by Jay Deb
“You crazy man,” Doerr said angrily. “Faizan killed four people, and my son is dead.” Doerr clenched his teeth. He wanted to hit Lazarus, but he controlled himself. “What about my son? He was my only kid? What did he do?”
“Your son? You know he was not a good kid. He was into drugs. If he didn’t die from an overdose, the New York gangs would have killed him.” Lazarus paused. “Go back to New York, just like I told you to. Go back to New York and fuck your wife. You will soon have another child.”
Blood rushed to his head, and his fingers tightened into fists. Doerr grabbed Lazarus’s neck and pressed him against the back of a van.
“You know there are security cameras here,” Lazarus said, a smirk lurking on his face.
“I don’t care,” Doerr said, but then he let go of Lazarus’s neck slowly. “And what about the DEA administrator? How dare you hatch a plan to kill someone like that?”
“That administrator was a bad-ass, cocky bastard, a friend of the president. We decided he had to be eliminated. He was shaking up too many things at the border, and it was hampering our operations.”
“What operations?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“No, maybe I don’t need to know,” Doerr said. “But why did you choose me to kill him? Tell me why.”
“We chose you,” Lazarus looked at the asphalt ground, “because you left the agency with a bad reputation. Because no one would believe you if things went wrong. Trust me, no one. And above all – you are the only person we know who could have made that shot.”
“Tomorrow,” Doerr stepped closer, his nose barely six inches from Lazarus’s, and hushed, “I am going to go to the president, and I’m telling him everything you have done. Your ass will be lying on K Street.”
“Yeah.” Lazarus moved his hand dismissively. “Go and tell the president that his friend was murdered, and you are the one who pulled the trigger. Let’s see whose head rolls.”
Doerr saw the conundrum. If he told the president, the president would be angry, and that was if he could get past the aides to speak to the president himself.
Doerr didn’t say anything; his head was hot like a blast furnace.
Lazarus continued, “Come, join my hand, Max. You will do well. No one will ever know who killed the DEA administrator, and you can spend the rest of your life at the agency, with a nice high salary. I’ll get you a desk job if you want. Let’s make a deal.” Lazarus extended his hand.
“Tell me one thing,” Doerr said. “Did you guys make 9/11 happen? Was that a setup too, like all those websites say? Tell me!”
“Now you are being ridiculous. I will say it again – go back to the big city. Take a couple of weeks off and then come back.” Lazarus tapped Doerr’s shoulder. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, Max. Halim is still alive and trying to kill more Americans. Don’t forget, protecting America is what we do. Think about it.” Lazarus turned to leave.
“You fucking bastard,” Doerr shouted. “I will tell everyone everything. If I’m guilty of anything, then I’m ready for punishment.”
Lazarus kept walking away and waved his hand dismissively again.
“I will go and talk to Stonewall tomorrow,” Doerr spoke loudly so Lazarus, who was about twenty feet away now, could hear him. “I will tell her everything, and you will lose.”
Lazarus turned and walked back to Doerr. “Has Stonewall ever participated in an operation? No. You did and I did, Max. That bitch is sitting at the top, and she doesn’t have a clue about the real world. I have been in the agency for over twenty years, and I know how it works. I have been running the real operations under the official operations. Now…”
“Does the president know about your real operations?” Doerr interrupted.
“No. They don’t need to know. Presidents and directors come and go. They are like showpieces. But the senators are there forever. Brushback and some senators and congressmen are aware of our operations. And they give us the cover and money when we need some. We are doing the real work to protect America. We are the real patriots.” Lazarus extended his hand. “Come join me. You will be really useful to our great country.”
Doerr turned, heading away from the parking lot; he did not want to listen to Lazarus anymore.
THE NIGHT WAS long and cold. Doerr’s mind moved back and forth like a pendulum. He knew the choices he was about to make could have grave consequences, not only for him but also for the people he loved.
He vacillated, not about whether he should take the offer made by Lazarus. The answer to that question was settled. He would turn Lazarus in, no matter what the consequence was.
Doerr was having trouble deciding who to go to – Stonewall or the president, or someone else. The downside of going to Stonewall was that if she were an involved party in the Samuel conspiracy, then she would throw him into the street and do everything to discredit him. Going to the president after that would be meaningless.
And if he went to the president directly, Stonewall would be pissed, and expectation of any shred of cooperation from her would be unreasonable. Besides, the president would surely ask for proof, and Doerr did not have any.
He stood in front of his hotel window and gazed at the stars, the lights in his room turned off, and he thought hard. What Lazarus had told him the night before was shocking. It was not like the agency double-crossed him for the first time. But what Lazarus had done was just preposterous. It was as if he was running a parallel agency of his own, and he did whatever suited him. A man like that should not go free. And Samuel had to be punished too. He decided what his next step would be.
“DO YOU HAVE any proof of what you just told me?” Stonewall asked, her face grim. She extended her hand, picked up the water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. “Well?” She looked up.
Sitting across the large glass table, Doerr moved in his chair; he had spent the last half hour explaining everything Lazarus had told him the night before and everything that had happened to him in the last eight months. Proof! Proof! Proof!
