“Mr. Carpenter is an interesting man,” Reeder said, “with a strong sense of survival instinct. He appears to be waiting for just the right deal before giving up his employer.”
And Rogers saw it: the slight relief around Benjamin’s eyes.
“My only explanation for all of this,” Reeder said, “is that Frank Elmore really was a true, pass-the-Kool-Aid believer in the Common Sense Movement. So extreme that he did add himself to the list of the loose ends Carpenter was hired to tie off, and added Lynn Barr, too.”
“It’s incredible,” Benjamin said softly. “But Frank truly was dedicated to the movement... and to me... what a tragic outcome.”
Shaking his head, Reeder asked, “But whatever would possess Elmore to think blowing up the Capitol was in any way a good idea?”
Benjamin thought about that, staring into nothing again. “I suppose... he must have thought that, had the Capitol been destroyed, the people who stand in the way of progress would be gone. The country would be... would have to be... reborn.”
“With you as the new father of the country.”
He waved that off. “I would give of myself in whatever way my country needed.”
“Think you’ll still run?”
“Too early to say. Not an appropriate time to even consider it. But — whatever my country needs.”
Reeder smiled. “Well, we’ll see what your country needs from you, when that report comes out tomorrow.”
Benjamin frowned. “You really believe that will have an impact on their decision, and mine?”
“Yeah, I do. One thing I forgot to mention. Carpenter hasn’t talked yet, but before you reach out and find some way to silence him, don’t bother. Seems he recorded all the cell phone calls between you two. I’m guessing he doesn’t know who hired him, and you didn’t contact him directly until after Elmore was dead. See, killing off your insulation was not smart. The techs have already done voice comparisons between the man on Carpenter’s cell phone and you. Perfect match.”
Benjamin didn’t say anything, although in a way he did, since all the blood was draining from his face.
Rogers, rather stunned by the enormity of Reeder’s bluff, did her best not to show it.
Reeder was saying, “We’re only here, Adam... I’m only here... because I was once a fan. And I think you started out meaning well. But you’ve pushed this ends-justify-the-means thing over the line. Your middle-of-the-road followers are not going to take to your brand of megalomaniacal extremism.”
The voice that emanated deep from Benjamin’s chest was one neither Rogers nor Reeder had heard before, as if it came up from dark depths within the man.
“Why did you come, Mr. Reeder?”
“Out of respect for who you were. Of how you started. On the assumption you once were who you’ve come to pretend you still are. And if you’re thinking that your money will bail you out? Well, keep watching the financial news, and the little scrolling down below, and see just how far and fast your stock drops after the report comes out. Think of this as a courtesy call.”
Behind the black-framed glasses, the dark eyes were cold and unblinking. “Courtesy?”
“Yes. Advance warning. For you to get your affairs in order. Ducks in a row kind of thing. Your next visit from the FBI will not be unofficial. They will bring warrants and disgrace. You may still have enough money to fight this for a while, Adam. But it’s over. I hope you have the common sense to know it.”
They were almost to the car when they heard the gunshot.
Twenty-two
“The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dream shall never die.”
Joe Reeder sat at the head of a table in the Verdict Chophouse dining room, his daughter Amy to his left, her boyfriend Bobby next to her — the kid wearing a suit for the first time in Reeder’s memory.
But then everybody was dressed up tonight, including Patti Rogers, looking very feminine in a silky-looking dark-blue dress with some neckline and pearls, in the seat to Reeder’s right. An empty chair was between her and Melanie at the far end — they were waiting for Patti’s date.
Melanie’s husband, Donald Graham, couldn’t make it because he’d been called out of town on business. Reeder had tried to sound sincere telling Mel he was disappointed, but she clearly didn’t buy it. If he could have read people half as easily as she did him, he’d have deserved his reputation.
Mel looked fashion-model lovely, as usual, in an emerald designer dress, all of that long brown hair up in a currently fashionable tower. Kind of silly looking, but he wouldn’t tell her that under torture.
His ex sipped her martini, then said, “You just never know about people.”
Reeder said, “You don’t, huh?”
“That Adam Benjamin. You really admired him, didn’t you, Joe? He seemed so strong. So warm. Always made such good sense.”
“Agree to disagree,” Bobby mumbled, and gulped his own beer.
Mel was saying, “Here he was at the head of an entire grassroots movement, richest man in America, and yet... What could make him take his own life?”
Looking like a younger version of her mother, minus the towering hairdo and in a white silk blouse and black skirt, Amy said, “I don’t think that’s so hard to figure out. So many of his friends and associates, wiped out in a crazy shooting spree. At a Holiday Inn Express? What’s that about?”
Eyes narrowing, Bobby — who could really use a haircut, in Reeder’s opinion — said, “I’m telling you, there was something going on there. I bet Benjamin was murdered. I mean, do you survive two assassination attempts and then kill yourself?”
Amy, sipping her sparkling water, shook her head. “Honey, you see conspiracies everywhere.”
“He was a real threat to the left and right both. There’s a very interesting website that suggests elements of both parties came together to get rid of him.”
Reeder said, “It would be one thing they agreed on, anyway.”
Bobby said, “Ms. Rogers, you’re in the FBI, right?”
Rogers smiled a little. “Right.”
“Do you buy what happened to that guy?”
“What guy? Benjamin?”
“No, that Carpenter character. Goes all Manson Family at the Holiday Inn, then days later shows up suddenly a suicide himself. Doesn’t it seem like an awful lot of convenient suicides to you?”
She sipped Chablis. “Not my case, Bob. Sorry.”
He smirked. “And if it was, you still wouldn’t tell me.”
Amy said, “Bobby... be good.”
Holding up a surrender palm, Melanie said, “My fault. I brought up a topic not suitable for friendly discourse at an evening out of fine dining... at my ex-husband’s expense.”
“Hear hear,” they all said, and Rogers lifted her glass to him and everybody followed suit.
Reeder tasted his beer and shrugged. “I’m with Bobby.”
Bobby blinked. “You are?”
“Yeah. I’m a big believer in conspiracies. I mean, hell, it’s only been, what? Five years since they finally cleared Oswald?”
Melanie, brightening, said to Reeder, “Say, I heard from Beth Bryson! She and Christopher just got back from Florida. Said they had a lovely vacation down there.” She shook her head, turned to Reeder. “Too bad you weren’t able to help her out, Joe, where, uh, her husband... you know.”
Reeder nodded, flashed her a sad smile, had more beer.
Unfortunately the real reason behind Chris Bryson’s “suicide” was buried in the general cover-up of the Capitol bombing plot. Nonetheless, Reeder had privately assured Beth and her son that Chris had not taken his life, and that Reeder had personally settled the score.