes added, “They’ll be easier to find.”

  Bannerman nodded. “Two wounded, two dead. Right about here, the woman appeared and she began shooting at Rakowsky. I say ‘appeared’ because this is where the camera’s sweep caught her. Clew’s driver was, by then, shooting wildly. That sweep, incidentally, had been jammed to fall short of covering the spot where they got Roger. That’s how the captain knew that this was pre-planned. The camera moved on and by the time it came back, both Clew’s driver and the woman were down. He’d killed her before she could finish killing him.”

  A red light had been flashing on Bannerman’s phone. Molly walked over to it. She scanned its Caller ID. There had been sixteen calls in the short time they’d been speaking. She said, “Most of these are from our own people. And it looks like the news has reached Europe already. Here’s one from Harry Whistler and one from Susan’s father. The others are all local. All our people want to know.”

  Bannerman said, “Okay, let’s have them meet at my office.” He said to Susan, “I should brief them myself. Will you be all right for an hour or so?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine. But let’s talk before you go.”

  Molly said, “I’ll wait outside. I’ll start calling them.”

  “I won’t keep him,” said Susan. “Two minutes.”

  “Do you have any doubt that I can handle this?” Susan asked him.

  “The shock about Roger? Well…given your condition…”

  “Never mind my condition. I’m pregnant, not blind. I think you know who did it. So does Molly. And I think you’re about to go killing over this. I know that look you get, Paul.”

  He said, “Susan, I get that look when I’m thinking. And by the way, we don’t rush off to ‘go killing’ every time a friend has been harmed. Roger’s a friend, but he’s not one of us. And he might have brought this on himself.”

  “Which makes it all right?”

  “It means we’ll think before acting. We don’t swing at every pitch. But you’re right, there’s more to this than you’ve heard. I’ll tell you all about it, but later.”

  “Paul, why don’t you just let the cops deal with this? And the State Department. The Justice Department. Roger wasn’t one of us, but he’s sure one of them. They’re going to be all over this.”

  “That’s one of the things we’ll discuss,” he replied. “One option will certainly be to sit tight, depending on how this attack touches us. Believe me, we won’t go off half-cocked.”

  “Molly didn’t look so deliberative,” said Susan. “She looked ready to run with this now.”

  “She won’t. She knows better.”

  “Without orders from you?”

  He said, “And I think you know better than that. I do not give them orders. This isn’t a gang.”

  She replied, “I do know that. You never give orders. You either ask or you tell them what you’re going to do. You know perfectly well that they’ll say, ‘Sure, let’s go.’ When has it been any other way?”

  “Lots of times.”

  “Listen…I’m about to give birth to your son.”

  “Susan…I know that. Nothing matters to me more.”

  “Then whatever you decide, I want you to promise that you won’t go after them personally. Our children need a father and I need you right here.”

  “And I love you and Cassie more than you can imagine. I won’t take foolish chances. That I’ll promise.”

  She squinted at him. “Did I just hear a
hedge?”

  “No, you heard a firm promise from your husband.”

  “Understand me,” she told him. “I know that Roger is our friend. Whoever did this should pay and if we need to get involved, I’m simply asking you to let Molly handle it.”

  He said, “Let me talk to her. We’ll see.”

  Molly was standing outside, her cell phone to her ear. She snapped it shut as Bannerman approached.

  He asked her, “Molly, will you do the briefing? I think I’d better stick close to Susan.”

  She nodded. “I will and you should.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “What I mind is going there stupid,” she said. “I’ve just called Anton. He’s gathering all the others. Do I get to hear what you wouldn’t say inside? Who did this? And don’t say you’re not sure.”

  “I’m not,” he said, “but I can make a good guess. My guess is that Artemus Bourne is behind it. If that’s true, the umbrella was Bourne’s man, Chester Lilly. The thing is that Lilly might have acted on his own. He had his own grudge against Roger.”

