Mac knew the story: Don Bolles was a reporter who was murdered to prevent the investigation of mob activities in Arizona in the ‘70s. A group of reporters from across the nation took leaves of absence to go to Arizona and finish Bolles’s story. Later they formed an organization — Investigative Reporters and Editors, IRE — to keep investigative reporting alive in this country. The Exec had been one of them. It was one of the inspirational stories of modern newsgathering.
“So, I’m retiring, and the newspaper needs to find its vision for the future,” the Exec continued. He looked at the publisher. “Steve is right about that. But I don’t believe it is in dry data; we’re not the Financial Times. And we now have a second issue, because I am deeply troubled one of the key people we’re considering for leadership didn’t disclose an obvious bias and may have set his reporters up for harassment.”
The publisher nodded. “Mac, thank you for pulling this all together for us. I’m not sure when you found time in the last few weeks, but we needed this input. And also, I want to congratulate you on the anti-government movement reportage. Next year we may see if the Pulitzer judges like ‘blow-shit-up’ stories better. But if you and Janet would excuse yourselves, the three of us need to talk.”
“Thank you for listening to me,” Mac said sincerely. He and Janet got up to leave, and he held the door open for her to go first. He looked back at the three men. “One last thing,” he said. “It should be noted that without Janet this newspaper’s leadership becomes an all-white, all-male team. And that’s not healthy. I’d like to suggest that not only do you need Janet as city editor for her expertise, but also for her perspective as a woman. And that a priority for the assistant positions should be to hire a person of color.”
The ME nodded in agreement, and Mac left, closing the door gently.
Chapter 29
(June 14, 2014, FBI headquarters, Washington, D.C.)
Rebecca Nesbitt put a call in to Rand McDonald in Seattle. “So, are you sure you’ve got the right man?” she asked him.
“I’m sure,” he said tersely. It bothered him that he’d known Peabody and hadn’t seen it. “Why?”
“He’s still posting — Sensei is,” she informed him. “He’s losing followers, but he still posts. Is he still doing his newsletter to a select few?” It bugged her that she hadn’t been able to get past his gatekeeping to subscribe.
“Oh, yeah, the newsletter is still going out,” Rand said. She couldn’t see his smirk over the phone. “I believe this week’s theme was the importance of civic engagement and Little League baseball.”
She was silent for a moment. “Say again?”
“This week Sensei is talking about how men need to step up and volunteer in their communities. Little League baseball is one of the examples. Then he talked about safe gun storage. Two weeks ago, he talked about the importance of teaching women to shoot, and that it was something the whole family could enjoy.”
“Rand?” she said, her voice going dangerously soft. “What aren’t you tell me?”
He laughed. “Stan Warren and Carlos Rodriguez, a guy named Joe Dunbar from SPD and I went out drinking last night. They are all as perplexed as you are. And pissy about it. But I’m the one with the subscription, and I’m reading it. Reading the inner circle stuff too.”
“And?” she prompted. The last thing the world needed was another Sensei taking the man’s place.
“I think it’s Mac.”
“Mac Davis, the reporter? He’s the new Sensei? Preaching white supremacy?”
“No white supremacy. No divorce/child support bullshit. Just helpful gun lore, community involvement, stuff like that. And the posts and newsletters are getting farther apart. He’s not admitting to anything, but Mac took the hard drive from Peabody’s computer when we arrested him. Not that he’s admitting that either. I think he was worried about unstable men losing their guru, and he decided to ease them back into society. Rodriguez is grumpy, but it appears to be working. I think Dunbar has guessed, because he was heckling Rodriguez a bit. Warren didn’t say anything. So, I’d guess he knows too. Things were a bit rough those first two weeks after Mac blew up half the North Cascades, you know. There were a lot of shell-shocked men who struggled with reality. Mac talked about it when we were working our way out of there. That you couldn’t just abandon people.”
There was silence. He hadn’t told anyone about his theory. But Rebecca had been his lifeline during his undercover work. She’d kept him balanced. He owed her. And he didn’t think Mac would mind. He was just beginning to worry that he’d misjudged her ability to deal with this, when she started to laugh.
“Have you ever read Mac’s military file?” she asked, and then she laughed some more.
“Of course not,” he said. “Why?”
“Stan’s got a copy, you should read it,” she told him, still chuckling. “Mac Davis fits the profile we drew up for Sensei better than Peabody.”
“Minus the white supremacy crap,” Rand said, thinking about what Mac had said to Peabody.
“Minus that,” she agreed. “The fact that he can care about all those men and let them down easy? It’s....” Rebecca trailed off, searching for words.
“Charming?” Rand suggested. He’d never known Rebecca to be at loss for words.
“Something,” she agreed. “You know Stan’s analogy that he’s a wolf who’s decided he likes being part of the sheep herd because it’s warm, and he gets three meals a day?”
Rand smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Angie Wilson? She says he’s a protector not a predator.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Rebecca said. “He’s pure predator. But... she’s not wrong either.”
She laughed some more.
“OK,” she said. “Let me know how it goes.”
“Will do,” Rand said. He hesitated. “Rebecca? Mac thinks the country is in trouble — that we may not survive this resurgence of white
