Lethal Politics Read online

  "Good. Unless you have questions, I believe I should head off and inform my counterpart in the Secret Service."

  He stood to leave.

  "Mark, I'm really sorry about Miss Moore. This must come as a blow on top of what you have already suffered through. We still don't know just why she was targeted, but her death is clearly tied into all of this in some way."

  "Thank you," the President replied. "It was bad enough learning that she'd been killed, but now to know that she'd been specifically targeted for some reason . . .I don't know. Just being around me might have gotten her killed."

  As he left, the Director felt Mark's final words were a little flat, but then maybe he was simply overwhelmed by the sudden change in how events had transpired, and was still trying to sort out what it meant.

  It was several hours before the President could take any action to inform Earl of the disturbing change of events. Brad's visit hadn't been scheduled and sandwiching him in, and then running very long, had pushed the rest of the President's calendar back making his afternoon packed and inescapable. All of the time he was trapped in meetings he stewed about what this meant for them, and worried that each minute of delay increased the chances that Earl or another of the team might be located.

  "Abe's dead?" Earl asked in disbelief when the President finally was able to sneak a moment to call on their secure phones. The shock of the news had caused Earl to slip and use an actual name in their discussion. "How? Who killed him? When did this happen?"

  Mark decided there was no way to explain without going into details that he would rather not discuss even with their secure lines, but the dangers of holding back now seemed greater than the extra caution they had been using.

  "The Feds. Actually the guy is a private detective, but was formally FBI. Somehow he figured out what you guys were doing, that the deaths of Nancy Craig and the others were planned. He also connected our associate to Cindy's death, followed the guy to Vegas, and somehow got into a confrontation with him. The only good news is he was killed before he could reveal anything."

  "So what do they know?"

  "Far too much. They have re-opened the investigation, and are going all out to find you guys. They know about your burner phones. They have the numbers off the phone they recovered, know that one is in El Paso and another in Fort Worth. One is missing. Maybe you know about that. They can monitor when you call, and soon enough will probably be listening to any calls real time. Ditch the damn things. They are going to lead these guys right to you. They know there are three of you, and believe all of you are in Texas. "

  "This is worse than I would have thought. Here we thought it was over and buried."

  "It would have been if not for that damn detective. And it's fortunate that I'm in the loop to know they are active again."

  "I'll take care of things on this end. What about these phones?"

  "Nothing was said to indicate they are aware of them. I believe we are safe there, although after this call we should probably increment again."

  "Agreed."

  "Oh, one other worry. They want to talk with your son. A misinterpreted meeting between him and Cindy. I sent her to give him a message but someone thought it was a rendezvous so now, with her dead, they are wondering what his role might be. They can't figure the Cindy angle."

  "Damn it! Who knows what he might be thinking or guessing, and what he saw in California that day. He was also our courier for these devices. Isn't there anyway of keeping him away from these guys?"

  "Not without causing all kinds of suspicion."

  "Okay. We will have to hope he's smart enough to keep silent. What about you? Have they made any connection?"

  "I think not. I would have detected something, and doubt I would have learned what I have."

  "Right. Call me if you learn more. I'll go low profile, and get with the others."

  Chapter 30

  "Agent Campbell, come in and have a seat."

  CC glanced around the Secret Service Director's office noting the other three Senior Agents in addition to the Anne Sellers, the Director herself sitting at the large circular table offset from the large desk near the window. Somehow he was certain the other agents weren't here for the same reason as himself.

  Nervously, he stepped into the room and found a seat at the only empty chair remaining around the table. Even more than before he wondered what this was about. The buzz going around his fellow agents at the White House was that something major was going down after the FBI Director forced his way into an unplanned meeting with the President. That was all well and good, but he was the only one who had been replaced a couple of hours later while on duty, and directed to make his way to Secret Service Headquarters and meet with the Director herself. The odd conditions, and the waiting group made it very clear that he was here to be questioned by this group, but for what? What did they think he'd done? He wished he knew what the FBI Director had spoken to the President about.

  He could only think of one thing he had done that was worthy of this kind of inquest, and admittedly that could be a serious matter if they had somehow learned of it. The encrypted phones. Damn, he hoped they hadn't somehow tumbled onto the fact he'd carried one of those to the President. He knew, and they knew he knew, that those phones were controlled equipment not to be in the possession of anyone without express authorization. That meant the President as well. He wouldn't be able to use that as an out. If the President had required one, he could have obtained it through normal channels, so they would argue, correctly, that he'd known what he was doing was a severe violation of the regulations. He could well image the punishment that when with such an action, and being busted out of the Secret Service would only be part of his atonement. Damn his father anyway!

  Heart thumping, he took his seat, prepared to face his punishment, but wondering what he would tell them, and whether it was the violation of any other rules to reveal what the President had told him must remain secret. Secret, even though CC had known that Mark and his father were up to something illegal, not performing some business of state.

