Fair Play (All's Fair Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter Eighteen

We weren’t all privileged rich kids.
We did want social change and we wanted it now
,
but our urgency wasn’t born of indulgence and immediate gratification.
Just the opposite.
It sprang from a lifetime of watching injustice and immorality go unchecked and unchallenged.
My father was not a college-educated man
,
but one of the sayings he was fond of was Burke’s
“
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
”
That was my father’s justification for going to war
,
and it was mine for trying to stop a war.
Yes
,
we did want to change the world.
It was a world that needed changing.

* * *

Tucker’s expression stayed with Elliot all morning.

Offense. Hurt. Bewilderment. Resolve. Welcome to the club. It was maddening that, despite Elliot’s real and considerable anger, he couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy for Tucker. It was obvious that Tucker was so sure he was in the right, it genuinely baffled him that Elliot couldn’t see it too.

He handed out and collected the last of his final exams. That was it. Grades were due on July 8, and after that, nothing but summer vacation to look forward to. That idea had filled him with a lot more anticipation before the blowup with Tucker.

In fairness, neither of them had much experience at long-term relationships. According to Tucker he had once lived six months with a guy, another agent—that had been several years ago when he was still working out of the Los Angeles division. Maybe six months was Tucker’s limit. Or maybe that was the limit anyone could put up with Tucker.

Elliot winced. No. Not fair. Not true. They had their battles, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling more comfortable or content in his adult life than he had these past months with Tucker. This had shaken him, but it wasn’t as though he had stopped loving Tucker last night.

They had committed to making this relationship work, so somehow they were going to have to find their way through this.

He had a sandwich and coffee at his desk while he finished clearing out the last of the books and papers he thought he might need over the next months. The rain that pricked mournfully and steadily at his office windows seemed to make a mockery of the idea of summer vacation.

Detective Pine phoned asking if Elliot had heard from Roland yet, and Elliot was forced to admit he had, but had been unable to ascertain his father’s whereabouts.

“You don’t have any idea where he is?” Pine demanded, clearly skeptical. “None? No idea at all?”

In his place, Elliot would have been skeptical too. In fact, it had initially gone through his mind that Roland might be hiding out at Nobb’s Organic Farm, and he still thought Nobby knew more than he was saying, but Elliot believed Nobby when he said he didn’t know where Roland was. And no way was Roland staying with the Bakers. So who did that leave? Having read his father’s memoirs, Elliot thought Mischa might offer Roland refuge in a pinch, but she had sounded genuinely shocked to hear that Roland was missing.

“None,” he answered Pine.

“I have to tell you, it looks a little suspicious from our perspective.”

“Then you need to get your eyes checked. My father is the victim of two attempted homicides. He’s not a suspect in any crime.”

“I didn’t say he was a suspect. I said his behavior is s—”

“I’ve come up with a list of names you might be able to use for crosschecking databases.”

“Names? What names?” Pine demanded, “Where did you get these names?”

“I’ve been going through my father’s papers.”

“I thought his papers all burned?”

Elliot ignored that. “To start with, you should be able to check with the Washington State Archery Association. The bow-and-arrow crowd can’t be that big a community. Even if it is, the WSAA has got a membership list. And if you compare crossbow licenses issued by the Department of Fish and Wildlife, something might turn up.”

“Or not,” Pine said. “Which is the case. You think you have to be an ex-FBI agent to think of checking with WDFW?”

“No, but I think having a shortlist of my father’s known associates might make your job easier.”

“What would we do without you, Professor Mills?” Pine asked sourly. But he recited a fax number and Elliot sent over the names of the former members of the Collective.

* * *

He finished the final pages of Roland’s book, and stared out the window of his office, considering one of the concluding paragraphs.

You can’t fill the heads of your children with ideals like equality
,
justice
,
liberty and peace
,
convince them those are the things worth fighting for
,
and then expect them not to take up arms to defend what they believe in.
And by
“
take up arms
,”
I
mean fight in the ways that seem most effective to them.
Even fight
you,
if they have to.
That’s something I’ve had to come to terms with in my own life.

