The Last Clinic (29 page)

He had received the first half of his fee when the contract was drawn up. The balance would be paid to him upon completion of the assignment. Like all his other assignments, the fee was wired to an offshore account, worlds apart from the bank where he received the three thousand a week travel expenses.

After lunch, he drove back to Springfield proper and visited the Lincoln Memorial. He paused for a moment while getting out of his car, remembering that he had met a member of the Illinois State Legislature. He had been introduced to the state senator while he’d been posing as an international banking consultant, advising a U.S. congressman on Middle East trade relations. They’d sat across from each other at a Georgetown dinner. It was possible that they could run into each other. He began developing a cover story and then remembered that the legislator had died of cancer five years back.

He walked through the memorial, stopping at Lincoln’s statue and listening in on part of a tour guide’s lecture about Lincoln’s evolving position on slavery. The issue of abortion was similar to the slavery issue in that it had people of deep passions on both sides. The nation fought a war over slavery. Would the abortion issue drive the nation to a second civil war? From what he could see, it had already started, and it looked like he was firing the first shots. He smiled, reminding himself, that the civil war also had its share of mercenaries. Like him, they possessed specialized skills in the clandestine arts. Most important, they were not the kind to be blinded by political or ideological passions. Like him, they were available to either side for a price. They were the kind that could be counted on to perform their job. Above all else, they were professionals.

It was at the Illinois State Capitol building, with the sad face of Lincoln starring down at him, that the plan for his next assignment came to him. How simple. How perfectly simple it was going to be.

29

The Breakdown.

Darla called Bobby and asked him to come down to Hinds County Sheriff’s Department to go over some stuff. Just that, “stuff,” not telling him what the stuff was.

Bobby was in rare form.

“Always willing to help our friends in blue” he said. “Long as you’re not going to chew my ass about Kendall and that DVD. I already told Tommy, Reverend Jimmy and I shared a lot but he didn’t share that with me. Tommy told me Jimmy helped Kendall see the light. Guess she got a good look at it. Sounds like the three of you had a grand old time up at Gobbler’s Lake, though. Tommy was going on about the fox and the hen and the grain and you threatening to shoot my ex through the brain. That cracked me up, but not as much as Tommy thinking he was the fox. You know Kendall would have killed him too, if you hadn’t come along. I hope Tommy thanked you.”

“How soon can I expect you?” Darla said, her voice flat, unemotional.

“I could come by around three this afternoon, but only for a few minutes.”

“Now would be better.”

Bobby paused, as though he was trying to decide what kind of attitude to take.

“I can send a car for you,” said Darla, when he didn’t answer soon enough to suit her. She knew Bobby wasn’t going to like that, a uniformed officer showing up at the capitol leading him out to a patrol car.

“This better be important,” he said trying to sound threatening but coming off as though he was the one who was threatened.

“Oh, it’s important,” she said and hung up.

Bobby didn’t have to be told the identity of the man sitting next to Darla in the interrogation room. Bobby had spent enough years in Washington to know a Bureau man when he saw one. The man sitting in front of him was an agent, high up, somebody with clout and not to be messed with.

Darla had a recorder on the desk.

“Robert Goodhew has entered the room. Also present, FBI Special Agent Henry Jendlin, Detective Darla Cavannah of the Hinds County Sheriff’s Department, and observing is Mr. Uther Pendragon Johnson, information specialist from the FUSION Center in Pearl, Mississippi.”

The man Jendlin held up his badge and ID.

Bobby offered him a handshake with an arm brace, and his best grin, making sure Special Agent Jendlin understood they were playing for the same team.

“Y’all from Foggy Bottom, Mr. Jendlin? Spent some time there myself. Stole a few horses in my day, on behalf of my fellow Americans. You know the drill.”

Jendlin didn’t look like he wanted to exchange war stories. Bobby remembered that most of the clandestine bunch were tight asses.

“We have some questions for you, Mr. Goodhew. Your answers will be recorded. Would you like to have a lawyer present?” Jendlin spoke like he had the full weight of the United States government behind him.

“Not necessary. Ask away,” Bobby said, full of bravado.