  "Mr. Campbell," the Director asked. "Did you know Miss Cindy Moore?"

  CC was momentarily stunned. That certainly wasn't a question he'd been expecting. He found the others staring at him as he fought to regain his composure.

  "The President's girlfriend? Of course I did. She was often with the President when I was on duty, and sometimes I'd see her around the White House on her own."

  "How well did you know her?"

  "I don't know. We were on a first name basis, but then the President is fairly relaxed with his protection detail, and since he is a friend of my father's he sometimes would refer to those times. Cindy, Miss Moore, would often be present and we got to know one another a bit."

  "Did you ever meet her privately?"

  "Privately? I'm not sure what you mean?"

  "Just you and her? Did you talk to her alone? Did she ever come and seek you out for any reason?"

  "Sometimes around the White House, if that's what you mean? I think you are asking something I'm not following."

  "One of the Senior agents jumped in. "Were you in any kind of a relationship with Miss Moore?"

  A relationship! What was this about? CC wondered.

  "She was the President's girlfriend!" he replied hotly. Of course not. Why would you ask such a question?"

  "Someone observed her seek you out and quietly ask you something one day. To this person the exchange looked mildly guilty, and the possibility you two might be hiding a romantic interest."

  "Who was this?" CC demanded.

  "It doesn't matter," the Director said. "Answer the question?"

  "I already have," he countered. "There was never anything but a casual friendship between us, developing because we were often together while I was on duty protecting the President. What brought these questions up?"

  "You will understand better in a bit. Do you recall the incident that I was referring to a moment ago?"
/>   "No. I don't think so?"

  "She never asked you questions privately?"

  "Of course she did. More than once the President would ask her to carry a message to me. Quite often it was about the delays associated with his pet project, the shooting range that he put me in charge of."

  "So this incident was most likely that?"

  "It might have been. As I said, I don't recall the specific incident. It could have been other matters the President wished to bring to my attention."

  "But nothing personal?"

  "Never!" CC replied, his eyes firm as he faced down his boss.

  The Director looked at the others sitting around the table, and somehow soundlessly they came to some kind of agreement. It was very obvious to everyone that the Vice President had misread the encounter and that there was no amorous relationship between the agent and the deceased.

  "You are aware that the FBI Director visited the President a short time ago?" the Director asked.

  "Yes, of course. I was on duty," CC replied.

  "He came here afterward. The purpose of his visits were shocking and will result in some major changes to our way of operating, and result in some careful review of past events."

  CC was even more confused, but decided to wait and see where this was going.

  "You have heard about the killing of Miss Moore, but what if I was to tell you that she wasn't the random victim of a home break-in as you've been told, but instead was murdered, deliberately stalked and targeted."

  "Holy shit!" The words burst out before CC could contain them. "Why would anyone want to kill Cindy?"

  "That's a question for which we don't have a good answer. It is one of many questions that we need to find answers to, and very quickly."

  "I assume the President knows?" CC asked.

  "That's part of what FBI Director Crampton came to tell him," Director Sellers informed him. "That is only part of what has been discovered in the last couple of days. Despite what everyone believed, and what our organization and others reported to the President, Candidate Nancy Craig's death was also not what we believed. She was murdered as well, as were Mr. and Mrs. Marshall."

  "Nancy was murdered?" CC asked, even more surprised than when he'd been told about Cindy.

  The Director nodded. "I recall you were assigned to her, although you'd returned to your normal assignment by the time she was killed. A pair of FBI agents has discovered that a team of four individuals shadowed Mrs. Craig, and eventually killed her, but made it look like an accident, an accident we all believed."

  "Do we know who did this?"

  "Only one of them. He was killed by one of the two agents before he could provide any information. But a throwaway phone was recovered, and that had indicated the three others were involved. Incidentally, the man that was killed is the person who killed Cindy Moore."

  CC's mind was racing with the shocking input. There had been a conspiracy, and the Secret Service, his team, had completely missed it. Someone had wanted Nancy Craig eliminated from the race for president. And why Cindy? Why would anyone want to kill her? She wasn't involved in the politics, but if the same group had killed her, there had to be a connection.

  "Did you ever notice anything, any sign of being watched during the weeks that you were providing security for Mrs. Craig?"

  CC shook his head no, but even as he did so an almost forgotten memory popped into his head. He'd thought he'd seen someone he should recognize while they were in Stanford, but it had been a momentary glance, and he'd been in the middle of bringing his charge safely into the hotel. Later he couldn't even be sure he'd recognized the person and it hadn't just been one of those déjà vu type of things where you believe you see someone, but it isn't them. He couldn't drag up the name, and since nothing had come of it, he'd pushed it aside and until now, completely forgotten it. Momentarily he considered mentioning it, but the moment had basically passed, and he wouldn't be able to supply anything constructive to their knowledge. It probably would just be a distraction, and it sounded like they had enough of those right now.

