The Best Laid Plans (24 page)

Maybe I'll buy a chateau in France or a chalet in Switzerland.

He felt a tug at the end of his line and snapped the rod toward him. He could feel the fish trying to get away. You're not going anywhere I've got you hooked.

In the distance, he heard a large speedboat approaching. They shouldn't allow power boats on the lake. They'll scare all the fish away. The speedboat was bearing down on him.

"Don't get too close," Carl shouted.

The speedboat seemed to be heading right toward him.

"Hey! Be careful. Watch where you're going. For God's sake "

The speedboat plowed into the rowboat, cutting it in half, the water sucking Gorman under.

Damn drunken fool! He was gasping for air. He managed to get his head above water. The speedboat had circled and was heading straight for him again. And the last thing Carl Gorman felt before the boat smashed into his skull was the tug of the fish on his line.

When Frank Lonergan arrived, the area was crowded with police cars, a fire engine, and an ambulance. The ambulance was just pulling away Frank Lonergan got out of his car and said to a bystander, "What's all the excitement?" "Some poor guy was in an accident on the lake There's not much left of him." And Lonergan knew.

At midnight, Frank Lonergan was working at his computer, alone in his apartment, writing the story that was going to destroy the President of the United States. It was a story that would earn him a Pulitzer Prize. There was no doubt about it in his mind. This was going to make him more famous than Woodward and Bernstein. It was the story of the century. He was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He got up and walked over to the front door. "Who is it?" "A package from Leslie Stewart." She's found some new information. He opened the door. There was a glint of metal, and an unbearable pain tore his chest apart. Then nothing.

Twenty.

Frank Lonergan's living room looked as if it had been struck by a miniature hurricane. All the drawers and cabinets had been pulled open and their contents had been scattered over the floor. Nick Reese watched Frank Lonergan's body being removed. He turned to Detective Steve Brown. "Any sign of the murder weapon?" "No." "Have you talked to the neighbors?" "Yeah. The apartment building is a zoo, full of monkeys. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Nada. Mrs Lonergan is on her way back here. She heard the news on the radio There have been a couple other robberies here in the last six months, and "

"I'm not so sure this was a robbery."

"What do you mean?"

"Lonergan was down at headquarters the other day to check on Paul Yerby's things. I'd like to know what story Lonergan was working on No papers in the drawers?"

"Nope."

"No notes?"

"Nothing."

"So either he was very neat, or someone took the trouble to clean everything out." Reese walked over to the work table. There was a cable dangling off the table, connected to nothing. Reese held it up "What's this?"

Detective Brown walked over. "It's a power cable for a computer. There must have been one here. That means there could be backups somewhere."

"They may have taken the computer, but Lonergan might have saved copies of his files. Let's check it out."

They found the backup disk in a briefcase in Lonergan's automobile Reese handed it to Brown. "I want you to take this down to headquarters. There's probably a password to get into it. Have Chris Colby look at it. He's an expert." The front door of the apartment opened and Rita Lonergan walked in. She looked pale and distraught She stopped when she saw the men. "Mrs. Lonergan?"

"Who are ?"

"Detective Nick Reese, Homicide. This is Detective Brown."

Rita Lonergan looked around. "Where is ?"

"We had your husband's body taken away, Mrs. Lonergan. I'm terribly sorry. I know it's a bad time, but I'd like to ask you a few questions."

She looked at him, and her eyes suddenly filled with fear. The last reaction Reese had expected. What was she afraid of?

"Your husband was working on a story, wasn't he?"

His voice echoed in her mind. "I'm on to something that's going to blow everybody away and I mean people in high places. It's the most exciting story I've ever been involved in."

"Mrs. Lonergan?"

"I I don't know anything,"

"You don't know what assignment he was working on?"

"No. Frank never discussed his work with me."

She was obviously lying.

"You have no idea who might have killed him?"

She looked around at the open drawers and cabinets. "It it must have been a burglar."

Detective Reese and Detective Brown looked at each other.

"If you don't mind, I'd I'd like to be alone. This has been a terrible shock."

"Of course. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"No. Just... just leave."

"We'll be back," Nick Reese promised.

When Detective Reese returned to police headquarters, he telephoned Matt Baker. "I'm investigating the Frank Lonergan murder," Reese said "Can you tell me what he was working on?"

"Yes. Frank was investigating the Chloe Houston killing."

"I see. Did he file a story?"

"No. We were waiting for it, when " He stopped.

"Right. Thank you, Mr. Baker."

"If you get any information, will you let me know?"

"You'll be the first," Reese assured him.

The following morning, Dana Evans went into Tom Hawkins's office. "I want to do a story on Frank's death. I'd like to go see his widow."

"Good idea. I'll arrange for a camera crew."

Late that afternoon, Dana and her camera crew pulled up in front of Frank Lonergan's apartment building. With the crew following her, Dana approached Lonergan's apartment door and rang the bell. This was the kind of interview Dana dreaded. It was bad enough to show on television the victims of horrible crimes, but to intrude on the grief of the stricken families seemed even worse to her.

The door opened and Rita Lonergan stood there. "What do you ?" "I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Lonergan. I'm Dana Evans, with WTE. We'd like to get your reaction to " Rita Lonergan froze for a moment, and then screamed, "You murderers!" She turned and ran inside the apartment. Dana looked at the cameraman, shocked. "Wait here." She went inside and found Rita Lonergan in the bedroom. "Mrs. Lonergan "Get out! You killed my husband!" Dana was puzzled. "What are you talking about?" "Your people gave him an assignment so dangerous that he made me leave town because he... he was afraid for my life." Dana looked at her, appalled. "What what story was he working on?" "Frank wouldn't tell me." She was fighting hysteria. "He said it was too too dangerous. It was something big. He talked about the Pulitzer Prize and the " She started to cry. Dana went over to her and put her arms around her. "I'm so sorry. Did he say anything else?" "No. He said I should get out, and he drove me to the train station. He was on his way to see some some hotel clerk." "Where?" "At the Monroe Arms."

