adventure began in the sixties-in Far Left groups; you may recall the SDS, where both George and I were quite active, where George and I met, in fact. But the SDS seemed to us not to be accomplishing its stated goals, and we broke away. This was at Berkeley, where we formed Strikeforce Freedom, to weed out the leftist groups who were only paying lip service to the cause.”
“How did you weed them out exactly?”
“We armed ourselves,” he said matter of factly. “Not with guns: nothing more lethal than a length of pipe or a chain. It was an important moment, because our people understood that rhetoric wasn’t enough. You had to stand and fight.”
“Is that your idea of politics? Violent overthrow of the government?”
“It was then, in those more innocent days,” he said, smiling, as if discussing a childish phase he’d once gone through. “My roots were in Communism, socialism… but I moved on to embrace larger, wider ideals.”
Such as bilking old people out of their savings, I supposed, thinking of the phone scam I’d witnessed in progress at his campaign HQ. Well, that was his business.
I said, “So what are you saying? Ridge maintained his left-wing leanings, while you moved to the right?”
“I am neither right nor left. The Democratic Action party embraces disaffected Republicans and Democrats alike; we have a goodly number of former Ku Klux Klan in our ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder with former SDS. I favor a free-energy economy, and an end to reactionary oligarchs and financiers…”
“That’s just peachy keen. But getting back to Ridge-you seem more disappointed than surprised that he’s behind this.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, with a world-weary smile that quickly disappeared. “And I doubt he represents any group. I think this is personal. He feels I’ve betrayed him-and he has obviously betrayed me.”
I put my hand up in a stop gesture. “I don’t think we can operate from the assumption he’s alone. He may well represent a group-and if he does, you need to know.”
“What about this assassin? Your replacement?”
“I know him. How he works, how he thinks. He won’t, I don’t think, hit you here at home-although you need to expand and improve your security, obviously. But this guy, he’ll do it when you’re out and about. Out among the public.”
“During my primary campaign,” he said, tensing, stopping in front of me. “I make my first public appearance this Tuesday morning. I’ve set up a press conference at the Blackhawk Hotel-which will be well attended by the national media…”
“When Ridge came to see me,” I said, “he specifically mentioned that press conference. If that’s when the hit’s going down, we don’t have much time.”
“What should we do? What can we do?”
I was a little out of my element; a political hit differed drastically from the work I had done, which invariably involved a two-man team, staking out the victim well before the hit, a methodical approach that went out the window when dealing with a sheltered national figure who would present himself as a target only at public events like the coming press conference.
“We’ll start with Ridge,” I said. “I’ll deal with him myself.”
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“I am. I’ll need some details about the man before I go; where he lives, anything about his habits-I already know where his office is. But anything that might be useful.”
“I can certainly help you on that score. Could Ridge lead you to the assassin?”
“Possibly. Probably. But Ridge doesn’t get back in the country till Monday night. So-if Tuesday’s press conference is really it, we’ll have to alert your security staff, just in case I haven’t been able to shut this thing down by then.”
“But you intend to try?”
“Of course. Like I said, I know the man who took the contract. He’s a pro-very good at what he does; stopping him will not be easy-once put in motion, well… but I know him. I worked with him. That’s to our advantage. And I may be able to use what I know about him to find him beforehand; if we’re right about Tuesday morning, he’s probably already in town.”
He sat in the chair next to me and thought. He smelled of musky cologne. The big house was silent. Well, a clock was ticking someplace, but that was about it.
“Let me suggest something,” Freed said, finally, with a sly smile, a fairly demented twinkle in the blue eyes.
“Yeah?”
He lifted a gently lecturing forefinger. “Don’t attempt to deal with this assassin until he tries something…”
“What?”
“Let him be shot down in the attempt on my life.”
“Are you crazy?” Stupid question.
“It would have excellent publicity value,” he said. “I would be taken seriously, immediately. The current administration’s failure to provide me with Secret Service bodyguards would create a scandal. The eyes of America, the world, would be tightly focused on Preston Freed.”
I hate it when people talk about themselves in the third person.
“That would be a very dangerous game,” I said.
“Would it? But if we knew he were coming…”
“We could half-bake a cake. No, I won’t play that game, Freed. It’s too dangerous. For all concerned.”
He shrugged. “All right. It’s just a suggestion. But I’ll say this: if you feel you could arrange it in that fashion, I could see my way clear to offering a second bonus. Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
That was impressive. Not as impressive as a million dollars, but impressive enough for me to say, “I’ll think it over.”
He extended his hand. “Good. I must say you’re a very brave man, Mr. Quarry, storming my citadel as you’ve done.”
I shook the hand; it was firm, not sweating at all. He had his share of stones, too, willing to go on the firing line just to get some publicity. Or maybe it was the coke and the booze making him brave.
“I’ll give you my private phone number,” he said, and went to the bar and scribbled it on a pad. He tore off the sheet and handed it to me, saying, “Day or night. If we need to meet…”
“We will. I may want to brief your security people-just those involved with press conference security. You’ll have to introduce me as a security expert or something. We’ll work that out. Oh, and I made contact with your campaign manager. He’ll be mentioning me to you-Jack Ryan, the name will be-he’ll say I want a private meeting, in return for a sizable contribution. But one way or another, I want immediate acceptance as an insider with the campaign.”
“Done,” he said. “How do I contact you?”
“You don’t. I contact you. And I don’t want to be followed. If any of your people follow me, I’ll just disappear and you’ll be on your own. And you wouldn’t want that.”
“No I wouldn’t.” He sighed, shook his head. Even for a man like Preston Freed, this had been a lot to absorb. “What now?”
“Fill me in a little more on Ridge. Then you’re going to pick out one of your bodyguards for me to uncuff, to have drive me back to my car.”
“Christ, I hadn’t thought about them! How do I explain you to ’em?”
“I’m a security expert, remember?”
“Ah, yes…”
“Tonight, I was just a little test you were giving ’em,” I said. “To see how secure your ‘citadel’ really was.”
“A test,” he said, smiling, liking it.
“Yeah,” I said. “And they flunked.”
