Déjà-BOOM!

by Wally Duff

  He was inside thirty-one minutes, the time it took for him to plant the two bombs. After he left, a security guard walked out and locked the door. It was 5 p.m.

  David fast-forwarded the video to 2:12 a.m. the next morning. The doctor drove up and entered the clinic. Eleven minutes later, there was a blinding flash of light and the screen went black.

  The doctor had been killed.

  It’s my bomber.

  I heard my husband clumping around in the kitchen.

  “Come upstairs,” I said. “I want you to meet Carter.”

  39

  Carter poured cereal into a bowl for Kerry as we walked into the kitchen. I glanced at Kerry and Carter and saw them through David’s eyes.

  Kerry inherited Carter’s sandy hair and blue eyes, and thanks to his six feet two DNA, she’s at the top of the height chart. All of her short girlfriends in high school and college are going to hate her super-long legs. If she inherits any of my athletic skills, we might not have to pay for her college tuition.

  “David John, this is my husband, Carter Thomas,” I said.

  Carter’s mouth dropped open. “You’re Lyndell’s leprechaun!”

  I felt my face flush.

  You busted me out!

  “Guilty,” David said. “Everyone says that about me.”

  “Sorry about that,” Carter said. “I was rude.”

  “No problem.”

  They shook hands.

  “One question,” David said. “Who’s Lyndell?”

  “Lyndell Newens was our next door neighbor,” I said. “She sat in her chair and watched the ebb and flow of the neighborhood through her front window. She saw you run past and thought you looked like a leprechaun. She suggested you might make a good story for my monthly column.”

  Carter set the bowl of cereal down in front of Kerry. She promptly shoved it off her high chair onto the floor. “I want hot dogs for bwekfast, Daddy!”

  I really hate the terrible twos.

  Before either Carter or I could react, David stepped forward.

  “Kerry, hi!” he said. “How would you like to see a trick?”

  Kerry sat speechless, with her spoon in her hand.

  He picked up a slice of banana from her plate with his left hand. He transferred it to his right hand and held it in front of her face.

  “Blow on my hand, Kerry,” he instructed her.

  Her mouth was open. She didn’t move.

  “Like you do with a birthday candle,” he continued.

  She took in a deep breath and blew on his hand. He opened it and the banana piece was gone. He reached up with his left hand and pulled the banana out of her right ear. She clapped her hands and bounced up and down in her high chair.

  What the heck?

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  “I was just going to ask the same thing,” Carter said.

  David ignored us. “Kerry, if you eat your breakfast, I’ll do another trick for you.”

  “David, you don’t have to do this,” I said.

  “I love to do it. Margaret and I play the same game each morning, but I will need more food.”

  Carter cut up the rest of the banana and reloaded her cereal bowl. Before I could move, David efficiently cleaned up the mess on the floor.

  “Kerry’s food tastes fluctuate on a daily basis,” I said. “For the past week, it’s been hot dogs, apple slices smeared with peanut butter, and grapes.”

  “But not for breakfast,” Carter said. “She usually eats fruit, healthy cereal, milk, and juice.”

  “And an occasional Dinkel’s donut, but she always sits with Ralph and Elmo,” I said.

  I referred to her pink baby blanket and her favorite toy, a twelve-inch, plush red Elmo who always “eats” the same thing she does. Ralph, the blanket, usually just “watches.”

  “Carter, David and I talked about the recent bombings. He has an interesting take on it. Why don’t you two talk about it while I do something on the computer downstairs?”

  40

  I went down to the office. A few weeks ago, unbeknownst to me, Jamie broke into our home and installed a keystroke logger on my computer. This allowed the “industrial spies” to keep track of everything I did while I pieced together the story about who they were and what they were up to.

  Linda discovered it, and we originally thought the FBI had installed it using a system called Magic Lantern. We left it in place to keep the feds from discovering we were on to them.

  It seemed like a great idea, but right before the events at O’Hare, I learned Jamie was the one who had put it in. After the events at O’Hare, Linda removed it, so my computer was no longer compromised. Now I could begin working on the bomber story.

  The files from my Arlington debacle were archived in my hard drive under the slug line: Psalmist. Scanning the material, I pulled out what I considered to be the relevant information and transferred it to a new file: Chicago bomber.

  I hadn’t heard from the mole since I was blown up, but to begin this story, I needed to contact that person. The mole’s email address was on the screen in front of me.

  Taking a deep breath, I began typing:

  He’s in the Chicago area. He has blown up two abortion clinics and murdered a doctor. Are you willing to help me catch him?

