A Long December (32 page)

“Well…” said Hawse, drawing the word out, “I’m not so sure. We’ll need more than this before we submit it to the NIPC.”

He was referring to the FBI’s National Infrastructure Protection Center, which was responsible for disseminating warnings to law enforcement agencies regarding terrorism.

“Stick with me for a minute yet,” said Volont. “Then decide that. Just exactly what stage of the experiment are we in? Right now? An experiment requires an act that has measurable results. With this one, all you have to do is run your experiment, and then you just turn on the news and see how effective it was. The media hand you your measurable results. All the numbers, sick, dead, critical condition. Just like the Air Force’s Bomb Damage Assessment does. The terrorists have access to all the data, on every major network, and in every paper you can name. You, as the experimenter, know how much meat you screwed with, and you know how much ‘product’ you used on it. You know when you did it. Turn on your TV, and you now know how many you killed and wounded with it. All your post-strike analysis is done for you. Data in, data out, and an independent analysis of the damage when it’s done.” He looked right at Hawse. “BDA by CNN, as they say. You want to finish for me?”

Volont was baiting him.

“You go ahead,” said Hawse. He gave no indication that he’d noticed.

“Now we get theoretical. But, do this. Think a big, fat, juicy target. Think fast food,” said Volont. “Just a theoretical, but that stuff’s the greatest symbol of the U.S.A. since Coca-Cola and the Hershey bar. Even more than some statue or monument, because fast-food places pop up all over the whole world. ‘In your face,’ in every sense of the word. I’d be willing to bet that what, maybe a dozen packing plants, and you’ll cover at least some of the beef source for a lot of the major fast-food chains. And it doesn’t have to be beef. Remember that. Fish, chicken, vegetables… Also keep in mind that lots of packing plants use nonresident labor, as they put it. Easy to get the foreign terrorists in, easy to have them keep a low profile until you need ‘em.”

“Sleepers,” said Hawse.

Volont gave him a fast glance, said “Yeah. Sleepers” dryly, and then went on. “But let’s go with the fast-food scenario. Doesn’t have to be, so pick any other food target you want. But let’s say it is. Either way, all you have to do is fill a bunch of those spray cans with ricin. Ship the cans to the people you already have in place, set a date, wait for the damage assessment on the news, and then send out the order to hit ‘em all at once. Bingo. Maybe a whole bunch of dead Americans. Maybe just a few. It really wouldn’t matter, to produce the desired effect. I mean, we’re talkin’ about making a statement here. So, either way, you get to destroy some ‘capitalist icons,’ and scare the shit out of half the country at the same time. And you don’t need a single employee at the target restaurants, so anybody trying to protect them won’t ever know what hit ‘em.”

“Christ,” said Gwen. “It works for me.”

“Sure it does. And what’s more,” said Volont, “it already
has
worked. Their experiment at Battenberg was a complete success.” He leaned back in his chair. “Hell, they probably already have the cans shipped out to the other plants.”

“It’s a pretty long shot,” said Hawse, half to himself. “It’s a stretch…”

He was right, it
was
a long shot. But Volont was right, too, I thought.

“You just gotta balance the consequences,” said Volont, softly. “What happens if we run with it and we’re wrong? We get a kick in the ass. What happens if we don’t run with it and we’re right? “He looked at each of us in turn. “Who knows how many dead Americans, lots of economic damage, and God only knows what else.”

“Well, now that we’ve thought of it,” said George, “I’d say we’re pretty much committed.” He looked pointedly at Hawse. “I’d say we don’t really have much choice. I think it’s enough for NIPC.”

The look he got from Hawse said that what George thought was of little consequence. But Hawse did say, “NIPC can decide, but I think I can recommend on this one.”

I wondered if I was the only one who noticed he didn’t say which way he’d recommend. That guy was slick.

“NIPC will buy it,” said Volont. Hawse scowled, but didn’t reply.

I was fascinated. While Hawse pronounced the NIPC acronym “nigh pick,” and George had enunciated each of the four letters, Volont pronounced it an irreverent “nipsy.”