“Ask Faizan,” Doerr finally said. “He already told us Samuel is in their team.”
“What else?”
Doerr was thinking. Now he thought he should have had the voice recorder in his smartphone turned on when he was having the verbal melee with Lazarus.
The phone rang, and Stonewall picked it up, spoke for two minutes, and then turned back to Doerr. “What else?”
“Speak to the receptionist at the front desk? She was involved. She told me lies. Lazarus must have made her tell lies.”
“Ah-huh.” Stonewall nodded. “But which one, though? We have eighteen receptionists who work here.”
Debra or Dawn? The name surely started with D. He tried hard to remember. “Dawn, her first name was Dawn,” Doerr said.
“What else do you have?”
“The people at the Thirty-Third Street office.”
“You got any names?”
Doerr tried to remember the name of that man at the New York Thirty-Third Street office who had told him that Samuel did not work for the agency. Steve, definitely Steve.
“Well?” Stonewall asked, and she held a sympathetic look.
“Steve. His name was Steve.”
“Okay, let me conduct an investigation. I will talk to Dawn, Steve and others. And you can take a few days off in the meantime. But don’t go away too far. I may need to talk to you.”
The conversation was over.
CHERRY TREES WERE blossoming in East Potomac Park, in Washington, DC, a place not too far from a memorial named after the third president Thomas Jefferson, considered to be the founding father of America. Senator Brushback met Lazarus in this park, under a large oak tree, facing the waters of the Potomac River.
“I think this is a fitting place for our meetings,” said Brushback, his face pointed down. “I feel as if our founding father is watching us, guiding us. I had many meetings here with senators, congressmen from both parties, and other importan
t people of this town. I met most of them after I came to this town soon after becoming a congressman.”
“You became an important person in the organization,” Lazarus said. “And you rose through the ranks with a lightning speed, and now people are talking about you becoming the next president.”
“Yes,” said Brushback. “We held meetings here to decide what is good for America, to decide what it was that the president and his administration were not doing. We made sure those things were done. Sometimes we have to make the tough decisions, like the one we made to terminate the DEA Administrator six months back. Remember? You were also here that day.”
“Yes. How can I forget that day?” Lazarus sounded angry. “The decision made that day has brought me to this. I was going to retire from the agency with my head high, a fat pension. Publishers were reaching out to me for a book deal. But now, there is an investigation going on against me. I feel frustrated all the time and fearful sometimes, Senator.”
“Don’t worry. Things went wrong for us before, and we always recovered from them. I agree things have gone a bit too far this time. But I assure you – you will be fine. Just stay put and don’t talk too much to anybody. That is an advice I’m giving you as a lawyer and as a friend. Trust me. Your troubles will end soon.”
“I trust you, Senator, but sometimes I feel it is just too much to bear.”
“Me and my friends will pull you out. But I think you should not have blurted out everything to that Max Doerr the way you said you did.”
“I thought Max would be an easy recruit. He killed the DEA chief. He was in a compromising position. That’s how we recruited many people. You know that. And I never thought Max would go to the director and tell her everything. I mean some agency operatives know many things. But they all keep their mouths shut. But this Max guy is different. He doesn’t care.”
“Yeah, Lazarus.” Brushback started walking along the riverbank, and Lazarus closely followed him. They both stopped at the next tree. “You should have known the man better. Someday, I will take care of that Max Doerr. The assassin has to be assassinated. But for now, I will focus on getting you and Samuel out of the logjam.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
“And one more thing.” Brushback faced Lazarus and made eye contact. “I understand you mentioned my name when you talked to Max Doerr. Right?”
“Right.”
“Make sure you don’t take any senator’s name, including mine, during the investigation. In the worst scenario, if you go to jail, the next president will pardon you. I guarantee it. Make sure you mention no other name. Just you and Samuel did everything.”
“Now suddenly we are talking about me going to jail?”
“No, I’m not talking about you going to jail. I am saying in case it happens. I will get you out, very soon.”
“Mark my word, Senator,” Lazarus said ominously, “you better guarantee that I get into no trouble. If something bad happens to me, I will take everyone down.”
THE NEWSWOMAN ON the TV was speaking as loudly as she could. Doerr watched from his New York apartment, a few weeks later. The newswoman continued, “There has been an unbelievable development here at the White House. We have just learned that the FBI went down to Langley and arrested Deputy Director Lazarus West of the CIA. We also know that an operative has been taken into custody, and more arrests are certain to follow. These arrests are the result of a whistleblowing by an inside operative. The man’s name is a closely guarded secret. Many in Washington are now blaming the president for choosing a woman without military experience as the head of the CIA.”
The camera zoomed out, and a man appeared, wearing an overcoat. The newswoman asked the man, “Senator Brushback, what do you think of the recent development with the current administration?”
The man started speaking as the newswoman extended the microphone to his mouth. “I was one of the few who voted against Stonewall’s confirmation. As I have said many times before, under this president, cronyism has skyrocketed, and ineptitude has reached a new high.”
