Midas

after the speech and Anderson’s words received a ninety-two pecent favorable rating. Despite the president’s stated intent not to politicize his actions, the political ramifications were huge and immediate. Within an hour after the president’s speech, a record sixty-eight percent of Americans said they would be voting for Dandridge in the next election no matter who he ran against. Everyone in the government-from both parties-assured the nation that the Triumph of Freedom Act would pass handily. Everyone promised that this was a fight we would not lose.

The most forceful and impressive performance came from Ted Ackland, the assistant attorney general of the United States, who, according to political rumormongers, was very much in the running to be Phil Dandridge’s vice presidential running mate. Ackland was a handsome man, in his mid-forties, Clark Kent-looking with his horn- rimmed glasses and conservative suit and his lean, clearly chiseled body. Ackland was the most eloquent member of the administration, soft-spoken yet commanding, and when he elaborated on the T.O.F. Act-pronounced “tough”-as it was already being labeled, he was both convincing and reassuring. It was hard to dislike Ackland. He did not have the hard edges-or the controversial background-of Attorney General Stuller. Jeff Stuller made people ill at ease, sometimes even frightened them, including members of his own party. He was a man of stern religious upbringing and never wavered in his moral convictions, of which he had many. Pornographers were akin to murderers in Stuller’s book. Foul language was a violation of freedom of speech equal to words of treason. He was famous for never having danced, even with his wife, for dancing was not embraced by his Pentecostal religion, as it was considered frivolous and overtly sensual. The joke, often repeated in the print media, was that Stuller did not believe in sex-because it led to dancing. He was a stern man, with steely eyes and a steelier demeanor. His politics-as a two-term governor of Wisconsin and a one-term senator from the same state-were just as unwavering. He had, at various times in his political career, been branded as racist, anti-Semitic, and anti-civil rights. Stuller rarely responded to such criticism. He didn’t seem to even care about anything his detractors said. When Jeffrey Stuller spoke, it was clear that he did not believe he had ever been wrong or ever would be wrong.

Ackland was the perfect counterpoint to his boss. He was not linked to the religious right. He had never held an elected office and so had no traceable history of controversial votes or preferences. The speeches he’d made that had been on the record, as well as his performance as a Second Circuit judge, were considered moderate and reasonable. That combination of attributes-even his detractors sometimes referred to him as Ted “Tough but Fair” Ackland-made him a rising political star. There was talk that, if he wasn’t put on the national ticket, he might run for senator in his home state. But the smart money was on the assistant attorney general to get the vice presidential nomination. Dandridge, hard-nosed and humorless, was much in need of someone like the more congenial Ackland if he were to continue the Anderson legacy for another four years.

As the evening progressed, and as responses to the latest attack and to President Anderson’s speech came from around the country, Ted Ackland’s star began to burn even brighter. He spoke in a voice that was unafraid but not hell-bent on revenge. A voice fervently defending the new Triumph of Freedom bill, but also cognizant of its flaws. A voice that was strong but compassionate. In a world gone seemingly mad, his was a reassuring voice of sanity.

And more than anything, that was what the country was demanding right now: sanity.

In his living room, Justin Westwood was finding anything but sanity.

The TV was on-it was impossible to turn off; the violent replays and the constant commentary were a necessary link to the real world-but for Justin, the bulk of his attention was focused elsewhere. When he’d had his fill of sound bites and tough political talk, he’d begun to read through Chuck Billings’s notes. He wasn’t sure why Chuck had gotten them to him. Maybe just for safekeeping, as his cryptic cover letter had stated, but Justin suspected it was more than that. A lot more. There was something he wanted Justin to know. And judging from Justin’s visit from Special Agent Schrader this afternoon, something the FBI didn’t want him to know. So Justin figured he’d better plow through the scrawls. At first it was tough going. The beginning was rife with technical jargon, hypothesizing about various ways the bomb was built and detonated. Justin recognized several phrases from the conversation he’d had with Billings and was able to piece together enough to understand the makeup of the explosive device. There were several pages under the heading “Signature.” Justin couldn’t follow it all but he got the gist. Billings was analyzing the bomb’s quirks, the “tells,” as he called them in the notes. Chuck discussed the primary fragmentation and explained the importance of the use of jacks in that capacity. There were other tells, too, but none as important as the jacks. He stressed the uniqueness of that as a killing tool, noted that if they were used again in another attack, it meant, with great probability, that there would be a specific person in charge. Someone separate from the bomb carrier.

