Chapter 53

Chapter 53—The hard decision 

is agreed upon

6:21 p.m., Thursday, December 29

James walked over to the door, and opened it. “Well, are you going to wand us in?” Allison asked, feigning impatience. She had arrived at the same time as Reginald, and they were now both standing outside the cottage door, waiting for James to screen them for transmitters. It had been Allison who had delivered the exceptionally loud knock. Sometimes she overdid things such as that, wanting to exert her authority.
James had still not set the wand down, so he stepped outside the door, and asked Reginald to take a couple steps backward while he verified Allison had no transmitters on her person. None of the group bothered anymore to remove the batteries from their cell phones—they simply left them in their vehicles. Both Allison and Reginald were quickly cleared and invited in.
“Good to have you back,” Reginald said to Jerry. “Feeling a little better? You look pretty healthy.”
“I’m really A-Okay,” Jerry said.
“Yes, it is good to see you again,” Allison said.
“It’s great to be back.”
“Well, we’re all here, shall we get started?” Allison said as she walked over to the chair she always used. With that, all four sat down at the table. Steve made sure he sat between Jerry and James.
“James, would you begin?” Allison said.
“Certainly,” James responded, “before we discuss anything else, however, I need to make the group aware of some recent curious events. First of all, Steve had his car stolen. He thinks it was a run-of-the mill case of vehicle theft. It is a simple fact that Steve lost his laptop as well as his car. He states that he had very little information relating to the current project on that computer—certainly there were no names, only generalizations of his anticipated media blitz.
“If he is correct, if the car was stolen for parts, then the laptop will end up in a dumpster, or simply sold as is to some student who will clean it up, and use it for classroom notes. It is password protected. Usually the hard drive is purged first, because the thief doesn’t want to take a chance that there might be some sort of tracking device on it. If he doesn’t consider it worthwhile to sell the laptop, he is most likely to just take a sledge hammer to it.
“It seems pretty obvious that whoever stole the car was fairly sophisticated. After all, he pulled it off in the middle of the day, in a parking garage at Steve’s apartment. I assume that was very well surveilled. Steve’s Range Rover would warrant theft for parts. But it is also possible, if not likely, that his laptop was the actual target.”
“It could be both,” Steve said. “If an agency wants the electronics from a vehicle, it can engage a competent chop shop to pull it off—the agency keeps the computer, the chop shop gets the car. That’s been done before.”
“At any rate,” James went on, “we have to proceed under the assumption that some spook has Steve’s computer. Even though there are no names on it, the information they glean will be significant.
“Now, there is another element that has to be considered. Jerry had an interesting encounter on his way to meet me earlier this evening. Jerry, why don’t you tell the group what happened.”
“Damn, this is starting to sound like an AA meeting,” Jerry quipped. “Well, when I got off the train at Grand Central,” Jerry said, “I ran smack dab into an old friend from our White House years—Griffin. Some of you probably remember him,” Jerry said, as he looked over at Allison.
“Griffin?” Allison said, trying to remember how she should remember him.
“Right,” Jerry continued, “he was actually a better friend of Bob’s than any of the rest of us. Mossad—mid-level, maybe low-level at that time”
“I remember him,” Allison said, looking as though a light bulb had been turned on. “He was the gay guy with the expensive shoes, right?”
“I don’t think he was gay,” Jerry said. “But he did have an affinity for expensive Italian loafers—two grand a pair.”
“Anyone who would wear shoes like that would have to be gay,” Reginald stated in his usual denigrating tone when discussing matters of sexual orientation. “I’ve never seen a guy with tastes like that who wasn’t ...”
“What the hell difference does that make,” Steve interrupted, more than a little irritated with Reginald’s comment. “I don’t care if the guy was gay, straight, or preferred farm animals—the critical thing is whether he was targeting Jerry specifically, or if it was a chance encounter. That’s the salient factor here.”
“He’s right,” Jerry stated. “By the way, this fellow tried to hide his face from me. When I approached him he ducked behind a newspaper, and he was wearing sunglasses. I strongly suspect he was on some sort of assignment. At first I didn’t think I could be the target. But James got me thinking about it. I now think that I definitely could have been the object of his attention. He sure got nervous when I started talking to him.”