“What would you suggest the president do at this time?” the newswoman asked.
“I think Stonewall should resign immediately. If she does not do that, then the president should force her out and nominate someone with solid experience.”
“But the White House has already indicated that they want Stonewall to continue, and they have also pointed out that the crooks inside the CIA have been working with their own agenda long before Stonewall even took office.”
“I leave those details for the FBI to investigate. But my priority is to clean up the White House and clean up Washington because I love America too much.” The senator turned to leave.
The newswoman said, “Please stay tuned. After the break, we will talk to the Democrat Senate majority leader.”
Doerr rubbed his eyes. He could hardly believe that Stonewall was being blamed for everything. After listening to Doerr, she must have conducted her investigation and found out everything about Lazarus, Samuel, and the others. She had done an excellent job.
Doerr picked up the phone to thank Stonewall. But then he thought he should go over and thank her personally. He started getting ready for the five-hour drive to Langley.
TWO MONTHS LATER, walking through Times Square in the evening, relishing the thin crowd and thick air, the only thing Doerr could remember were the basketball games he had played with Billy last summer. The following day, it would be nine months since Billy’s death. The temperature was warming, spring was near, and summer would follow.
His work was done. Samuel was languishing in jail; Halim’s man Faizan had been stopped.
He took a few more steps and stood in front of the Java coffee shop where he had spent many hours over the years. Before entering the shop, he looked up. The stars in the sky were having their own party.
Stonewall had offered him a big promotion and told him that no one needed to know who had really murdered the DEA administrator. That information would always remain buried under a pile of classified documents.
But Doerr was not sure whether he should go back and work for the agency. He was not crazy about the idea. The manager from his old editing job had also called and offered a big jump in salary for him to come back, though Doerr was sure that it was not a job that he would do again.
MAX DOERR AND Gayle walked into their favorite steak restaurant on Forty-Second Street in Manhattan. The place was crowded, and more than thirty people were waiting for a table. But Doerr and Gayle were seated within five minutes; Doerr had called earlier to book a table.
Doerr ordered Heineken beer, and Gayle asked for some red wine.
After the drinks arrived, Doerr started sipping and looked at Gayle’s beautiful face. She finished her wine quickly.
“Another one?” Doerr asked.
“No, one is enough for me.”
“Why?”
“I gotta go work tomorrow. Also, I have to login and do some work tonight from home.”
“You’ve got to find a new job,” Doerr said, chuckling.
“Honestly, after seeing what you do for a living, I’m much more content with my job now.”
Doerr smiled and placed his beer bottle on the table. “I don’t do it for a living.”
“I know.” Gayle fidgeted with her empty wine glass. “Max, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Go ahead, hon.”
After a pause, she said, “Max, do you want a child?”
Doerr’s face became serious, and he kept staring at his beer bottle. He could see Billy’s hazy face there.
“I know it is hard for you. Sorry, we can talk about it later.”
“No,” Doerr said and raised his face. “I have been thinking about myself only. I should be the one saying sorry.”
“I’m saying it only because I’ll be thirty-seven next month. And I’m not getting younger.”
“Let’s go ahead.” Doerr wanted the baby for her, no matter how difficult it was
for him. “I want a child too,” he said to make her feel good.
“Are you ready with your order?” the young male server asked.
“Yes.” Doerr ordered a medium-rare steak.
“For me, a grilled chicken sandwich,” said Gayle, “and some salad.”
Doerr gave her a glance.
“I have to work tonight,” she said. “So I want something light.”
Doerr nodded, and the server noted down the order and left.
Gayle leaned forward and said, “So, tell me, Max. What’s going on?”
“About what?”
“About all the people you worked within the last one or two months.”
Doerr looked around. Though there were a lot of diners around, everyone was busy with their drinks, food and talking. There was loud music. So even if someone wanted to eavesdrop, it would be hard for them to listen.
“Samuel and Lazarus are in jail,” Doerr said. “I told you that. The prosecutors are preparing the case against them. Same with Faizan. He has agreed to take a life sentence to avoid the death penalty.”
“What about Irene Clark? The woman who died in her Fifth Avenue condo. I know you were sure Samuel killed her. But did the FBI find out anything?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Two of the guns left in her condo were tied to Samuel. Samuel had burnt off the serial numbers. But with the latest technology, the FBI found out the numbers. Even though the number was gone, it left an impression in the metal layer below. It is amazing nowadays what all they can do.”
“What happened to the professor? I felt bad about the way he was treated by the government.”
“He has been released. FBI apologized to him. His relatives are now asking him to file a lawsuit and demand monetary compensation.”
“Is he going to?”
“I think he is mulling about it but he has not filed a lawsuit yet. I feel bad for him. I know how hard it is to lose your only child.” Doerr let out a deep sigh. “It is like you don’t want to live anymore. The professor is a great man. It proves that there is nothing wrong in Islam religion. It’s that some people interpret it the wrong way. I myself have read about a third of the Koran and find that there isn’t much difference between Islam and Christian religions. Do you know that the Koran considers Jesus to be a son of God and Abraham an angel?”