The Land of the Free (8 page)

CIA Director Bill Connolly was
first on Torres’ schedule.  After the meeting with Derek Ellis, Torres had
asked Connolly to track Ellis’ every move, and the President was now asking for
an update.

Connolly sat across from Torres and
had a folder open in front of him.  “Sir, Ellis has met with representatives of
governments from all over the world, from Nigeria and Saudi Arabia in the oil
world, to Russia and China in the developing world, and Panama and Egypt if you
want to think shipping.  We could see threats in all of it or none of it,
depending on your perspective.  I don’t see a clear pattern.  I think he’s
grasping at straws.”

“Do you see any money changing
hands?  Anyone writing him checks?”

“Nothing as of a few days ago,”
said Connolly.  “His frantic actions seem to reflect a lack of money.”

“Thanks, Bill.  I appreciate the
update,” said a Torres in a way that suggested frustration with the lack of
useful information.  “Keep me posted on any developments.  Based on his
comments, I’m positive he’s planning some sort of revenge against me, possibly
against the government.  Oh, and I really need you to access his financial
information.  He’ll either have to shut down Morningstar Security or get access
to cash from somewhere.  I want to know where it comes from.  That will be a
lot more important than just who he speaks with.”

“Yes sir, I’ll put someone on it
full time.”

…

In his 23 years with the Agency,
Roger Snyder had occasionally worked with Bill Connolly and knew him casually,
but never closely.  He always described the former operative and current
Director as “that unscrupulous careerist asshole.”  In retrospect, he could see
how it all paid off for Bill, as he rose from operative to Director, but he was
sure it “couldn’t be worth those years of eating crap, and having to compliment
the crapper on its fine quality.”  Snyder had a rough edge to him, both in
manner and appearance.  He was a tall man with some heft accumulated by middle
age.  He had short gray hair that somehow managed to always be out of place in
a way that would seem deliberate on a young musician rather than an older CIA
Agent.  Snyder’s meetings with past Directors had been few and always on
routine matters.  So he was surprised to get the memo to meet with Connolly on
an “urgent and confidential matter.”

Snyder walked into the Director’s
office and looked around suspiciously.  “What’s the matter, Roger?” asked
Connolly.  “You’ve been in here before, yet you look as though my office makes
you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sorry Bill, I should learn to
keep my nonverbal opinions to myself,” said Snyder, earning a chuckle from
Connolly.  “But it was really weird getting that memo from you.”

“I concede that was a little
unusual,” said Connolly.  “But I have an unusual problem that could use your
investigative talents.  I need a complete dossier on Derek Ellis of Morningstar
Security Services, and I’m appointing you to develop it.  Regular reporting
channels are suspended for the duration of this operation.  I’ll send the memo
to your supervisor as soon as we’re done here.  You will report your findings
to me, and only me.  I will brief the President personally.”

Connolly briefed Snyder on Ellis’
recent issues with the Afghanistan contract and the government’s embargo on
business with Morningstar.  Snyder remained expressionless but was thinking,
confidential
my ass.  My name will never get mentioned.  You’ll take all the credit
.

Snyder was beyond fighting these
fights and was not going to let Connolly get under his skin.  He was looking
towards retirement with full government benefits.  He finally muttered a simple
“I understand.”

“And Snyder, no mention of the name
Ellis outside my office, got it?”

“Okay Bill.”  Snyder left the
office and began organizing his thoughts.

John Corson took the evening phone
call from investigators in New York State expecting more invasive questioning. 
He was pleasantly surprised that the questions were few and impersonal.  “Can
you think of why Robbie might have been headed to Chicago?”

“Robbie worked for a company
headquartered in Chicago.  He traveled there all the time.”

“We’re aware of that, but nobody at
headquarters was expecting him.  Another strange thing is that he booked the
flight on a personal credit card, the day before he was killed.  He normally
used a corporate card for business travel.”

John told the police he had no idea
what Robbie’s trip might have been about, but admitted that it struck him as strange. 
Even if Robbie had personal reasons to travel to Chicago, he would normally
combine them with business and charge the trip to Tilbury.  Here he was plainly
concerned with ensuring Tilbury did not know of his travels.  With everything
else John knew, he decided that Robbie was probably investigating Tilbury’s San
Marcos operation. 
You just had to get involved, didn’t you?
he said to
himself with some anger.

Thinking about the matter most of
the evening, John went through alternating moods of anger, depression and
overwhelming regret that Robbie hadn’t listened to his warnings.  Finally
exhausted, he fell asleep around 10 pm, but was awakened within minutes by
another phone call.  Confused, he expected more police questions.

