the president’s kidnapping, he didn’t expect him to come willingly.
Lawlor had been provided with the details of a Swiss intelligence officer’s confession, given from his hospital bed in Geneva. Despite the Chinese wall that served to hide who took the confession and how it was obtained, Lawlor knew it had been done by the CIA. Supposedly, Gerhard Miner had willingly provided the confession and named names in exchange for a reduction in the charges. Whether certain methods had been used to extract the confession was anybody’s guess, but they probably had.
Despite Lawlor’s leads and a quickly closing net on Donald Fawcett, the White House wanted a quick end to the situation and had agreed to the deal. Gerhard Miner would probably show up somewhere with a bullet in the back of his head within a month anyway. Just as long as whoever did it wasn’t dumb enough to use one that said, “Made in the U.S.A.”
The information delivered to Lawlor also came with a special FYEO-For Your Eyes Only. The reason Gerhard Miner was in the hospital was because Scot Harvath had beaten the shit out of him, almost killed him with his bare hands. Lawlor couldn’t help but smile.
He looked once again at his watch. Thirty seconds. He told his teams to stand by. “Five…four…three…two… one. Go!”
Fifty-five agents moved in from their assigned positions. All of the utilities were cut, and the security system disabled. Within a minute, agents had breached the front doors and were sweeping the house. There was no sign of Fawcett.
A call came over the radio that agents clearing the study had found two bodies. Lawlor got to their position as soon as he could. What he saw turned his stomach, even after all these years. The bodies of two men, shot execution style, lay in a pool of congealing blood on the hardwood floor. Retrieving their wallets and seeing the names on their IDs made him even sicker. The bodies appeared to be those of Senators Russell Rolander and David Snyder.
After a thorough search of the property, Donald Fawcett was still nowhere to be found.
82
Washington, D.C.-one week later
After five days in the Swiss hospital, Harvath was flown home to the United States, ostensibly to recuperate and undergo further tests. In reality, a whole host of people including the Justice Department, the CIA, the FBI, and the Secret Service wanted him back for debriefing. After a while, the questions grew to be monotonous and repetitive, but it was all part of the job. Director Jameson had an authorized agent transcribe Scot’s debriefing and only asked him to read it over and sign it if it was correct. Mercifully, Scot had no typing to do.
He attended a private ceremony at the White House after the funeral of the vice president. The story in the press was that the cause of death had been injuries suffered in a freak accident at home, while in reality Marshfield had finally cracked under the pressure of what he had done. Knowing he would soon be caught, he’d realized he couldn’t face the music and took his own life.
Harvath was shown into the Oval Office and was soon joined by the president, who was accompanied by the attorney general, Gary Lawlor, and Secret Service director Jameson. Scot stood as they entered.
“Here is the man I’ve been waiting to see,” said the president as he strode across the blue carpeting.
Seeing the president’s right arm in a sling, Harvath immediately offered his left hand. The president grasped it warmly.
“I cannot thank you enough,” the president said. “Once the full story of what you went through was relayed to me, I couldn’t believe it. You risked everything.”
“That’s my job, sir,” said Harvath.
“Well, I don’t know how to repay you.”
“It’s not necessary, sir.”
“Sir, if I may interrupt?” broke in the attorney general.
“Of course.”
“I know your time is limited, and I also know you requested that this meeting with Agent Harvath function as a wrap-up.”
“A wrap-up?” asked Scot.
Director Jameson cleared his throat. “Kind of a final debriefing. We know the overall facts are a bit fuzzy for you, and the president felt you had earned the right to the full story.”
“I see,” said Scot.
“Why don’t we all take a seat?” said the president. The guests divided themselves among the couches and assembled chairs.
“Since Deputy Director Lawlor was responsible for such a large part of the investigation,” said the attorney general, “I think he should be the one to fill you in. Agent Lawlor?”
“Thank you, Attorney General. Agent Harvath…Scot. On behalf of all of us, I would like to apologize for the way in which we treated you,” Lawlor said.
“That’s not necessary,” said Scot.
“No,” continued Lawlor, “it is. Your instincts were right on the money every step of the way. It’s because of you that we have the president back in one piece.”
“Well, maybe not exactly one piece,” the president said, holding up his sling. Everyone in the room laughed politely. Lawlor waited for the laughter to die down before continuing.
“To a certain degree, the real linchpin was the wine invoice you sent me. The Vin De Constance that Miner had cellared at the Hotel des Balances was actually paid for by Donald Fawcett.”
“The industrialist?” Scot was amazed. Yet another twist. “What does he have to do with all of this?”
“The president had put together-and you will excuse me for saying so, sir-a rather shaky coalition to pass a new piece of legislation. It is an alternative-energy bill that would cut our dependence upon fossil fuels dramatically over the next twenty years. Do you know how Fawcett Industries makes most of their money?”
“Lemme guess. It has something to do with fossil fuels?” asked Scot.
“Right, their mining, extraction, refinement, distribution, and sale, to be exact. His commercial empire is based on it. Even passage of part of the president’s bill would have cost him hundreds of millions of dollars. If the act passed in full, it would cost billions.”
The president broke in. “There were strong lobbying efforts for and against this bill. There were lots of jobs and related issues at stake. It’s no secret that I am not seeking another term. This bill was going to be my legacy, and I was bound and determined to get it passed. As Deputy Director Lawlor noted-and no offense taken, by the way-the coalition of votes I had established was shaky at best. Without me there to cajole and handhold, the whole thing would have fallen apart.”
“So-if I may?” asked Scot.
“Certainly,” replied the president.
“Fawcett’s goal was to get you out of the picture long enough to have the bill stall and fall apart?”
“The deputy director is the best one to fill in all the details.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. Apparently, that was the plan,” said Lawlor. “But it went bad. I’ll remind you, Scot, that nothing we talk about can ever leave this room.”
“Yes, sir. I understand completely.”
“Star Gazer turned out to be the vice president.”
“Vice President Marshfield?” Scot was sickened by it, but not completely surprised.
“Yes. Unfortunately, the vice president, being of weak character, was drawn into this mess along with Senators Snyder and Rolander.”
“What was in it for them?”
“It was the same across the board for all of them-money. Rolander and Fawcett had been pals since their college days, and I think Rolander had always been envious of Fawcett’s wealth. Rolander got in his pocket early on, and then at some point in this process, when and how we may never know, he brought Snyder in. They wooed Vice President Marshfield with promises of a huge campaign war chest filled with untraceable contributions.”
