She stood up, then hesitated, saying, “Rex, like you, I need to be kept in the loop on what information comes your way.” She was looking squarely at her husband.
Rex understood. “I will make sure to do so, sweetie. You can count on it,” he said.
Reba just nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
__________
Jackson, Ronnie and Jenny were back at Bryce Mountain when Reba called that Friday morning. They had agreed to regroup at Jenny's hideaway for a few hours before paying Bill Merchant a surprise visit at his Great Falls home. Jackson answered the phone, placing the call on speaker.
“Hi, Reba. I have you on speaker with Ronnie and Jenny.”
“Hello, everyone. My husband told me to be quick and to the point. I told him everything and, as he said to me, his new mission in life is to ‘rid our nation of the sick cancer’ that led to our daughter's death and your unjust persecution. He has made calls to the new F.B.I. director, the U.S. Attorney for D.C., and the D.C. Police chief. You are no longer public enemy number one. As Rex put it, the government dogs have been called off of you.”
Jackson, Ronnie, and Jenny had to let all of that sink in. They each looked at the other. Jenny was the first to smile.
Jackson said, “Reba, that is great news. I, I don't know what to say. Thank you. Thank the senator as well.”
Ronnie jumped in. “Reba, that is great news. But the killers out there are still looking to hurt us. We still have to get to the bottom of all of this.”
Reba said, “We know that Ronnie, and we understand. This is why Rex wanted me to ask you if there is any information you didn’t share with me yesterday - he needs as much information as possible to stop these people.”
Ronnie pointed to the phone's mute button. Jackson nodded saying to Reba, “Reba, I am putting you on hold for two minutes. Don't hang up.”
“Okay,” she replied. Jackson muted the call.
Jackson said to Ronnie and Jenny, “What do you think?”
Ronnie said, “I think we need a little more time. We need to have our talk with Merchant and put Sweeney to work.”
“I agree,” Jenny said. “With Sweeney's skills, I can help guide him to get what we need from these food folks. I would feel more comfortable if we have a clearer picture to paint for the senator.”
Jackson nodded. He took the phone off of mute, saying to Reba, “Here is what I think, Reba. First, we need thirty-six hours. We will give you all we have no later than Sunday morning, but we have to connect a few dots before we give you speculative thoughts. Second, sometime on Saturday afternoon, please ask the senator to release a statement indicating that I am no longer a suspect in your daughter's murder and that I am working with his office, national, and local law enforcement officials to bring her killers to justice. The words are important here, Reba. Make sure his statement says killers, not killer. Got it? The press will want more, but make sure that he and law enforcement stick with that statement alone, at least for twenty-four hours. Once the bad guys hear that I am working with law enforcement, they will try to scurry for cover and make a mistake. We can then get to the bottom of this thing.”
“Got it, Jackson,” Reba said. “I will deliver the message to Rex and don't see any of this as a problem. Oh, and Rex wanted to me to pass along that we’ll make sure you’re kept safe and protected when you come back to DC – just make sure you let us know where you end up. Keep us posted and Godspeed to you all.”
“Thanks, Reba,” Jackson said, about to sign off.
“Oh, Jackson, don't hang up. There is one other thing,” Reba said.
“Sure, Reba. Go ahead.”
“My husband said that Ed Harrington wants you to call him.”
Jackson felt a shock to his system. It was not a bad shock, but hearing that name from his past was unexpected.
“Ed?” Jackson said. “Why does Ed want to talk with me?” he asked. The others in the car looked at each other, noticing that the name had struck a nerve in Jackson.
Reba said, “I don't know, but I was supposed to give you his direct line. Here it is.” She then gave him Ed Harrington's number.
“Uh. Ok. Thanks, Reba,” Jackson said signing off.
Jackson fell noticeably quiet, with a blank look on his face.
Ronnie was about to exit onto I-81 east toward Jenny's hideaway and commented, “Hey, man. You ok? It feels like we have gotten a get out of jail free card, but you don't look too happy. How do you know the new F.B.I. director?”
Jackson jerked his head toward Ronnie. “The new head of the F.B.I.? Ed Harrington? He is a D.C. judge,” he said.
