by HN Wake
The diner was loud, the tempo of the lunch crowd rapid. Full plates landed on linoleum tables and empty ones clattered into the bins by the kitchen door. The waitress cleared their two dishes and poured two new coffees in one simultaneous move.
Charlotte looked over at Stacia. “Ok, lay out your options for me.”
Stacia rubbed her face with two hands, pulling lower eyelids down as her hands slid down to her chin. “I walk. I just walk.”
“Is that an option?”
“I mean it kinda is. But I’m already in danger. The nutters already know my name. Where we live. So yes, but it’s not the best option.”
“Ok, so what else?”
“I take it lying down.”
“Not really a great option either.”
“Yeah, no. Not a great option. They get away with it, without any consequences.”
Charlotte was thoughtful. “To be honest, Stacia, I don’t really disagree with what they did. I mean, if they were involved in some huge conspiracy to take down the SFG - that’s kinda cool.”
Stacia rebuffed her. “We’re the most rarefied news outlet in the country, arguably the world. We’re not supposed to make news. We’re supposed to report it. Getting involved is absolutely not ok. Not as newsmen.”
“I guess.” Charlotte shook her head, unconvinced.
“There is a third option.”
“Go ahead.”
“I threaten them with something.”
“What have you got to threaten them with?”
Stacia looked around the coffee shop. “Really, the only thing I’ve got is my sense that they are involved in this. Deeply involved. It may be enough to start, I dunno, an investigation or something.”
“But you’ve got no proof.” It was a statement, not a question.
“No. I’ve got no proof.”
Charlotte dropped her chin, stared over her glasses. “So you kinda bluff it. You go in, to Jack, and you tell him you’re going to go to the ATF if they don’t give you what you want. See what he says. Worst case scenario is he says no and fires you.”
Stacia looked out the window. “It’s an option.”
Charlotte grinned widely. “Now we’re talking.”
Five minutes later, Penny was out on the sidewalk in front of her office, hissing into her burner phone. “What were your words? I believe they were: ‘you didn’t tell the ATF guy anything?’ Or was it: ‘I’m good at what I do, missy?’ Wait, I think you said you were ‘tits.’”
Freda was calm. “What are you talking about?”
Penny’s voice was pitched high. “That ATF agent was just here in our office. He interrogated me. He found me via you. Goddamnit.”
“Ok, calm down. What did you let on?”
“Nothing.” She replayed the meeting. “Nothing. Freda, I am good. I got all lawyerly up on his ass. Oh my god. I’m so angry and scared right now.” She took a deep long breath, her palm over her eyes. “My colleague is a total douche.”
“It’s going to be fine. Fine.”
“How do we know that? I am not going to jail, Freda. I have two boys at home.”
“We are not going to jail.”
“We’re harboring and abetting a spy working on US soil. That’s got to be related to aiding and abetting a traitor which is punishable by death. That’s written in the constitution for god’s sake. Jesus Christ.”
“There’s no way they’ll ever prove that. Think about it, Penny. If she gets caught, she’s a friend of ours. We never fess up that we knew what she was going to do.”
“Is that your Plan B? Are you kidding me? We’ll just say ‘We’re her friends’?”
“Actually. It’s Mac’s Plan B. Has been all along. Think about it. Has she ever told us what she’s doing?”
There was a long silence.
Penny asked, “Do you think she planned that? Do you think she planned that we would never know so we could never be implicated?”
“I think she’s planned this whole thing down to the finest detail. You know who that ATF agent was, is, right?”
“Who?”
“He’s the dude that blew the lid off Fast and Frenzied.”
Penny noticed the crowds of people bustling around her.
Freda continued, “He’s not exactly the most trusted source right now in the ATF. Our girl has got this shit covered.”
“Wow.” Penny said, “Also, he knew about Laura. What if they connect Laura’s money to Mac?”
“No way. How? Via a Swiss bank? Nevah.”
“That’s what Laura keeps saying. Ok, I’m calling Mac.”
“Use the burner phone.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Langley, VA
Odom’s cell phone pinged with a message from Beam. “He went into a building in Times Square about 2 hours ago. I wasn’t able to follow - card swipe turnstiles.”
“Keep an eye on him.”
Odom dialed Hawkinson’s office. “The ATF agent is in New York. He went to the New York News building twice and then into a Times Square building.”
Hawkinson responded, “He’s chasing the lead through the reporter. Smart. Can you get close?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ok. Stay on him. Keep your distance.”
“Sir, I think the ATF agent has concluded that Mac is not working alone.”
“What?”
“I think he may be right.”
“Talk to me.”
“I think Mac has someone inside the New York News that has a vested interest in the gun legislation and who is fanning the flames of public sentiment.”
“You’re suggesting Mac may be part of a domestic…cartel… of some sort. That’s quite a conspiracy theory, Odom.”
“I’m not sure what the conclusion is, but it seems suspicious that the SFG stories are getting such high profile coverage.”
“Look into it.”