In his scribblings under the “Signature” section, it was clear that Chuck’s biggest desire was to know the exact tone transmitted by the cell phone that set the bomb off. But that was unknowable information. It was also crystal clear that Billings believed that the poor bastard who’d carried the device into Harper’s Restaurant was not the person who’d set the thing off. Chuck seemed convinced that the incoming call was what had set off the detonation. Which was exactly the opposite of what the president of the United States and all his appointed spokespeople were saying after the first attack. The official word was suicide bombing. One man, one fanatic, random havoc.

After that came a section on Semtex, which was what Chuck believed the explosive to have been. He had various pages on the different terrorist and criminal organizations known to favor the material-sometimes with names of specific members and their level of expertise. He detailed various signatures in this section, too, but none of them matched up to the bits of information he had about the bomb that went off in Harper’s. Chuck knew manufacturers of Semtex as well as known couriers. He even had various maps-some standard and slipped into the book, some hand-drawn-to show the various ways Semtex was brought into the country. He had put a red asterisk at the top of a subheading labeled “Colombia,” and by the asterisk had scribbled the letters “JW-Piper,” with several exclamation marks after it. This was connected to a map with a thick red line drawn along it, tracing a route from Colombia to Florida, then to Long Island. It took Justin a few moments to decide there was a pretty good chance that “JW” stood for “Justin Westwood,” and that Billings was making a connection between the explosive used to destroy Harper’s and the plane that had crashed in the middle of East End Harbor. Justin knew enough about the way that Billings’s mind worked-or at least the way it was working in this investigation-to begin to make his own connections.

If the guy with the briefcase-the president had revealed his name, Bath-something Shabaan, something like that-wasn’t the one who set off the bomb, if he was only the messenger boy, then it was likely he hadn’t been expecting to be blown to smithereens. That was backed up by the witnesses who said he was on his way toward the front of the restaurant when the cell phone rang and the bomb went off. Shabaan had expected to survive. But the men who detonated the bomb wanted him dead. One less connection to the real source.

If the Piper that crashed in East End Harbor had carried the explosives up from South America, it was also tied to the bombing. Ray Lockhardt had speculated that the plane was carrying drugs. It could just as easily have been carrying Semtex. If that were true, it also made sense that the pilot was murdered. Yet another connection eliminated.

But a connection to what?

A connection to whom?

Justin put the notes down. He was breathing heavily and realized there was a reasonable chance his imagination was running away with him. He was getting spooked. Or just as paranoid as Wanda had accused Chuck Billings of being.

There were too many ifs. Too many broken links in the chain. It was safe to assume that the two bombings were connected, even the government spokespeople were acknowledging that. They had revealed the possible existence of a terrorist cell connected to both events, but they weren’t revealing any direct link between the attack at Harper’s and the one in the city. Without a direct link, it would be almost impossible to find the person or persons responsible for both attacks. Not the two suicide bombers, the person controlling the bombers. It was that link that Chuck thought the Feds were doing their best to hide. It was that link that Justin decided he needed to find.

He wished he could talk to Chuck right now. He didn’t know enough about signatures. Hell, he didn’t know enough about anything. All he had, all he could really tell from the notes, was that he needed to find out if jacks were used as the primary fragmentation for the second explosive. If there were, he’d have the link he needed. He wasn’t sure what the hell good it would do him, but at least he’d have something concrete. But it was highly unlikely he could get far enough inside the investigation to pursue that any further. And the only person he knew who had been inside the investigation-and questioned it-had been killed.