  I shut down the computer and went back to the kitchen.

  “Did you have a nice talk?” I asked.

  “We did,” Carter responded. “You’re right. David has an interesting view of the bomber story.”

  “It’s what you and the FBI have always maintained,” I said. “I shouldn’t have gone into the clinic in the first place.”

  “But I also said that I wasn’t there, and you made a split-second decision,” Carter said. “It wasn’t my story. I honestly don’t know what I would have done.”

  “Carter, you wouldn’t have done that in a million years. When I was jumping out of planes in Afghanistan chasing stories, you sat in front of a computer writing two Pulitzer Prize-winning stories.”

  David’s face blanched. “You jumped out of an airplane?”

  “Planes. Helicopters. Shot handguns and rifles. Blew up some IEDs. My approach to a story is a little different than Carter’s.”

  “Gosh, I never would have guessed that about you,” David said.

  Thank God I hadn’t admitted to him that I shot the bomber in Arlington. He might not know what to think about me.

  I turned to my husband. “Honey, I want to work on the bomber story but only from afar and with one of your reporters.”

  For the second time that morning, his mouth fell open. “Are you sure about this?”

  “If David is right, there’s no risk to me or you or Kerry. If the bomber really wants me to write his story, I’ll do it. And I won’t do anything risky because I don’t have to. I’ll be an observer and collector of facts. I’ll work with your reporter. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “No more going into clinics?”

  I thought about my recent visit to the Deerfield clinic. “Not as long as there is any obvious risk.”

  Carter lifted Kerry out of her high chair. She ran off to the family room.

  He held out his hand to David. “We have you to thank for this.”

  They shook again. “I’m not sure exactly what I did, but I’m glad it’s going to work out.”

  “And I’ll find a reporter to help you,” Carter said to me.

  “Great. I’ve already started to work on the story,” I said, and winked at Carter. I wanted him to know I’d emailed my mole.

  I wouldn’t tell David about the mole, because I never reveal my sources to outsiders unless it’s absolutely necessary.

  Plus, the mole was my only leverage to stay in the story, and I didn’t want anyone screwing up that relationship.

  41

  On Monday, I ran with David. My phone dinged with a text. When I saw who sent it, I stopped to read it. David stopped with me.

  Hannah: Need immediate h
elp with our security problems.

  Me: Might have solution with me. Can I bring him to you?

  Hannah: Great! Hurry!

  “Remember my friend with the security issues?” I asked David.

  “Sure, and I said I would be glad to help but I can’t do it as an independent contractor,” he reminded me.

  We started running again. “Turn left at the next corner. You’re going to get your chance.”

  I noticed David checking the security cameras as I rang Hannah’s doorbell. They were moving. He nodded to himself.

  Hannah greeted us at her front door.

  “This is David John,” I said to her. “He used to work for the Hogan Company in San Jose, California. It’s a security corporation. He still has contacts there.”

  She held out her hand. “I am Dr. Hannah Eisenberg.” They shook. Her grip looked firm. Micah’s treatment of her multiple sclerosis was still working.

  “Please come in,” she said.

  We sat in the living room. I watched as David assessed the opulent furnishings. Someone in another room played a Donkey Kong game. It was a sound from my youth. I’d previously seen it in their family room and wanted to play it then but was too busy helping Linda hack into Micah’s computer.

  “Tina, the reason I texted you is my concern about the protection of Micah’s lab,” Hannah said. “He still does not have any.”

  “You’re kidding. Why not?”

  “He feels it is too expensive, and he does not need it.”

  David raised his eyebrows and gave me the “I told you so” look.

  “Your husband is right about the cost,” David said. “Good security is very expensive.”

  “Mr. John, trust me when I say that price is of no concern. I will pay for everything.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest that you couldn’t afford it. I just wanted you to know he has a valid complaint.”

  Hannah turned to me. “How much does Mr. John know about any of this?”

  “Actually, nothing.”

  “I did read Tina’s article in the Tribune, if that helps any.”

  Hannah stared at him and then at me but remained silent.

  “Okay, here’s the deal, David,” I began, sticking to the story the FBI forced me to write. “Micah invented a process to cure multiple sclerosis. ‘Industrial spies’ from Iran attempted to steal it. The FBI arrested them but let one man go. His name is Jamie Smith.”

  David had a puzzled look on his face. “Do you mean the danger here is that Jamie Smith might try and steal the process?”

  How much do I tell him?

