‘I’ve heard nothing about it!’
‘Was anyone taken alive?’ This last question, the questioner instantly examined by Milos Varak, was Gideon Logan, his dark face set in fury—or was it frenzy… or fear?
‘I’ll answer everything I can,’ said the Czech co-ordinator of Inver Brass, ‘but I must tell you that I’m not fully informed. The word is that Kendrick survived and is in protective custody. The attacks took place late yesterday afternoon or possibly in the early evening—’
‘Possibly?’ shouted Margaret Lowell. ‘Yesterday? Why don’t you know— why don’t we all know, why doesn’t the country know?’
‘There’s a total blackout, apparently requested by the intelligence services and granted by the President.’
‘Obviously designed to unbalance the Arabs,’ said Mandel. ‘They kill for publicity, and if they don’t get it they go crazier than they already are. Crazy people stand out—’
‘And if they’re alive they have to get out of the country,’ added Sundstrom. ‘Can they get out, Varak?’
‘It would depend on the sophistication of their arrangements, sir. On who made it possible for them to get in.’
‘Were any of the Palestinians taken alive?’ persisted Gideon Logan.
‘I can only speculate,’ answered the Czech, his eyes neutral but beneath that neutrality searching intensely. ‘I was fortunate to learn what I did before the blackout was made total; the loss of life was not broken down at that point.’
‘What are your speculations?’ asked Sundstrom.
‘At best, there is only a 10 to 15 per cent chance that any of the assailants was captured—alive. The figure is based on Mideast statistics. It’s customary for terrorist teams to carry cyanide capsules sewn into their lapels, concealed razor blades and syringes taped to various parts of their bodies, anything that facilitates taking their own lives rather than reveal information through torture or drugs. Remember, except for the inability to kill their enemies, death is no sacrifice for these people. Instead, it’s a rite of passage to an afterlife of joy, not overabundant for them here.’
‘Then it’s possible that one or two or more might have been captured alive,’ pressed Logan, making a statement.
‘It’s possible, depending upon how many were involved. It’s a priority, if it can be accomplished.’
‘Why is it so important, Gideon?’ asked Samuel Winters.
‘Because we’re all aware of the extraordinary measures taken to protect Kendrick,’ replied the black entrepreneur, studying Varak’s face, ‘and I think it’s imperative to know how these unschooled fanatics penetrated such security. Any word on that, Milos?’
‘Yes, sir. Mine, and hardly official, but it’s only a matter of days before the federal units make the connection I made.’
‘What the hell is it?’ cried Margaret Lowell, her voice loud and sharp.
‘I assume you’re all aware of Andrew Vanvlanderen—’
‘No,’ broke in Lowell.
‘What about him?’ asked Gideon Logan.
‘Should we?’ chimed in Mandel.
‘He died,’ said Eric Sundstrom, sitting back in his chair.
‘What?’ The word shot out three times in succession.
‘It happened early this morning in California, too late for the eastern papers,’ explained Winters. ‘The cause of death was listed as a heart attack. I heard it on the radio.’
‘So did I,’ added Sundstrom.
‘I haven’t listened to a radio.’ Margaret Lowell.
‘I was on a boat and then a plane.’ Gideon Logan.
‘I was at a basketball game.’ Jacob Mandel, guiltily.
‘It’s not the biggest news story of the day,’ continued Sundstrom, sitting forward. ‘The late editions of the Post had it on page four or five, I think, and Vanvlanderen was at least known in this town. Outside here and Palm Springs, not too many people have ever heard his name.’
‘What’s the connection to the Palestinians?’ asked Logan, his dark eyes riveted on Varak.
‘The alleged heart attack is open to question, sir.’
Each face around the table was like granite… hard, immobile, set as in stone. Slowly, each looked at the others, the enormity of the implication rolling over them like an immense powerful wave.
‘That’s an extraordinary statement, Mr. Varak,’ said Winters quietly. ‘Would you explain, as you did to me, please?’
‘The men around Vice President Bollinger, by and large the heaviest contributors to party funds with interests to protect, are fighting among themselves. I’ve learned that there are different factions. One wants to replace the Vice President with a specific candidate, another wants to retain him, and still another insists on waiting until the political landscape is clearer.’
‘So?’ intoned Jacob Mandel, removing his silver-rimmed glasses.
‘The one person obviously unacceptable to everyone is Evan Kendrick.’