Odom hung up and turned up the volume on his computer. On the screen was MSNBC. Rachel Maddow sat at her desk in front of the camera, with a smirk. She began the segment in her typical informal style, speaking directly to the viewers, her friends. “Let me start today with a quote. It’s an unattributed quote of a long-time Capitol Hill staffer working for a Democrat. He made the off-record quote to me last week when I called him on background about the assault weapons ban.”
She looked down to her cue card and air quoted. “‘I can’t stand that we pander to the SFG. All the other issues, all the other topics that I deal with support either our constituents and interests back home or the larger country and our citizens. But when it comes to guns, I just bend over and say, ‘Yes, Sir, may I have another?’” She looked up at the camera. “What kind of failure in our democracy, what kind of failure in our constitutional checks and balances have allowed one organization to become so all-powerful that they can ‘call all the shots’ on a single issue?”
She held up three New York News. “Thankfully, the SFG took some pretty serious hits this month. First, their biggest corporate donor was arrested for gun running. Then some fairly solid investigative reporting revealed the SFG is really just a hired lobbyist for the gun manufacturers. Then, just this week, their chief strategist Neil Koen is implicated in an egregious embezzlement scheme. And yesterday —” She held up yesterday’s paper. “It came out that the SFG had a very intentional strategy to mislead and defraud their members after the Newtown massacre. And just today we hear their board is circling the wagons, undoubtedly with their lawyers, discussing how liable they might be.
“I spoke to that same Hill staffer earlier today. You know what he said? ‘Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty we are free at last.'"
She set the papers down, slowed her tempo. "I think he speaks for many of us who have been supporters of sensible gun regulation for years. By some miracle we have been handed an opportunity in this country to finally push through reform. Tonight, I have one thing to say to Congress: ‘Your move.’”
50
Penny called as the sun was setting. “There was an ATF agent here to see me today.”
Mac looked out over Pretzel Park. It was empty. “Smart. He’s faster than I expected.”
“You expected him to find me?”
“Tell me about him.”
“He asked about my boys. He insinuated that my boys were a weakness somehow. That if I were involved in some crazy plot to bring down the SFG, he knew I had kids. I lost my shit.”
“Huh. He played it a little heavy handed. He must not have much.”
“Are you kidding me? Heavy handed? We’re talking about my kids, Mac.”
“We’re going to make it through this, Penny. It’s going to be all right.”
“It better be.”
“What else did he say?”
“He knows about Germantown Friends. That’s how he found me. And the Board of Citizens Against Illegal Guns.”
“Impressive.”
“Seriously? You knew this was coming?”
“You plan for the worst. You know your weaknesses. I imagined it would happen so it doesn’t surprise me.”
“I can’t believe they found us.”
“First of all they haven’t found you. The ATF agent is a lone player without official backing. And he suspects you. He’s got no evidence. That’s an entirely different thing.”
“Was he the whistleblower for the Fast and Frenzied?”
“Yup.”
“Did you set him up?”
“The less you know the better.”
“You did, you totally did. Are you going to bring him down?
“Nah. That’s the kind of shit the CIA does. I wouldn’t do that to a law enforcement officer. We’re on the same side.”
“He knows Laura was the bank roll.”
“He suspects. He’s got no evidence. But you should send her a warning. Do it over your normal cell phone. Act normal. They could be intercepting your calls. Act like you would if you were innocent and some random ATF agent started prying into your life and then mentioned Laura. Remember, you’re the lynchpin to Laura. If he can’t make that connect stick, he’s got nothing.” Mac let the advice sink in. “We’re fine. This will be done soon. Then you can go back to your normal life.”
“I don’t know how you do this for a living.”
Darkness was settling in the park.
Mac said, “When you apply to the Peace Corps they ask you what you are going to get out of it. They know two years in some third world country is a tough thing to take. They want to know you’ve got some skin in the game, that you’re going to stick it out. They want to know what your selfish reasons are.”
In a hushed voice Penny said, “My boys. I don’t want them to be shot in a movie theater.”
“Remember that. Remember why you’re doing this. Only one more day.”
“Ok.”
“And trust me. I’m good at what I do.”
“What is it with you girls?” She hung up.
Mac clicked into the chatroom. There was a note from 89 waiting for her, “Your Hushmail is compromised.”
“Roger that. Who?”
“Looks like Agency. But it’s behind walls so I’m not totally certain.”
“Roger that. Am finished with it anyway.”
“Good timing. Live long and prosper. Chat soon. :) “
She laughed to herself and logged out.
She used her burner phone to call Amanda.
“Amanda Hughes.”
“It’s Dora.”
Amanda’s whisper was hissed, “I can’t believe they are blaming Charles!”
“What did you expect? The bad apples go all the way to the top.”
“It wasn’t what we agreed. You were supposed to take down Neil. That’s it.”
Mac’s voice was calm, in control. “Amanda, we didn’t agree on anything. I showed you proof of corruption, you supplied me with ammunition to clean house. Your actions, by the way, have set you up very nicely.” She let the complicity sink in. “It’s going to be fine.”
Amanda remained silent.
“How are you?”
When it returned, Amanda’s voice was tired. “Ok, I guess. I feel dirty, like I’m hiding an enormous, dirty secret. It’s awful.”
