Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7

  Chapter 24

  THE BRIBE

   

  In mid-January my son Mark, who was a sophomore in high school, asked me to be a judge in his debate tournament. I didn't really have time to do it, but I didn't have the heart to tell him no. Fortunately it was just a one-day event. The topic of the debate was: "Should the United States trade arms with Iran in exchange for the release of hostages?" The debate got me thinking about the lady in black from Congressman Manning's office. I hadn't heard anything from Detective Marshall about her nor had the FBI informed me about what was happening in the search for Robert Huntington. I decided it was time to go back to Washington to catch up on the investigation and to talk to the lady in black.

  I called Detective Marshall's office again and finally was able to talk to his partner. She told me it had been determined that the lady in black was Linda Olivia, an intern for Congressman Manning. She filled me in on everything she knew about her. A student at George Washington University, she was the eldest daughter of one of Congressman Manning's best contributors, and had gotten the job as a favor to her father. She was also gay although neither the Congressman nor her father knew it. I wondered how they acquired that bit of information, but then realized they must have had her under surveillance.

   During the flight to Washington, I thought about Linda Olivia and wondered why she had slipped me the piece of paper with the address of the warehouse. She apparently didn't agree with Congressman Manning's circumvention of Congress' dictate not to sell arms to Iran in exchange for the release of hostages. There had been congressional hearings going on for months about those illegal exchanges and whether or not President Reagan knew about them. I was sure he did. It was a noble gesture for Poindexter and Oliver North to take the fall, but how could the President not know something like this was going on?

  I put aside that question and began to think of how to get Olivia alone so I could talk to her. She could get into serious trouble if anyone saw us together. Then I got an idea. While I had been sitting around the police station on my last visit to DC, I managed to locate Nicole. She was still practicing massage therapy, but for another doctor. Unfortunately, I hadn't had time to visit her as the FBI made me stick around their offices. We hadn't spoken in several years and I was curious anyway as to what was going on in her life. I thought while I was in town I'd pay her a surprise visit—maybe get a massage. The memory of the last one still lingered after all these years. And she could be the perfect lure to get Olivia alone.

  Detective Marshall agreed to pick me up at the airport and he was there at baggage check-in when I arrived. We shook hands.

  "Stan, how are you?" he asked.

  "Not too bad, yourself?"

  "Still kicking," he said giving me a hard look. "So, you can't leave this thing alone?"

  "No. I've got to get to the bottom of it. I can't just let a client disappear the way Huntington did and then just blow it off. As far as I know Huntington didn't have any family, so if I don't follow through on this, who will?"

  "Well, the FBI is actually glad you came back. They want in on your interview with the lady in black."

  "They haven't talked to her yet?"

  "They have but she won't acknowledge that she gave you the information on the warehouse."

  "Really. So what do they want me to do?"

  "They think she might talk to you so they want you to wear a wire when you meet her."

  "No. No way. I'll be happy to pass on any information I get that might help them find Huntington, but I'm not going to do anything to get Ms. Olivia in trouble. If anyone sees us together she could end up in a coffin."

  He shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd agree to it, but I told them I'd ask."

  We left the terminal and got into the detective's car which he had parked at the curb just outside. He drove me to the Holiday Inn and I checked into my room. On the way he told me how to find Ms. Olivia. She often went to lunch alone at a sidewalk café about a half mile from Capitol Hill. I was tired from my flight, so I turned in early and got a good night's sleep. The next morning, after breakfast, I took a cab to the Marcus Sports Medicine Clinic where Nicole worked as a therapist. On the brochure in the lobby they advertised a stress reduction massage for $50. I asked if Nicole was available. They said she was but I'd have to wait about twenty minutes for her to finish up with her last client.

  While I was waiting, I read a U.S. News and World Report article on the banking and savings and loan crisis. In the article it mentioned that several thrifts had gotten into trouble because of defaults on loans used to fund the Contra Rebels in Nicaragua. The article didn't detail how the loans worked or how the borrowers expected to repay them, but I suddenly realized why the money from the Continental Exporters' bank account was wired to Panama. It was headed for the Contra Rebels.

  The receptionist called my name and escorted me to a treatment room. She told me to take a seat and that Nicole would be there momentarily. I waited anxiously to see Nicole's reaction. A moment later the door swung open and she stepped inside the room. She was wearing a white gown and looked very professional. The years had been good to her. She looked up and gave me a hard look.

  "Stan?"

  I smiled and replied, "You still remember me."

  "What—" she said and we embraced. "What are you doing here?"

  "Well, I was in town but I only had a couple hours free this morning so I figured I'd get a massage and we could catch up on old times."

  She looked me over and smiled. "You haven't changed much."

  "Nor you. Pretty as ever."

  She blushed. "Well, take off your clothes and get on the table so we can get started. The clock is ticking."