‘And, Milos?’ said Margaret Lowell.
‘Everything we do entails a degree of risk, Counsellor,’ replied Varak. ‘I’ve never tried to minimize that despite the fact that I’ve guaranteed your anonymity. Nevertheless, to initiate the campaign for Congressman Kendrick we had to create a political committee through which to funnel materials and considerable funds with yourselves nowhere in evidence. It took several weeks, and it’s possible that the news reached San Diego… It’s not difficult to imagine the reactions of Bollinger’s people, especially the faction most disposed towards him. Kendrick is a legitimate American hero, a viable candidate who could be swept on to the ticket in a wave of popularity just as we have proposed he should be. Those people might panic and look for quick, final solutions… Among them would have to be the Vanvlanderens; and Mrs. Vanvlanderen, the Vice President’s chief of staff, has extensive ties in Europe and the Middle East.’
‘Good Christ!’ exclaimed Sundstrom. ‘Are you suggesting that Vice President Bollinger is responsible for these terrorist attacks, these killings?’
‘Not directly, no, sir. It could be more like Henry II’s remark within the royal court about Thomas Becket: “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” The King gave no order, no instructions, he simply asked a pointed question, probably while laughing, but his knights didn’t miss the point. And the point here is that powerful people were instrumental in getting those killers into the country and supplied once they were here.’
‘It’s incredible!’ said Mandel, gripping his glasses, his voice a whisper.
‘Just a minute,’ interrupted Gideon Logan, his large head at an angle, his eyes still riveted on the Czech. ‘You’ve also suggested that Vanvlanderen’s heart attack might have been something else. What makes you suspect that, and if you’re right, how is it related to the Palestinians?’
‘My initial suspicions about his stroke came when I learned that within an hour of the body’s arrival at the mortuary, Mrs. Vanvlanderen gave the order for immediate cremation, claiming that they had a mutual pact for the procedure.’
‘Said procedure eliminating any chance of an autopsy.’ Attorney Lowell nodded her head, clarifying the obvious. ‘What’s the Palestinian connection, Milos?’
‘To begin with, the timing. A healthy sportsman with no history of heart disease is suddenly dead less than twenty-four hours after the attacks on Kendrick’s homes. Then, of course, learning further about Mrs. Vanvlanderen’s extensive Middle East contacts—that was prompted by our brief discussion about her during the last meeting. These are things the Federal investigators will piece together within a matter of days, and, if valid, probably relate them to the massacres.’
‘But if Vanvlanderen was dealing with the terrorists, why was he killed?’ asked a bewildered Sundstrom. ‘He was the one holding the strings.’
‘I’ll answer that, Eric,’ said Margaret Lowell. ‘The best way to put evidence out of reach is to destroy it. The courier is killed, not the one who sends the message. That way the instigator can’t be traced.’
‘Too much, too much!’ cried Jacob Mandel. ‘Such high levels of our government can be such garbage?
‘We know they can be, my friend,’ answered Samuel Winters. ‘Otherwise we ourselves would not be doing what we’re doing.’
‘The tragedy of it,’ said the financier, shaking his head in sorrow. ‘A nation of such promise so racked from within. They’ll change all the rules, all the laws. For what?
‘For themselves,’ replied Gideon Logan quietly.
‘What do you think will happen, Milos?’ asked Margaret Lowell.
‘If there’s any substance to my speculation and the blackout runs its course, I believe a cover story will be created completely omitting any reference to government officials making contact with terrorists. Scapegoats, dead ones, will be found. Washington can’t afford to do otherwise; foreign policy would be in a shambles.’
‘And Bollinger?’ Once again Sundstrom sat back in his chair.
‘Officially, if the scapegoats are sufficiently convincing, he could be taken, as you say here, off the hook… That’s officially, not where we are concerned.’
‘That’s an interesting statement, if not an illuminating one, Mr. Varak,’ said Winters. ‘Would you mind clarifying?’
‘Not at all, sir. Although I must return to Chicago, I’ve made arrangements with certain personnel at the telephone company in San Diego to provide me with records of every call placed to Bollinger’s residence, his office and each member of his staff. They will state all initiating numbers and times, including pay phones and their locations. Unless I’m mistaken, we’ll have enough ammunition, if only circumstantial, to persuade the Vice President to gracefully remove himself from the ticket.’