Three (11 page)

“What’s in the suitcase?”
asked Milford.

“It contains important and
holy artifacts that we must protect in secret.  They are so powerful we are not
allowed to open the case and look upon them!”  For the rest of the afternoon
Reverend Spencer went over the details of the transfer mission, rehearsing the
pass-word exchange with Barry and Milford until the three were each tired of
hearing the phrases.

The Smith brothers, impressed
by their mission, hardly slept that evening.  At midnight Spencer awakened them. 
They left their hotel and walked through the darkened streets of Achrafiea.

The Reverend accompanied them
to the foot of the staircase.  The three walked in complete silence, which only
served to unnerve the brothers.  Spencer silently gestured with both hands,
ushering them up the steps.  The way was covered with overhanging vines and
they tried not to stumble in the darkness as they ascended.  At the top of the
stairs Barry and Milford met a shadowy form with a suitcase.

 “Allahu Akbar” (God is
great), he announced.

They were left speechless. 
Having heard this same thing uttered in newscasts of Muslim fighters attacking
U. S. troops in Iraq, Barry and Milford now expected him to lunge at them with
a weapon.

They stood trembling until
they heard him repeat, “God is great!”

Both brothers responded,
“Power and might are in your hand.” Benton, who had waited in the darkness,
took the suitcase from the brothers as they stumbled back down Saint Nicholas’
Staircase.

Let him that hath understanding count the number of
the beast:

For it is the number of a man.

-
Revelation 13:18

Boarding the flight from DFW
to O’Hare, Forrest Pierce became more and more concerned about the death of Dr.
Newbury at the lab and the following attack at Dr. Saxon’s apartment.  Had he
stirred a hornet’s nest of federal agents who would eventually question anyone
who worked on the fifth floor of Wilson Hall?  Since it was known that he had traveled
to Texas to see his ailing mother (in truth he had visited her gravesite near the
ghost town of Boz and transferred money from her account into that of Reverend
Spencer’s, keeping a small amount of cash for himself), he feared agents may
well be waiting for him at the airport. He had not checked any luggage, but
carried a modest carry-on and hoped he might quickly slip past any agents.

Taking a window seat, he
turned his head and stared out the window thinking that at any moment a federal
agent might be entering the plane looking for him.  He was afraid to look at
the passengers as they boarded the plane and occupied seats nearby.

Forrest jumped and recoiled
when the man who had taken the seat next to him said, “Hey buddy.”  Turning, he
smelled the man’s whisky breath and saw a ruddy-faced Texan in a broad cowboy
hat, grinning at him.  “Y’all rootin’ for the Rangers?”

Forrest responded
automatically. “Sure, I always root for the Rangers.”

“Goin’ to the Rangers/Cubs
game?”

“Don’t know yet; I gotta work
in Chicago and don’t know if I can get off.  But I’ll be rootin’ for them just
the same.  Maybe catch some of the game on TV if it’s not blacked out.” Forrest
began to formulate a plan in his head as he continued to talk to this fan. 
“Looks like you‘ve got a good crowd of Rangers fans on this flight.”

The ruddy faced man replied,
“Yeah, there are ten of us, and we plan to party on the way to the game.  Want
to join us?”

“Sure, I’m a big fan.” 
Forrest realized that by becoming a part of this overly enthusiastic fan club,
he might be able to pass through O’Hare without being spotted by FBI agents who
he imagined were now seeking him.  Having shared drinks with his new-found
friends, when his plane landed in Chicago he continued to participate in the
traveling fan club.  He wore one of their hats as he exited the aircraft with
them, and continued to work his way through the O’Hare terminal, mingled in
with this somewhat inebriated group of Texas Rangers fans on their way to a Cub’s
game. 

As he walked with them to the
transportation terminal and onto the Blue Line into downtown, he was pretty sure
he had seen a number of suited young men looking carefully at male passengers
from the DFW flight.  He parted company with the group and rode the Blue Line into
the center of town.  He exited the elevated train near Union Station and walked
a few blocks to the stairs leading down to the underground set of Amtrak ticket
windows and passenger gates.

Forrest paid cash for a
ticket to Michigan City on the eastbound train and rode it along the
southeastern side of the lake and into Indiana, or as the locals like to call
this merger of Chicago and Gary, “Illiana”.  He found a hotel room with a view
of the main street intersection and grocery store where he could keep an eye on
most of the coming and going of people, and possibly police, as well as hitch a
ride if he needed to escape a manhunt.