“What made you recognize him, anyway?” Allison asked.
“Actually, I spotted his shoes, first,” Jerry explained. “As I walked past him, part of my newspaper fell to the floor, right on his two thousand dollar Italian shoes. I recognized them right away. The only pair I’d ever seen like them was on Griffin’s feet, over a decade ago. They are easy to identify. As soon as I saw them, I knew I needed to get a look at the guy’s face who was wearing them—to see if this really was my old buddy. So when I stood up, I actually pulled the fellow’s newspaper down. And there he was, Griffin. He looked a little older, but even behind those dark shades, I had no problem making him.”
“And he recognized you right away as well?” Reginald asked him.
“You know, that was a little strange,” Jerry explained. “He acted as though he did not remember me, at first. Then, finally, he greeted me like his long lost friend. He took off his sunglasses, and we shook hands. … But we didn’t hug.”
“He took off his sunglasses?” James asked.
“Yeah, doesn’t that sound a little strange?” Jerry asked.
“Very,” Reginald said, “that means that he no longer needed his disguise. That would strongly suggest that you were his target.”
“I agree,” James said.
“Okay,” Allison said, jumping in to gain control. “It looks to me that we have aroused the attention of someone, perhaps Mossad.”
“Not necessarily,” James said. “Sometimes the agencies share notes. It actually could be a CIA operation. Griffin worked with them before. He worked with your husband too.”
“Whoever is working this,” Allison continued, “it just means that we have to be more careful. We knew we could not continue to get together forever without attracting some unwanted attention. The fact remains that they, whoever they might be, they are on a fishing expedition. They do not know what we’re up to. We simply need to stop having these meetings, at least as a group. We each know what we have to do. We do not need to have any more meetings. Do we agree on that?”
“I have all the information I need for now,” Reginald said. “Steve, Jerry and James, I am sure, feel the same. We each have our own jobs to do. I see nothing productive coming out of additional meetings. Jack is comfortable enough to get on with it. And, Steve, a lot of this is going to fall on you, now. Are you ready?”
“I’m good. I just need you to keep me in the loop.”
“That will happen,” Reginald told him, sincerely meaning what he said.
“I see no reason to go on with these meetings, then,” Allison announced, virtually dismissing the current meeting, as well as the process itself. “From now on, we will move on independently, at least until after the actual event. Each of us will perform our part, and we will communicate only when necessary. Is that how you each see it?”
All four men nodded in agreement.
“Jerry,” Allison said, “thank you very much for making your cottage available to us.”
“Not a problem,” Jerry said.
The meeting was now over. Steve offered to take Jerry back to the city, and Jerry accepted the invitation, poking fun at Steve’s rental car.
“I’ll close it up this time,” Jerry told James. “Now you know where I hide my key, I’m going to have to find a new spot.”
“Great,” James said, “then you can clean it up, too.”
“Yeah, right, it doesn’t much look like you did any dusting.”
The five friendly conspirators all left together, cracking jokes and making small talk all the way back to their cars. Based on their jovial mood, it hardly seemed possible that so deadly a process was underway.
Driving back to the city, James and Allison were basically doing the same thing, though driving separate vehicles—both were playing back in their minds the events of the evening. The main difference being, Allison was recording her thoughts.
James recalled how surprised he was that Reginald seemed so friendly toward Steve. “Must be he has decided that it would be better to work with Steve, than to remain at odds with him.”
James was less than twenty minutes on the drive back, when his cell phone rang. “Hello,” James said.
“James?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “I need to get your input on a story I’ve written.”
“Who is this?” James asked, “and how did you get this number?”
“That’s not important …”
“The hell it isn’t!” James exclaimed. “You’re calling on my private number. You should not have this number.”
“Forget about that,” the voice said, “I’ve got a story that you need to read.”
“Get off my phone!” James demanded.
“Wait,” the caller said, as James disconnected.
Only a few seconds passed when James’ phone rang again.
“Get off my phone,” James commanded the caller.
But before he could disconnect the call, the caller said one word, “Assassination.”