The Complicity Doctrine

by Matthew Frick

  “I failed you,” Cogburn said. “I failed you, and more of our friends and family died because of that.” He paused to keep the crowd’s attention. “My heart bleeds for each and every one of you. It bleeds for America. But more than that, my blood boils with anger at the thought of the cowards who did this to us.” Cogburn breathed deep and steadied his voice. “America will not sit idly by while its enemies thumb their noses at her, rejoicing in the senseless deaths of her innocent children.”

  “Yemen,” Casey said softly.

  Applause erupted from the crowd, considerably louder than the last. A few cheers accompanied the noise and transformed the initially somber gathering into a pep rally. Bill Cogburn took in the crowd’s newfound energy. His face maintained the same hardened expression of a man thirsting for payback, but every other muscle in his body relaxed. He was taking a chance by going down the path of vengeance in his memorial address, but it worked.

  “For over two hundred years, America has been a beacon of hope for people all over the world yearning to throw off the yoke of political oppression that smothered them in their own countries. Inevitably that light of freedom caught the attention of the oppressors, as well. They felt threatened by the example the United States set by standing up to evil—from George III, to Hitler, to Saddam Hussein. They began to see the writing on the wall, and in order to protect their own power, they tried to convince their people that America was the true enemy. At times, they succeeded, and they attacked the Land of the Free in a vain attempt to prove America was a paper tiger,” Cogburn said. The crowd listened in anticipatory silence. It was no secret that the senator was running for president, and the people at St. Patrick’s knew they were getting a front row preview of the next sixteen months of campaigning, whether they liked it or not.

  “What each of them forgot is that America is also the Home of the Brave,” Cogburn said loudly, eliciting a roaring response from nearly everyone gathered. “We fought back then, and we’ll fight back now,” he added against the growing volume. “We will have justice!”

  The mayor joined in the applause and shook hands with Cogburn as the senator moved away from the podium. The two holy men at the top of the stairs were not clapping and traded looks of astonishment at what they were witnessing. Casey shared the clergymen’s sentiments.

  “What the fuck just happened?” he asked to no one and to Paul Giordano at the same time.

  “Hell if I know,” Giordano said. “The brochure didn’t say shit about this guy showing up.”

  “If you film it, they will come,” Casey said, motioning to the camera crews taking down their equipment.

  Giordano watched as the cameras came down and the crowd began to disperse. “You think they knew he was gonna be here?”

  “Maybe,” Casey said, “but I doubt if Cogburn would have made the trip from D.C. if they weren’t going to televise this.”

  “Fucking vultures.”

  “Politicians or the media?” Casey asked.

  Giordano ignored Casey’s quip and looked back at the church. He watched the mayor and Senator Cogburn talking and laughing like they were at a college reunion. Assholes, he thought. Giordano came to the church that morning to find some comfort, some words of wisdom and solace after losing his son. He was sure that was what the other attendees had expected, as well. Instead, they got a campaign speech.

  Detective Paul Giordano of the New York Police Department, combat veteran and former sniper in the United States Marine Corps, felt his emotions begin to wrestle his reasoning. He had been taught to never let that happen. “When emotions take over, people die,” he was told. His success in both the Corps and the NYPD was due in large part to Giordano’s ability to suppress his personal feelings, attacking the job with the detachment and unquestioning loyalty his superiors both expected and valued. It was never personal—until now. Now, he couldn’t help his emotions taking over. And if Giordano had his way, people would die.

  He turned to Casey as dozens of people walked past, leaving the memorial. In a hushed voice, Giordano asked, “You think Cogburn had something to do with the missile strikes in Yemen?”

  “Well, yeah,” Casey said. “I’m sure he didn’t give the order to launch the missiles, but he was the first guy to start pointing fingers.”

  “Pointing fingers at who was responsible for this,” Giordano said, motioning to the rubble stacked around them.

  “Right,” Casey said. “But whether or not Senator Cogburn had any real influence in the president’s decision to attack Yemen, I think the CRS Houthi report had something to do with it.”

  Giordano looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He moved closer to Casey. “What if that report has more to do with the bombings than just accusations?”

  “How?” Casey asked.

  “What if your friend was a target?”

  “Mari?”

  “She told you someone tried to have her killed, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but they got her cat instead,” Casey said.

  “What if they tried again?”

  Casey attempted to process what Detective Giordano was saying. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the bombings were just an elaborate murder plot—not because it seemed ludicrous, given the collateral damage, but because he hadn’t even thought of it. “Is that what you think?” he asked.

  “It’s possible,” Giordano said.

  “Yeah, but do you think it’s true? And say it is, say someone put together this whole scheme just to kill Mari to keep her quiet. Who the hell would do that?” Casey asked.

  “The same bozos who tried to kill her the first time.”

  “But we don’t know who the fuck that was, either,” Casey said. “There’s a lot more questions than answers if we go down your road.”

  “That’s detective work,” Giordano said with a hint of contempt in his voice. “But you already started down this road with your war theory.”

  “It’s not the same,” Casey said.

