Part 15 (1/2)
”They know what's at stake. They'll understand.”
”I'll look like a coward,” she said, raising her voice an entire octave.
You're supposed to watch out for me, not bury me.”
”I'm trying to protect you. Save your life.”
”I want you out of here,” she screamed. ”Now!” She picked up the cue ball and hurled it into a trophy case. The gla.s.s exploded. Fiona marched into the den and slammed the door behind her. Several agents scrambled into the room. He put his hands up to let them know everything was okay.
”Is everything alright Mr. Veil?” asked Agent Sams, as the others panned out and inspected the damage.
”It was an accident. Everything is under control,” he told them.
Agent Sams gave Robert a knowing look, ordered his men outside, and holstered his gun. ”Mr. Veil, this has been hard on all of us. But I think we need to keep things as routine for the judge as possible.” Robert understood. Secret Service agents were trained to protect, but were also skilled at making those they protected feel as normal as possible. He thanked the agent.
Agent Sams turned to leave, then hesitated. ”It's no secret most of us resent your involvement.”
”I know. It's been a long standing feud.”
”Well, the boys in the trenches, myself included, want you to know we understand. We'll be there when, and if, you need us.”
”That's a change of heart for you.”
”The past is the past,” said Sams. ”Let's just say making sure the judge lives through this takes precedent. When this is over we can go back to status quo.” He smiled and left the room.
Thorne walked in and admired the smashed trophy case. ”Well, I see you've got everything under control.”
”What about you? I'm sure you've got it all under control and Julie Rice is sitting outside in your car, with the missing evidence.” She shot him a go to h.e.l.l expression, picked up the cue ball and tossed it on the pool table. ”No,” she said. ”I didn't find a thing. In fact, I feel further away than when we started.”
”What about the cemetery brochures?”
”I checked the records at each, looked at the mausoleums of several.
Dry so far. Not a sign of Charlie anywhere.”
”That makes sense,” said Robert, aggravated. ”After all, we're looking for fly s.h.i.+t in pepper.”
”Not really,” said Thorne.
Robert moved in closer. He needed good news.
”Charlie knew he was going to contact us, to bring this whole thing out, right?”
Robert nodded.
”He was smart,” she continued. ”A vile little f.u.c.ker, but not stupid.
There has to be something we're missing. A clue he knew we'd find if something went wrong.”
”You're right,” Robert agreed. ”We'll have a look at the cemeteries again. The brochures are the key. The evidence is in one of them, I know it. After the reception we'll check.” Robert cracked a smile.
”You were right about this one, huh?”
”Fool, don't get me started.”
”Look at it this way,” said Robert. ”It can't get much worse.” Thorne cracked a smile. ”Well, hold onto your b.u.t.t' cause it is.” She crossed her arms and stepped closer. ”My friends at NSA tell me there's been a stirring high in government circles. A revelation about President Kennedy's a.s.sa.s.sination. They mentioned you, me, Charlie, and Rothschild.”
Robert stroked his chin. ”Did your friends say how far up it goes?”
”To the top,” Thorne answered.
Robert's face asked the question. You mean?
”President William Jefferson Claymore,” she said. ”And get this.
The President met with Edward this morning. Something about his son Charleston's bid for the White House. They weren't sure, but my contacts say Edward left the meeting a little, how shall I say, sullen.
They also said Edward's trying to get his hands on a large parcel of offsh.o.r.e real estate.”
Robert furrowed his brow. ”Real estate?”
”In the Middle East,” Thorne clarified. ”A very large oil field somewhere in the Middle East. The State Department's about to p.i.s.s their pants.”
”That's not possible,” said Robert. ”I don't care how much money that arrogant a.s.shole has. None of the Arab countries would ever sell an oil field to an outsider. Why would they? It's their base of power.”
”Because this a.s.shole's son is about to become President. Word around the intelligence water cooler says Edward intends to orchestrate a ma.s.s exchange of nuclear technology in return.”
”Israel would never stand for it,” said Robert. ”And if I recall, I've heard Rothschild speak out about the protection and security of Israel from the Palestinian threat.” He smirked.
”Obviously he's full of s.h.i.+t,” Thorne answered. ”You know how hypocritical these guys can be. Everything is a means to more. The real issue here is how this plays into our situation. With so much at stake, he's gonna be h.e.l.l warmed over.”
Robert paced the room. ”Let's rattle the trees. Confront Edward directly. Bluff. We'll tell him we have Charlie on tape, and the evidence, and see what falls out. We expose the Kennedy plot, and the Middle East bulls.h.i.+t will take care of itself. His son won't get close to the White House.”
”That's your plan? Suicide?”
”It's better than being sitting ducks,” said Robert. ”We'll smoke'em out. Rothschild's not working alone and we need to find out who's with him. It'll buy us some time. He wants the evidence, that's why he didn't kill Charlie at first. That's why he won't kill us, at least not right away.”
”It's risky,” said Thorne, stroking her hair. ”But you're right.
Besides, you know me. If I have to die, I might as well go out in a blaze.”
”Then it's agreed. We'll shake'em up, then burn'em down.”
”What about the judge?” Thorne asked. ”We still have to baby-sit.
What if they think she's involved?”