Spicer turned around. “Project Bluebook was the official government report on the alien crash at Roswell, New Mexico.”
“Spooky. Anyway, next he was assigned to Saigon. Received the CIA Distinguished Intelligence Medal in 1972 for the Kontum Province campaign.”
“Oh my God,” Esther whispered.
“What?” Spicer asked as he walked back to them so he could take a look at the screen. Then he saw it. “Jesus.”
Weller still didn’t understand. “What is it?”
“A young Army captain got commended at the same time. Regis Ford.”
“The Common Sense Alliance candidate?”
Spicer exhaled. “It’s the only one I know.”
“Wait, that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe,” Spicer said as he scrolled down the text. “But it seems they continued to work together. Their involvement in the Watergate scandal was kept under wraps. In ‘74, they both worked on a report about the moral fiber of America. Then, in ‘78, they founded Sigma Division. Together.”
His voice trailed off. All he kept thinking about was the picture he’d found in Clara’s Mailley office. She was much more than a casual supporter. The man was involved with Sigma.
Weller leaned back into the couch. “This guy’s a Nazi nutjob!”
That hit a nerve with Esther and she stood up.
“He has fresh ideas about this country! He’s gonna make tougher laws that are really gonna stop crime.”
“My God, he’s got you brainwashed too,” Spicer said as he took a step in her direction, making her back away defensively.
“This file doesn’t prove anything! He was a soldier in Vietnam, everybody knows that.”
“His paychecks weren’t issued by the Pentagon, Esther. This guy’s been a spook if there ever was one.”
“So what? That was in the past. He’s been a US senator for the last 30 years.”
“Which committee?”
Esther stopped and looked down. She didn’t want to admit that he had a point.
Weller said, “Intelligence oversight, right?”
“Esther, I know you’re trying to get this guy elected but you have to look at the bigger picture. If he becomes President, there’s no telling what these two cocksuckers might do.”
She glanced up at him, her world in upheaval. Nothing was making sense anymore.
The young scientist perked up. “That’s if he gets elected. Last time I checked, he wasn’t ahead in the polls.”
“Jesus,” Spicer said, his jaw dropping. “They’re gonna steal the election.”
Chapter 26
Houseman’s office had always been hotter than the rest of CIA headquarters because he was a frail old man, but right now Ned was certain it was over 100 degrees. That’s what it felt like anyway as he stood in the middle of the room, almost at attention in front of Houseman. Sitting on the couches behind him were Dr. Michaels and Clara.
Ned hazarded a glance at them over his shoulder. His only consolation was that they wouldn’t assassinate him here.
“Lieutenant Wallace,” the old man started. “Do you have any idea why you’re here?”
“Promotion, pay increase, bring it on.”
He smiled for half a second. His attempt to warm up the crowd wasn’t working.
“The news isn’t good, Wallace,” Michaels said.
“What’s the matter?”
It was Houseman who answered. “The personnel file you asked for was flagged. Your friend told us how you asked him to pull out my file. It doesn’t matter if you thought you were justified to do so. It was illegal.”
“The guy obviously lied. I sure as hell didn’t do what you say I did.”
“We also found the electronic trail of some top secret documents you scanned on your computer,” Clara added. “That’s really illegal.”
Ned had expected this but he wouldn’t have thought they would be this fast.
Houseman clasped his hands together as if he was in prayer. “So I guess it will be no surprise to you to learn that you are now unemployed. We’ll also encourage the Navy to discharge you. Whether or not criminal charges against are brought will depend on the US attorney.”
“Wait just a goddamn minute. This is America. Don’t I get a chance to explain my side of the story?”
“No. This isn’t America, it’s Sigma Division. You have no rights here. Ms. Mailley will escort you out.”
Ned and Houseman stared at each other, almost defiantly.
The little red gym bag was feather-light as Spicer swung it onto the kitchen table. He was high on adrenaline, his instincts sharp with the mission lying ahead. He pulled out the smaller wooly case.
“What’s that?” Weller asked.
The hitman unsnapped it open and revealed the pistol inside.
“Gun case. Made from a special material that absorbs X-rays so it can’t be detected.”
His voice was flat. He wasn’t in a mood to talk. He released the magazine to make sure it was loaded, put it back in, and wracked the slide back to chamber a round.
“I thought you were done with killing,” Esther said.
He put the gun back into the pouch and then proceeded to strap it around his stomach, under his shirt.
“I am done with killing but they’re not. We have a stop to make and I don’t want it to be my last.”
Ned fastened his seatbelt. It was surprising how good he felt at being fired from the Central Intelligence Agency. That life had never been for him, it was like he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. He also had the hunch that because they had terminated his employment they wouldn’t need to put a bullet in the head.
He had gladly turned in his ID, cleared out his desk, and left this place behind. He much preferred the military because at least you knew where you stood. In the CIA, the ground was always shifting.
The one thing he wasn’t looking forward to was telling his wife. He decided he would hold up on revealing his employment status for a week. Maybe he would consult a lawyer, reach out to friends in the Navy, and see if he could somehow resolve the situation before showering her with bad news. She didn’t need any more stress this far along in the pregnancy.
He was about to turn the ignition, ready to leave the CIA parking lot forever, when he saw a figure in the rearview mirror. It was Clara.
Oh fuck, he thought. She’s gonna kill me after all…
He turned the key and the car wouldn’t start. It whirred and whirred and Clara came closer.
Ned was frantic. He wondered if he could fight her. She was probably a black belt in everything. She would break his neck and make sure there were no security tapes left to analyze.
She stopped by the rear passenger door. What was she doing? She reached for his window and in one swift move she ripped the CIA parking sticker from his car.
The engine finally caught and he breathed again. They were glaring at each other through the mirror as he drove away.
The South Florida Common Sense Alliance headquarters was located in North Miami, in a low-rise commercial building. The place was packed and the air seemed to vibrate with energy as dozens of people were milling about, manning the phones and shouting messages to one another.
It was Election Day and this was what everybody had worked so hard for these past four years.
Esther wasn’t fully convinced of Spicer’s plan yet and she felt like she was abandoning her post by being in Miami when she should have been in DC, doing exactly what these volunteers were doing. Her sole consolation was that she’d had the foresight of voting early last week.
Spicer led the way and she followed reluctantly with Weller. He went to what passed for a reception desk, asked a few questions, and came back to his companions.