“They tried the World Trade Center twice, so we know they’ll persist. The second time, look what happened. They’ve got to have learned from their success. The difference is, this time they used a surrogate target for the controlled experiment. Just a few delis in New York City, and just one kosher packing plant way far away in the Midwest. The mega-shot comes next. They’ll know we’ll assume Jews are the target, because they’re the victims of the test shot. They fake us right out of our shoes. We’re wrong, but they not only do a deceptive move, after it’s all said and done, they get to take credit for being anti-Israeli, or anti-Jewish with their friends. It’s a slick deception, and we already started to bite. Time to change focus. They’re aiming at a much bigger target than that. And they already have all the data they need to make it work.”

“If that’s the case,” said Gwen, “we better hurry.”

At that moment, Harry, Hester, and I were, as Hawse would have put it, “out of the loop vis-a-vis the big picture.” Or something like that. Regardless of how it was stated, our part in this large investigation was just about back where we’d had it before the feds had shown up.

Half an hour later, we three “noninvolved” were just setting things up to talk with Linda Moynihan, when we were informed that her attorney had advised her to say absolutely nothing to us. Well, swell.

Volont, Hawse, Gwen, and George were in another office by that time, all busy on the telephones. I knocked on their door, and, after identifying me, George stepped out to talk to me in the busy hallway. Things had, indeed, changed.

“I’m really sorry, Carl, but we’re doing ‘need-to-know’ on everything,” said George, almost closing the door behind him.

“No problem,” I said, and meant it. “We just need to know,” and I smiled, “no pun intended, if it’s okay if we do another interview on Skripkin.”

This was a deceptively sensitive matter. We figured, based on the first interview, that Skripkin was now a key federal witness. We didn’t want to mess up the feds’ case, and had to know just where we stood. If they wanted guidelines for us to abide by during our questioning of him, we’d be happy to go along with that. Unfortunately, there was a strong possibility that a comprehensive set of guidelines would reveal way too much about their current operation. It had to be their call.

“Beats me, Carl,” said George, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the noise being made by the copier in the little alcove next to us. A Conception County deputy and a secretary were running copies of something and having an animated conversation while doing so. “How soon you need to have an answer?”

“Just as soon as possible,” I answered. “He’s pretty cooperative right now. You know as well as I do that that can change in five seconds. Besides, Linda Moynihan’s attorney has told her not to talk to us. We really need to put it to Skripkin.”

“Oh, boy,” said George. “Let me see what I can do.” Due to the noise level in the narrow hall, he didn’t notice the door opening behind him. “This is one for Hawse. By the way, did you see how he made himself look like he was as smart as Volont back there?”

“Is there a problem?” asked Hawse, from the now fully open door behind George.

“Uh, oh, yes,” said George. “Uh, Carl here wants to know if he can do another Skripkin interview.”

I didn’t know if Hawse had overheard everything George said or not, but he sure as hell had to have heard that last part about him being as smart as Volont.

“Ah. Step in for a moment, Carl,” said Hawse. “We’ll kick some things around a bit.” I got the impression he was including Special Agent George Pollard on that list of things that were going to be kicked around.

I stood leaning on a four-drawer filing cabinet while the four agents had a brief conversation about the status and value of Skripkin. They didn’t ask why we wanted to talk to him again.

Hawse glanced at his watch and said, “The plane will be here in fifteen minutes, and this gentleman needs an answer before we go.” He glanced at me. “You’ve been a great help, and I don’t want to appear rude, or high-handed. You are aware of the need-to-know requirements, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah. No problem with that.”

He sighed. “Sometimes these rules of engagement can be a pain in the ass,” he said. I really think he was trying to make me feel better. “In this instance, I think I have the perfect solution.”

This was going to be good.

“Rather than burden you with the need to keep us posted, why don’t we just assign an agent to you as liaison? If you’ll allow him to monitor the interview, and to keep pace with your investigation in case you turn up more valuable information…”

“That’d be fine.” I said that an instant before I caught George’s stricken look.

“Excellent.” He looked around the crowded little office as if he were making a choice. So he
had
overheard George in the hallway.

“I think we can spare Agent Pollard, here. He’s up to speed on lots of things. He’ll remain attached to you for the duration.” He smiled, very pleased with himself. “I’m sure he won’t be in your way.”

