Fiona smiled, raised her right hand, and swore to tell the truth.
Edward turned up the sound.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’re here today to examine the President’s choice for Supreme Court Justice,” began Senator Hall. “Ours is an awesome responsibility. One that will help decide not only the fate of Judge Patrick, but the direction of our nation. It is a responsibility we do not take lightly.”
“He missed his calling,” said Vernon. “The prick should’ve been an actor.”
They all laughed.
“How many votes does he have with him?” asked Vernon.
“He guaranteed three,” answered Edward. “That should be more than enough to get the ball rolling.”
Marilyn pulled out her cell phone. “I’d better catch up on my voice mail,” she told them, moving to a spot on the other side of the room.
“Judge Patrick,” said Senator Franklin, “Your background in the law and reputation on the bench is well-known and very distinguished.”
“Thank you Senator,” Fiona responded.
“But, as you know, members of the Supreme Court must be above reproach, and the investigation and background check performed by the FBI prior to this hearing revealed several questionable contacts of yours.
Namely, a major player in the Colombian drug trade.” Murmurs erupted in the chamber. Fiona didn’t flinch.
“She’s a strong one,” said Simon. “I don’t think she’ll break that easy.”
Simon’s comment annoyed Edward.
“I’m just saying she’s strong, that’s all,” Simon repeated. “It’s not prudent to underestimate one’s enemies.”
Edward, about to speak, stopped when Marilyn walked back to the table. A broad smile on her face.
“Good news?” asked Vernon.
“Oh, it’s better than that,” she said. “I just spoke to our good friend Mr. Veil. He wants me to meet him at Parklawn. Says he needs my help with a very important matter.”
Edward’s face lit up. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What kind of help does he need, and with what?”
“He wouldn’t give details on the phone. He just said meet him at Parklawn right away, and something about a court order. I’d say we hit pay dirt.”
Edward stood. “Vernon, make sure Simon here has access to several of your best men.” “Simon, trail Ms. London. As soon as Veil identifies the crypt, take them and the evidence to my ranch and contact me. I want to be there when the casket is opened.” All three headed for the door. Edward cleared his throat. “And ladies and gentlemen. Don’t fuck this up.”
The trio left and he turned back to the hearings, encouraged by the sudden turn of events.
“We interrupt these hearings to bring you a special news bulletin.” Edward watched a solemn looking, gray haired newsman, adjust his tie and earpiece. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “President William Claymore was shot today as he exited a breakfast reception at the National Gallery of Art. The President was on his way back to the Oval Office to monitor Judge Patrick’s hearing. Witnesses say shots rang out from a car on the street as the President walked to his limousine. The Secret Service gave chase, but no one has been apprehended. President Claymore has been rushed to Capital Hill Hospital and, as of yet, there is no word on his condition.”
34
Robert and Thorne listened to the news report on the car radio in their rented Ford Excursion.
“My God,” Thorne exclaimed. Rothschild can’t be that far gone.” Robert’s head reeled. “I don’t know, but he did it once. I don’t see why the bastard wouldn’t do it again.”
“There have been no updates given on the President’s condition,” said the reporter. “However, there is new information on the shooters. The D.C. police and Secret Service chased the gunmen, possibly Arab, through Washington into Maryland, just outside of Annandale. The suspects crashed exiting Route 66 killing the driver, but the other suspects, also believed to be from the Middle East, exited their vehicle and began shooting. All three died at the scene. For now, that’s all we’ve been to able to learn.”
Robert banged his fist down on the dashboard. Thorne cursed.
“It’s them, Robert. Same group that tried to hit us. What the hell is going on?”
Robert pulled into Parklawn. “Sounds like Edward Rothschild has killed another President.” He pulled over to the curb just outside the main office, where he told Agent London they’d meet. They drew their guns and exited the vehicle, surveying the area for anything out of the ordinary. Robert counted four groundskeepers mowing the lawn and attending to the grounds. Another two absently picked dead flowers off gravesites.
“All clear,” called Thorne.
Robert took another look around.
“How do you think they’ll come at us?” asked Thorne.
“I’m not sure, but let’s anticipate the worse. Once we get our hands on the evidence, we’ll drive it to Terence Riker’s lab in Salem, West Virginia. I gave him a heads up, so he’s expecting us.” Riker, the most talented forensic analyst Robert knew, and an avid conspiracy theorist, went back almost as far as he and Thorne.
“Did you tell him what it’s about?
“No, but he knows it’s hot. So he’ll be ready for us.” Robert saw Thorne’s mind race. “We can’t take a chance and make that drive,” she said. “We better fly it out. My twin engine is ready at Reagan Airport.”
“Fine with me. The quicker, the better.” Thorne grimaced, eyes cold with anger, body ready for war. “The President, Robert. Those assholes killed another President.”
“I know. But this time…”
A dark blue sedan pulled into the cemetery and made its way toward them. He saw Thorne touch the Mac-10 machinegun hidden under her jacket. He felt the imprint of the automatics under his arms, and readied the Uzi submachine gun hanging from his shoulder.
Thorne walked across the street and circled around the back of the car. It stopped five feet from where they were standing. Marilyn stepped out, hands raised, all business.
“I take it you’ve heard the news,” said Robert, lowering the machine gun.
“Who hasn’t? The entire department is on high alert. Everyone has been called in, so I hope what you need is serious. I’m gonna take heat for disappearing”
Thorne offered no greeting. Marilyn kept her eyes on Robert.
“So, what’s so important?” Marilyn asked.
Robert motioned for her to follow him inside the truck. Thorne stood sentry while he ran down every detail.
“You’re kidding,” she said. “Don’t play games with me. This is not the day, and I don’t have time for jokes.”
“I assure you it’s no game,” said Robert. “We think the evidence is hidden in one of the crypts here in the cemetery.”
“You mean in the mausoleum where the guard was killed?”
“Right. Rothschild’s men shot him to death. We barely got away.” Marilyn searched his face.
“This is no bull,” Robert continued. “I wouldn’t call you out on a day like this unless it was the absolute truth.” Marilyn breathed a deep sigh. “So what do we do?”
“We need you to serve this court order. Then, if the evidence is there, we’ll move the casket to a safe place. Thorne and I will take it from there. From what Charlie showed me, I don’t think we’ll have any problems getting the right people to listen.”
“Of course now that you know, you’ll be a target. I’m sorry Marilyn, but I didn’t trust anyone else.”
Marilyn smiled. “I’m glad to hear you trust me. I won’t let you down. Now, where’s that court order?”
Robert handed her the order and she looked it over. “Judge Bonner.
How’d you get that old fart to move so fast? He wouldn’t sign a search warrant for me and I practically had a murderer strapped to a victim.”
“Let’s just say he’s a friend of a friend. We better get started and make sure they understand this is a confidential matter. They can’t be present when the casket is opened.”
“I understand,” said Marilyn. “Let’s go.” Robert grabbed her arm. “Thanks Marilyn. I won’t forget this.” Marilyn’s smile widened. “Oh, I don’t plan to let you.” They stepped out, game faces on. Thorne scanned the area, both hands gripping the machine gun, “All clear out here,” she said. “But we better hurry.”