Jenny jumped in. “I know you have been on the run, Jackson, but two days ago, President Coleman appointed him Acting Director and transmitted his name to the senate for confirmation as the full time director.
“Whew. Oh, no,” Jackson said, blowing a whistle. Having gathered himself, he remembered that the previous F.B.I. director had resigned due to health reasons a couple of weeks ago.
“Well, we all need to hear the back story, but thirty-six hours does not give us a lot of time,” Jenny said. “We need to go to work and being here in Bryce is not really conducive. Now that you are a free man, Jackson, how about we go back to your place in Georgetown, which is closer to the action? Let's clear out of my hideaway, go get Sweeney, then camp out at your spot. While Sweeney and I do our research, you and Ronnie can finally visit Merchant in Great Falls.” Jokingly, Jenny added, “and on the way back to D.C. you can tell us about your good buddy and new F.B.I. director, Ed Harrington.”
“Well, the truth is, Jenny, he is not my buddy. If Ed Harrington is the head of the F.B.I., I may need to go back into hiding,” Jackson replied, only half-kidding.
__________
Ed Harrington was the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia when he hired Jackson Lowery, fresh out of law school, to be one of his prosecutors. Things between the two started well enough. But before long, they turned sour. Jackson was extremely talented, efficient, and hard-working - all qualities that make a great prosecutor. But, he was also a loner. Ed Harrington, on the other hand, was the perfect social leader. Harrington bore a striking resemblance to Harrison Ford, but unlike the well-known actor, he always seemed to have his reading glasses perched midway on his nose. He kept them close by, attached to a spectacle cord or strap that hung around his neck. Among the staff at the U.S. Attorney's office, he was playfully referred to as “Glasses”. However, there was no negativity associated with the moniker. Harrington was tall, affable, engaging with his staff, and admired by all.
Jackson knew that Harrington never understood why Jackson was not as social as his colleagues. Harrington used to talk with Jackson about his aloofness to no avail. Then, ironically, Jackson's success in court made things worse. Within three years, Jackson became the best trial lawyer in the office. Jackson shook his head thinking back on those times. Admittedly, his ego was out of control. He recalled Harrington railing at him about sharing his success with others on his trial team. Jackson once told Harrington, “Everyone has a role during trial. I am the closer. I bring it all home. The team knows that. So, do I. And so, do you.”
That attitude drove Harrington crazy. He believed that Jackson was selfish, arrogant, and not a team player. Remembering the man he was during those days, Jackson agreed with that assessment.
Basketball made it worse. Harrington and Jackson played on the office's team in the city lawyers’ league. Harrington was a world-class basketball player. But so was Jackson. Both had had successful college careers. Both wanted to shoot. Neither passed the ball to the other. During one game, when they passed the back and forth during a fast break, the rest of the team clapped and kidded them both. Harrington began to derisively call Jackson 'hotshot'.
The nail in the coffin of their doomed relationship occurred when Jackson's affair with his younger assistant was discovered. Harrington was livid, rightly thinking that it was a
nother example of Jackson's selfishness. After months of the silent treatment, Jackson left the office. Soon thereafter, Harrington was appointed to be an associate judge on the Superior Court of the District of Columbia. Jackson had not had a meaningful conversation with Ed Harrington since he left the U.S. Attorney's office and further buried himself in his bunker at American University.
Ronnie and Jenny absorbed all that Jackson had told them. Jenny simply shrugged and said, “I wrote down the number,” as she dialed it on her phone. “Here you go,” she said, handing him the phone.
Jackson grabbed the phone just as Ed Harrington answered. “Ed,” he said. “It's Jackson Lowery.”
“Jackson Lowery. Well, it looks like you have been busy, as usual. Dating your students, now, huh?”
Jackson had the phone on speaker. Upon hearing Harrington's first words, Ronnie rolled his eyes and Jenny arched an eyebrow. Jackson decided to ignore the jab. “Ed. I hope that we can get beyond our past just to get through this crisis. The threat to these children is real and we need to stop it.”