“Mr. Corson, I saw you at Robbie’s
funeral.  I didn’t trouble you then because it was obvious you were in no mood
to talk.  That’s understandable, of course.”

“Sorry, who are you?” asked John,
still half asleep.

“My name’s Frank Goworski.  I work
at Helsing-Tilbury, and I’ve known Robbie for about 20 years.  I called you
because I have access to what might be more information like what Robbie was
pursuing.”

“Frank, let me make this clear,”
said John, now awake and indignant.  “I warned him not to get involved.  Do you
understand me?  I don’t want to get involved and I don’t want anyone else to
get killed.”

“More people are going to be killed
regardless, John.  That’s why I’m calling for your help.  A colleague of mine,
Evan Bozak, has disappeared and I fear he’s dead because he was feeding
information to Robbie.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.  But
it doesn’t change my mind.  The two of them were mistaken to do what they did.”

“Bozak had a folder of
incriminating papers on Tilbury’s San Marcos operation, and Robbie knew where
they were hidden.  He was supposed to come to Chicago to retrieve them before
–.”  Frank didn’t finish the sentence.  He paused for a while then added,
“Robbie had a copy of at least one of the documents.  Until they find it,
anybody close to Robbie is in danger.”

“Jess!” exclaimed John.

“She’s definitely in danger,” said
Frank.

“So where can we meet?” asked John,
now willing to meet with Frank if Jess’ safety was at risk.

“At Benny’s,” said Frank.  “It’s in
Chicago on Michigan Avenue, across from the Art Institute.  There’s a patio
outside.  Meet me at the table at the north end of the patio against the wall
of the building.”

“When?  And how will I know you?”

“Two days from now, at 2 pm.  You
may not recognize me from the funeral, so I’ll have a Chicago Cubs baseball hat
on the table beside me.”

John couldn’t fall asleep again
after Frank’s call.  He went online and booked a flight out of Philly at 9:00
am that got him to Chicago by 10:30 central time.  That would give him time to
rent a car and scope out the area around Michigan Avenue where he was to meet
with Frank.  He could not be too careful responding to such a strange phone
call from a complete stranger.

John returned to bed and tossed and
turned for the early part of the night, worrying whether he was dealing with a
reckless fool who would get them both killed.  And then there was the
possibility that Frank was working with Robbie’s killers, fishing for
information.  But what troubled him most was the possibility that the same
people might come after Jess.  He was so burned out after the accident that
he’d turned his back on any confrontation that came his way.  He’d never
investigated who might have had something to do with it, preferring to try to
compartmentalize it out of his active mind.  He had also never been at peace
with himself over his meekness.  Now, with Robbie dead and Jess possibly in
danger, he was going to have to abandon his excessive caution.  He would make
this trip and follow what turned up wherever it led.

Having decided on his course of action
and accepting the risks, John felt a peace he hadn’t felt for many years.  When
accepted as such, the possibility of death lost its power over him.  He felt
free of his past, a new man.

John spent the next day reviewing
all the possibilities in his head and making preparations for his trip,
including a side trip to meet with a computer and electronics ace he’d known
for many years.  He left with some gadgets that he felt might come in handy. 
He took them to a local FedEx office and had them shipped to an office near
O’Hare Airport.  He would pick them up there to avoid questions from the TSA.

Roger Snyder’s favorite way to
start investigating anyone was by looking up their airline flights and private
airplane logs.  The State Department also had complete passport histories, but
Snyder knew that those contained nothing not already in flight histories. 
Flight histories also told of movements within countries and even cancelled
trips.  In no time, he had found the records he was looking for.  But after
examining them for several hours, Snyder was disappointed at the lack of useful
information.  The man had been everywhere.  It was impossible to know which
trips mattered.  He decided it was time to follow the money, not aware that
Torres had said the same to Connolly.

Ellis’ private finances were easy
enough to access, as the Patriot Act made looking at bank records routine.  In
no time, Snyder had access to a decade of bank records for Ellis, as well as
credit card statements and tax returns.  The volume of material was staggering,
and Snyder realized quickly that he would need expert help if he was to make
any sense of it.  On a lark, he contacted the IRS case officer who had reviewed
Ellis’ tax returns.  The call was brief.  After pulling up the files and
acquainting himself with the material, the case officer said, “I remember this
now.  There were a lot of transfers of money between him and the company.  It
looks like he was making loans to the company at certain times and getting
repaid at later dates.  I never could understand all the complexity, so I just
verified that any excess money coming back to Ellis over and above what he had
loaned the company was properly taxed, and left it at that.  I have too many
other eggs to fry.  Sorry if that wasn’t much help.”

