“Conspiracy,” Hap said.
“Conspiracy?” Wilson said, louder than intended.
“Conspiracy to defraud the United States,” Hap said as he pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. He began reading from the back of the card, “As defined by the Supreme Court, conspiracy to defraud the United States is ‘to interfere with, impede, or obstruct a lawful government function by deceit, craft, or trickery, or at least by means that are dishonest.’ They’re also going to make a case for treason, calling it ‘a breach of allegiance to one’s government and levying financial war against the American people.’”
“Carter has been planning this for weeks,” Wilson said, cynically. “Why did he need me?”
Hap stood up. “Distraction,” he said, not without sympathy. “You were his only means of finding cover from the partnership’s scrutiny. All he needed was a little time and enough counter-surveillance resources to accomplish what he did this morning. You provided both.”
Hap was right again. Wilson had distracted the partnership just long enough for Carter to deliver his final lecture.
53
Wilson — Boston, MA
FBI executives Kohl and Johns entered the Back Bay apartment with Hap Greene, followed by four FBI technicians carrying several cases of computer and video equipment. Wilson arrived a few minutes later. It was almost eight in the evening and there had been no more calls from Emily. Thankfully, regular reports from Driggs continued to convey that she was safe and unharmed. He wouldn’t allow her to suffer much longer, even if she was determined to destroy the bastards.
Within minutes, the FBI technicians had set up five laptop computers and a video camera at the dining room table and then proceeded to log in five reporters-Katherine Fischer from
“Each of these journalists is on a secure, encrypted connection. They have been thoroughly briefed on our operation. Each of them attended the meeting with Carter Emerson earlier today. Now, they have some questions for you.”
Feeling a bit blindsided by Carter and now the FBI, Wilson’s growing cynicism flared. “Seems a bit Orwellian or maybe Chinese to have the FBI orchestrating the press.”
“We’re not orchestrating the press,” Kohl said with a distinct coolness. “It was a non-negotiable part of Carter Emerson’s demands.”
“Nothing surprising about that,” Wilson mumbled.
“We’re only here for background, Mr. Fielder,” said
“Aren’t we going to wait for the networks?” Wilson asked sarcastically.
“Broadcast journalists are scheduled for Friday morning after the arrests,” Johns said. “Nothing will be printed or broadcast until then.”
“And these reporters agreed to that?” Wilson said in disbelief. He didn’t like Johns or his self-righteous smugness. And he couldn’t believe all of this was going to unfold without any hitches. Carter had told him about wanting the press to be intimately involved, but no one had bothered to tell him about the details or the timetable- and it aggravated him.
“The national security implications of a premature leak on this story have registered with all of them. Plus, we have agents at each of their locations and sworn affidavits that nothing will be discussed or printed until Friday,” Kohl said.
“Of course,” Wilson said, ready to have Emily extracted immediately.
“What about your father’s relationship with Carter Emerson?” Fischer asked again.
Wilson reluctantly spent the next ten minutes explaining what he knew about Carter’s relationship with his father. As he summarized the relationship, he softened, admitting to himself how much he loved and respected both of them, despite the fact that he and Emily had been caught in their web of manipulations.
“What do you think motivated your father and Carter Emerson?” asked
Wilson stared at the small camera attached to the laptop computer at the center of the table and then at the five faces on the computer screens before answering, “My father and Carter Emerson believed that once the American people saw how frighteningly easy it was for those with wealth and power to manipulate our financial system and get away with it, they would revolt.”
“Could you explain what your father considered to be the failing of capitalism?” asked
“Capitalistic Darwinism-cutthroat hierarchies that allow the strong to take advantage of the weak, the few to reap the financial rewards earned by the many. It’s the noble lie. Only philosopher kings or wealthy elite are capable of ruling,” Wilson said, paraphrasing Plato’s Republic. I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life, he thought, just like Carter and my father.
The questions continued for another two hours until Wilson had told them almost everything he knew about his father and the six people who had formed the Fenice Partnership eight years earlier. When the reporters finally logged off from the video-conference, Wilson was exhausted and nervous. There still had been no call from Emily. Hap again assured him that the updates from his people every half hour indicated that she was fine.
Kohl and Johns promised Wilson there would be no more surprises and no further need to talk to the press, unless he agreed to it.
Fat chance of either one of those promises being kept, he said to himself. Suddenly, he felt squeamish about all the other assurances they’d extolled.
“It will all be over by the weekend,” Johns said.
“Will we still be alive?” Wilson replied, his temper suddenly flaring. What an anal dickhead. If it weren’t for Kohl, I’d have zero confidence in the FBI.
“We’ve doubled the surveillance on Emily and your family,” Johns said.
“Certainly you’re not expecting leaks?” Wilson asked sarcastically. His nerves sufficiently fried that he no longer cared who he offended, especially Johns.
“It’s only a precaution,” Kohl said, warming up for the first time all evening. “We’ve never encountered a conspiracy with this scope and sophistication.”
“What worries you most?” Wilson asked, staring at Kohl.
“The number of people involved,” she said slowly.
“Bound to spring a fucking leak somewhere,” Wilson said, feeling himself slipping over the edge.
Hap put his hand on Wilson’s shoulder.
Kohl hesitated before responding, “We can relocate you and Emily to a safe-house anytime you choose.”
“If we disappear, so will every goddamned member of this partnership,” Wilson said, his edginess now out of control.
“Every one of them is under twenty-four-hour surveillance,” Johns said. “They won’t be going anywhere without us.”
Hap tightened his grip on Wilson’s shoulder, knowing the defiant thirty-one-year-old was about to blow. “If we see the slightest evidence of counter-surveillance or any other questionable activity, we’re going to pull Emily out and move them both to a safe location,” Hap said, eyeing Kohl and Johns.
“If you’re still up to it, we’d like you to keep everyone at Fielder amp; Company focused on the transition,” Johns said in his official, matter-of-fact tone of voice.