  “Personal?”

  “Roger hit him.”

  Molly blinked in surprise. “Our Roger had an actual fight?”

  “I know. We’ve already had that conversation. There was some hair-pulling too. It might account for the scalping. It seems that Chester Lilly…” He paused. He added, “And it isn’t just Lilly. It could also have been personal with Bourne.”

  “Why with Bourne? Because Roger wouldn’t tell him where Stride is?”

  “No, because Roger wouldn’t leave at that. He wanted to grind it in with his heel. I warned him, but I’m not sure he listened.” He asked, “That second disk. Is it all about Stride?”

  “It is. He’s been researching her. Kessler as well. But I didn’t see anything worth all this.”

  “When did Roger send those files?”

  “Yesterday morning. I don’t normally read them. I only opened them after I heard.”

  “Well, I think he’s been busy since yesterday morning. Let’s assume that there were some more in his briefcase. Could Roger have learned where Stride is living?”

  Molly shrugged. “He could have guessed. But just because we were there? It might have crossed his mind, but that’s an awfully big stretch. And even if Roger did vault to that conclusion, he’d know better than to put it in writing.”

  “He clearly had something in his briefcase that was worth this. Would Clew have confided in his driver?” asked Bannerman.

  “I’d doubt it. He would surely know better than that.”

  “Well, we both know that Rakowsky said her name before he died. I didn’t want to get into it in front of Susan. Roger knew that Bourne had informants at State. So if Roger never talked to his driver about Stride, his driver found out on his own.”

  “But why would he say her name?”

  “We might never know. Roger seemed to have a thing for her. Perhaps Rakowsky did as well. Let’s put that aside for the moment.” Bannerman grimaced before speaking again. He said, “Listen, Molly. There are things I haven’t told you. I couldn’t because I had given my word. It was also because it was none of our business until you ran into Stride.”

  “You’ve known she was alive?”

  “Well, I knew she hadn’t died. I knew that she’d been living on Hilton Head Island. I knew about the trouble that they had there two years ago. I would not have expected her to stay after that. I didn’t realize that she was still there.”

  Molly put her hands on her hips. She said, “I’m waiting.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “For the other shoe to drop. What else did you know?”

  “Martin isn’t dead either. He was taken off that boat. Last I heard, he’s in Angola. Bourne has interests in Angola. I have reason to suspect he’s been a thorn in Bourne’s side, but only because of something Roger said this morning. It was only then that it started to dawn on me why Bourne was so eager to find Stride.”

  “Whoa,” said Molly. “Back up a few pages. Who took him off the boat? The Israelis, by chance?”

  “They… were part of it, yes. Look, I’ll fill you in later. I’ll go in and make some calls to get an update on Kessler. In the meantime, are you able to contact Elizabeth?”

  “Believe it or not, she’s in the telephone book.”

  “By name?”

  “E. Stride. Waldo looked it up. He showed me.”

  He said, “Molly, she trusts you. Call her right now. We have to assume that Bourne knows where she is. Tell her not to pack a bag, just walk out the door. It should look as if she’ll be coming right back. Tell her…”

  “I know how to do this,” said Molly. “So does she.”

  “She does? You just told me her name’s in the phone book.”

  “I guess I meant aside from that lapse.”

  “Just get her out. She’s going to want to know why.”

  “She’ll get out first,” said Molly. “Then she’ll ask.”

  “You and Carla go get her. No, wait. Not Carla. They haven’t started rebuilding from Carla’s last visit. Fly down there with Billy. Leave right after the briefing. Have Elizabeth here in Westport by morning.”

  “And if she refuses?”

  “That’s why you’re bringing Billy.”

  “Can I tell her, positively, that Martin’s alive?”

  He nodded. “Only that. Let me tell her the rest of it.”

  “John and I already told her that we heard he’d been seen. I said I’d check it out. I guess I just have. Why was I left in the dark?”

