(1976) The R Document (39 page)

Approaching the classic Roman facade of Union Station, he went past the fountain and statues in the station’s plaza,

dodged several taxicabs filled with passengers, ignored the line of recent arrivals waiting with their bags for transportation, and went inside.

The huge grotto inside Union Station - derived from the central hall of the Baths of Diocletian, he had once read -was almost empty. He sauntered toward the book-and-magazine stand to his left, peered in as he bought a copy of the Washington Star, and decided that he had arrived first.

They had chosen the waiting room of Union Station as a safe rendezvous point because FBI agents never left Washington by train anymore, not even for the short run to Philadelphia. In Tynan’s regime they had all become airplane or helicopter men. The appearance of an FBI agent here now would be spotted instantly, and measures could be taken to avoid him.

Collins found a seat on an unoccupied chair facing the station’s entrance, opened his newspaper wide, but did not bother to read. Over the top of it, he kept his eyes fixed on the door.

He did not have to wait long. In a matter of minutes, the middle-aged man with sandy hair came jauntily through a door. He looked in Collins’ direction, gave the briefest nod, and walked on toward the magazine shop. He browsed among the racks briefly, picked up a paperback, paid for it, and crossed the station toward Collins.

Tony Pierce settled down on a chair a few feet from Collins.

‘I can’t get over it,’ Pierce said in an undertone. ‘It’s fantastic. The kid, Rick, really got it all on his Mickey Mouse recorder?’

‘So he says. It’s probably a very good machine. Rick left no doubt that the fidelity of the recording was perfect.’

‘And he heard Tynan speak of The R Document?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘How do we recognize the tape?’

‘It’s a Memorex cassette, and it’s labeled “AGG”, and it’s dated “January” in Rick’s hand. It would be easy to find among Noah’s tapes. Noah used miniature Norelco fifteen-minute tapes - 2-by-l-inch cassettes - for his home dictation.’

“You’ve done your homework,’ said Pierce, pleased.

‘The question is not how to identify the tape,’ said Collins. “The question is how to get to it. I told you. It’s in the top drawer of Noah’s cabinet in Tynan’s office.’

‘I’ve done my homework also,’ said Pierce. ‘Tynan will be in his office until eight forty-five tonight. He will then leave directly from his office to fly to New York, and from Kennedy he’ll catch the eleven-o’clock flight to San Francisco, and then drive to Sacramento.’ ,

‘So far, so good.’

‘His office will be empty. We’ll be nearby. The moment we’re notified the coast is clear, you and I will enter the Hoover Building by a 10th Street door. I told you we have two informers in the FBI building, and one is on the night shift. He’ll let us in. He’ll see that the door to the Director’s office is unlocked.’

‘But Noah’s file cabinet may be locked.’

‘Oh, it will be,’ Pierce promised. ‘It’s an old-fashioned Victor Firemaster cabinet with a combination lock. I’ll unlock it. I told you we’ve done our homework, too.’

‘Great,’ said Collins with admiration.

‘Now, about your wife -‘

‘Yes?’

‘Just to put you at your ease. Jim Shack knows where she is in Fort Worth. She’s all right.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Shack didn’t say. Never mind. More important, we had a peek at Tynan’s dossier on Mrs Collins’ case. We have the name and location of the witness Tynan is keeping under wraps. An Adele Zurek. She now lives in Dallas. Does Zurek ring a bell?’

‘Karen never mentioned her.’

I thought not. She was a part-time housekeeper. On the days your wife’s regular housekeeper was off, Mrs Zurek filled in. Jim Shack was going to see her this afternoon. If he has anything to report, he’ll call you tonight’

‘But we’ll be out’

‘He knows. He’ll call you after ten, and keep trying until he gets you.’

‘Thanks, Tony.’

‘Now, tonight. E Street and 12th. That’s two blocks from the FBI building. There’s a hamburger joint with a neon over it reading “Fill-Up Cafe”. Be there at eight thirty sharp.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Collins assured him. ‘I just hope we can pull this off,’ he added anxiously.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Pierce. ‘Just hope what’s on that tape is worth all the effort.’

‘Noah was the one who linked The R Document to the 35th - who warned that it was dangerous, had to be exposed. We’ll have to trust him.’

