Since the logic was sound, all agreed and the folders were distributed. They started with Geneva and the contents were circulated as each judged it or tried to discern any connection to anything related to the ‘Architect’ or ‘Engineer’ that Parnell was hot on the heels of.
After two hours, there were no real hits. Brooke had a thought, “Have we checked with the Security at CERN?”
“They have assured us that all persons coming and going for the month at the facility have been confirmed and identified as who they presented themselves to be both by guard’s inspection of their identity papers and, later, facial recognition software from the entrance security cameras.”
“It does not rule out the possibility of a turned employee, plant, or mole who is already cleared for work.”
“Yes, that keeps the head of security at Hadron alert and he is constantly monitoring the workers and scientists for any suspicious behavior.”
“Difficult job; I work for a scientist and quirky doesn’t begin to cover it,” Joey said before he added, “Ten minute break, everyone?”
All agreed and stepped out of the room to get coffee or relief or both. Brooke made a beeline to the coffee. She had flown through the night and got a little sleep on the plane, but her ass was dragging. As she figured out the buttons on the automatic machine, she looked over at the TV that was on in the office. The news was on, and she noticed there was coverage of a trial or court hearing. Through the standard Swiss German she heard the name ‘Abrim.’ She glanced up at the screen and saw a file photo of Abrim Walhime, identified as a Saudi national. She grabbed the next person that passed her and asked, “What are they saying?”
“Well, the judge has decided to suspend the investigation into the murder until such time as the woman of interest can be located.”
“Thank you.” Brooke returned to the room.
They stayed at it for most of the afternoon, and in the end all they had was one possible lead. Parnell thought there was something to a break-in at a computer factory and he went down to the records department to see if it connected.
Brooke took the opportunity to make a special request. “Captain Lustig, I noticed on TV before that there is a case concerning a Saudi national?’
“Yes, the security guard. Most tragic. The victim of a sex scandal.”
“I remember reading about that. He goes after a hooker and the pimp kills him,” Joey added.
“And both disappeared. There is no case to pursue so the judge has suspended the inquiry pending further developments.”
“Why does it interest you, Brooke?” Joey asked.
“After I was in the paper, I got tons of mail. Some were like, ‘You go girl,’ but most were people writing and asking for help. Oddly enough, I got a letter from Abrim’s mom in Saudi Arabia. She also heard about the jewel heist. I felt for her, as apparently the circumstances brought shame on his family so she got double grief. Anyway, her letter really got to me, so I thought since I am here anyway, I’d look into it.”
“In your spare time!” Joey said.
“Of course, boss. Spare time.” She nodded and opened the next folder from the pile.
They knocked off at seven thirty and Brooke was too tired to take up Joey on his offer to grab a bite, so she went back to her room and crashed. At around eleven, she rolled over and awakened with an urge to pee. She stumbled into the bathroom and upon exiting, she grabbed the remote and popped the TV on. She clicked off the hotel channel and landed on the news. The next story was once again the news that the judge suspended the Saudi case. That gave her an idea. She got out her laptop and signed into the hotel’s Wi-Fi network, charging the fee for a twenty-four-hour period to her room, then commenced to search for news about the murder.
Using two different translation programs, she scanned the news reports in Arabic and German. Most of what she read was a rehash of the initial story as retold by other national news agencies, with later reports containing political bents sprinkled in from the Arabs, which was as close as her German-English translation program got her. The Iranian coverage — in Farsi which she was versed in — savaged the Royal Family and charged them with cover-up. As she widened her search, she learned that the men chosen to be security guards for the Royal Family went through rigorous screening and had to prove loyalty before all else to the King. They were selected to be beyond questions of greed, politics, or gambling. She read that many protected persons in the Middle East, or the world for that matter, had been assassinated by their trusted security men.
In an article about the killing of Anwar Sadat of Egypt, she found a kernel of truth to what the woman, who wrote her about her son, had mentioned about her ‘chaste’ son. Alcohol, gambling, deviant sexuality, love interests, love triangles, and drugs were all leverages an enemy could employ to turn a trusted body guard into an assassin. Under that kind of personal pressure, the loyalty of any human might be swayed. The need for self-preservation of a protector often trumped their oath of allegiance to their protectee. Therefore, men who didn’t dabble in these things were the most reliable and less likely to turn their guns on those they had sworn to protect.
In the Hammer of God operation, a trusted Diplomatic Security Service agent had been turned by a Jihadist woman whom he loved. He then engineered the kidnapping of the U.S. Ambassador to Egypt.
At 2 a.m. she finally yawned and closed her computer. Before she nodded off, she made a plan to visit the nightclub tomorrow after work.
XXV. GETTING RELIGION
The aftershock of the president’s little video message, delivered by Bill to the Vatican Envoy, had reverberated worldwide throughout the entire Catholic oligarchy. Within 72 hours, three Mitchell administration personnel had quietly resigned, two at low-level positions in the Old Executive Building next door to the executive mansion. The third one was Claire Cunningham, an administrative assistant to the president. Her job in the West Wing was assisting the president with his paperwork and materials, so she was on the inside and privy to almost everything the president was involved in. Her devout Roman Catholic observance, on full display on her smudged forehead every Ash Wednesday, would have been deemed perfectly innocent prior to the emergence of the Knights. Now Claire and other staffers who might wear a cross were suddenly viewed as potential security threats just as surely as if they had a photo of Fidel Castro, Chairman Mao, or Putin on their White House desks.
The president was outraged and inflexible. He was satisfied with the loss of pension and immediate separation of the two members of his administration who were at arms-length from his office, but for Claire he wanted the full weight of his ruling to be brought down on her head. Furious that she would betray the trust of the inner circle, he had her arrested and charged with treason. So deep was his rage and sense of personal violation that even the person who had recommended her for the position and that person’s superior were also demoted and lost two levels of pay.
Her arraignment proceedings were cloaked under a national security blackout, in part because it left a diplomatic channel to the Vatican publically intact, but also because neither Mitchell nor Claire wanted it made public that she spied for the Pope. The process stayed under the radar for the first twenty-four hours, until the U.S. marshals found her dead from an overdose of sleeping pills when they came to pick her up for her secret arraignment.