He’d been on the hot seat before. As chief of staff for former Senator Hart Russell, he’d testified before senate committees a couple of times. This, whatever it was, wasn’t going to throw him.

Jendlin looked at Darla as if he wanted her to take the first shot.

She sorted through her notes, letting Bobby wait. Patience was never his long suit.

After a minute, Bobby said, “What do you want?” Looking at Jendlin, he added, “I’m not trying to be rude, but I am on the clock down at the Capitol.”

Darla leaned across the table to Bobby. Her voice was quiet and sad.

“Unfortunately, you’ve got your prints all over this thing, Bobby. Why don’t we start with all those calls to Reverend Aldridge. The ones you told me were none of my business.”

“As I mentioned the other day, those were private conversations with a client. I’d like to help you people out but there are ethical considerations.”

“Okay. You don’t want to tell us about the calls. Let’s talk about Hemings Mansion. Are they a client too?” she said.

“You’re joking right? Sure, sure, I know about Hemings Mansion. Hell, the governor knows about Hemings.” He caught himself as he said it, realizing that he was being recorded. “I mean everybody has heard about Hemings.”

“And you knew Reverend Aldridge was on their waiting list?”

Bobby thought about that and smiled. “Jimmy? I had no idea. Are you sure?”

 “So you didn’t know about his sexual obsession? You weren’t involved in those negotiations?”

Jendlin broke in. “Naturally, you are not legally required to answer these questions, but if you do answer, it will be in your interest not to lie to us. Do you understand?”

Before Bobby had time to answer, Darla was at him again. “And the deal Reverend Aldridge cut with Conway to let him stay in business, the pay-offs, the three thousand dollars a week for the past year, are you going to try to tell us you weren’t in on that?”

“In on what?”

Darla made a show of acting exasperated. “What, you’re going to try to convince us you didn’t know what’s going on there either?”

Bobby shifted in his seat.

Jendlin stepped in again. He stopped the tape. “I’m going to ask you again, Mr. Goodhew, would you like to have a lawyer present for this meeting? It’s your right.”

 “I am a damned lawyer. I know what my rights are.”

“Good. Then we’ll proceed,” said Jendlin, letting go of the Pause button.

Darla was at him again, sharper now. “Did you know Conway was paying off Reverend Aldridge? Yes or no?”

Bobby hesitated. Finally, he said, “I can’t answer yes or no, exactly.”

Darla and Jendlin exchanged quick glances as though they knew they had him.

“Would you like to explain?” said Jendlin.

“Look, I knew they had some kind of agreement. It’s not really illegal. In Washington, hell man, you know, it happens a thousand times a day. It was an arrangement.”

“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year agreement?” said Darla.

“I didn’t know anything about the amount of money. All I knew was Jimmy met with Conway and they worked something out. Jimmy told me after the meeting that Conway had agreed to some stipulations and that he wanted me to back off. That’s all I knew. I was never privy to any financial arrangements, and I never carried the bag. I swear.”

He searched their eyes looking for a sign that they believed him, but didn’t get it. “Look. I want to help. Maybe if I knew what you were looking for.”

Jendlin removed a photo from his brief case and held it up for Bobby to see.

“Recognize this man?”

Bobby studied the photo, taking his time and wanting to make sure they understood that he was cooperating.

“I don’t believe so. He looks like a lot of guys, sort of. What’s his name?”

“His name isn’t important. He hasn’t used his real name in over a decade,” Jendlin said.

Bobby felt his stomach starting to sour on him.

“I’m going to ask you again,” said Jendlin. “Do you know who this is?”

“No. Honestly. No, Sir.”

Jendlin shook his head as though he wasn’t believing him.

“If I find out you’re lying to me, Mr. Goodhew, you’ll be spending the next decade in a federal lock-up.”

“Jesus H. What’s going on here?”

“When you were in Washington, working for Senator Russell,” Jendlin said, reading from a file, “you had considerable contact with members of the Senate Intelligence Committee. Is that correct?”

“As part of my job. I was the senator’s chief of staff.”

Jendlin, his voice slow and sure, said, “You knew people who knew people—people who could get things done.”

