“Not really, no,” Barney fingered his mustache, thinking. “Normally, you come to see me. You mean those who’re after Frank will look into his contacts first, and only then—”
“Exactly. As far as Frank is concerned, you’ve got nothing to do with him.” Max rummaged through the bag. Something inside clanged. “Now they know that I know what he does, but they don’t know where to look for me.”
“Is that good or bad?” Frank looked over the coach’s shoulder.
Gun butts protruded from the bag: two assault rifles with ribbed handguards. Max pushed the guns to one side and produced a bulky laptop in a rubberized case. He handed it to Frank saying,
“The killer will start freaking out. And when people start freaking out, they make mistakes.”
“How do we know when they do that?” Barney took the laptop from Frank and placed it onto the table.
“You go and get some rest now,” Max rose and unraveled the laptop’s power cord. “Frank and I here, we’ll power up the PC, watch the TV news and see what comes up in the media. In the meantime, Maggie will be back.”
Without saying a word, Barney went into his room. In response to Frank’s unasked question, Max explained that before planning a mission, one should gather as much intelligence as possible.
“Mind plugging this in,” he hooked up the power cord and handed Frank the plug. “And put the news channel on, will you?”
“What do you want me to do?” Frank passed the cord under the table and plugged the laptop in. He sat in front of the TV and zapped through the channels looking for the news.
“I wonder if something comes up,” the coach sat on a stool and turned the laptop toward him. “Look at the news, especially trailers, and commercial breaks.”
The laptop’s fan hummed. Green and red lights flickered on the side panel. Max frisked through his pockets for a pair of glasses.
“There’s a folder in the side pocket. Whatever you consider odd or note-worthy, write it down.”
“What, all of it?” Frank reached inside the bag for the folder and found a stack of paper.
“Please do. We’ll deal with it later.” Looking at the laptop screen, he tapped in a command. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll listen to whatever you consider interesting.”
“Will do.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to wait long. You think you can do it until lunchtime?”
“Pardon me?” Scanning through the news, Frank took some time to understand the question. “Ah — yes, sure. I can do it all day if it’s needed.”
“It’s not. Barney will replace you once we’ve eaten. We’ll have to take turns resting. Tomorrow we need to be fresh and clear-headed.”
Chapter Nine. A Pattern Starts to Form
Frank watched the news but he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t help thinking of the men in black who had attacked the police station. They knew about Kathleen’s package, too, and had tried to kill him at the post office. The blond guy seemed to have been the one in charge. He was the only one with his hair on. Or could it have been a wig?
Frank crossed his arms and leaned back listening to TV reports. Nothing relevant as yet. The anchor was speaking about the presidential election campaign and the Republican candidate Congressman Russell Jefferson Claney.
Frank was about to turn away when footage of Claney and the acting President came up. The two stood on the lawn in front of the White House and shook hands, smiling for the camera.
Slowly, Frank leaned forward eyeing Claney’s face. The camera panned in for a close-up, the President’s friendly tapping hand on his shoulder. The shot was replaced with a White House view — apparently, the cameraman had had a glitch so the director switched over to another camera that was filming the meeting from the sidewalk behind the fence. The faces of passersby flashed on the screen followed by a car, and the picture froze on a blurred image of a taxicab. Immediately it was replaced by the anchor’s smiling face. He apologized for the malfunction and promised to rerun the story once the problem was fixed.
A large picture of Russell Claney filled the screen behind his back. The anchor began to recount the Congressman’s life story. At this moment Frank finally realized what had been bothering him. The bullying cabman in the airport, the one Frank had refused to go with, had the same kind of bald head as those at the post office. Just like Claney was on the TV screen now. The cab driver had tried to insist that Frank take his cab.
Hurriedly, Frank shared his ideas with his coach. What if they’d wanted to kidnap him to begin with? Apparently, their plan had been to set him up for the murder. But they couldn’t have possibly known he wouldn’t take the cab because of his leather allergy.
“Did you remember the plates?” Max removed his glasses and rose.
“I did, yeah.”
“Write it down together with the car make and its description. I’ll go wake Barney up.” He shut the laptop.
“What for?”
“I want him to run a make on the car.” He walked out of the kitchen.
Frank started writing when he heard the anchorman say, “Memoria”. He jerked his head up and stared at the TV screen. Aha. So this Russell Claney was Honorary Chairman of Memoria’s board of directors.
“Max!” he called. “Mind coming here for a moment?”
He reached for the remote and put the volume up. Behind his back, Barney grumbled. Max appeared over Frank’s shoulder telling Barney to shut up. The anchor went on saying that Claney and John Baker used to be friends and had started the company together. Apparently, the Congressman had been the first volunteer to have a painful memory erased and had lost his hair in one of Baker’s experiments. Soon afterward, the late scientist had found a solution for this unpleasant side effect.
“And now back to our story,” the anchor nodded to his audience. The President and the Congressman reappeared on the screen.
“Was it so necessary to wake me up?” Barney grumbled.
“No. Wait,” Max sat at the table and put his glasses back on.
On the screen, the Congressman was announcing the start of the Vaccination. This program, he said, was a one-of-a-kind solution to the nation’s numerous ills such as unemployment, the ultimate tool to humanity’s happy future.
“Yeah, right,” Barney mumbled.
“To my dismay,” Claney sighed for the camera, “We have lost our main designer, the soul of the project. Kathleen Baker was murdered yesterday, the heiress of her father’s genius and a beautiful young woman all around.”
He paused and lowered his head in mourning. The President supported him by the elbow, motioning him to go on.
“I don’t think that Memoria’s complex relationship with the migrants is a secret to anyone,” the Congressman spoke again. “The day before yesterday, more talks have been cancelled when the Bronx leader Gautier demanded full transparency regarding the Vaccination program. The board of directors, including myself, have decided to grant their request and,” the Congressman turned to the President who nodded, “we’ve decided to present the Vaccination to the world during our unscheduled press conference at Memoria’s HQ tomorrow. Our chief executive Joe Binelli will make a complete report to the media. At the same time, we plan to have a new round of our talks with the migrants’ representatives. The President will be our guest of honor.” Claney paused, showing his excitement to the audience.
“I would also like to add,” He shook his index finger in the air while keeping his other hand behind his back. “This is something I want everyone to know. The late Kathleen Baker was like my own daughter to me. Her life… and her work… were terminated in a most cruel way by the outcast Frank Shelby: a terrorist acting on his own. The President and I have already discussed it. The administration will do everything possible to bring the murderer to justice. The talks with the migrants will take place as planned. The President has confirmed his participation. The police have dismissed all accusations regarding the unsubstantiated participation of the Bronx migrant population in the murder. They had nothing to do with it. Let me assure you that the murderer was a terrorist acting on his own. Code Orange has been lifted accordingly.”