  I looked at her and our eyes met. "That's okay. We can just talk. I've already paid for the treatment."

  "You sure? You look a little stressed out."

  "Two murder cases and a lost client will do that to you."

  "Yes. I've read about you in the papers."

  There was an awkward moment of silence and then I said, "I still remember the last massage you gave me."

  She laughed and turned to a large cabinet. She opened it and said, "As I recall you slept through most of it." She pulled out a large towel and handed it to me. "Take off your clothes and lie down on the table."

  I nodded and she left while I got undressed. A few moments later she returned and began the massage. I could hardly talk it felt so good. She still had those magical fingers.

  "So, fill me in on what you've been up to these past few years," I asked.

  "Oh, my. A lot has happened."

  "I'm listening."

  She dug her thumbs into the small of my back sending a chill through my body. I moaned.

  "I married Lt. Hooper," she said.

  I sighed. "You did?"

  "Yes. I would have invited you to the wedding but I figured it would be awkward."

  "True. But you should have anyway. Rebekah and I would have come."

  "I know. . . . It didn't last long—twenty-eight months. I hated living on base. He didn't have much time for me either with all his responsibilities."

  "That's too bad."

  "It was for the best."

  "Any children?"

  "No."

  "Have you remarried?"

  "No. I'm dating a Doctor—a neurosurgeon."

  "Wow. That sounds promising."

  "Too bad you're not in town longer. I 'd love you to meet him. I've told him all about you."

  I frowned. "Really? Why?"

  "Because I love to tell people how I saved your ass. It makes great cocktail conversation."

  I turned over and looked up at her. "Really? How'd you like to have another story to tell?"

  Her eyes lit up and she smiled, "That would be great. What did you have in mind?"

   I told her my plan. I could tell she was excited. She left while I got dressed and then returned to give me the spare key to her apartment. My heart was pounding when we embrace
d and said goodbye.

  The meeting at the café wasn't until 1:00 p.m. so I went back to my hotel room to wait. When I checked at the front desk to see if there were any messages, the clerk told me I had a package waiting. He handed me the thick manila folder and I looked it over warily. When I got to my room, I opened it. Five large bundles of $100 bills fell out of the package. There was a note tucked into one of them. I pulled it out and opened it.

   

  Mr. Turner,

   

  Thank you for your assistance in getting my checking account released at Metroplex Savings and Loan. You did a fine job and I've enclosed your fee plus a nice bonus for caring about my welfare. Now return to Dallas and forget you ever heard about me or Continental Exporters. Your services are no longer needed.

                                    Sincerely,

   

                                    Robert Huntington

   

  The letter shook me up. I wondered if it really came from Robert Huntington. There was no way I could verify its authenticity. If Huntington was okay, and I had been discharged, I was duty bound to follow his instructions and go home. But what if this was simply someone's attempt to buy me off. I counted the money—$25,000.

  After contemplating this development for a while, I called Detective Marshall. He told me to put the note in an envelope and leave it for him at the front desk. He'd have it picked up and analyzed by the FBI while I was meeting with Olivia. If it turned out to be authentic, then I could assume Robert Huntington was okay and terminate my investigation.

  I got a cab and gave them Nicole's address. Twenty minutes later I was fumbling with the lock at her front door. I felt strange walking into her apartment. My heart was pounding again and I was in the midst of an adrenalin high. Nicole had always had that effect on me and each time we were together it took all my will power to resist her.

  There was an antique clock ticking on a table next to the front door. I hated loud clocks as they seemed to make time slow down. I wondered what Nicole was doing and how long it would be until she arrived. I walked slowly around the apartment looking at her things, trying to get a feel for her life. I thought of Lt. Hooper and what a fool he was for letting her get away.

  I stopped and closed my eyes. The door opened. She flew into my arms. We kissed wildly and frantically. She pushed me back against the wall and started unbuckling my belt. I ripped off her blouse and took her breast in my mouth. A loud knock at the door woke me from my daydream. I blinked and then ran to the front door. Nicole and Olivia rushed in. I closed the door.

  "Did anyone follow you?" I asked.

  "No. I don't think so," Nicole said.

  Olivia looked at me and I smiled. "I wondered if I'd ever meet you," Olivia said.

  "You didn't mind the intrigue," I asked.

  "No, that was clever getting Nicole to pick me up. That was quite a kiss for a straight girl."

  I looked at Nicole and said, "She's quite an actress. I've told her she should get a job on Broadway."

  "No. I think I'd like to come work for you, Stan," Nicole said. "You live an exciting life."

  I shrugged. "Well, we don't have much time so you better tell me what's going on, Olivia."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you stuffed the address of the Continental Exporter's warehouse in my pocket, so you must have done that for a reason."

