by Ridge King
“I fully understand your position, Governor St. Clair, and assure you that my government is most interested in the maintenance of world peace. While we admit we feel threatened with the Chinese menace, we also feel the entire world would see the threat of Chinese aggression if they were the neighbor instead of us.”
“I agree. It’s for that reason I’ve decided to support this attack against the Chinese,” said St. Clair. “The fact is, I agree that China poses a constant threat to all nations.”
Norwalk interrupted.
“I want to stress Governor St. Clair’s limitation of the attack to conventional aircraft and weaponry, Mr. Ambassador. Such support would eventually entail the complete withdrawal of all Russian troops from Chinese and Mongolian soil.”
“Naturally,” nodded Kornilevski.
“I’m glad we’re agreed on the main points,” said Norwalk. He glanced around the room to Ellsworth, Perryman and Slanetti, sitting silently. “I wanted you other gentlemen here today because you’ve been intimately involved in the delicate efforts to secure House approval for Sam. You all know about the Keystone File maintained by Phil here,” he said, gesturing towards Slanetti. “The fact is, we are still unsure of getting a Republican President. Phil, why don’t you outline where we stand?”
Slanetti didn’t have to refer to his notes.
“We have twenty-five states locked in. I don’t think any of them will waver in supporting Governor St. Clair. The last state, giving us the majority we need, is where we’ve been having considerable trouble. It involves Matthew Hawkins of Wyoming, the new congressman who will replace Bill Crampton. His foreign policy views are very much aligned with Senator Thurston’s. He supports Thurston completely. We’ve made several attempts to bring him over, but he hasn’t budged.”
There was a slight grumbling from St. Clair and Perryman and Kornilevski.
Ellsworth’s lips curled slightly, subtly, as he looked sourly at Slanetti. No one noticed as he shook his head slightly from side to side.
“There must be someone else besides him,” said St. Clair.
Slanetti smiled, “It would seem so out of so many states, but no, there isn’t, with the exception of Wade Trexler of Rhode Island. His colleague has come over on his own to St. Clair, which makes the state tied, but he still stands for Thurston.”
“Only Trexler?” asked Perryman, finally entering the conversation. He was satisfied just being present for this meeting.
“Yes. The Democrats control most states with large enough margins to keep them, as you know, Mr. Speaker. The problem is that Trexler is such a fanatic for Thurston that I don’t see how he’ll ever give in. He’s the only other possibility besides Hawkins. However, we have much information on Trexler, but considering his personality, I still think if we can get Hawkins, we’ll have a better chance.”
“I’m confident, gentlemen,” said Norwalk, hoping to point out the obvious, “that if we could get so many others, we’ll succeed with Hawkins. We’ve handled too many tough cases to be frustrated by a single freshman who’s never even been out of his home state before.”
“Youth is often extremely intractable, Mr. President,” observed Ellsworth, who’d been silent until then.
“I agree with the President,” said Perryman, rubbing his chin and speaking thoughtfully. “I’m just sorry Bill Crampton didn’t beat him. He’s a strong supporter of your Russian policy and we’d have the state if he’d been returned.”
“But he leaves office when Hawkins comes in. No use living a pipe dream, Mr. Speaker,” said Slanetti.
“Still,” mused Perryman, “if there was some way to get rid of Hawkins and replace him with Crampton, all our troubles”—he snapped his chubby little fingers—“would vanish.”
Norwalk followed Perryman’s remarks closely, but no closer than the two ambassadors present. Norwalk interrupted Perryman as he trailed off.
“We’ll concentrate on Hawkins from the White House. I’m sure we’ll manage somehow. From my discussion with Phil earlier today, I’m satisfied that all the other cases are taken care of and will hold until the new Congress convenes.” He studied the ambassadors and Perryman, who were all deep in thought. “I doubt we’ll have to call on you gentlemen in Hawkins’s case, now that he’s the last one. If we should need you, rest assured that we will call. Personally, I cannot thank you enough or fully express my gratitude for all you’ve done. I admire and thank you for the professional discretion you’ve exercised in the few past weeks.”
Norwalk watched the two ambassadors with sharp, seeing eyes. They’d both been involved in highly illegal manipulations, hopefully, Norwalk thought, without the knowledge of either of their governments. Their interference in American electoral procedures would be a huge scandal for St. Clair when and if he became President. Norwalk wanted to minimize any possible pressures the two envoys might seek to put on St. Clair as repayment for helping with his election. He was aware more than anyone in Washington that little or nothing was done by one person for another without some expectation of repayment.
“I believe you both when you say you are acting in the interests of world peace and that you think those interests will best be served by the election of Governor St. Clair to follow me.”
“I might add,” interrupted St. Clair, “that I’m personally in debt to everyone here who’s helped with this business.”
He hesitated, seeking the words Norwalk had used when they met alone and discussed his “obligations” to the two envoys and Perryman.
“As President, however,” he said, “I am sure you will understand that whatever my personal feelings of indebtedness, I will act as President and not as Sam Houston St. Clair, the man you helped.”