Knowing what he did now, he could better understand why it had felt like a peculiar and bitter irony to Roland when Elliot had proudly announced he had been accepted into the FBI’s training program.

He went back to read again the section where J.Z. was outed as an FBI mole. As usual, Roland was more interested in everyone’s feelings and political implications than a strict accounting of facts. He did not say how J.Z.’s cover was blown, and did not reveal who brought the information to him. J.Z. did not deny the allegations though. In fact, he had “copped to the truth” almost immediately.

According to Roland, Star, Suzy D., Frank Blue and Nobby had not been present at that final meeting. That left Tom, Mischa and Ruth to express their disappointment and disillusionment, which they had done loudly and at length—and which Roland was still doing years later in his book.

Elliot ruefully recalled his conversation with Eagan, Mira about the nature of history. Here was the practical demonstration. There were the facts, there was Roland’s interpretation of the facts, and there only remained to be seen how others would react to this accounting. If the very thought of this book had already driven someone to violence, it wasn’t looking too hopeful.

Roland seemed to believe that J.Z. had been properly ashamed of himself, but that was probably wishful thinking. Whatever J.Z.’s true feelings, he had, as ordered, packed up his gear and left the house they were sharing in Bellevue.

And as far as Elliot could determine, he had never been seen again.

From that point on, J.Z. fell out of the narrative. If Roland had any curiosity or interest in what had happened to him, he didn’t share it in
Power to the People
. Subsequent references to J.Z. were all related to trying to deal with the fallout of his defection. The Collective, not surprisingly, had been in a panic. Believing they would all be arrested within a matter of days, the group splintered, with most of the members going underground within a week. The exception was Frank Blue, who had gone on an extended and highly successful tour in England.

Elliot read over that section several times, trying to build a timetable of departures. Star seemed first to leave—the following night—while the group was still trying to determine whether they should move base or disband. Roland seemed unusually vague about her farewell appearance. And no wonder, since she had accused him of murder.

Or maybe, technically, Nobby had left first? By then he had no longer been living with the others, choosing to stay out on the farm. He had phoned Roland and told him he was headed for Canada.

Tom had left the morning after Star split. That at least was definite.

Roland seemed more preoccupied with the end of his marriage to Mischa and the beginning of his affair with Ruth than with being arrested by the FBI. Mischa had left the house in Bellevue four days after the others. Roland and Ruth had stayed on until the end of the week because Roland had promised to help organize a sit-in at PSU.

There were two ways to look at the timing of those departures. If someone had killed J.Z. they might be in a hurry to get away. On the other hand, they might take their time and plan a little more carefully, knowing that the FBI was not going to show up and bust them all anytime soon.

From that perspective, Roland’s leisurely retreat was probably the most suspicious. At least, it was if you didn’t know Roland. Knowing his father as well as he did, Elliot had no trouble believing he had postponed leaving until the demonstration he was organizing had been successfully launched.

Elliot went back and read all the sections pertaining to Star again. She had shown up out of the blue one day at a campus rally where Roland was giving a speech. Roland and Mischa had taken her under their wing. She had, inevitably, fallen for Roland, but then transferred her affections to J.Z. Had J.Z. returned her feelings? Ruth had said that Roland warned the others that Star was off the menu. And, studying her grave, wide-eyed image in a number of photos, Elliot understood why. If that kid had been more than fifteen, he’d eat his roll book.

But that didn’t mean that everyone had followed Roland’s directive. Those were the days of free love and sexual experimentation. Besides which, there was nothing more determined than a teenaged would-be seductress.

How would Star have reacted to J.Z.’s betrayal? It was hard to know what to make of her hysterical accusations, but it sounded like maybe her sympathies were with J.Z.

