Term Limits (40 page)

“Did it work?”

Augie nodded his head and puffed on his pipe.

Michael asked, “The CIA assassinated two elected officials in an allied country?”

“Yes. Michael, you have to understand things were a lot different back then. The stakes were considerably higher than they are today, and the spying business was a far deadlier game.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “I'm not into revisionism, and I'm not in much of a position to judge you.”

Augie rubbed the end of his pipe with his thumb. “Do you understand why I told you that story?”

“I think so.”

“What would your reaction be if I told you I think I know who might be behind the assassinations of Olson and Turnquist?”

Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I would be very interested to hear what you have to say.”

“The man that came up with the idea to use the OAS as a cover went on to head the Black Operations Directorate of the CIA from the midsixties until just several years ago. Have you ever heard of Arthur Higgins?”

Michael frowned and said, “Yes… I thought he was retired.”

“Forced out
would be a more precise term.”

“Why?”

“There are a lot of reasons, but the short version is that he and Director Stansfield had some issues.”

Michael looked at Seamus and then back at Augie. “Where are you going with this?”

“I think Arthur is behind the assassinations of Turnquist and Olson.”

“I hope you're basing this on more than the story you just told me.”

“Oh, I am. There's a lot more.”

Michael's chin dropped down into his chest, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Without looking up, he asked, “What's the motive for Higgins to kill Turn-quist and Erik?”

“I'm not sure about Turnquist, but Arthur had a personal score to settle with Olson.”

“What score?” Michael looked up.

“Arthur was next in line for the top job at the CIA when Director Carlyle stepped down four years ago. Everybody thought the job was Arthur's, including me. That was until your old boss stepped in.”

“Erik?”

“Yep. You must remember, when all of this happened, you were on Olson's staff.”

“Of course I do, but I don't remember Higgins's name being mentioned. All I remember is the president nominating Stansfield and that he was confirmed with bipartisan support.”

Augie grinned. “Stansfield was the only person nominated because your boss, Chairman Olson, went to the president and told him if Arthur's name was sent to the Intelligence Committee, he would do everything in his power to block the nomination. Olson told the president if the nomination was lucky enough to get out of his committee and make it to the Senate floor for a vote, he would resign his chairmanship in protest.” Augie pointed the end of his pipe at Michael. “Rather than risk the embarrassment, the president nominated Stansfield, and Arthur missed his chance at the one job he had worked his entire life to get.”

Michael frowned. “You think he would kill Erik over that?”

“You've never met Arthur, have you?”

“No.”

“He's the most evil son of a bitch I've ever known.”

Michael skeptically shook his head. “I'm having a hard time buying this.”

“Michael, it runs much deeper than what I've told you. For over thirty years Arthur ran the most secretive part of the Agency. He answered to no one. Directors came and went and not one of them dared cross him. Arthur always hid behind internal-secrecy rules and a need-to-know basis. In the early years he received a blank check for his operations, but then, when the House and the Senate implemented
oversight committees, he was left with the option of telling them what he was doing or having his funding cut. Arthur was not involved in the type of things he could talk about in public. He didn't even tell people in the Agency what he was up to, and he sure as hell wasn't going to walk into a committee room and explain himself to a roomful of men who were about as good at keeping secrets as a gossip columnist. Over the years his funding shrank significantly, but his operating budget continued to grow. He started to finance his operations through various illegal endeavors.”

“Why didn't someone reel him in?” asked Seamus.

“Senator Olson did.”

“I can't believe I never heard any of this from Erik.”

“Your boss was a very reasonable man, and he understood the value of the Agency. He was a realist, and he knew that going after Arthur through hearings or an investigation would do more harm than good. Instead, he worked behind the scenes to try and keep him as honest as possible.” Augie tapped the bowl of his pipe on the tailgate and the spent tobacco fell to the ground in clumps. “Let's not lose sight of something here. The other reason Arthur was tolerated was that he served a very valuable purpose. When things got ugly, he was called in to clean up. He handled all of the stuff that no one else wanted to. He took care of the Agency's dirty work.”

Michael thought about it for a minute. “Can you be sure he's responsible for this?”

“I can't be one hundred percent sure.” Augie dumped some more tobacco into the bowl of the pipe and packed it down. “There are a lot of other reasons why I think Arthur killed Senator Olson and Congressman Turnquist.… I have my reasons for not wanting to discuss them, just like you have yours for not wanting to discuss your source.”

“Why don't you go to the FBI with this?”

Augie lit his pipe and frowned. “The FBI can't do anything.”

“Why not? All we have to do is tell them what you just said, and they'll initiate an investigation.”

Augie smiled. “And they'll find nothing, and I'll end up with a bullet in the back of my head. Michael, I don't think you understand who we are talking about. Arthur is a very brilliant and ruthless person. He's assassinated people all over the world, and he hasn't come close to getting caught. Not once.… Besides, I can't tell the FBI anything. I'm bound by the national secrecy act.”

“Well, I can.”

“Michael, I don't think you understand. If you go to the FBI, Arthur will find out. He has sources everywhere. After he finds out it was you who went to the FBI, he will very subtly threaten your life or the life of someone close to you. Or maybe he'll just have you killed. He is not a man to be toyed with.”

“Why are you telling me all of this if you don't think I should do anything?”

“I expect you to do something, but before I get to that, I have to ask you some questions.” Augie sucked on his pipe for a while. “When Downs, Fitzgerald, Koslowski, and Basset were killed, I wasn't real torn
up. I hated everything they stood for, and I was glad to see them gone. I've thought for a long time that the crusty old windbags in Washington needed to be shaken up.” Augie paused, contemplating how to phrase his next statement. “I have a good idea who was behind the first four assassinations.”