He realized he’d put it awkwardly and wished he hadn’t interrupted Norwalk, but his expression didn’t show this.
Ellsworth moved in his seat.
“Although my government knows nothing of my activities on your behalf, Governor, you may rely on my discretion in the future as you have been able to do in the past.”
“What Lord Ellsworth says naturally applies to me as well,” added Kornilevski.
St. Clair breathed an inaudible sigh of relief and sat back. Slanetti didn’t look at anyone or say anything.
Perryman’s thoughts regarding Hawkins’s displacement congealed as he listened to the Russian ambassador assure St. Clair he wouldn’t be banging down the front doors of the White House for favors once St. Clair had moved into the second floor living quarters. Though his thoughts were clear in his mind, he decided it wouldn’t be proper to reveal what they were just then, in front of all these people. No, he’d have to see Norwalk alone at the soonest possible time.
He had a plan he was sure would put this Hawkins pup in his place! But he had to see Norwalk at the earliest opportunity.
* * *
Across the compound, Jack strolled on a porch and gazed across at Laurel Lodge where his dad was meeting with Norwalk and the others. He couldn’t figure out what Lord Ellsworth was doing here, and his dad had not offered to share what went on at these meetings, of which Jack knew there had been several.
“Better you not know,” was all Sam had said to him, glum-faced.
Jack took a call from Sean Walsh.
“What’s up, Sean?”
“Looks like our friends have set another meeting at good old Enriqueta’s this morning. Thought you might want to know.”
“Boy, they really love that place, huh?”
“Seems like it.”
“You’ll be there, of course.”
“Sure. Me and Fredo are getting the van ready now.”
“Any word what it’s about?”
“No, but it’s got to be a follow-up meeting to go over what happened to Flores and Duarte, since that’s the only thing they met about before.”
“Can’t wait to hear the recording, see what they’re up to.”
“I’ll give you a call if it’s something really unusual.”
&n
bsp; “Be careful out there, Sean. They’ve got to be a little on edge after losing all that money from the sub.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Gotta go. Fredo needs me to help.”
“Right.”
* * *
The cars converged on Enriqueta’s over the course of about fifteen minutes. Everyone went to the stand-up window to get a Styrofoam cup of Enriqueta’s finest before drifting over to the cluster of palm trees by the dumpster.
“Something funny about this meeting, Fredo,” Sean said inside the white paneled van.
“What?” said Fredo as he angled his long-range directional mike toward the palm trees to pick up the conversation.
“Why do they always meet here? And why would they meet here when it was the meeting here where they discussed the Key West operation? They’ve got to be wondering how they were compromised?”
“True.”
“Keep your eyes open for anything unusual.”
“OK.”
Sean had decided to watch the meeting from the back of the van, not the driver’s seat up front.
From here he watched as Howard and Derek arrived together with Vlad. The Oyebanjos came with Pozo.
After the initial greetings, Fredo and Sean listened while Derek explained to the Cubans why Flores wouldn’t be transporting their $27 million to the Bahamas, but that they’d secured the services of Vlad Kucherov, a trusted partner in other ventures with Howard and Derek, “much better, much bigger than Omer,” according to Derek.
To Pozo, their explanation about Flores made perfect sense. These things happened. But he still didn’t like the burly Russian. He’d never liked the Russians, especially the way they lorded it over the Cubans when Fidel had invited them to send thousands of their troops to “advise” the Cuban military. Fidel hadn’t liked them anymore than Pozo had, but at the time they needed Russian expertise, money and clout to push back the Americans.
They discussed rescheduling the shipment to the Bahamas for the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
“You understand, Derek, that you’re our main contact with this business?” said Aricela.
“Sure I do.”
“Who from your team is going to go with Vlad?”
“Derek will go himself,” Howard offered, patting Derek on the shoulder.
“Sure, I’ll go with him myself,” Derek said quickly, covering the urge to gape open-mouthed at Howard. The last thing in the world Derek wanted to do was accompany a bunch of smugglers across the Gulf Stream in open boats loaded with $27 million in cash, but there didn’t seem to be a graceful way out of the situation, thanks to the fat man Howard.
Pozo decided he would have to risk bringing a couple of his fishing boats into play on this operation. He would have Chico bring up a couple of boats to shadow the boats Vlad and Derek took to the Bahamas. He just had that tingling feeling in his stomach that told him something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what, but he knew it was something.
In the van, Sean listened on his headset to the conversation as Fredo picked it up. He had moved out of the driver’s seat so no one could see him sitting there simply waiting. He’d moved back into the van and had great angles through the dark glass panels. But he wasn’t looking at the six people huddled under the palm trees. He was looking at the street traffic on Second Avenue, or more precisely, the cars parked along Second Avenue within sight of the palm trees and, yes, within sight of his van.
There were too many cars, too many cars parked with a single person inside smoking a cigarette or pretending to be on the phone, their eyes darting around suspiciously.