  "Have the phones revealed anything?" he asked.

  "Two are still active. Both are in different cities in your home state of Texas. A pair of agents, the same two that uncovered all of this, are going there to see if they can locate the phones, and more importantly the people who have them."

  The discussion of phone drug his mind back to the encrypted phones his father and the President were using. He half expected a question about them to suddenly be thrown at him, but it seemed none of these people were aware of the special phones being used for some unknown purpose right under their noses.

  After questioning him further, and bringing him as up to date as his fellow agents would be, he was dismissed and told to return to his duty station.

  "What do you think?" one of the questioners asked the Director.

  "He knows nothing about the girl. I'm certain of that. And while I believe all of this is a surprise, I sensed that he knows or saw something. Watch him. See if he does anything suspicion to suggest I am wrong."

  CC had a hard time absorbing all that he'd been told. He also had a bad feeling that told him coincidences just didn't happen, and the timing of whatever his dad and the President had gotten involved in might have gotten out of hand. He could imagine several things they might be doing that would explain why he hadn't been brought into their plans, a couple of them he really didn't want to think very hard about.

  He would have liked to call his Dad, but he wasn't sure he was ready for that or that it would be wise.

  Chapter 31

  El Paso, Texas

  "Are you going somewhere?" Ginny Holt asked as Earl stepped into her kitchen, dressed for outdoors with his favorite imitation World War Two flying jacket, and a small packed carry bag that he sometimes took when he was expecting to overnight somewhere. What Ginny couldn't see under the jacket and loose shirt was the holster holding his Model 39 9mm pistol and the spare magazine attached to the left side of his belt.

  "Thought I might go for a plane ride," he replied, setting the satchel on the floor and looking squarely at his housekeeper. "It's been a considerable time since I took her up," he added."

  "How long are you planning on being gone?" Ginny asked, eyeing the tired old case sitting on her clean table.

  "Not sure," Earl admitted truthfully. Might just take a run up towards Amarillo, or if the flying's good and the mood grabs me I might just continue east on to Washington and visit CC."

  "That's why you have the traveling case?" she asked.

  Earl nodded. "I'm certain I'll be gone at least one night whatever I decide."

  "You know, they have great big planes for going places like Washington," she informed him. "Get you there in considerably less time."

  "But not half as much fun," Earl countered.

  "Gus ain't gonna be happy. He was saying last night how good it was going to be to have you back for a while. There's a number of things he needs to get your approval on. I assume you haven't informed him about your plans?"

  "Was going to do that just now," Earl admitted. He doesn't need me. I trust his judgment, and he can decide how to approach any problems."

  "You haven't ridden your horses since spring," she said, changing the direction of the conversation. I can't recall you ever doing that before. They'll probably shy away from you if you try it now."

  Earl smiled.

  "Do you have a snack I might carry with me?" he asked.

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "Well, you could fill this here thermos with coffee, and maybe roll up a couple of handfuls of that bacon I can nibble on while I'm flying my plane. What do ya think?"

  Ginny huffed, but set off to complete the task, handing him the thermos and a large ziplock bag filled with bacon that had finished draining on the expanse of paper towels on the counter. She'd have to get started on more, but that was often the case.

  "Fly careful," she admonished. "You may have fo
rgotten how to drive that toy of yours after so long."

  "Earl smiled and waved. "Thanks for the snack," he added as he headed out the door.

  Gus had been even more unhappy than Ginny had warned, but had had time to get used to the idea when he'd seen a couple of Earl's hands working on gassing up the Cessna a bit earlier. They had talked briefly, Earl emphasizing Gus had the authority to proceed as he thought best on the repairs, with Earl authorizing the expenditure in advance.

  As he took off, Earl selected a heading that would take him north toward Amarillo, gradually gaining altitude as he put distance between himself and the ranch. The town of El Paso disappeared in the distance behind him, and when he was well away from the city and the ranch, he turned eastward and set a course that would take him to Fort Worth, his first stop, and the most important one.

  He'd decided after the President's warning, and the uncertainty of just how much they might have figured out or guessed, that any form of electronic communication with Jason or Bo would be reckless and subject to interception. Written letters were too slow given the fact Mark had learned that NSA was setting up to try and locate the phones, not just the towers they were using which they had already identified. His own tower was nearly sixteen miles from the ranch, and covered a considerable area, with one other a bit further away to the north and probably would have allowed them to relatively easily get a fix on his ranch if he hadn't immediately turned the damn thing off as soon as he'd finished talking to Mark. Jason lived inside the town, so there were likely many towers close to his house making the task a bit more involved, but he didn't know exactly what that meant or how quickly they could get moving on the task. Actually, he realized, fewer towers might make it harder to locate. He didn't really know how it all worked. Hence, today's flight.