“I am well aware of the threat, Jackson,” He said curtly. “And, I know it is real.”
He paused. “Also, I am sorry you have had to go through all that you have experienced this week. But, Jackson, you are not a one-man band. You cannot stop these folks by yourself. You have always had a hard time working with others and if you are holding back now to be the hero, it could cost lives.”
Jackson continued to take the high road. “Ed, I totally agree with you. Look, a lot has happened since our days at the U.S. Attorney's office. I am not trying to hog the show here, but I also don't want to give you theoretical or speculative information that would lead to you using resources to follow a wild goose chase. We just need a day to make sure our hunch has some basis in fact. That's it, Ed. Just one day.” Jenny gave him a thumbs up.
Harrington said, “Alright, Jackson. You have your day. You also have my number. We are here for backup when you need it.”
With that, he hung up.
Jackson said mockingly, “Thanks, Ed. See you soon, friend.” He then said to Ronnie and Jenny, “Now what?”
“Time to go back to work,” Jenny said, as Ronnie headed toward D.C.
__________
It felt odd for Jackson to welcome Ronnie and Jenny into his Georgetown home. Over the past few days, he questioned whether he would ever see his apartment again. More than that, however, Ronnie and Jenny's presence reminded him how lonely a life he led. He had no real close friends. No girlfriend. He generally went to work, then home. The highlight of his life was hanging out with his son, Eddie. Eddie.
Thank God he would be able to see him soon. While they were cleaning out Jenny's hideaway, Jackson had called both Eddie and Pam. He told them that it would all be over soon and that the news will be exonerating him later in the day. Eddie was overjoyed. He asked if he could spend the next week or so with him. Jackson was looking forward to that. When all of this was over, he also wanted to take stock of his life. No man should be so alone.
Jenny did pay him a tiny compliment. “You have the making of good taste here, Jackson. You just stopped. For a small fee, I will help you finish decorating this place.”
“You're on, Jenny!”
They had called Sweeney as they neared Georgetown and shared with him the working plan. Since Jackson lived in Georgetown, Sweeney said he would walk to the apartment. They gave him Jackson's address. On the way back, they had also stopped at a grocery store. They had just finished unloading the groceries when Sweeney rang the doorbell.
Jenny was obviously in a playful mood. As Sweeney walked in, she said, “Team Jackson is now complete. The ragtag bunch!”
“I like that, Jen. We are definitely a motley crew,” Ronnie added.
Jackson showed Sweeney his desktop while also handing him a cup of coffee. “You do drink coffee, right?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. With cream and sugar, please.”
“Of course, you do,” Jackson said. “Like my son. All growing boys add cream and sugar. Here ya go,” he said, handing him a mug and the cream and sugar.
Jenny had pulled out her laptop and positioned it on the table next to the desktop. She and Sweeney were side-by-side, ready to go to work. They all shared with Sweeney their theory centered around the poisoning of kids in school districts through the food. They then went through the major companies with existing school district food service contracts.
Sweeney could not believe what he was hearing. “These fuckers are bat shit crazy!” he exclaimed. “We have to stop them.”
Jenny then laid out the game plan. Well, as best she could. Her shoulder had been hurting her quite a bit and she was in obvious pain. Jackson and Ronnie had made her promise to go to the hospital soon to get patched up.
She said, “We need to find out all we can about the leaders of Claremark, Jawer Foods, and Honeyberg. We also need to find out who is pulling all of these strings. Sweeney, with your skills, you should be able to identify and locate these guys. They have some solid tech folks. That was how they were able to find me. They also have access to satellite technology. They were using it to try to follow Jackson and Ronnie. Anything and everything you find is important.”
Sweeney laced his fingers together and pushed them outward. He then started rotating his neck from side to side like an athlete preparing to do battle.
“I got this,” he said.
Jackson and Ronnie looked at Jenny, Sweeney, then each other.
“Jack,” Ronnie said, placing his arm around his neck, “we are out of our element, my brother. Let's go do our thing.”
Jackson looked out one of the windows in his apartment and noticed that it was getting dark. “It is the perfect time. I'm ready.”