  The only things I knew about David were from my online research and talking with him the short time we’d known each other. But I was terrified of what Jamie might do to me, my family, and my friends. And even more worried for Micah, Hannah, and their family.

  What else can I do?

  The police wouldn’t help us. Neither would the FBI, especially since they were the ones who had let him go free. I had to trust David with everything.

  He’s my only option.

  I took in a deep breath and said a silent prayer that I was going to do the right thing.

  “Actually, it’s way more than that,” I said. “Hannah, you don’t know this yet, but I went to Jamie’s apartment building Thursday. While I was there, he tried to kill me.”

  Hannah assessed this new information without any obvious emotion. David was a different story. His face turned white, and for a second, I thought he might pass out.

  Hannah noticed. “Mr. John, is something wrong?”

  He swallowed before he spoke. “I… Ah… I’ve never been a field operative. I don’t do well at all in stressful situations. It was one reason I didn’t mind taking a break from Hogan. I’m really good with a computer and assessing data, but not so good otherwise.”

  “Don’t worry about that, David,” I said. “Right now, all you need to do is arrange to set up tight security here and at Micah’s lab.”

  I wanted to add, “and help us neutralize Jamie,” but I didn’t want to confuse him.

  The color returned to his face. “Dr. Eisenberg, if it’s not too much trouble, would you show me your home? I need to assess the risks here first in order to give my contacts at the Hogan Company the necessary information to keep you and your family safe.”

  “Certainly, and after we are finished, I would like you to do the same thing at my husband’s laboratory.” She paused. “Before we do that, there is one other element to this story. Your expertise with computers might be the solution there too.”

  42

  “Tina, as you know, since the confrontation at O’Hare, I have been working to unravel the layers of what happened,” Hannah began. She turned to David. “Mr. John, I was totally uninformed about what was happening to me and my children, but as I have learned more, new and startling revelations keep arising.”

  David and I kept quiet. Donkey Kong played in the background.

  “I have, and continue to have, grave concerns about the medical issues associated with,” she glanced at me, “the ‘industrial spies’ in this situation. But this is no longer my concern. The financing of my husband’s entire project is.”

  Ah, man, this is trouble.

  “I thought money wasn’t an issue for you,” David said.

  “It isn’t,” she said. “My trust fund easily contributed twenty-five million dollars to begin work on the lab here in Chicago.”

  “Wow,” David said. “That’s a lot of money.”

  Hannah dismissed that amount with a wave of her hand. “Mr. John, to date, well over two hundred million dollars have been spent.”

  David gulped. “How much?”

  Another wave of her hand. “The amount is not important. Where the money is coming from is.”

  “And where is that?” he asked.

  “Without his knowledge, I accessed my husband’s home computer. I coupled that information with the facts as I know them from my own trust accounts. Most of the money for his lab did not come from me.”

  “Who provided it?” he asked.

  “Sherman Krevolin, a billionaire in Dallas,” she said. “But there is an encrypted section in my husband’s hard drive. I want to know what is in there to learn if it explains why Krevolin is giving large sums of money to my husband.”

  David didn’t say anything.

  “I could hire another computer expert to do this, but it would take too long to find a competent one,” she said. “Tina has recommended you, and I trust her judgment.”

  And I hope you’re right.

  “I would like you to download that information from my husband’s office computer and see if you can break the code on that section,” she continued.

  “You really want to know about his financing?” he asked.

  “I must know,” she said. “If this process is illegal, I must stop it!”

  This is worse than I thought.

  43

  “Hannah, Linda and I have been working on this,” I said. “We think Krevolin is a conduit to illegally funnel money from our government to Micah’s lab.”

  Hannah’s lips compressed into a thin line. “I knew it! Micah presented a paper in Boston on his embryonic stem cell research and his preliminary results on the treatment of MS. At that time, my condition was worsening, and shortly after his talk, a representative of the U.S. government visited our home in Israel. The next thing I knew, Micah needed twenty-five million dollars to start his clinic, I provided it, and we moved to Chicago.”

  “Linda and I think someone high up in the government is behind Micah’s financing.”

  “How high up?” David asked.

  “High enough that they’re afraid if the story of this illegal financing comes out it could severely damage the president’s political party for the next several elections,” I said.

  “My former company has security contracts with the government,” he said. “You have no idea how big a mess this information would be if
it came out.”

  I remembered the Iran-Contra affair and what Molly said. “Big enough to kill someone to keep it quiet?” I asked.

  “Without question,” he said.