‘It better be good,’ said Pierce. ‘Because it’s our last shot before tomorrow. All our chips are riding on it.’ As he stuffed the paperback in his pocket, he glanced around. ‘Okay, I’ll go first. See you tonight.’

‘Tonight’

*

It was eight thirty in the evening when Chris Collins, tense with trepidation, left the taxicab at E Street and 12th. Three doors from the corner, a red-and-white neon sign read Fill-Up Cafe.

The counter was busy, but only a few of the white formica tables were occupied, and the one farthest off in the corner was occupied by Tony Pierce.

Collins threaded his way through the restaurant and sat down beside Pierce, who was coolly finishing the last of his hamburger sandwich. ‘Just on time,’ Pierce said, between bites.

‘I’m nervous as hell,’ Collins admitted.

‘What’s there to be nervous about?’ asked Pierce, wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘You’re only going to visit the FBI Director’s office. You’ve been there before.’

‘Not when he wasn’t in it.’

Pierce chuckled. ‘You’ve got a point. Now let’s skip a beat. What are you going to do after you get your hands on the goodies?’

‘Well, Rick’s tape may only tell us where The R Document can be found.’

‘Whatever. What do you do when you have the tape?’

‘If it’s as strong, as damning, as Noah indicated, I’ll call Sacramento immediately. I’ll track down the Lieutenant Governor, since he’s president of the California State Senate. I’ll tell him I have vital evidence that is material to the final vote on the 35th Amendment and request that he schedule me for an appearance before the Judiciary Committee in the morning, right after Tynan makes his pitch. Hopefully, that should swing it.’

‘Perfect,’ said Pierce. ‘Tomorrow night at this time we should be celebrating in a classier restaurant.’

‘It’s a long way to tomorrow night,’ said Collins.

‘Maybe. Come on and join me in a cup of coffee. We still have a few minutes.’

They had been served their coffee, and were just beginning to drink it, when Pierce pointed past Collins toward the door. ‘Here he comes.’

Collins looked up.

Van Allen was approaching between the tables and the counter. He reached their table, bent low. ‘All clear,’ he whispered. ‘Tynan left for the airport ten minutes ago.’

Pierce set down his cup, placed a tip on the table, and pushed back his chair. ‘Let’s move.’

After Pierce had paid the check, they emerged into E Street. They walked swiftly, silently, the two blocks to their destination. No one spoke until they reached E Street and the corner of 10th, where the massive, buff-colored, colonnaded concrete FBI structure loomed up before them across the way.

‘I’ll part with you here,’ Van Allen said. Til station myself across from the parking ramp. Just in case something goes wrong and Tynan happens to return. If that happens, I’ll get to you before he does. Good luck to both of you.’

They watched him leave. Pierce took Collins by the arm. ‘Let’s go fast now.’

They crossed the street and hastened along the 10th Street side of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Pierce went up the steep stretch of steps two at a time, with Collins trying to follow closely behind. At the locked glass doors above, there was no one in sight, but a figure abruptly materialized out of the inner shadows. He unlocked a door and held it ajar.

Pierce pushed Collins ahead of him, into the building’s public walkabout, then slipped in after him. Collins had only the briefest glimpse of the agent who had let them in. A youngish man, with a thin face, wearing a dark suit. The man was whispering something to Pierce, who nodded, gave a half salute, and caught up with Collins.

‘I hope you’re in good shape,’ Pierce said under his breath. ‘We’re to bypass the elevator, and the escalators aren’t working. We’re to take the fire staircase to the seventh floor.’

They started toward the stairs and began to charge up them, Collins trying hard to stay close to Pierce. At the third landing, Pierce rested a moment, allowing Collins to catch his breath, and then resumed the ascent.

They attained the seventh floor without encountering a soul. Except for their footsteps, as they circled the central well, there was a tomblike silence.

They had reached a door with the legend Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Pierce beckoned Collins past it to a second, unmarked door. He put his hand on the doorknob and tried it. The door gave, opened. Pierce went in, with Collins right behind him. They had entered directly into Tynan’s private office, the room dimly illuminated by the small lamp beside the sofa.

Collins stood unsteadily, taking in the office. Tynan’s desk was to the left in front of the windows looking out on 9th Street toward Collins’ own Department of Justice headquarters. To the right was a seating arrangement: sofa, coffee table, two armchairs.

There was no file to be seen.

‘It’s in his dressing room,’ Pierce whispered, pointing across the coffee table to the open doorway.