Snyder hung up and walked to his
window.  He looked out over the trees that would soon start changing colors,
and the horizon that was finally free of the thick summer haze that plagued the
DC area.  As he gathered his thoughts, he realized that if nothing else, he
knew that there were times when Morningstar had cash flow problems and Ellis
wrote personal checks to cover matters.  And there were other times when those
loans were repaid.  The specific times when loans were repaid might represent
pivotal events in the history of Morningstar, thought Snyder.  Surely, there
would be some useful information in the records from those times.  He would
need to see where Morningstar was getting the money to repay the loans.  He put
in requests for Morningstar’s financials, so he could key in on dates around
the times when they repaid Ellis.  As he waited for those financial documents,
he began to develop a profile on Morningstar.

Snyder printed up large calendars
spanning a period of 10 years and posted them on the walls of his office.  In
red ink, he marked up the calendars on dates when Ellis made loans to
Morningstar.  In green, he marked those dates when those loans were repaid, and
appended notes where the amount repaid was significantly above the original
amount of the loan.  Then he put sticky notes describing headline events in
Morningstar history on the calendars.  Headline events included things such as
losses or gains of contracts, alliances, formation or dissolution of
subsidiaries, or public references to activity or its termination in foreign
countries.

One detail quickly jumped out at
Snyder.  The loss of the Afghanistan contract was followed immediately by a
large loan from Ellis that was repaid just recently right after the formation
of the subsidiary, Nightwatch Security.  Nightwatch immediately secured a large
contract to provide security at ports operated by the shipping company
Helsing-Tilbury. 
Aren’t these the guys whose whole management staff was
just wiped out in a plane crash?
he thought.  He put a star on that item as
one to check out once he had financial records.

John awoke at 5 am, and cursed when
he looked at his clock.  He was now aware that he had to be at the airport in a
few hours.  The anxiety that knowledge brought prevented him from falling
asleep again.  He slowly got up, packed, and made his way to the airport.  Half
asleep, he endured the screening gauntlet and walked to his gate with a cup of
coffee and a muffin.  He was beyond coffee this morning, but for some reason a
strong cup of coffee too early would put him to sleep.  It worked, and he was
asleep before the plane even took off.   He only awoke as the plane began its
descent into Chicago on a clear, sunny day.  He was close enough to being
rested that adrenaline alone would keep him alert.

On landing at O’Hare airport, John
rented a Toyota Corolla in a bland shade of beige.  Bland cars were impossible
to track visually, and that could prove useful.  He drove downtown and parked
several blocks from the agreed meeting place.  John then sat in Millennium Park
for about an hour, checking for any obvious threats.  At 2:00, he watched a
middle-aged man only slightly shorter than himself sit down at the north end of
the patio.  The table was set for two, and the man placed a Chicago Cubs hat on
the table.  John was not sure if he recognized him from Robbie’s funeral, but
he had not been paying attention.  He walked into the restaurant and over to
the table.  “Hi, I’m John.  Is this spot for me?”

Frank stood and extended his hand. 
They shook then Frank motioned for John to sit down.  “I’m glad to finally meet
you, John.  Robbie often spoke of you, almost like a big brother.”

They made small talk until the
waitress took their orders, when Frank then started to lay his cards on the
table.  “Robbie learned something about the shipping containers in the San
Marcos facility acquired by Smithfield.”

John interrupted.  “Smithfield
being the holding company that also acquired Tilbury?”

“Yes,” answered Frank.  “Robbie
asked my friend Evan Bozak to check purchasing records, and everything destined
for that location was bypassing the regular purchasing process on a special
shortcut directly to top management.  Robbie found something else, or else
Hozie gave it to him.  It was a document that he felt would expose something
serious.  Robbie decided to contact the FBI and died shortly after that, while Bozak
disappeared before Robbie’s death.  By the way, I’m very sorry.  I know you
were at the scene.”

John frowned and gave his head a
quick shake to indicate he’d rather not rehash Robbie’s death.  “Did that
document ever turn up?”

“No,” replied Frank.  “Not in his
office or anywhere I could think to look.” 

“They tore up the camp looking for
something,” added John.  “At least now I know why.  What do you know about Bozak’s
disappearance?”

