Assassination of a Dignitary

by Carolyn Arnold

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I steadied my breath and pulled back on the trigger.

  DAVID CLINTON WASN’T GOING TO let the lack of answers get in his way of solving this case. He would gather every last one of them and formulate a clear picture of what really happened in the Governor’s room. It went beyond what the job required of him. He had a personal drive compelling him.

  Wingham’s cell phone rang, and by the expression on her face the news she was receiving from the caller was enlightening. Her eyes sparkled as if she were examining a fine diamond in rays of light. “You sure…all right…keep the file ready for us to see.” She hung up. “Okay, that was our security tech—”

  “Whoa, no Wonder Boy, or Tech Kid or—”

  Her lips curled upward from his attempt at conjuring a nickname. “Sure, we can call him anyone of those.”

  “You’re telling me you don’t have one for him?”

  She snapped her fingers. “You’re missing the point. Devries found more footage on Tux and you’re not going to believe this.”

  “You’re using his real name?”

  “You want me to tell you my news?”

  “I’m waiting, but you keep talking about nicknames,” Clinton said sarcastically.

  She narrowed her eyes. “The guy should be a detective. He ran the footage forward and back. And while forward led to a dead end—”

  “A dead end?”

  “Looks like Tux left out the back door. No cameras out there but he showed leading up to it.”

  “That sounds professional and planned.”

  “Anyway, Tux was here on Friday. And—” She held up a hand to make sure he didn’t interject. “—he went inside of the Governor’s room that day too. He wore a tux that day as well.”

  “He knew where she would be staying and was familiarizing himself with the surroundings. He wanted to blend in. If people did look at him, he’d come across as distinguished.”

  “Yep. I’d wager on the fact he placed surveillance bugs in the room too. I mean, why not, right?”

  “He swiped a copy of the all-access key,” Clinton said.

  Wingham nodded. “Cameras have him raiding a maid’s cart. Likely a cover for the swipe. He disposed of the toiletries in the garbage of the public restroom. Just a tad wasteful but I guess it wasn’t on his list of priorities. Anyway, according to the front desk Behler checked in about ten thirty. When she did, Lanky stood behind her while she took care of the paperwork.”

  “So, obviously, the killer knew about her bodyguard and wasn’t sure if she’d enter the suite alone.”

  Wingham shrugged. “Sometimes it seems that Lanky and Tux were in on it together, the way they were outside the door, and other times it doesn’t seem like they were.”

  “I agree except for the part to do with her phone. Why take it? How did this third party, Tux, know about it and take it?”

  “You’re assuming he, and not the missing bodyguard, took the phone.”

  More questions that required settlement. Clinton thought back on the video. “Lanky’s got to be in on it with Tux. He never barred entrance. We need to speak to the people at the front desk, see if they have more to offer, get over to the Governor—” Both of their cell phones rang.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Wingham lifted her cell to an ear at the same time as Clinton.

  Seconds after hanging up, neither spoke. Their eyes communicated everything. They were no longer investigating an attempted assassination. There had been a successful one.

  -

  Chapter 28

  NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK

  SUNDAY, JUNE 13TH, 12:15 PM

  JUST UNDER 17 HOURS UNTIL THE DEADLINE

  I PULLED BACK FROM THE SCOPE SLOWLY.

  Job complete.

  There was no satisfaction, nor any guilt. It wasn’t personal. It was necessary. My watch showed it was just after noon. Seventeen hours of the deadline leftover.

  I dissembled the rifle and worked at fitting it back inside the case. My movements stopped when I heard footsteps in the hallway. My breathing took pause. A key was inserted into the lock.

  Time to move!

  One last clasp on the case…I stuck my head out the window and eyed the fire escape which was inconveniently placed outside of another window. I bent over and picked up the shell casing, tucked it into a pant pocket.

  I heard the tumblers turn.

  Shit!

  My heart sped up with an adrenaline rush—realizing everything was at stake. If I ended up in prison, Christian would kill my family. He might anyway given the fact I had initially failed him. This could be an elaborate scheme to make me think I had some control of the situation when really I had none.

  The handle turned, but I was already down the hall. Expletives were streaming from the tenant’s mouth as he pushed the door, but it wouldn’t give any more than a few inches. I prayed the chain I put across would hold.

  The guy’s bedroom was worse than the rest of the place. I nearly slipped flat on my back when a shirt found its way under my footing.

  “What the fuck!” The man was yelling in the apartment hallway.

  He would be drawing way too much attention. I needed to move. I recovered my balance and made it to the window. An empty beer bottle sat on the sill along with a condom wrapper. I couldn’t imagine a woman making it through the rest of the apartment to the bedroom. Maybe the guy deserved props because he must have been a smooth talker.

  “Get out of my apartment. Fuck!” The guy was kicking on the door. “I’ll kill you if you stole my laptop, you fucking shit!”

  Charmer.

  Ironic how in a moment of intense anxiety, which could decide between confinement and freedom, I found any amusement in this loser.