By then, Jenny and Sweeney were fully absorbed in their computers. Jackson and Ronnie had some hunting of their own to do. They had a date with Bill Merchant.
TWO
Using binoculars, Jackson and Ronnie lay on the roof of the Great Falls Elementary School and peered down at Merchant's palatial Great Falls home. The house was dark on the inside, with the exception of a light coming from one of the upstairs windows, probably a bedroom. Ronnie pointed to the black SUV parked across the street and halfway down the block from Merchant's house. There was one occupant inside. “He is waiting on us, Jack,” Ronnie said with a smile. “I am surprised he is alone. Maybe they traded off since it is so early. At any rate, the way he is positioned will not stop us at all.” He was pointing to the back of Merchant's house. We can park on that back street by the playground, park area, cut through those two yards and walk in Merchant's back door. The genius in the car will not even know we were here.”
Jackson looked at the park area and eyed his way from there to Merchant's back door as outlined by Ronnie. He then stood up. “Let's go, Ronnie.”
R.J. was sitting in the SUV where he had been all last night and most of the day. Livermore had gone back to the command center in Fairfax. He had gotten word that things would be winding down. R.J. was fine with that so long as the cause continued. Livermore had confided to him that a bunch of darkies were going to be poisoned on Monday. Good, he thought. There had been too much race-mixing as it was. It felt good to be on the right side of this fight.
Looking up at Merchant's house, he was wondering if the body was beginning to smell. I am glad that I don't have to go back inside that place, he thought. There was nothing worse than the smell of rotting human flesh. R.J. settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. He figured that it was okay to get a little shut-eye. No one was coming to visit a dead man.
As R.J. closed his eyes for his nap, Ronnie was beginning to pick the lock on Merchant's back door, when he noticed that someone already had done so. “Jack,” he said while turning to face his friend, “someone has already picked this lock. The door is open.”
Both men went inside, immediately wishing they had come the day before when Ronnie had
first suggested it.
The smell hit them as soon as they entered the kitchen from the back door. Jackson put his right arm across his nose and mouth. Ronnie said, “Damn. Let's find him.”
They walked through the kitchen, then a large dining room to an insanely huge and opulent foyer, which was the entry point for anyone coming through the front door. A giant chandelier hung from a ceiling that stretched up to the second floor. A winding staircase seemed to wrap around the chandelier. Jackson and Ronnie walked up the staircase. A few paintings of Roman and Greek gods adorned the foyer and staircase walls.
At the top of the stairs, Jackson and Ronnie headed down a long hall. They passed a couple of closed doors along the way. They guessed that the master bedroom would be at the end of the hall. The smell got more intense as they headed in that direction.
The master bedroom was, indeed, at the end of the hall. The door was open. The room was also large, befitting the grandeur they had seen in the rest of the house. A California King bed draped with silk sheets and a floral bedspread was positioned along the back wall, to the left. To the right was a sitting area, complete with a mauve love seat, two antique French side chairs, and a white marble fireplace. An ornately designed gold-splattered coffee table sat in front of the love seat. The ceilings were inordinately high. Another chandelier was in the center of the room. Hanging from a rope tied to the chandelier was Bill Merchant. He was wearing dark blue pajamas, house slippers, and a red silk robe. His neck was obviously broken, with his tongue hanging out.
Jackson looked at Ronnie, whose eyes then scanned the room. He motioned to the bed. Lying in the middle of the bed was a note.
Frightening in content, the note was to the point.
'I have lived a lie most of my life. In many ways. I am sorry about one personal lie that has now been publicly revealed. But, my biggest lie has been my acting like all humans are equal. They are not. Just like any species, some are superior to others, in intellect and overall functionality. Genetics prove that the ethnic white species is superior to the dark skinned species. We now live in a world, however, that wants to treat all species the same. In order to stop the spread of this poisonous view, I am proud that my co-collaborator and I will be using real poison this week on the next generation of dark skinned people. Once we limit their proliferation, they can be better placed into service for the superior white population. I am honored to die while bringing the truth to light.'
The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1) Page 20