more service.”
“What about a cleaner?” Alfonse asked. “I’m certain you could get in touch with those guys. Can they help in any way?”
Director Vickers looked askance at Ben, frowning as he did so. “I see Mr. Dare has been spreading rumors. I assure you, in my official capacity as director of the Secret Service, I know of no such organization within our government. That is my unqualified statement on the matter and I would so testify if asked about the subject under oath.”
He paused to let the statement sink in.
“But unofficially, Senator, yes, I know about the organization. They’re a group of men and women outside the government who routinely work beyond the usual channels. I have no idea how to contact them, Senator, and would advise you to think carefully before you attempt to do so.” Vickers’ rigid body language spoke volumes about his thoughts on the subject.
“The cleaners get their name from mopping up messy situations that require deniability through official government channels. It’s unclear to me who has authority over this clandestine group…certainly not Secret Service or even the FBI. The CIA also disavows any contact with them, although their agency is the one most likely to warrant this type of activity. They are independent and work outside the law-they’ve been rumored to carry out assassinations, rip-off drug dealers, and incite riots. Anyone associated with them will be guilty of conspiracy at the very least. Please, sir, tell me you aren’t considering this course of action.”
“What I’m doing is my own business,” Al replied, returning the director’s scowl. “Your offer to make inquiries about my family members is most gracious, but I need more help than that. If you were in my shoes, you might see things differently.”
At that moment LaDonna quietly re-entered the office and handed Ben a note, alerting him that Emerson Palmer was waiting in the vestibule. Ben passed the note to the senator and asked LaDonna not to admit Palmer until after Vickers cleared the room.
“Director Vickers, you’ll have to excuse me but I have another appointment,” Al said, abruptly standing to hasten the man from his office. “I appreciate your offer; please keep Mr. Dare apprised of any developments.”
“Sir, you have my promise to do all that I can. Please think carefully about what we’ve discussed,” he said, shaking the senator’s hand as he rose. “I appreciate your leadership on the Intelligence Committee,” he added, moving toward the door, and taking the opportunity to lobby the senator as he departed. “I hope you continue to consider me a worthy source of information any time your committee has questions, Senator.”
Director Vickers moved into the anteroom of the senator’s office and was mildly surprised to see Emerson Palmer. The director had never been particularly supportive when Palmer was with the service. Vickers recognized his considerable talents for counterespionage, but fell in league with other, more regimented agents who didn’t appreciate Palmer’s unorthodox ways.
“Well, fancy meeting you here,” Vickers said as they passed one another without shaking hands. “I might’ve known…smell blood, Palmer?” he taunted. “Of course, ambulance chasing does suit you.”
“Buzz off, Vickers,” Palmer retorted. “Go find someone else to harass.” He was determined to get in his own dig at the man he held partly responsible for his early dismissal from the service. “Hell… you look terrible, Chuck,” he goaded as Vickers was leaving. “I’d see a doctor.”
Palmer was archetypical of a private eye: medium build, exemplary shape, non-descript features, and modest dress. Nothing about him really stood out. The man entering the senator’s office could easily pass for any number of nationalities. He was a genuine chameleon.
“Mr. Palmer, I’m Alfonse Coscarelli, and this is my chief of staff, Ben Dare,” Al said, ushering him into the office. “I do appreciate your coming here on such short notice. Have you been told why I’ve asked you here this morning?” Alfonse asked, eschewing customary pleasantries but indicating that Palmer make himself comfortable.
“Not exactly, sir,” Palmer replied. “I’ve had a brief conversation with Mr. Dare, but he only told me that something may have happened to your daughter and grandson. How can I be of service, Senator?” he asked, settling into the soft leather couch as he looked around the room.
It’s amazing, Emerson thought. All 100 senators’ offices look exactly the same. The furnishings were different, but each office was decorated with memorabilia from the senator’s home state, pictures of the senator with the president or key cabinet members, the American and corresponding state flags, and other prized treasures of the office-holder. Anyone visiting a congressional office was at a significant disadvantage. This office epitomizes a home-court advantage.
“Mr. Palmer, we don’t have much time, so please forgive my bluntness,” Al said. “It’s true my daughter Sela Coscarelli and grandson, Jeremiah Marshall, have been abducted. Ben has informed me that you’re not only an excellent private investigator, but also have information about an organization called the ‘cleaners.’ Is my information correct? Am I speaking to the right man?” he asked worriedly, craning his neck forward while perched on the edge of his seat.
“Yes, Senator…I suppose you are…if the group you’re referring to is the one that our government has been secretly deploying but refusing to acknowledge ever since the Revolutionary War,” he answered cautiously, measuring the man for any sign of trickery. It didn’t seem likely the senator would be up to any chicanery because he wasn’t lying about his daughter; news of her disappearance was just hitting the news channels. Still, it was better to be cautious when speaking to the chairman on the Senate Intelligence Committee about secret information known only to the president.
“Throughout our history, Senator, there have been times when in the best interest of our country, the Executive Office has taken actions to protect the values and freedoms we Americans hold dear, freedoms that were paid for with the blood of patriots ever since our country was founded. Many of these actions would be considered highly illegal were they reported, damaging the ability of the president and our Armed Forces to properly protect this country. In the interest of providing a strong national defense, keep the peace, and fight insurrection and oppression, there is a group of highly skilled people who work outside the channels of government. They are known as cleaners. Why do you ask about them, Senator?”
“I ask, Mr. Palmer, because I want to know if this resource is an available option to find my missing family. I’m in dire straits here. You saw the director of the Secret Service just depart. You probably also know there is nothing they can do for me. That means I’m totally at the mercy of local law enforcement to rescue my daughter and grandson. That’s unacceptable,” Alfonse said, summing up the situation as best he could. “I’m willing to try anything…”
“‘Unacceptable’ is an interesting word, sir. There are members of your Intelligence Committee that speak with great conviction that there should never be a time when our government acts outside the bounds of the Geneva Convention. They abhor any activity that strays from conventional intelligence-gathering methods. These liberal zealots are the very same people who would weaken our national defense in the interest of providing full disclosure, when to do so would compromise the safety of those brave patriots who tackle jobs none of them have the temerity, courage, or wherewithal to perform. It might be well for you to recognize the spew of conscientious objectors on your committee who would just as soon issue warnings to our enemy before we take actions to protect this country,” he said harshly, as Ben twisted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Has anyone contacted you with a ransom demand?” Palmer asked, looking at Ben.
“Not so far,” Ben replied, composing himself, flummoxed that Palmer would use this opportunity to espouse his personal views about members of the Senate Intelligence Committee. “Early this morning I spoke to Lieutenant Dave Morris from the Palo Alto PD,” he said, fully explaining the salient facts as he knew them. “Morris claims there’s more to the kidnappings than meets the eye. He’s been working with Agent Jason Henry from DOD following the theft of nuclear material from the Lawrence Livermore Lab. Morris and Agent Henry think all this is interconnected and hinges on new technology that Dr. Jarrod Conrad has developed out at Stanford.”
“The facts are intriguing, I’ll grant you that, sir,” Palmer replied, looking steadily at Al, weighing everything he’d heard. “Let’s say I believe you…and I’m able to get in touch with parties that may be of assistance. What’s this service worth to you, Senator?”
“I beg your pardon?” Al replied, taken aback by the presumption of the man’s question. “I thought this was a secret government operation…that you would get these cleaners to do the job.”
“Senator, forgive me…I merely said I’ve heard rumors of this organization. I did not mean to imply that I