  The window opened without a hassle, and I slipped out onto the escape just as I heard the chain hardware tear from the doorframe.

  “Where you are?”

  I heard his raised voice as I made my way down the fire escape stairs. My breath labored as my heart pumped from infused adrenaline mixed with the fear of getting caught and losing everything. I pressed against the outside of the building, around the bend and out of sight from the angered tenant.

  “If I find you, I’ll kill you!” The window slammed shut.

  I had stood there for only a few seconds before I spotted my ride to the bus station.

  -

  Chapter 29

  NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK

  SUNDAY, JUNE 13TH, 1:00 PM

  “THIS CASE HAS BEEN REASSIGNED TO THE FBI.” The agent speaking held an air about him that communicated he thought himself above all men and only a peg lower than a Greater Being.

  They stood in a meeting room at the hospital. The agent’s name was Tony Leone. When Clinton and Wingham showed up, they were shuffled off into a room and not allowed near where the Governor had been pronounced dead at quarter past twelve.

  Clinton held no respect for a man who projected a narcissistic ego. And there was no way Clinton would be backing down. “We’ve been on this case from the start. It happened in the city of Niagara Falls, New York. Local law enforcement was originally called in. It falls under our jurisdiction.” You’re only showing up for the credit. At least that’s what he wanted to add.

  “In your great city of Niagara Falls, the Governor of Michigan had her life taken essentially twice. Excellent job.”

  Apparently the man only knew one way of speaking—sardonically. “The Governor herself had come under your care, your protective custody. Maybe one of your men did it.” Clinton shot back the accusation, and the agent’s eyes burned with an intensity that would have melted the polar ice caps. If the goal had been to intimidate Clinton, it would take a lot more than that. “We have information, suspects you don’t have.”

  “And you’l
l be passing that information along to us. You shouldn’t have been holding it back in the first place.” Leone pointed to another agent who came over to his side and looked at him as a young child does to a parent for direction. “I need to get all their investigative reports so far.” He directed his next statement to Clinton. “Make sure we’re going to get all the forensic results from the hotel scene as well.”

  “You fail to assume any responsibility for any of this, Agent Leone?” Clinton asked. Seconds passed without an answer. Wingham seemed to have lost her voice. Clinton would have to change tactics, soften a little, but he told himself it in no way meant his character had weakened. “Listen, there’s no evidence the killer crossed state lines and with that consideration, the case should remain that of the Niagara Falls Police Department.” He noticed Wingham’s eyes flicker in his direction. She didn’t approve of what he had just said. He knew it may be a stretch of the truth because the missing bodyguard would have come from Michigan. But he could live with it right now. “Unless it can be proven that the killer—”

  “We have an assassin who knew right where to find her—both times. The FBI considers the direct assault on a US Governor to be a matter for them to handle. Must I also point out the Governor herself had crossed state lines?”

  Clinton disregarded the agent’s last statement. “Yet you allowed us this time to gather the evidence in the case, round up suspects.”

  “Consider it a professional courtesy. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing more?” Clinton paused and stared at the agent. Special agent, my ass. “You’ve come in to claim the benefits of our investigation, our labor, our time. How do you think the taxpayers of New York State will feel about this?”

  Agent Leone seemed to be chewing on his tongue as his jaw slid side to side in a teeth-grinding movement. He seemed to be giving pause and consideration to his next words, his ego taking a plunge for the cause. “The people of New York would be proud of the efforts put into a case of such prominence. And the people should be—”

  The door flung open, and the Mayor of Niagara Falls walked in with the Governor of New York. All eyes in the room went to them. Clinton noticed the junior agent take a few steps back.

  “Sir.” The Special Agent Leone had to swallow pride to address the dignitary.

  “Gentlemen.”

  In person the Governor of New York exuded confidence one would expect from a man in charge. He wore the position with a dignified honor expected of those in the public eye. Clinton nodded at him. The media and hype that surrounded him would have the naïve viewing him as a caped crusader, yet he was simply a man of flesh and blood. But there was something about the way the man’s eyes moved around the room as if he were nervous and taking everything in, and considering everyone a threat.

  The Governor took a seat, and the Mayor sticking close sat beside him. The Governor tapped the flats of his hands on the table. His hands appeared older than his sixty-three years and were marked by age spots and wrinkles.

  The room’s silence held a tactile quality before the Governor spoke. “The death of my respected colleague and esteemed friend has placed a smudge on the sanctity of this city. I know that you are probably in the middle of a turf war right now.” Talbot paused to survey the room. “Yes, just as I suspected.” He turned to the Mayor. “Perfect timing on our behalf. I would like to make the request that this case stay in the hands of the local police department.”

  Agent Leone pulled out on his collar and straightened his tie. “With all due respect, sir—”

  “Maybe I never made myself clear enough. This isn’t so much a request as it is an order.”

  “The FBI does not report to—”

  “But it does report to Director Abram, and he and I are very close friends.”