Or maybe she
had
seen something that shocked and terrified her. Something she had misunderstood. Or at least misattributed.

Elliot studied the photos of the men in the Collective. With the exception of Frank Blue, who had been very blond and angelic looking, they all had long—shoulder-length—dark hair, mustaches and beards. The Jesus look. They even dressed the same: jeans, love beads, sandals.

Elliot considered this theory of mistaken identification. Nobby had been taller than the others, and his hair had been a lot wilder. But Tom, J.Z. and Roland all looked pretty much alike. It would be easy to mistake one for the other, especially at night.

He phoned Tom’s office and was told by a snooty-sounding secretary that Tom was at lunch.

Elliot glanced at the time. Three-thirty in the afternoon? That must be a three-martini lunch. Or maybe a three-and-a-half-martini lunch.

He called the Baker residence and prepared to tackle Pauline.

She answered sounding tentative, as usual.

“Hi, Pauline, it’s Elliot.”

“
Oh.
Elliot! How nice to hear from you,” Pauline said brightly. Too brightly. Not alone then, which was too bad, but he had to go with it now.

“Have you spoken to my dad in the last couple of days?”

Pauline said in that same artificial voice, “Tom and I were just sitting down to lunch.”

“That’s nice. Have you talked to Dad?”

“Oh,” she said again, helplessly. Obviously her idea of “covering” came from watching bad cop shows on TV. Could she possibly sound more guilty? Doubtful. Maybe if Elliot had been Roland.

“I’ll handle this,” Tom’s voice said in the background. The phone made a sliding rustle of sound and then Tom came on the line. He said crisply, “If you weren’t the son of one of my oldest friends, Elliot, we’d be having words right now.”

“I’m looking for words, Tom. In particular I’m looking for words about a girl named Star. I’ve been reading Dad’s manuscript, and I’m hoping you can help me with a couple of questions I have.”

“Questions about
Star?
” Tom sounded confused. “What possible questions could you have about Star?”

“To start with, why do you think she accused my father of murdering J.Z.?”

There was a very definite pause before Tom said, “So he did put that all in there?” He sounded almost weary.

“I don’t know if he put it all in there, because I don’t know what all of it was. He does include information regarding J.Z. being an undercover FBI agent and getting thrown out of the Collective.”

Tom took another few seconds before offering a judicious, “That’s true.”

“How was J.Z.’s cover blown?”

“If it’s not in the book, I’m certainly not going to share that information.”

“Do you really think it matters at this point?”

“It might matter to someone, yes.”

“Why did Star accuse my father of killing J.Z.?”

Tom said sharply, “Because she was an overwrought, drug-addled child and she was furious that Rollie kicked her latest boyfriend out.”

“So you don’t think there was any truth to it?”

“To the charge that your
father
murdered J.Z.? Am I supposed to give consideration to that question?” Tom sounded sincerely astonished. “No. I don’t think there was any truth to it. I’ve told you exactly what I think—and what I thought then.”

“Then what do you think happened to J.Z.?”

Tom’s voice grew harsh. “I think he went back to the FBI and told them everything he knew. I’m sure he went on to have a long and illustrious career betraying friends and colleagues.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong. The FBI never heard from him again.”

“Maybe he had the decency to kill himself,” Tom replied. “Or maybe the FBI lied because he’s still out there right now betraying new friends and colleagues.”

“Do you have any idea where Star went after she left the house in Bellevue that night?”

“No.”

“Did she have other friends outside the Collective?”

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t pay that much attention to her.”

“You mentioned J.Z. was her latest boyfriend. Did she have other boyfriends?”

“I didn’t keep track of Star’s social calendar. I can tell you that, like everyone else, she did a lot of drugs and slept around. That’s how it was. I’m not excusing or justifying it, just telling it like it is. Was.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“With an unstable, sexually abused minor? No. I did not.”

Translation: the adult Tom would not have made the mistakes the youthful Tom probably had.