Justin nodded.
“Good. If possible, I’d at least like to have a sip of egg nog with my wife before the night’s out.”
So Justin launched into his story. He began slowly and continued in as detailed a manner as he could manage. He left nothing out, beginning with Jimmy Leggett’s death at Harper’s, Marge’s request at Jimmy’s funeral, and the plane crash. He told the story step by step, just as it happened, and as he talked about investigating the crash and finding out about Hutchinson Cooke and Martin Heffernan, about Chuck Billings’s suspicions and suspicious death, about Ray Lockhardt, about talking to Colonel Zanesworth and Martha Peck, he saw Ackland go from curious to concerned to pained. He saw the fury begin to well up in the second-highest-ranking law officer in the land. And when Justin went into detail about the big boys, as he explained the growing connections to Dandridge and to Ackland’s direct boss, Jeffrey Stuller, and even to Thomas Anderson, the president of the United States, he saw the kind of deer-in-the-headlights expression that Justin knew he himself had been wearing for too many weeks now.
Justin described his time in Guantanamo Bay and Ackland began to pepper him with questions, but Justin asked him to please let him finish. It was the first time he’d put the entire puzzle together out loud and he wanted to complete it.
“This is the end of it,” he told the assistant attorney general. “Over the last two days I’ve been able to connect all the dots. I can put it all together backwards and forwards now. When Dandridge left as CEO of EGenco to run for vice president, he made a deal with Bradford Collins, the new CEO, and probably other key executives. They set up a Special Purpose Entity, a spin-off of EGenco, as an under-the-table payoff.”
“To what end?” Ackland asked.
“To a couple of ends. They made Dandridge and the other partners rich. Wildy rich. In exchange for which, EGenco received tens of billions of dollars of no-bid contracts for work in the Middle East. Which they needed because they were in danger of going under.”
“My office has been investigating them for nearly two years.”
“I know. It’s how Brad Collins was set up at Harper’s. He was talking to your people, he was about to blow the whistle.”
“Mr. Westwood, you’re saying that the attorney general of the United States, Jeff Stuller, not only knew about the bombing at Harper’s in advance, he helped to set it up as a way of silencing Brad Collins?”
“That is what I’m saying, sir. It’s why you couldn’t make any real headway into the EGenco investigation and it’s why you never got the kind of information you should have gotten from Chuck Billings. Stuller’s been stopping the investigation every step of the way.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I agree. But please let me finish, I don’t have much more to go.”
“Go, go.”
“The SPE that EGenco set up had five partners: Mishari al Rahman, Stephanie Ingles, Phillip Dandridge, Thomas Anderson, and Jeffrey Stuller.”
Ackland groaned.
“They called the company Midas,” Justin went on, “and what I think they were given was a small to medium-size oil production company.”
“You can prove all of this?”
“No. But you can. It’s all accurate, if not provable yet.”
“Go on.”
“Somebody-my guess is Dandridge because he knew the most about the oil business and is probably the smartest one in the group-realized they could all make an almost unreal amount of money if they could make oil prices go up. And they did. Mishari was their link to OPEC, Dandridge and Anderson could obviously manipulate policy and limit oil sources, and Ingles could help limit oil sources domestically, like she did recently in Alaska. I think all this was worked out at the energy meeting Dandridge called when he first took office. The one the Supreme Court ruled he could keep secret.”
“What about Stuller?”
“Hard to say. He obviously doesn’t have much of a role in manipulating oil prices, but he was a crony and it’s logical that they’d bring him into this kind of business deal. Plus, once things got out of hand, he was the most valuable person they could have on their team.”
“Got out of hand how?”
“As I said, it started with Brad Collins. He was going to talk. The way I think it went down is someone in that group realized Collins had to go. At the time, Anderson’s popularity was way down and it looked like he might drag Dandridge down with him politically.”
“Dandridge’s poll numbers were low.”
“He was going to get blown out of the water in the next election. Until the explosion at Harper’s. They literally killed two birds with one stone. They got rid of Collins and when they made it look like a suicide bombing it not only threw off any suspicion that Collins was a specific target, it was a brilliant political move. The more afraid people are, the less likely they’re going to want a change. Dandridge’s poll numbers rose.”
“And the other bombings?”
“More of the same. Heffernan, the FAA guy, was small potatoes, but he could be a problem. He knew too much and he didn’t have any kind of big stake in the game, so it made sense to get rid of him. It worked perfectly for Collins, why not do it again?”
“It’s so. . cold-blooded.”
“You know them. How much of a stretch is it to believe they’d be capable of this?”
Ackland didn’t answer for quite a while. He took two more long gulps of his scotch, filled the glass up again and took another drink. Then he quietly said, “It’s not very much of a stretch.”
“The last real person who knew anything was Hutch Cooke’s wife. They basically knew she was too terrified to speak. . until I showed up to see her. Then they got nervous. And by then they also realized that every terrorist attack made their poll numbers go sky-high. Unless they looked ineffectual. So now they look even better-they caught the terrorists and suddenly they’re the only real guardians of the country. As long as no one finds out they were the cause of the whole thing to begin with.”
“But you don’t believe they caught the real terrorists.”
“Hell, no. It’s why none of them survived. It’s hard for dead men to protest their innocence.”
“So, who did they use to-”
“His name is Mudhi al Rahman. He’s Mishari’s son. He has a history as a radical. I wouldn’t be surprised if he really does have Al Qaeda ties. At some point he was picked up and removed to Gitmo. Mishari must have pulled some serious strings. What I’m pretty sure happened is that Dandridge or Stuller or Anderson put two and two together and realized they could get Mudhi out of prison and have themselves the perfect terrorist. They gave him the targets and then they gave him free rein.”
“If you’re right-”
“I am right.”
Ackland excused himself, stepped into the bathroom. Justin heard water run and Ackland came out toweling off his face, looking slightly more refreshed. He sat back down on the couch. “So what’s their next step?” he said, tossing the towel onto a countertop.
“This is guesswork on my part now. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. They don’t need this Mudhi al Rahman anymore. He can only do them damage now. Because he’s Mishari’s son, I’m guessing they won’t kill him. But they sure as hell are going to get him out of town.”
“Do we know what town that is?”
“Down to the street address.”
Ackland stood up. Paced behind the couch, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. On his third or fourth round trip, he stopped. “I think I should be calling you by your first name,” he said.
“Please.”
“Well, Justin. . I want to thank you for coming to me.”
“I didn’t see that I had a lot of choices.”
“No. But at least you made the right choice.” Ackland looked very uncomfortable now, as if he weren’t sure what he should or shouldn’t say. The struggle was a brief one and he began to speak freely. And the more he spoke, the more relieved he looked. “I wish I could tell you you’re crazy, that what you’re saying can’t possibly be true. Unfortunately what you’ve told me is not a complete surprise. But my nuts are between a rock and a hard place. And have been for a hell of a long time.”