  “It’s not? You’re saying this report Cogburn read is why we attacked Yemen as part of a war against Iran. It’s also the same report that had people trying to kill your friend, according to you. Well, I got news, pal. Your friend is dead. Maybe keeping the lid on the truth about that report is a lot more important to some people than you think. It’s a secret war, remember? So maybe you should start looking at what you’re already accusing the United States Government of doing,” Giordano said. “Trust me, Uncle Sam is capable of doing all that and more.”

  “But what would be gained by killing so many civilians? If Mari was the target, why wouldn’t they just send an assassin?” Casey asked. He thought of Mike Tunney and the night he decided to come to New York. “And how did you come up with this idea in the first place? I thought you just wanted to find out who bombed the deli, not why we bombed Yemen.”

  “Jesus, man,” Giordano cursed. He was getting frustrated with Casey’s unwillingness to follow his own arguments. “It’s a two-fer job. Kill the girl and blame the Arabs. Only you don’t blame them for just shooting one person, you blame them for sending terrorists to bomb the heart of New York City.” Giordano caught himself before he got any louder. “I’ve been thinking about this whole goddamn conspiracy of yours since you gave me that list yesterday. We’re not getting any closer to finding the people responsible for the bombing, and I’m being shut down when I have one of the only eyewitness leads in the whole thing,” he said. “There has to be a reason I’m being told to stick it.”

  Casey was beginning to see Giordano’s point. “Silence and justification all in one.”

  “Yes.”

  “But why risk exposure?” Casey asked. “Why not kill Mari quietly, like they attempted to before? The justification could come without killing all of these innocent people. We do it every time we launch a drone strike into Pakistan based on intel. We don’t have to show the bodies to say the bad guys are bad, we just have to say it.”

  “That’s when it�
�s a top-down operation. The president can do whatever he wants in the name of national security. But if the president’s being fed false information...then what’s the man gonna do?” Giordano challenged.

  “So you think the president’s not involved in any of this?”

  “I’m saying if your friend was telling the truth, then someone’s already shown they’re willing to commit murder to hide their agenda. Political manipulation is probably part of the plan.” Giordano said.

  “Then anybody could have set this thing up,” Casey said. “It might not even be anyone in the government after all.”

  “Maybe not. But we need to find out who was trying to kill your friend,” Giordano said. “Then we can start connecting dots.”

  * * * * *

  Giordano left Casey with more problems than solutions. When he sought the detective’s help in the first place, he was hoping for the opposite. Now, instead of tying a falsified report to a possible clandestine war, he was also investigating a possible murder that was tied to both of them. He wasn’t sure how he was going to bring up Giordano’s hypothesis to Susan, but he thought she should know. She was also the best source he had for finding more about Mari and who might have wanted her dead.

  It wasn’t hard to find Susan. The crowd had thinned to just a handful of people still milling about the damaged church grounds, and Casey saw Susan talking to someone by the north corner of the cathedral. He came up from behind the man, and Susan didn’t see Casey until he was a few feet away.

  “There you are,” she said. The man between Casey and Susan turned so Susan wouldn’t have to talk over his shoulder. “Casey, this is Joel. Joel, Casey Shenk.”

  Casey extended his hand, but hesitated when he saw the man’s face. “Howdy,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Joel said, shaking Casey’s hand briefly with the grip of someone used to using the greeting as the first chance to assert authority over the other party.

  Casey winced from the pressure, but tried not to show it. He let go of Joel’s hand as soon as he was able. “So, what did you think of the speeches?” Casey asked Susan.

  “I thought Rabbi Heller did a nice job, but I didn’t much care for the last two,” she said.

  “Yeah, I thought the senator might’ve forgot where he was,” Casey said. “What do you think?” he asked Joel. “You think calling for revenge and more bloodshed was the right message to send to a group of people who just lost their friends and family?”

  Joel eyed Casey with suspicion. Who the fuck is this guy? he thought. He smiled and put on his best non-confrontational demeanor—the same act he played nearly every day in Washington. It was expected there, and it was how deals were made and reputations protected. But this guy wasn’t a D.C. politician, and sensing that he was being challenged, Joel decided to play with Casey a bit.

  “Oh, I think the senator knew exactly where he was,” Joel said. “You see, that’s what makes him the best leader America’s got. He didn’t tell these people what they wanted to hear, he told them what they needed to hear. The rabbi gave them the comforting words they came for. What Senator Cogburn did was tell them he would make the people who killed their friends and family pay for what they did. ‘An eye for an eye.’ Isn’t that what the Bible says?”

  “If you only listen to the parts you wanna hear.” Casey’s heartbeat ran a little faster. He didn’t know how Joel was going to respond to his accusation of Cogburn’s inappropriate address, but he had an idea, and Joel didn’t disappoint him. “It also says ‘turn the other cheek.’ But I didn’t get that message from Bill’s ranting up there.”

  “What are you doing, Casey?” Susan said. She watched the two men debating, and she didn’t like where things were going.

  “It’s okay, Susan. Really,” Joel said. “I’m not offended.”

