are dead. Where is this fairy tale going?”
“When Sax was murdered, President Reagan put a bright young CIA agent in charge of a secret investigation of the Unit. The agent was Charles Jennings.”
“Ah, and I suppose that Charles is going to get on TV and tell the world about his secret investigation that just happens to prove that the man who is running against him is a murderer and a thief.”
“You know better than that. But the president knows you’re dirty, Morris. He doesn’t have to be convinced that you betrayed your men in Vietnam, that you stole the millions in the secret fund and used that money to buy into Computex, and that you were behind the murders of Sax, Glass, and Rivera. Unfortunately, with Rice missing and Sax dead, he could never prove anything. Then Carl Rice returned from the dead. And now we have the pay records of men that you swore under oath you didn’t know, with your signature authorizing their promotions to a rank their official files say they never attained.”
“This is all very interesting but I’ve got a statement to make to the press and a plane waiting to take me to Pittsburgh.”
“Use the press conference to announce that you’re dropping out of the race.”
“Not a chance.”
“Then we’ll go public with the pay records, the Justice Department will look into where you got the money you used to finance Computex, and we’ll investigate the plane crash that killed Simeon Brown. With all the negative publicity, you’ll be lucky to get any votes in the primary, and the president will have four more years to make your life hell.”
“This is what happens in banana republics, Ted,” Wingate replied calmly. “The person in power arrests his opposition. If Charles tries that with me, I’ll win the primary in a landslide.”
“You’ll be able to count the votes in jail, if the other prisoners vote to watch the news that night,” Schoonover answered.
Wingate stood up. “I’m calling your bluff, Ted. If you persist with these outrageous demands, I’ll hold a press conference, all right, and I’ll use it to expose the blackmail threats you’ve just made. I’ll have Brendan Kirkpatrick and the Secret Service agents in my guard detail tell the world how the president’s hatchet man insisted on this private meeting. Then I’ll get the best experts money can buy to prove that these documents are false.”
Schoonover smiled. “When I was in ’Nam, we had a name for guys like you who sent other people to die doing their dirty work. We called them REMFs. It’s an acronym that stands for rear-echelon motherfuckers. We despised them, just like I despise you. That’s why I’m going to take great pride in bringing you down.”
Sam Cutler was working on the details of security for an appearance in Madison, Wisconsin, when the General stormed into his hotel suite. Wingate had been calm and self-assured when he spoke to the reporters at his press conference, but he was seething now.
“Sam,” Wingate barked. Cutler cut short his phone conversation and followed the General into the bedroom.
“Has this room been swept?” Wingate asked.
“We can talk,” Cutler assured him.
As he changed into casual clothes for the trip to Pittsburgh, Wingate told Cutler about his meeting with Ted Schoonover.
“The documents can hurt us,” the General said, “but our real problem is Carl Rice. Vanessa knows only what he told her. Carl is the key.”
“What do you want me to do?” Cutler asked.
Wingate stared at his aide. “Don’t be obtuse.”
“Rice is going to disappear, General. Jennings will stash him in a safe house.”
“Then find him. Use our contacts at Justice, the CIA. Pay what you have to, but find him. And remember, Sam, I’m not the only person who’s in danger. You have a lot to lose as long as Carl Rice is alive.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ryan was supposed to go home with Bobby O’Dell’s mother, so he was surprised when Ami picked him up at school and told him that they were going to the Multnomah County courthouse. The last time Ryan had been to the courthouse was on “Bring Your Child to Work” day. Before court convened, a nice lady judge had let him sit in her chair and hold her gavel. Then he’d had to sit in the spectator section for an hour and listen to his mom and another lawyer talk. Ryan liked sitting in the judge’s chair, but the other stuff was pretty boring. Ryan asked Ami why they were going downtown. Ami said it was a surprise. She didn’t tell him that this meeting had been one of Carl Rice’s conditions for helping Ted Schoonover and President Jennings bring down Morris Wingate.
The courthouse was still busy when Ami and Ryan arrived, but the only people in the corridor outside Judge Velasco’s courtroom were a hard-looking man and woman in plainclothes, who Ami guessed were FBI agents. Inside the locked courtroom, two other agents watched the door to the judge’s chambers.
Ami knocked on the hall door for Judge Velasco’s chambers. It opened into the anteroom where the judge’s secretary worked. The secretary was gone, her place taken by two FBI agents who watched alertly as Ami and Ryan entered.
“Go on in, Mrs. Vergano,” said the agent who had unlocked the door. Ami thanked him and ushered Ryan into the judge’s office where Carl Rice waited, free of his shackles and dressed in tan slacks and a plaid cotton shirt.
Ryan hesitated when he saw Carl, suddenly shy and tentative.
Carl flashed a big smile. “Hey, Champ, how’s the team doing?”
“Okay,” Ryan answered quietly.
Ami placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “They won one and lost two, but Ryan had a single and a double in the last game.”
“Not bad,” Carl said. “How’s the curveball coming?”
“I haven’t really been practicing,” he mumbled.
“That’s not good. You won’t master the curve if you don’t practice. Have your mom catch for you.”
Ryan shrugged. Carl knelt down so that he was closer to Ryan’s height, and Ami stepped back.
“You’re upset by what happened at the ball game, right?”
Ryan shrugged again but wouldn’t look Carl in the eye.
“That’s okay. It shook me up, too. It’s no fun being shot, and I feel very bad about hurting Barney Lutz and that policeman. That was wrong.”
Ryan shifted uneasily.
“But I didn’t ask your mom to bring you here to talk about that. There’s something I want to tell you.”
Ryan looked at Carl expectantly. “Are you coming home?”
“I wish I could.” Ryan’s face fell, and Carl put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “If I tell you a secret, will you promise to keep it to yourself? It’s important that no one but you and your mom know.”
Ryan hesitated. He looked confused.
“My real job isn’t being a carpenter, Ryan. I’m a spy. You know what that is, right?”
“Like James Bond.”
Carl nodded. “I work undercover for our government, and I was on assignment when I was living at your house. I can’t tell you what the assignment was, because it’s top-secret, but it was very important. When I got shot, it loused up everything, but my bosses squared it with the police and I’m not in trouble anymore.”
“If everything is okay, why can’t you move back?”
“I wish I could. I really like your mom, and you’re terrific, but spies don’t get to settle down like regular people.”
Carl leaned forward until his lips were close to Ryan’s ear. “This is something even your mom doesn’t know,” he whispered. “I work directly for the president, and he just gave me new orders. I can’t tell you what they are, but it’s my most important assignment ever.”
“Really?”
Carl nodded. “I’ll tell you something else that isn’t a secret. If I had a son I’d want him to be just like you, but