  Clinton had to fight the victory he felt surging through his veins. Agent Leone looked like a snake that had swallowed too large a rodent. It would take him time to digest the news delivered to him.

  “Detective Clinton,” Governor Talbot turned to face him.

  “Yes.” Clinton found himself sitting up straighter, holding up his chest and sucking in his gut.

  “I want you to head up the investigation. However, you will work in coordination with the FBI. This has also been discussed with your Chief. I want whoever did this to pay with the utmost severity the law allows. Do you understand me?”

  “Of course, sir.” The man had the ability to extract sweet talk from Clinton who swore he’d cower to no one.

  “But one further thing. You have until the six o’clock news tomorrow evening to solve this thing. I want there to be answers to provide the public when this comes out. Until then, I want what happened kept from the media—”

  “Governor.” Agent Leone must have thought he held some sort of bargaining chip.

  “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Governor Behler is still in critical condition,” Governor Talbot said. “Can you men adhere to that?” He paused for a moment, his gaze passing over everyone in the room. “Good then.” Seemingly satisfied that things would proceed as stipulated, Governor Talbot rose from the table. He gave another quick glance toward Clinton who didn’t miss the unspoken implication, screw this up, and your career is over.

  He and the mayor exited the room in unison strides, both projecting the united front that stood fast in the face of an unknown assassin. Clinton was suddenly thankful for his position in life. With a higher rank came prestige and wealth, but it also painted a target on your back.

  -

  Chapter 30

  NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK

  SUNDAY, JUNE 13TH, 1:00 PM

  16 HOURS FROM THE DEADLINE

  I STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of the crowded bus terminal, a man renewed and ready to put an end to this nightmare. Every breath I took turned into a laborious effort. My heart hurt and my head throbbed. My family needed me now.

  People moved around me, paying little or no attention. To them, I was simply a stranger, a visitor to the city, one of the numerous tourists eager to the see the Falls. They had no idea I was the man who had just taken out the Governor of Michigan.

  I pressed the speed dial and lifted the cell to my ear. Two rings followed by silence. I knew Christian was on the other end, breathing and waiting for me to speak, maybe even possibly trying to intimidate me. I was beyond that. “It’s done.”

  “Tsk. Tsk.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” There was hysteria in my voice as emotions rose to the surface.

  He laughed on the other end.

  I lowered my voice, my eyes watching people move past. My words were deliberate and held promise. “I will kill you.”

  “You will kill me? It takes you two bullets these days. You’ll be dead before the first leaves your gun. And you seem to forget that I have your family, Hunter.” He was composed and calm. He feared nothing or no one.

  “You will not harm them.”

  “How do you know I haven’t?”

  “Enough games. It’s done. We’re done. This is finished. Where can I pick up my family? And I want that thing out of my house.” In the last five hours or so I gave no thought to the bloody mess in my bed. The concept of returning home made it a necessity to be dealt with.

  The line fell silent.

  “Christian, my family.”

  “You come back. We need to talk.”

  “This was my last job.”

  “And Hunter? The clock’s still ticking because until I know she’s dead for myself, well, I can’t control what may happen.”

  If there had been a wall to punch a fist through, there would be a hole. “Greyhound bus station, the corner of Porter and Williams Road. Send someone now.” I terminated the call.

  CLINTON LED THE WAY OUT of the room behind the Governor and Mayor. He spoke over his shoulder to his trailing partner. “We have to speak to t
he hotel staff. Find out what Tux was up to the day before.”

  Wingham hurried in front of him and spun around to face him. Her hands were on her hips. “You lied to a federal agent.”

  “No nickname?” He let out a small grunt and continued walking.

  Wingham followed. “This isn’t a joke, David. This is our careers we’re messing with. My career—”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You’re missing the point. By omission I did. I could have spoken up.”

  “And that wouldn’t have benefited you. That’s why you feel guilty. To your conscience your consent with the lie meant you might as well have told it.”

  “Not everyone is driven by headlines.” Wingham brushed past him into the Governor’s hospital room.

  Clinton shrugged off her attitude. It was unwarranted. Really, he wasn’t even sure if he told a lie. He allowed them to believe the evidence in the case didn’t conclude a killer from out of state; it led to that assumption, but therein his conscience relieved him of any guilt.

  Stepping into the hospital room, Clinton prepared himself for a messy scene but in contrast it was somewhat serene.

  The Governor’s eyes were open. The bullet had entered the side of her head. It was a keyhole wound, making it more oblong than a perfect circle, likely due to the tumble of the bullet caused by impact with the glass. Very little blood splattered from the wound, leaving the scene somewhat pristine. The bullet would still be inside her head as there was no exit wound.

  Crime Scene had photographed and combed the room while the Feds tried to bully them around only to lose control based on the New York Governor’s connections with the FBI Director.

  Clinton studied the room and was certain about one thing. This would be the case of his career…once it was allowed to get out.