Bobby, figuring it was time to try something more drastic, got up to leave.

“What’s this about? Tell me now, or I’m out of here.”

“Sit down Mr. Goodhew,” Jendlin said, “or we’ll lock you up.”

Bobby did as he was told, all the strength drained out of him.

Darla reached across the table and put her hands on Bobby’s.

“It’s about terrorism, Bobby. We, Mr. Jendlin and I, have reason to believe Reverend Aldridge was serving as the financial arm of a domestic terrorist organization that employed this man. He’s a former contractor to the CIA. He specializes in non-detectable crimes. If we find out you’re involved in this, no one will be able to help you—not the governor, none of your friends here or in Washington. You’ll be toxic. No one will want to come near you.”

Bobby’s eyes glazed over. He thought he was going to pass out.

Darla poured him a glass of water. He thanked her and drank all of it.

“Terrorist? Doing what? Who is he terrorizing?”

“He’s not a conventional terrorist,” said Jendlin. “He’s part of a whole new category of criminals. Their crimes are seldom, if ever, publicly recognized as acts of terrorism. There’s an organization, a network, it doesn’t even have a name. This organization serves as a contracting agent. Other organizations or individuals contract with them to hire top-flight saboteurs to commit murder and arson and to commit it in such a way that the motive for the crime, sometimes even the crime itself is never recognized. We believe Reverend Aldridge was helping fund one of their paid saboteurs, the man in the photo. We believe this man has killed doctors and other professionals who worked at abortion clinics. He’s also has set fire to abortion clinics and burned a couple to the ground. We think he’s murdered twenty-four medical professionals in the last year. If you don’t wish to cooperate, we have several options open to us as far as your future is concerned. I guarantee you won’t like any of them.”

Jendlin set the photo on the desk. He pushed back in his chair. Darla did the same, giving Bobby the mental space to decide if he was going to come clean or play like all this was just a coincidence.

“Okay, y’all. Reverend Jimmy, he came to me, maybe eighteen months ago, asking what kind of contacts did I have in the clandestine services. I told him the name of a guy who used to do some recruiting for the Company.”

“The CIA,” said Darla. “Let’s be clear for the record.”

“What name did you give him?” asked Jendlin.

“Morley Atkins. Hell, he’s listed in the phone book under Security Companies.”

“Was listed. He died of cancer a year ago,” said Jendlin. “Or maybe it wasn’t cancer.”

“I didn’t know he passed. We haven’t talked in a few years.”

“We think Atkins was part of the organization. He might have been the contracting agent. The time frame fits.”

“I didn’t know Jimmy was into this kind of a thing.”

“And then what happened? After you gave Reverend Aldridge Morley’s name?”

“Then that’s all. That was the whole conversation.”

Jendlin and Darla stared back at him and said nothing. They just waited.

Finally, Darla said, “ Come on Bobby. You didn’t follow up? See if he found the man he was looking for? You weren’t curious? He was a client. Your friend.”

“I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. Another thing I learned quick in Washington.”

Jendlin and Darla remained silent. Bobby realized they were not going to let him off the hook until he’d emptied the tank.

A few seconds later, he said, “I knew Reverend Jimmy pushed the limits. All those damn true believers do. But I swear to God, I had no idea he was into the kind of thing you’re talking about. You say this guy has killed twenty-four…” Bobby paused, not able to finish the sentence.

“So far. Twenty-four that we know of,” said Jendlin.

Then Bobby did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy. He cried. He buried his head in his hand and sobbed.

Darla fetched a box of tissue from the drawer, pulled a handful out, and handed them to him. Then set the box in front of him.

“I’m not a murderer,” he said after blowing his nose.
”Let’s just hope you aren’t an accessory,” said Darla.

Bobby started wondering if Darla would tell Kendall about the waterworks—how the badass lobbyist had squirted like a baby. They’d both be in stitches over that one. Then he realized this conversation was privileged, and Darla couldn’t repeat any of it to Kendall. He started feeling a little better.

Jendlin spoke. “Your cooperation and your confidentiality could prove critical to our success. Tell no one, I mean no one, about what we’ve discussed here today.”