They went between the coffee table and chairs and through the doorway into the narrow dressing room. Pierce sought the light switch, found it, and turned on the overhead fixture. They were standing in front of Noah Baxter’s green Victor Firemaster filing cabinet.

The combination lock was on the third drawer down. Pierce tried each drawer. Each was securely shut. Pierce rubbed the fingers of his right hand along his thigh. ‘Okay,’ he whispered, ‘let me work on it. Should be easy.’

Deft as a safecracker, Pierce twirled the knob of the combination lock. Collins looked on, constantly aware of the passing minutes. Only three minutes had passed, but they seemed like hours, and for Collins the suspense was becoming unbearable.

He heard Pierce utter a happy sigh, saw him try the third drawer, saw it partially pull out.

Pierce straightened up, yanked open the top drawer, and stepped back. ‘All yours, Chris.’

Heart pounding, Collins came forward. He looked down into the front half of the top drawer, which was neatly stacked with miniature Norelco cassettes encased in small plastic boxes, and beside them were a half dozen larger cassettes of the type that Rick had been using.

He had raised his hand to reach into the drawer when suddenly another shaft of light entered the dressing room and the sound of a grating voice behind them paralyzed him.

‘Good evening, Mr Collins,’ the voice greeted him.

‘Don’t bother.’

Collins spun around, as Pierce beside him had already done.

The bathroom door was wide open now, and filling it was the compact form of Harry Adcock. His countenance was scarred by an ugly smile.

He held out the palm of one hamlike hand, and in his palm lay a Memorex cassette tape. The plastic casing had already been pried open.

‘Is this what you’re looking for, gentlemen?’ he asked. ‘The R Document? Well, here it is. Let me give you a better look at it.’ With his fingers gripping the two sides of the cassette, he pulled the plastic casing apart. Then, his gaze never leaving them, he looped a finger under the tape inside, loosened it, and slowly unwound it. Tossing the plastic

casing on the carpet, he dangled the thin brown tape before them.

From the corner of his eye, Collins saw Pierce’s hand dip to his coat pocket, but then he saw that Harry Adcock’s free hand had moved even faster to his shoulder holster and already held a snub-nosed black .357 magnum revolver, which he pointed at both of them.

‘Don’t try, Pierce,’ he said. ‘Here, Mr Collins, hold this tape for me a moment.’ He dropped the tape in Collins’ lifeless hand, moved sideways, frisked Pierce, and located and pocketed Pierce’s .38 Police Special. He smiled at both of them. ‘A shoot-out between the Deputy Director of the FBI and the unofficial assistant to the Attorney General wouldn’t read well in the press, would it?’

He then reached out and recovered the tangled strand of tape from Collins.

‘That’s the nearest you’ll get to The R Document, Mr Collins.’

Holding the tape in one hand, the gun in his other hand still trained on them, he retreated toward the bathroom and slowly began to back up inside it.

‘Have your last look,’ he said. ‘It was never a document, you know. Never on paper. It wasn’t supposed to be on tape, either. The most important things on earth are usually in people’s heads and no place else.’

Adcock’s leg had bumped up against the toilet bowl. He dangled the loose tape over the toilet.

‘Wait a minute,’ Collins implored him. ‘Just listen to me -‘

‘First you listen to this.’ Adcock dropped the tape into the toilet bowl, leaned backward, pressed down on the handle, and flushed the toilet. He seemed amused by the rushing, receding sound of the water. He grinned. ‘Down the drain - like your hopes, Mr Collins.’ He emerged from the bathroom. ‘Now, what did you want to say, Mr Collins?’

Collins bit his lip and said nothing.

‘Very well, gentlemen. I’ll see you out.’ He waved his revolver toward Tynan’s office.

Adcock remained at their heels until they reached the center of the office. Then he moved crabwise away from

them to the Director’s desk, where he put his free hand on Tynan’s large, silver-colored tape recorder.

Adcock addressed himself to Collins. ‘I don’t know what kind of Attorney General you are, Mr Collins, but I sure as hell know you wouldn’t make even a half-assed FBI agent. A good agent doesn’t overlook a thing. You and your boys debugged most of the city to conceal your secret visit here tonight, but there’s one thing you didn’t debug.’

He pressed the Play button on Tynan’s machine.

The voices through the loudspeaker were loud and clear and identifiable.