“Someone left this tape on Congressman O’Rourke’s doorstep this morning.”
Stansfield looked at Garret and said, “Before I play it, Mr. Garret, would you like to tell us the real reason Arthur Higgins was dumped at your house last night?” Garret shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea.” Mike Nance leaned back in his chair and stared at Stansfield like a cat. “What is on the tape?” asked Stevens.
Stansfield walked to the other end of the table and inserted the tape in the cassette player. “It is a recording of a confession by Arthur Higgins before he was killed.”
Stansfield hit play and walked back to his seat. Just as he sat down, Michael’s electronically altered voice came over the speakers. “What is your name?”
“What?”
289
“What is your name?”
“Arthur… Arthur Higgins.” Garret shot forward in his chair, covering his face with both hands. Reaching forward, Nance grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, whispering in his ear, “Stay calm.” As Nance tried to keep Garret from losing it, the tape continued, with the generic computer voice asking Arthur about his past and what he had done for the CIA. Director Stansfield had given up on watching Garret and was locked in a stare with Nance as the tape played on. “Mr. Higgins, were you the author of a covert operation back in the early sixties that resulted in the assassinations of several French politicians?”
“Yes.”
“Who were you working for at the time?”
“The CIA.”
“How many French politicians did you kill?”
“Two.”
“Who were they?”
“Claude Lapoint and Jean Bastreuo.” Barely able to contain himself, the President shouted, “What?” He looked to Nance for a full thirty seconds as the tape continued to describe the interrogation between Arthur and his captors.
And then the more pertinent question was asked of the deceased Higgins.
“Did you use the recent string of assassinations as a cover to kill Senator Olson and
Congressman Turnquist?”
“Yes.” Garret yelled, “It wasn’t my idea! I swear it wasn’t my idea!”
Nance ripped at his arm and pulled his face close. “Shut your mouth!”
The President stared at his close advisers, frozen in disbelief, and then the other shoe dropped.
“Who else was involved in your plot to kill Senator Olson and Congressman
Turnquist?”
“Mike Nance and Stu Garret.” Garret tried to say something, but Nance pulled him back into his chair before he could.
290
Stevens closed his eyes and lowered his head while Nance stared unflinchingly back at Stansfield. “Did the President know about your plans?” asked the cold, sterile voice.
The President looked to Stansfield. “I had nothing to do with this!” Stansfield ignored him and continued to stare at Nance. Arthur’s final words rang out: “I don’t know.” The tape ended, and the room was filled with an awkward silence.
A slight smile creased Nance’s lips and he said, “Nice try, Thomas.”
With a placid expression Stansfield asked, “What do you mean ‘nice try’?”
“All of that is a lie, so I have to assume you either tortured Arthur into making those bizarre accusations or you electronically altered the tape.” Stansfield stared at Nance unflinchingly.
“Congressman O’Rourke received this tape earlier today along with a letter from the assassins that were responsible for killing Senator Fitzgerald, Senator Downs, Congressman Koslowski, and Speaker Basset.
They are the ones that took Arthur, not me.”
“What in the hell is going on here?” asked the President. “I’m not sure, sir,” replied
Nance. “But I think Director Stansfield is trying to blackmail us with this tape. I can assure you, and so can Stu, that we never discussed assassinating Senator Olson and
Congressman Turnquist with Arthur. The entire idea is preposterous.”
“Stu?” asked the President. Garret saw another chance to weasel his way out. “That’s right, Jim. I don’t know what in the hell any of this is about. The only dealings I had with
Arthur were about your budget.”
Michael slid forward to the edge of his chair and placed his hands flat on the table.
His movement into the arena caught everyone’s eye except that of Nance, who continued to stare at Stansfield. Michael stuck a hand in front of Stansfield’s face and snapped his fingers, drawing Nance’s attention to him.