Later that day, when Oliver
exited his flight at O’Hare, he was met almost immediately by a polite young
man who identified himself as a federal agent and said, “Dr. Saxon, I am here
to escort you to a hotel near the airport where you will meet with FBI
investigators along with Peter’s team members.”  The agent walked with Oliver
to a waiting car driven by his partner and helped him into the back seat with
his bag.  They each acknowledged Oliver politely but did not introduce
themselves, not out of rudeness but out of standard protocol. 

Oliver had anticipated all of
this because Director Clark had called him just as he was walking to his flight
at DFW.  There was no conversation with the agents during the five minute drive
to the nearby hotel where Oliver was shown to his own room and told he could
freshen up before dinner. 

However, before leaving, the
agent said, “You must realize that these quarters are set up as a safe house
for all those close to Dr. Newbury.  We’ll provide for your needs for the next
few days as we carry out our investigation and hopefully make a final
determination of cause of death.  In the meantime, you must not try to
communicate with anyone outside this complex.  I must therefore ask you to
relinquish your cellphone and any other electronic communication devices.  If
you need to contact someone on the outside you must do so through the
investigation team.  If you will give us your car keys and a description of
your car and its location at the airport, we will bring it here to this hotel
later this evening.” 

Oliver knew about this
protocol, and was expecting it.  He turned over his cell phone and keys without
complaint, but wondered how he would report to Maxine back in Washington, D. C. 
Remembering what Max had told him about the ricin and the evidence found in
David’s desk drawer, he also knew that this “safe house” was also a temporary
holding cell for “the usual suspects.” 

He imagined a scene from an
Agatha Christie novel where the suspects are all trapped in the mansion during
a violent storm and after dinner are ushered to the parlor for a glass of port
while the investigator begins to rattle off all the motives of each person
present for committing the murder as he paces back and forth in front of them. 

The rapid series of events and
trips of the past few days had left Oliver thoroughly exhausted.  A warm shower
and change of clothes revived him somewhat, but he was still not looking
forward to having to meet with this team of investigators and rehash the
details of Peter’s death. 

He sat down at the small desk
and read over his notes from the past few days, realizing he had merged his
discussions with Father Pat and Peter’s team with what he learned at
Waxahachie.  He began to separate the two sets of notes to conceal his identity
as a Homeland Security analyst from this group of friends.

As he examined what he had
written, he remembered Peter’s words, “You must find the three,” and began to
contemplate a possible link. 
Was this secret communication link between Damascus,
Jerusalem, and Waxahachie somehow linked to Fermilab?  Did the media inflame
the iconoclasts in these three regions with their sensationalizing of the “God
Particle”?
 
After all, a charismatic preacher like Benton Spencer might
have the power to bend minds to commit murder.  It certainly has happened
before. I don’t know how I can bring this up in tonight’s interviews without
exposing my intelligence connection with Homeland Security
.

His thoughts were interrupted
by a light knock at his door.  The agent who had accompanied him from the
airport quietly spoke, “Good evening Dr. Saxon, the others are expecting you at
the dinner table.”  The polite invitation somewhat softened Oliver’s mood, and
he began to anticipate a pleasant dinner with his close friends. 

When he entered the small
dining room, he was met first by Alice who gave him a warm hug.  “I’m glad you’re
here,” she whispered.

Oliver embraced each member
of Peter’s group; Elizabeth, David, and Khalil all seemed worried and tense.
They
must know about the ricin and the finding of evidence
.  The other guests
were Albert Penny and Bill Carson, two of the three support staffers assigned
to the fifth floor of Wilson Hall.  They each took a seat around the long
dining table that had been neatly set with four places on either side.  Their
symmetry was broken by the one empty seat that awaited Forrest Pierce, the
third support staff member.  Their three-course dinner was served by an expert
staff of waiters who, Oliver suspected, worked for Homeland Security and were
perhaps also sequestered for the duration of this investigation. 
All the
suspects are present and accounted for except Pierce.
 

Conversation was somewhat
tense and hesitant at first, but as the food came to the table everyone began
to relax. 