“We’ll consider ourselves lucky to have him,” I said, and I meant that.

George looked crestfallen. I didn’t know where the plane they referred to had come from, or where it was going, but I was sure that George had originally been intended as one of the passengers. This could really hurt his career.

Volont looked perplexed, but since he hadn’t heard what George had said, he had no idea about the main reason for Hawse assigning an agent to us. “You okay with that, George?”

George had absolutely no choice. “Fine with me,” he said, and managed to make it sound convincing.

“Well,” said Volont, “as long as you’re okay with it, why don’t you also take on the press relations over in Nation County? The media won’t be able to find us for quite a while, and we want them to think the locus of the investigation is still over there. If that’d be all right?”

“Excellent idea,” said Hawse.

“Oh, sure,” said George. “Fine. Absolutely.”

“Good,” said Volont. “Now, don’t lie to ‘em or anything like that. Don’t even mislead ‘em. Just don’t acknowledge what else is going on until we give you the word.”

“Look what the FBI gave me,” I said as we joined Hester and Harry. George half waved, sheepishly. “Hi, gang.”

“Shit,” said Harry. “Who’d you piss off?” He was kidding.

“Hawse,” said George, who wasn’t. “Big time.”

“The rest of the federal group is flying out in about ten minutes,” I said. “We have permission to do Skripkin again if we need to, but George has to monitor. And George is to handle media for the feds over in Nation County. Volont wants the media to think that we’re still the focus of the investigation.”

“Sound,” said Hester.

“Where they gettin’ a plane? “asked Harry. Conception County Airport had just extended its paved runway, but so far there were no business flights actually based there.

“Hawse had one on standby in Milwaukee,” said George. “Corporate jet kind of thing. Contracted to the Bureau.”

“Hot shit,” said Harry. “Must be nice.”

At that point, the door opened, and Volont, Hawse, and Gwen Thurgood squeezed in.

“We have to be leaving,” Hawse told us. “But we wanted you to know that we really appreciate all the good work you’ve done on this case. Really. It’s excellent. If there’s anything you need,” he said, “let us know. We’re going to be concentrating in other areas, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, but we’re as close as your phone, as they say.”

“What he means,” translated Volont, “is that if you turn up any more good stuff, be sure to contact us.”

Hawse smiled. “That, too. But if you do need something, I’ll do everything in my power to see that you get it.”

The “Flying Feds,” as Harry now called them, hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when one of the Conception County secretaries stuck her head into the room.

“Is one of you Deputy Houseman?”

“Me,” I said.

“I have a teletype message for you that says that the ‘missing plant workers’ are starting to drift back into Battenberg.”

It was about time. “Thanks,” I said.

“Is there still a federal agent here?”

“Yeah,” said George. “That’s me.”

“Then this is for you,” she said, handing George a manila file folder. “That other FBI guy, the old one, requested this about an hour ago.”

George thanked her, looked at the teletype information in the folder, and smiled. “Thanks.” The secretary left, and George skimmed the papers in the folder. “Well, at least his name really is Skripkin,” he said. “Based on fingerprint records. Nothing in the States. Nothing in Russia, or any of the former states of the Soviet Union. But he really
is
wanted…in the U.K., by the London Metropolitan Police.”

“What for? “asked Hester.

“Apparently passing counterfeit securities and counterfeit bonds, and something they refer to as ‘other suspected offenses of a subversive nature.’ We better call on this one.”

“Call who?” asked Harry.

“The Metropolitan Police, for starters,” said George.

“I hope you brought your fuckin’ phone card,” said Harry.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” said George. “Uncle Sam’s picking up the tab on this one.”

The Metropolitan Police were quite cooperative. George, just to share the fun, put them on the speakerphone while they talked.

“Oh, yes,” said Inspector Blythe, with a very British accent. “Lived in a tatty flat in Lambeth with a half dozen others. They styled themselves the ‘People’s Freedom and Reform Movement.’ That was two years ago, when we had contact with our Mr. Skripkin.”

“I hate to jump the gun,” said George, “but was that some sort of. well…terrorist cell, by any chance?”