  “No, she’s right,” Casey said. He checked his watch, though he already knew what time it was. “We should really be getting back to work.” He looked to Susan for agreement, since Casey wasn’t in the habit of setting the woman’s schedule or priorities.

  Susan offered her hand to Joel. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Joel.”

  “Likewise,” Joel replied. He let go of Susan and grabbed Casey’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Shenk. Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime. We can continue our conversation.”

  “Sure thing,” Casey said, and the group parted company.

  “So, what were you doing, anyway?” Susan asked when she and Casey were several steps away from Joel.

  “Hold on,” Casey said, stopping and turning around. “Joel,” Casey called out to Joel Simpson who was already ten feet away, heading for the church entrance.

  “Yes?” Joel called back.

  “Is there a way I can get an appointment with the senator while y’all are here in New York? I’ve got some things I want to discuss with him.”

  “Leave a message with the senator’s office here with your number, and I’ll get back to you,” Joel said.

  “Thanks,” Casey said and turned back toward the subway station, guiding Susan along with him.

  “I’m coming,” Susan said, pulling her arm out of Casey’s hand. “And would you mind explaining to me what that was all about?”

  “I’ll fill you in when we get back to the office.”

  “Okay,” Susan said, “but how did you know Joel worked for Senator Cogburn?”

  Casey stopped. “You didn’t?” he asked, surprised by the tone of Susan’s question. “I thought you met him before. Didn’t you say it was nice to see him again?”

  “I just met him last night,” Susan said. “He offered to get me cab.”

  “A cab?”

  “Never mind. Look, I never asked where he worked, because it never came up.”

  “But didn’t his name ring a bell?”

  Susan felt that same sense of shame that was ever-present in her personal life when she answered, “He never told me his last name.”

  Casey could tell his friend was uncomfortable, so he didn’t question her anymore. “His name is Joel Simpson,” Casey said. “He’s a senior advisor to Senator Cogburn. And from what Andie told me, he’s kind of an asshole.”

  * * * * *

  “Who’s your lady friend?” Keith Swanson asked as Joel approached.

  “Why? Jealous?” Joel responded. He despised Cogburn’s chief of staff and made every effort to avoid talking to the man. But because of Keith’s long-time friendship with the senator, staying close to Cogburn meant tolerating Swanson.

  “Jealous of what?” Keith laughed. “From what I saw, that woman was quick to leave as soon as her boyfriend showed up.”

  “Fuck you, Swanson.”

  “Yeah, fuck me,” Keith said, still laughing. The exchange ended when Keith’s cell phone rang. “Swanson.” He listened for a few seconds and looked up at Joel. “Yes, ma’am,” he said as he turned and walked away from Joel. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  Joel couldn’t hear any more of the phone conversation as Keith put distance between them. Probably his bitch wife, Joel thought. As much as he hated Keith Swanson, he pitied the man. If Joel ever needed to be reminded of why he chose to be a bachelor, he could just look at the Swansons, and any thought of matrimony would be instantly dashed. He watched Keith massage his balding scalp and dial another number.

  “Clear my calendar for the last week of September.”

  Joel turned around to find Bill Cogburn right behind him. “What for?”

  “I’m going fishing,” Cogburn said, smiling. “The mayor invited me out on his boat, and I’m going to hold the bastard to it.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Joel said.

  “No it doesn’t,” Cogburn said. “I just want to see him pucker up when he kisses my ass. I’m not going anywhere with that asshole, but I want him to think I am—screw up his calendar for a week.” He surveyed the people still around the church and spotted his chief of staff. “Who’s Keith talking to?” h
e asked.

  “Got me,” Joel said. “I think he was talking to Maxine, but I’m not sure.”

  Cogburn laughed. “The dangers of coming home.”

  “She’s not back in Washington?” Joel asked.

  “No,” Cogburn said. “She came up with him. Keith said she wanted to see her mother.”

  “And she’s taking him with her,” Joel laughed. Another reason not to get married—in-laws.

  A black Cadillac pulled up to the curb as soon as the police cleared 5th Avenue in front of St. Patrick’s for traffic again. The driver got out and walked around to open the senator’s door.

  “I’m going to meet with Judge Weintraub for lunch, and then I’m heading to the house,” Cogburn said. “I decided to stay in New York through the week. No sense going back to D.C. just for two days.”

  “Is Linda coming down from Buffalo?” Joel asked.

  “No, she’s not gonna leave her sister—not this soon after the baby. At least, that’s what she told me.”

  “Well, get some rest, Bill. You deserve it.”

  “You mean, I need it?” Cogburn asked with a grin.

  “You’ve got more energy than your whole staff, sir. You tell me if you need it,” Joel said.

  “It’s not rest that I need,” Cogburn said as he got in the car. “But thanks anyways.”

  Joel nodded his head and shut the senator’s door. He watched the car drive away and looked back to where Keith had been talking on the phone. He was gone.

  Joel took out his own cell phone and scrolled through the call log. He found the number he was looking for and pressed dial. It rang twice before a gravelly voice answered.

  “She’s at work,” Joel told the voice. “Make it fast, and call me when it’s done.”

  Chapter 20