“Nothing, really.  His wife filed a
missing persons report and it was totally out of character for him to go
anywhere without telling her.  I’m assuming the worst.”

“Robbie mentioned something about
that.  I’m sorry about Bozak.”

“There’s something else I have to
tell you,” said Frank, almost interrupting John lest he say anything else.  “I
had precious few visitors stopping by at the office to express their
condolences over Robbie’s passing.  Only the old timers knew we were close. 
But earlier on the day I first called you, one of the new Smithfield guys who
had only been around since the merger came by asking what I knew about Robbie. 
I told him I was an old friend from way back, and that we hadn’t spoken for
some time.  I didn’t want to say more, thinking he was digging for
information.  But he wasn’t digging, he was giving.  He said that Bozak had
discovered an arms smuggling operation that in his words had ‘geopolitical
significance.’”

“That sounds like nukes.”

“I’ve thought of that,” replied
Frank.  “But neither Evan nor I knew what to do with the information.  Robbie
went to the FBI and now he’s dead.  This Smithfield guy says he has documents
to prove it.  He may have found Hozie’s folder of papers.  But he was worried
about being linked to any information leaks, so he asked me if I thought there
was a way to get the papers to someone who could use them properly.  Robbie
himself was going to come to Chicago to get them, so they’re probably
important.”

“And you think I can find a way to
blow the lid off an arms smuggling operation when going to the FBI gets you
killed?”

“Robbie thought you could.  I’m
sorry if I was mistaken, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to get
involved.”

“Robbie always thought I could do
stuff like that, but I couldn’t even get the SEC to do their job when I worked
there.  How do you expect me to pull off something like this?”

“Robbie believed in you, John.  If
we don’t try, none of us is safe.  Have you heard about the plane crash?”

“Yeah, management from Tilbury was
wiped out.  You think that was suspicious, too?”

“Wouldn’t you?” asked Frank.

“Point made.  When do I meet this
guy?” asked John, still unsure why he was here or what he would do with any
information he found.

“This afternoon at 4 pm, in the
Hancock building.”

“And where will you be during this
meeting?” asked John, slightly suspicious of Frank.

“I’m not going to be there. He
insisted on that,” replied Frank.

“Well that’s nice,” said John with
evident sarcasm.  “Doesn’t this sound like a trap to you?”

“I’ve thought about that and it
might be a trap.  I’m not asking you to give your life for nothing.  I’ll
gladly give you my gun to take with you, if that helps.”

“That
does
help,” conceded
John, now calmer than before.  “Where is your gun?”

“In my car,” replied Frank.  “We
can go get it as soon as we’re done here.  It’s on the way to the Hancock
building.

“Where should I go when I get to
the Hancock building?” asked John.

“Take the elevator up to the top. 
Go to the south facing lounge with a view of the water and the Sears Tower. 
Sit in the second row from the window.  Order a Goose Island 312 and put this
pen on the table.”  Frank handed John a bright purple metallic pen.

“Frank, this is just too weird. 
I’m not some kind of secret agent, you know.  And I still don’t know what I’m
going to do if I find something useful.”

“Again, I’m very sorry to do this
to you, John.  If I knew of another way, I never would have involved you.”

“I had already decided to get
involved for Jess’ sake,” replied John.  “It’s me who’s having trouble getting
used to thinking this way.  Sorry for the sarcasm.”

The two men stopped at the parking
lot and John quickly memorized Frank’s license plate for future reference. 
Frank opened the trunk and found his gun, then realized he’d left the ammo
under the driver’s seat.  As Frank walked around the side of the car, John
reached into his pocket and pulled out a GPS-based tracking device provided by
his friend the electronics ace.  He put the device behind the lining of the
trunk in contact with the exterior metal.

Frank walked back the way they
came, saying he had some personal business downtown, while John walked north
along Michigan Avenue, crossing the Chicago River.  As he passed the Tribune
building, he wondered what he’d gotten himself into.  His resolve of the other
night was being put to the test, and for a while he felt nagging doubts about
engaging himself in this affair.  As he arrived at the Hancock building, he
paused and gave himself a moment for any second thoughts.  He realized that he
was about to take a step from which there might be no turning back.  He took a
deep breath, then descended the exterior stairs to the sunken lobby and took
the elevator to the 96
^th
floor lounge.  He was in this to the end
now.  He exited the elevator and entered the first lounge on his left, and
found his seat.  He ordered his 312, placed the pen on the table and waited.