“Where’s Pierce?” someone
finally had the courage to ask, as everyone else stopped talking to hear the
answer. 

Albert Penny, who had been
with Fermilab as long as Pierce, answered, “He’d been visiting his elderly
mother in Texas and was expected back today.  He must have missed his flight
from DFW.” 

The hair bristled on the back
of Oliver’s neck, but he managed to ask in a calm voice, “What part of Texas
does Forrest come from?” 

“Right in the middle of the
Superconducting Super Collider project.  His family ranch was sold to Uncle Sam
when the digging started in the 80’s.  Forrest and I both got jobs as support
staff at the control center even though there were only contract management and
engineers there.  When the project closed in 1993 he and I both came to Fermilab.” 

“Where does his mother live?”
asked Oliver. 

“She lives in a small home as
near to the old family property as possible.  Her kin were buried there and
she’s been heart-broken ever since she was talked into selling the land. 
Pierce doesn’t talk about it very much, but he makes regular visits to look in
on her.  He always seems distressed when he returns.” 

Oliver tried hard to shield
his shock and alarm as he listened, but now began to zero in on a scenario for
Peter’s murder.  What puzzled him, though, was how it could be linked to the
three-way encoded communication to Damascus and Jerusalem.  He needed to ask more
questions about Forrest Pierce, but was hesitant to go beyond this point. 
Fortunately the serving of dessert brought a temporary halt to the
conversation.  The tension Oliver felt within himself, and to a certain extent
around the table, began to melt along with the ice cream topped with hot fudge.

After the excellent dinner
the table was expertly cleared.  All those present fell silent, waiting for the
hound of the Baskerville to begin howling, or some other appropriate
accompaniment for the trip to a nearby parlor.  Nothing like that happened,
however.  The door to the dining room opened and a man bearing a cordial smile
entered and graciously introduced himself as Robert Swift.  Agent Swift was also
a member of Homeland Security with extensive training as a field officer;
however, because of his additional training in crime scene analysis, he had
been assigned to head up this FBI investigation.

Swift was in a separate
division linked to the FBI and had not previously met Oliver or Maxine.  “I am
the senior member of this investigative group and I supervised the final
examination of Dr. Peter Newbury at the coroner’s office.  I will ask each of
you for any information you can provide that may have bearing on this case.  I’ve
already spoken to Alice and Dr. Newbury’s research team members concerning my
assessment of the cause of death. 

“I now wish to give you as
much information as I can in hopes that you may be able to add anything else you
think relevant.  Upon examining Dr. Newbury, I discovered a puncture in his
right thumb containing a tiny hollow sphere that showed traces of ricin.  This
has been seen before in the assassination of a Soviet defector some years ago;
however, the wound site was partially hidden by tiny printings of two sixes
separated by a vertical line covering the injection.  The imprint used a
special kind of indelible white engraving ink. 

“The nature of this act
implies a possible international plot to kill Dr. Newbury.  That is why those
of you closest to him have been placed in protective custody.  Some of you are
also aware that a ball-point pen containing the injector and engraving ink
residue, along with the flash drive that was used to insert a virus into Dr.
Newbury’s laptop, were both found in Dr. David Benjamin’s desk.  We now believe
that this evidence was planted in order to implicate Dr. Benjamin; however,
with the exception of Alice and Dr. Saxon, everyone who has been requested to
be here in this room had access to these offices before, during, and after the
time of the murder, and therefore must be considered a suspect as well as a
witness.” 

Agent Swift paused as the
wave of emotion swept through those gathered in what had been a pleasant dining
room moments before.  He continued.  “I’d now like to ask anyone present here
if he or she can bring new insight into what we have found so far?” 

Elizabeth rose to her feet
and spoke.  “First let me say that David, as well as Kahlil, was with me from
the moment Peter collapsed until the time we left Alice and Father Pat that
evening.  The offices were closed and locked as we left, and remained locked
the next day when Dr. Saxon visited us in the outer conference area.  Someone
would have had to enter Peter’s office, contaminate his laptop, remove the pen,
and then enter David’s office and plant the evidence.” 

“I believe you are right, Dr.
Ward,” said Agent Swift, “those items were obviously planted, and that’s why
Dr. Benjamin was not arrested.  However, everyone here, including Forrest
Pierce who is not here, may have had some way to access those locked offices.”