Augie shifted his weight and put one foot on the ground. He looked at Seamus and said, “I could ask a more direct question, but I don't want to be lied to, so I'll skirt the issue slightly. If you really had to… could you get in touch with someone who is involved in the original assassinations?”

After a moment of silence Seamus said, “Yes.”

Michael's face remained passive.

“Good.” Augie stood and hobbled to the cab of the truck. “I've got something I'd like you to pass on to them for me.” He reached behind the seat, pulled out a large legal file, and walked back to the tailgate. Sitting down with an owly look in his eye, he said, “I think I have everything figured out, but it's probably better to leave certain things unsaid.” Augie handed the file to Seamus. “Please pass this on to your revolutionary friends.”

“What's in it?” asked Michael.

“Remember how I told you when I was at the Agency I was kind of a roving analyst? I was also a troubleshooter of sorts. Right before I left the Agency, Director Stansfield asked me to draw up some contingency plans for a… delicate operation.”

Seamus looked at the file and then up at his old friend. “What kind of an operation?”

“One that no one other than Stansfield and I
were to know about.… After Stansfield took over, Arthur became even more reclusive. Stansfield knew that he would have to force Arthur to resign and became increasingly worried about how he would react. There were a lot of concerns that he might turn on us and sell information abroad or use things that he knew to blackmail Stansfield and the Agency. He was a loose cannon, and no one knew which direction he would fire, so Stansfield did the prudent thing and asked me to draw up a plan to neutralize him.”

“The folder contains the plan?” asked Michael.

“Most of it. There's detailed schematics of his house on the Chesapeake. It gives a rundown on his security system, where its strengths and weaknesses are, how many guards he has and what their rotation is. The plan is a year and a half old, so I'm not sure how much has changed. I do know that he still spends almost all of his time at the house. He has a lot of enemies, which has made him extremely paranoid over the years.”

“Why aren't you going to Stansfield with this?”

“Arthur is still very well connected at the Agency. No one really knows how well for sure, but there is a chance he would be forewarned about any plans against him.”

“Is that the real reason or are you just looking for someone to do your dirty work?”

“Nope. I'll be honest with you, Michael. I would like to have Arthur Higgins killed. There was a time when he was good for our country, but for the last fifteen years he's been out of control. When he left the Agency, he was warned to stay out of the intelligence business. Since then he has been cautioned by Stansfield more than once to keep his nose out of the Agency's business. I hesitate to take this to Director Stansfield for the reasons I already gave and for the fact that Arthur has a lot of contacts at the National Security Agency. If anything happens to Arthur, they will suspect the CIA.” Augie looked up at the sky for a second. “As to why I'm dumping this on your lap… well… you gave him the opportunity to kill Olson and Turnquist, and in my book that means you should be the one to stop him.”

Michael stared unwaveringly at Augie and said, “I did nothing. I'm just trying to clean up the mess.”

Augie looked at Seamus. “This is your doing?”

“Yes. Can I count on you to stay quiet?”

“Yes. I happen to think that what you're doing is about twenty years overdue.” The old spy stuck his hands under his armpits. “We've killed politicians in other countries that were far less of a threat to our national security than our own leaders. Don't you think that during all my years as a covert-operations specialist I thought about doing in America what I was doing abroad?”

Michael nodded, remembering that Scott Coleman had said the exact same thing to him a year ago. Michael changed the subject back to Higgins. “What makes you think we can get to Arthur?”

“I assume that you have some professionals helping you.” Augie paused and held up his hands. “I don't want to know who they are or what their background is. The less I know about that the better. If they could kill Fitzgerald, Downs, Koslowski, and Basset and vanish without a trace, I assume they're pretty good. Arthur has one habit that makes him vulnerable. You'll find it in the file.”

Michael held up the file. “I'm interested to see what's in here.”

“I would urge you not to waste any time. Arthur may not be done killing.”

MCMAHON WAS BACK IN THE JOINT SPECIAL Operations Command's conference room at the Pentagon, eating a microwaved container of lasagna that was more than a little salty. His entire afternoon had been spent meeting with Harvey Wilcox, the deputy director of the FBI's Counterterrorism Department; Madeline Nanny, the deputy director of the FBI's Counter Espionage Department; and Director Roach. Both departments had the equipment and personnel to run surveillance on the fourteen black former commandos who were living in the D.C. metro area. Neither Roach nor McMahon had to ask for the full cooperation of the two deputy
directors. Both understood the priority of the task that had been handed to them. Nanny had more available assets, so she took nine of the fourteen dossiers and Wilcox took the other five. They estimated they could initiate surveillance during the next twenty-four hours, and depending on the individual movements of the suspects, they could have airtight surveillance established within seventy-two hours. The total number of agents to be involved was calculated at 140.

McMahon finished explaining the details of the surveillance to Kennedy and General Heaney right about the time he finished eating the lasagna that he knew would give him heartburn. He slid the Styrofoam box off to the side and asked General Heaney if he had any Tums.

The general produced a roll and tossed it across the table. A moment later one of the general's aides entered the room and handed him a computer printout and a cover sheet. Heaney thanked the young officer and glanced over the cover sheet. “Our computer ran a search for any former commandos living within a hundred miles of Washington, D.C. It turned up ninety-four SEALs, eighty-one Green Berets, and sixty-eight Delta Force commandos.”

McMahon's face twisted into a painful look. “That's over two hundred possible suspects.”

“Yes, but that was before we directed the computer to narrow the search to only commandos that had served with the fourteen black commandos.”

“What did that bring the numbers down to?”

The general glanced down at the sheet. “Twenty-six Green Berets and nineteen Deltas.”

Kennedy peered over the top of her glasses. “What happened to all the SEALs?”