“Just stay the course. Mrs. Bodie is pleased. We’re all pleased. The storm will pass soon.”
“They’re going to promote me since I’m the only one who really knew about Neil’s work.”
“Because you’re clean, Amanda, despite your recent actions. Focus on that.”
Amanda remained silent.
Mac said, “Mrs. Bodie wanted me to relay some advice to you. We think it would be wise to take down the Traitors List. As it stands, with the article out about Messieurs Koen and Osbourne’s strategy, well, it’s really just salt on an open wound.”
“Uhmmm.”
“Amanda, to get the job you want, you have act like you already have it.”
“Yeah. Ok.”
“We’re keeping an eye on you. We’re proud of you. You’ll be fine.”
New York, NY
Cal stared at an Upper East Side, four-story Georgian townhouse set against a dark sky. He was debating how to smooth-talk Laura Franklin’s butler or maid when his phone rang.
A very smooth, deep voice said, “Agent Bertrand, I believe you’ve been trying to contact Ms. Laura Franklin. I’m Larry Klein, Ms. Franklin’s attorney. Can I help you?”
A garage door opened down the block throwing light onto the street. The nose of a Bentley emerged.
Cal spoke calmly. “Yes. Thank you for calling. I’m leading an investigation that I believe Ms. Franklin may have some information about.” The Bentley, with a white hatted chauffeur, slipped past him. “Purely informational.”
Larry Klein was direct. “Well, that’s quite interesting. Because just moments ago I was speaking with Director Wilson —“ Cal’s mouth dropped open. “And he informed me quite emphatically that you were, and I quote here, ‘in Arlington on a close-out.’ He informed me that you were indeed not running an investigation. At all.”
Cal swallowed and responded with as much confidence as he could gather. “I see.”
“In fact, he asked me to tell you that you should, how did he put it? Ah, yes, you should call in. But he added some quite colorful words.”
“I see. Well, thank you Mr. Klein. Message received loud and clear.”
“Yes, I hope so, Agent. Have a good night.”
Cal contemplated the abrupt dead-end to this line of inquiry. He had hoped to tease out more clues to Maar’s identity from her high school friends but they had proven quite adept at thwarting him. They were good. Almost as if they had been briefed.
He turned from the Georgian and was walking back toward the intersection when his phone rang a second time.
In his ear, Wilson spoke very deliberately. “Agent Bertrand, ask yourself what you’re going to do when you’re not working with the Bureau anymore. Ask yourself who you’ll be when you’re not an ATF agent. Now ask yourself, is it worth it? Whatever hard-on you have for Maar, whatever witch-hunt you’re on - ask yourself - is it worth it? This is the last time I call you off this. End this now. Tonight. Not tomorrow. Tonight.” The line went dead.
Time was running out. But he was within striking distance of uncovering Maar. Despite himself, he thought of Soduku.
When the lines present no more options, turn your attention to the squares.
Manayunk, PA
This time she had worn jeans, a white t-shirt, and a baseball hat. Her hair was clean, pulled back in a ponytail. This time she had made it out of the loft and was sitting on a bench along Pretzel Park, reading a newspaper under a street lamp.
In the distance to the right, she saw him coming through the park. He was walking gently, absently. The mutt was far out in front, the leash fully extended.
She held the paper close to her face, watched him approach from around its side. She tilted
her chin down, sloping the bill of the baseball hat down also, across her face.
The mutt ignored her as he passed.
The leash was taut as it passed.
She held her breath.
She raised the newspaper higher.
Then Joe was there, in front of her, walking past her, unaware.
He passed.
She exhaled.
She watched him recede around the park.
A bird chirped overhead. It sounded like a megaphone.
She lowered the newspaper, leaned down on her knees, and breathed deeply. The spinning in her head increased. She lowered her head further between her knees, started counting backwards 10, 9, 8…
The pressure against her scalp began to fade.
A breeze tickled the grass by her feet.
The leaves on the weeping willow rustled behind her.
It was 11 p.m. when Freda sent her a text. “It’s on CNN.”
Mac pulled up CNN on her laptop. Across the bottom of the screen the ticker tape read, “ ** BREAKING NEWS ** ”
The newscaster was almost breathless with false excitement. “In breaking news, we’ve just learned that Senator Jack McCaster, Chairman of the US Select Committee on Ethics, is looking into allegations that Senator Blake Scott, Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, orchestrated a cover up of national security intelligence. It appears Senator Scott may have prevented an official investigation into how a US-manufactured assault rifle killed a US diplomat in Afghanistan. No official investigation into the incident was ever initiated. A State Department source confirmed, ‘anytime questions arose about the incident, Senator Scott squashed further inquiry.’
“If Senator Scott acted intentionally on behalf of the manufacturer of the gun, this would be a clear violation of Senate ethics guiding outside influence on official actions. One Senator commented, ‘All I’ve heard is that he’s hired a very prominent lawyer versed in Congressional investigations. He’s in trouble and he knows it.’
“The timing is remarkable. Gun rights groups are concerned the normally confident Senator - one of the SFG’s highest ranked members - is shaken, just as the new assault weapons ban bill comes to Senate vote tomorrow.”