  She sighed. "Right. About a year ago I went to work for Congressman Manning. He is a far-right wing Republican and I wouldn't have ever dreamed of working for him had my dad not insisted on it. About six months ago I discovered that he was masterminding clandestine aid to Iran through an organization set up by the CIA, Continental Exporters."

  "Continental Exporters is operated by the CIA?" I asked.

  "It's a front set up by several ex-naval officers for the CIA to sell arms to Iran. Your client, Robert Huntington, handled U.S. operations and the other officer handled delivery to Iran."

  "Who was the other officer?"

  "I'm not sure but he's referred to as Palmer."

  "Palmer? Luther Palmer?"

  "Yes, that sounds right. Anyway, Congress voted against providing arms to Iran and I couldn't sit idly by and watch a U.S. Congressman unilaterally defy Congress and alter U.S. foreign policy."

  "So, why not cooperate with the FBI?"

  "I don't want anyone to know I'm involved, particularly my father. He'd have a stroke if he found out what I was doing."

  "Right."

  "Besides, if I cooperated with the FBI the word will get out that I'm a snitch and I could end up in an ally with a bullet in my head."

  "You think the Congressman would have you killed?"

  "Yes, if there is one thing I have learned while working for him is that he won't let anything or anybody interfere with his agenda. He believes he's doing God's work by funneling money to the Contra Rebels."

  "So, why give me the information?"

  "You had a good reason to investigate what's going on because of your missing client. If you discovered something, nobody would expect that I was involved."

  That was clever thinking on Olivia's part and lucky for me. Now I had an inside source that could lead me to the truth. We talked about a half hour until I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearly time to take Olivia back to the café.

  "So, do you have any idea what happened to Robert Huntington?"

  "Manning got very angry at him for letting the IRS tie up the contra money. I think he gave him a deadline for getting the money released or he'd have to relieve him of his duties. When the deadline passed, he sent some men to Dallas to replace him."

  "Do you have any idea where they took him, or what they did to him?"

  "No. I just overheard him talking to someone on the phone about going to Dallas and hiring a plumber to unclog a drain."

  "Are you sure they were talking about Huntington and Metroplex Savings and Loan?"

  "Yes, I heard enough bits and pieces to put it all together."

  "Do they know that you are on to them?"

  "I don't think so. I play the naive college student pretty well."

  "So, you're an actress too," I said.

  "Not as good as Nicole, I'm afraid."

  "Speaking of acting," Nicole said. "I better get her back to the café. She's got to get back to work."

  I looked at my watch and replied, "Right. You better go. One last question. Do you know the name of any of the men who were sent to Dallas?"

  "He called one of them Skip. I remember that much. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know."

  "How will you get the information to me?"

  She looked at Nicole. "Through my new girlfriend."

  Nicole blushed. "Right," I said. "Is that okay with you, Nicole?"

  She nodded, "Like I said. I could use a little excitement in my life. A lesbian love affair is about as much excitement as a girl could ask for."

  I laughed. "Well, you two have fun."

  After the girls had left, I caught a cab back to my hotel and had lunch. Then I went downtown and acted like I was actually doing some investigating just in case I was being followed. Toward the end of the day I stopped by the FBI office and reported to the agent in charge what I had learned from Linda Olivia. He advised me the letter I had received was a forgery and hadn't been written by Huntington. Since the $25,000 was obviously a bribe to get me to back off the case, I turned it over to them hoping it would help lead them to the kidnappers. When I was done, Detective Marshall picked me up to take me to the airport.

  "You know, Stan. You ought to step back from this case now. You've been a big help, but it's getting a little too dangerous for you to keep pushing this investigation. There's no way anybody can protect you."

  "I know. Maybe I will."

  "Particularly since they've given you money. If they think you've rejected their bribe they'll have no choice but to
do you bodily harm or even kill you."

  "But if I don't keep pushing, will they ever find Huntington?"

  "Why do you care about Huntington? He's a grown man. He knew he was playing a dangerous game. He knew what he was doing was illegal. He's not some innocent victim here."

  "I'm not so sure about that. If the CIA set him up in business, he may have thought he was serving his country. At least that's the impression I got from the time I spent with him."

  Marshall sighed. "You could be right. But, either way, you need to leave it the professionals. You don't even carry a gun."

  I laughed. "Yeah, if I carried a gun then I would definitely be in great peril."

  On the flight home I thought about Huntington and wondered if he was patriot or conspirator. Either way I didn't know of anything else I could do for him, so I decided to take Marshall's advice and step back. I certainly had plenty of other things to do. After my plane landed at DFW Airport, I got my luggage and walked to where I remembered having parked my car. Just as I got within a few yards of it, there was a shot and the windshield shattered. I turned away from my car to avoid the flying glass. Behind me there was an explosion that thrust me into the air. It felt like I'd been hit by a thousand bullets. I came down hard on top of a big Cadillac, rolled three times, and fell to the ground.