  He said, “Molly…that whole business wasn’t pleasant for me either. I’ll tell you what I can when I can. Have Anton put together a package on Bourne, his Angolan interests in particular. I want a list of all his political connections. Don’t worry about accuracy; rumored pay-offs will do. I need his habits, where he lives, what sort of security. And tell Anton that he needn’t be discreet about this. Let the word get around. Let’s see who gets nervous.”

  “So you are going after him?”

  “I don’t know yet. We’ll see. For now, though, will you please go get Elizabeth?”

  She was no less annoyed. She said, “Sure. I’ll bring her back. But Elizabeth was utterly convinced that he’s dead. Why would she believe it this time around?”

  “You can say that Paul Bannerman gives her his word, even though I’ve just broken it by telling you this much. You can now tell Anton. I don’t think he’ll be surprised. But you needn’t tell anyone else yet.”

  Molly opened her phone. She tapped out a number. “You know that she’s going to carve you up for this, don’t you? All this time, you could have told her. You let her think he’s dead.”

  “Kessler wanted it that way. He made me promise.”

  TWENTY

  Bourne sat at the computer in the basement room that he’d furnished for the late Cecil Winfield. He knew little of computers. He mistrusted them.

  The disastrous Chester Lilly had downloaded the disk from that PDA thing that Clew used. He was furious with Chester, now more so than ever. But at least Chester did get Clew’s briefcase.

  Bourne glanced over at Chester who sat on Winfield’s bed, a towel wrapped around his right thigh. He was compressing it to stop the seeping of blood where Clew’s inconvenient driver had shot him, a flesh wound. He’d been a veritable study in self-justification even since he’d limped back to Briarwood.

  He’d said, “I had no choice. Who would have figured on the driver? Never once in the past has he gone and come back. How could I know he’d come back?”

  “Even so, my instructions were explicit, were they not?”

  “Make it look like a mugging. I told them ten times. Jump him, take the briefcase, give him a pounding and get out of there in one minute flat.”

  “That would seem to be the formula for a competent mugging,” said Bourne as he scanned through Clew’s messages. “But now I wish you’d recruited some urchins off t
he street. They are no doubt more practiced than Toomey and Kuntz.”

  “Now you’re dumping on those two.” Chester rose to their defense. “Except for Toomey getting part of his finger shot off, I thought they were doing pretty good. You wanted Clew hammered; he got hammered good. You wanted the briefcase; you got it. They were out of there before the driver showed up and it would have gone great except for Claire.”

  “You say you couldn’t stop her?”

  Chester spread his hands. “I mean, who would have thought? Claire…I don’t know what got into her head. She jumps out of the car; she runs down the ramp. I yelled, ‘Don’t.’ I tried to catch her. Ask Toomey.”

  “She ran in and started shooting? For no reason you can think of?”

  “It was like she went crazy. I had to go in after her. Claire and Clew’s driver are blasting away. It was nuts,” said Chester. “That’s when I got this.” He winced in pain as if for punctuation.

  Bourne doubted that he’d heard an unedited account. There was probably no use in asking Toomey or Kuntz. By now, they’d have been well rehearsed.

  He asked Chester, “You’re certain that she won’t be identified?”

  “Who, Claire? I don’t know how from what’s left of her. She left her purse in the car, so she had no ID. She caught at least two nines in the face, so no one’s going to recognize her picture if they show one. She’s never been busted, so she’s never been printed. The only dental work she had was done over in England. A damned shame that she’s dead, but she blew it. She fucked up. This is what you get for using women.”

  Bourne ignored this last. He said, “Fingerprints? What of Toomey’s?”

  “From what they find on the floor? They’ll get some DNA, that’s all. The part

  with the print is where he took the bullet. Besides, it’s all mixed with the leather from his glove. They’ll never get match off what’s left.”

  “They’ve found part of a finger. Toomey’s missing such a part. That would seem a useful clue, would it not?”