"I don't know why you're here, Miss Evans," Jeremy Robinson protested "Lonergan promised me that if I cooperated, there would be no bad publicity about the hotel."

"Mr. Robinson, Mr. Lonergan is dead. All I want is some information."

Jeremy Robinson shook his head. "I don't know anything."

"What did you tell Mr. Lonergan?"

Robinson sighed. "He asked for the address of Carl Gorman, my hotel clerk. I gave it to him."

"Did Mr. Lonergan go to see him?"

"I have no idea."

"I'd like to have that address."

Jeremy looked at her a moment and sighed again. "Very well. He lives with his sister."

A few minutes later, Dana had the address in her hands. Robinson watched her leave the hotel, and then he picked up the phone and dialed the White House.

He wondered why they were so interested in the case.

Chris Colby, the department's computer expert, walked into Detective Reese's office holding a floppy disk. He was almost trembling with excitement. "What did you get?" Detective Reese asked. Chris Colby took a deep breath. "This is going to blow your mind. Here's a printout of what's on this disk."

Detective Reese started to read it and an incredulous expression came over his face. "Mother of God," he said. "I've got to show this to Captain Miller."

When Captain Otto Miller finished reading the printout, he looked up at Detective Reese. "I I've never seen anything like this."

"There's never been anything like this," Detective Reese said. "What the hell do we do with it?"

Captain Miller said slowly, "I think we have to turn it over to the U. S. attorney general."

They were gathered in the office of Attorney General Barbara Gatlin With her in the room were Scott Brandon, director of the FBI; Dean Bergstrom, the Washington chief of police; James Frisch, director of Central Intelligence, and Edgar Graves, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Barbara Gatlin said, "I asked you gentlemen here because I need your advice. Frankly, I don't know how to proceed. We have a situation that's unique. Frank Lonergan was a reporter for the Washington Tribune. When he was killed, he was in the middle of an investigation into the murder of Chloe Houston. I'm going to read you a transcript of what the police found on a disk in Lonergan's car." She looked at the printout in her hand and started to read aloud:

" "I have reason to believe that the President of the United States has committed at least one murder and is involved in four more " "What?

Scott Brandon exclaimed. "Let me go on." She started to read again " "I obtained the following information from various sources. Leslie Stewart, the owner and publisher of the Washington Tribune, is willing to swear that at one time, Oliver Russell tried to persuade her to take an illegal drug called liquid Ecstasy. " "When Oliver Russell was running for governor of Kentucky, Lisa Burnette, a legal secretary who worked in the state capitol building, threatened to sue him for sexual harassment. Russell told a colleague that he would have a talk with her. The next day, Lisa Burnette's body was found in the Kentucky River. She had died of an overdose of liquid Ecstasy.

"Then-Governor Oliver Russell's secretary, Miriam Friedland, was found unconscious on a park bench late at night. She was in a coma induced by liquid Ecstasy. The police were waiting for her to come out of it so that they could find out who had given it to her. Oliver Russell telephoned the hospital and suggested they take her off life support Miriam Fried-land passed away without coming out of the coma. " "Chloe Houston was killed by an overdose of liquid Ecstasy. I learned that on the night of her death, there was a phone call from the hotel suite to the White House. When I looked at the hotel telephone records to check it, the page for that day was missing.

" "I was told that the president was at a meeting that night, but I discovered that the meeting had been canceled. No one knows the president's whereabouts that night. " "Paul Yerby was detained as a suspect in Chloe Houston's murder. Captain Otto Miller told the White House where Yerby was being held. The following morning Yerby was found hanging in his cell. He was supposed to have hanged himself with his belt, but when I looked through his effects at the police station, his belt was there, intact. " "Through a friend at the FBI, I learned that a blackmail letter had been sent to the White House. President Russell asked the FBI to check it for fingerprints. Most of the letter had been whited out, but with the aid of an infra scope the FBI was able to decipher it. " "The fingerprints on the letter were identified as belonging to Carl Gorman, a clerk at the Monroe Arms Hotel, probably the only one who might have known the identity of the person who booked the suite where the girl was killed. He was away at a fishing camp, but his name had been revealed to the White House. When I arrived at the camp, Gorman had been killed in what appeared to be an accident.

"There are too many connections for these killings to be a coincidence I am going ahead with the investigation, but frankly, I'm frightened At least I have this on the record, in case anything should happen to me. More later." " "My God," James Frisch exclaimed. "This is .. horrible." "I can't believe it." Attorney General Gatlin said, "Lonergan believed it, and he was probably killed to stop this information from getting out."

"What do we do now?" Chief Justice Graves asked. "How do you ask the President of the United States if he's killed half a dozen people?"

"That's a good question. Impeach him? Arrest him? Throw him in jail?"

"Before we do anything," Attorney General Gatlin said, "I think we have to present this transcript to the president himself and give him an opportunity to comment."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"In the meantime, I'll have a warrant for his arrest drawn up. Just in case it's necessary."

One of the men in the room was thinking, I've got to inform Peter Tager.

Peter Tager put the telephone down and sat there for a long time, thinking about what he had just been told. He rose and walked down the corridor to Deborah Kanner's office. "I have to see the president.

"He's in a meeting. If you can " "I have to see him now, Deborah. It's urgent." She saw the look on his face. "Just a moment." She picked up the telephone and pressed a button. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. President. Mr. Tager is here, and he said he must see you." She listened a moment. "Thank you." She replaced the receiver and turned to Tager. "Five minutes."