He had to keep in mind that four or five of these people were working for the St. Clair Agency, following the people now chatting under those palm trees.
But who else was there?
Inside Enriqueta’s, Vlad’s man Gregor sat at the counter nibbling away ever so slowly on a Cuban sandwich. It was very busy at this hour, and despite several attempts by the counter girl to hurry him along, he didn’t budge.
His position gave him an unobstructed view through the wide window through which the waitresses passed cups of coffee to customers standing outside the building and where they passed out take-out orders.
He’d planted himself there an hour before anyone had arrived for the meeting. His Cuban sandwich was cold now, so when the girl came by with raised eyebrows, he ordered a Corona beer.
He’d seen Howard, Derek and Vlad pull up and park, followed not long after that by the Oyebanjos and Pozo. He’d caught Vlad’s eye when they came up to the window to order their coffees. Derek had noticed him, too, but other than a sidelong querying glance at Vlad, he made no show of knowing Gregor.
He’d noted other cars, one after the other, pull up and park across the street on Second Avenue as the principals arrived. These were obviously tails put on the different parties. He had no idea how many there would be, or who was tailing who.
The only other curious vehicle seemed to be a white van with black glass panels across the street and up a few yards. It had been there when Gregor arrived to take up his position. No one had come out of it or gotten into it. It was just parked there.
He had two of his own people out there in cars ready to follow anybody that Gregor thought looked suspicious.
After the meeting broke up, Gregor walked out of the restaurant and watched first one car and then another leave the area. The white van across the street did not move.
Inside the van, Fredo saw Gregor.
“Hey, Sean. See the guy that just came out of Enriqueta’s?”
“Yeah.”
“We saw him in Key West. He’s with Kucherov’s team.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember him now. The big ugly guy.”
“He’s been inside Enriqueta’s all this time.”
“He’s coming this way, crossing the street.”
They saw him clearly through the one-way glass panels.
Gregor walked straight up to the van and circled it. He wrote down the license tag number. Up front, he peered into the driver’s cab, but couldn’t see through the black tarp hanging behind the driver’s seat that shielded the back portion of the van from view.
Gregor looked carefully up and down the street.
“Looks like he’s checking to see if the coast’s clear so he can break into the van,” said Sean.
“Looks that way.”
“What do we do if he does break in?” asked Sean.
“Fuck if I know.”
In the end, Gregor decided there was entirely too much foot traffic for him to risk breaking into the van. He shook his head and left.
Chapter 10
PERRYMAN’S PLAN
Perryman made an urgent appointment with the President and went over to see him late the next morning in his EOB office where they could meet secretly and word wouldn’t leak back to Thurston or Overton.
“I want you to think about this, Mr. President. I think I have a way we can take care of our young freshman from Wyomin’.”
“I could tell you had something on your mind yesterday. You had that look in your eyes, Lamar. What is it?”
“Well, it’ll be a little complicated, and it involves a couple of people, but I think it might just work out if you handle it yourself.”
“Who are the people?”
“Lowry Smith and Walt Lafitte,” said Perryman.
Norwalk raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what Perryman had on his mind. Lowry Smith was the Democratic governor of Wyoming, but a conservative and staunch supporter of Norwalk’s foreign policy. Walter Lafitte was the senior senator from Wyoming, an old man with much seniority, also a hard-line Republican who supported the President and the party to the hilt.
“Lowry Smith and Walt Lafitte?” Norwalk asked. “This sounds interesting, Lamar.”
“Oh, it is, Mr. President, it is. And it’s all the more important you try to use it if you think it can work because in a few days the Congress will be adjourning for a good-size Ch
ristmas holiday.”
“A Christmas recess?” said Norwalk, surprised. “But I thought they planned to sit right through the holidays.”
“That was the original plan until Thurston got wind of the Keystone File that night at the party. Now he’s got Niles to push for a recess, and all the converts to St. Clair won’t be here. They’ll be able to go home. Since everything’s settled down in China, they won’t see any need to sit so I think it’ll pass without too much trouble. It’s only six days before Christmas as it is.”
“I see,” mused Norwalk. “This is interesting information, Lamar. And it rather limits even more drastically the time we have.”
“Just what I was thinking.”
“What’s your idea?” Norwalk asked with some intensity.
“Well, here’s what I think we should do—”
After talking to Norwalk. Perryman went out the back way and had his driver Tyree take him over to the Westin Hotel on M Street to keep a luncheon engagement with the British ambassador.
Settling into the luxurious surroundings of the restaurant, Perryman wondered what Ellsworth had on his mind by requesting the speaker to lunch with him.
“You seem very happy, Mr. Speaker,” said Ellsworth.
“Oh, I am, Lord Ellsworth, I am very happy.”
“May I ask why?”
Perryman tapped his cell phone.
“Because I just found out from my office that Matt Hawkins is thirty years old.”
“Matt Hawkins is thirty years old?”
“Yes.”
“Why in God’s name would that be important?”