Casey ignored Susan’s comment. “We know that someone tried to kill Mari before the bombing, and we also know that Houthi rebels had nothing to do with the bombings, but we launched Tomahawks at them anyway. And yesterday, the body of the deli bomber, Jared Prince, was cremated on the authority of someone from a company that doesn’t exist,” Casey said. “The only way any of that shit does make sense is if there’s someone pulling the strings. But we don’t know what their end-goal is, which is why it doesn’t make sense to us—at least not yet.”
“Then, if you know what they’ve been capable of orchestrating so far, assuming you’re right, how do you propose to find out more about them without getting yourself killed?” Jim asked.
Casey didn’t know what he would be able to find out when he told Dr. Raad he would try to confirm some of the members of The Council, and he still didn’t know as he was confronted by Jim Shelton. But he thought he needed to say something to his boss that showed he had a plan and wasn’t in as much danger as everyone thought. “I’m not the only one looking into this,” Casey said. “Paul Giordano is doing most of the investigating.”
“And he is?” Jim asked.
“He’s an NYPD detective who works at the Joint Terrorism Task Force. He’s the one who found out about Jared Prince and the fake company that authorized his cremation,” Casey said.
“So if the police are on it, you don’t need to be involved,” Jim said.
“That’s just it, sir,” Casey said, “the police aren’t on anything. Neither is the FBI according to Giordano. If he wasn’t at the deli that morning, there’d be no one else working on this, and I damn sure wouldn’t have been able to find out what he did so far.”
“Then I’ll ask you again. How are you going to find out anything without painting a huge bullseye on your back in the process?” Jim asked. “If you and this police officer are the only two people asking questions, it won’t be hard to identify the holes that need plugging.”
“I see your point, sir, but we’re not putting up billboards,” Casey said. “And I don’t plan on any meetings in dark alleys. In fact, I’m gonna meet Senator Cogburn tomorrow morning—plenty of daylight.”
Jim’s eyes widened, and his brow wrinkled. “You’re going to question Cogburn about The Council?”
“I hadn’t planned on it when I asked his aide to set it up,” Casey said. “Hell, I hadn’t even heard of The Council at that point. I was just going to ask him how he came to read the Houthi report and see what he said. Since he’s not on the committee that used the report, chances are he had nothing to do with it being written in the first place, but if he’s a member of The Council, maybe he knows who did request it.”
“I know who requested it,” Susan said.
Casey turned around and faced Susan. “You do?”
“Andie found out yesterday,” Susan said. “Joel Simpson submitted the request for a report on al Houthi.”
“Joel Simpson?” Casey asked.
“Yeah, but it was for Senator Baxter, not Cogburn,” Susan said.
“Baxter,” Casey said, almost whispering. He didn’t real know anything about Chris Baxter, except that the man had been in the Senate for a long time. Not that Baxter mattered to Casey’s inquiry. But Joel Simpson did. “Why would Simpson put in a request for another senator when he works for Cogburn?”
“I don’t know,” Susan said. “Maybe I’ll ask him if I see him tonight at the fundraiser.”
“You’re going to Senator Cogburn’s fundraiser at the Waldorf?” Jim asked Susan.
“Andie’s former editor got tickets and gave them to her. She asked if I wanted to come along,” Susan said. “She’s going to try and ask Cogburn about that resolution he’s sponsoring.”
“That’s a pretty expensive girls’ night out,” Oscar said, surprising everyone that he was actually listening—and that he knew what a girls’ night out was. “Those tickets are like three thousand dollars apiece.”
“Well, we got them for free,” Susan said.
“Free or not, I have to ask that you limit any questions for the senator to the upcoming resolution,” Jim said. “Actually, let Ms. Jackson ask the questions. Chances are, in a room of about four hundred people, you won’t even get to shake hands with the man anyway, but try to keep a low profile, just in case. I don’t need another one of my team putting their hand in the beehive.” He shot Casey a glare of disapproval for continuing to pursue a conspiracy that in all likelihood would land him in the hospital, to say the least. Jim had to remind himself these were his employees, not his children. All he could do was warn them of the dangers. They were going to make up their own minds whether to listen or not.
Chapter 31
Senator Bill Cogburn arrived at his Manhattan office shortly before noon. After exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist on duty, he made his way to the back room. Joel Simpson was already inside.
“Good morning, sir,” Joel said as Cogburn took a seat in the straight-backed plush armchair across from him. I wonder what this is about, Joel thought. Cogburn rarely sat anywhere other than behind a desk when he called one of his short-fused staff meetings. Usually the meeting was to discuss an important development that was being covered in the news to make sure the senator knew what he was talking about if confronted by a reporter. Other times it was to talk about election or re-election matters and the latest polls. Because of Cogburn’s seating choice, Joel guessed the gathering was either personal, bad news, or both.
“Good morning, Joel,” Cogburn said.
“How was your time off?” Joel asked.
“Quite relaxing, actually.” The woman at the front desk entered the room and handed Cogburn a cup of coffee. “Thank you, Sheila,” he said, and the woman left without a word. “I needed the time to think.”
Joel watched the senator sip his coffee in silence. They waited for Keith Swanson to make an appearance before getting down to business, though Joel was in the dark about what that business was. If it was any other politician, he might have thought Cogburn was getting nervous before the first big fundraiser of his presidential election bid. The amount of money they would raise that night would set the tone for future events and give them a respectable bank account to start thinking about targeted television spots. And given the financial success of Cogburn’s biggest opponent, and the respect Curtis Baynard had from the wealthiest of Republican donors, Joel knew they needed to start tearing down the curtain that shrouded Baynard as soon as possible if they were going to win the nomination.
“Hey, Bill. Sorry I’m late.” Keith Swanson came in and shut the door behind him. He nodded at Joel as he set his briefcase down and took a seat.
“You’re not late, Keith,” Cogburn said. “But since you’re here, why don’t we get started. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I wanted to see you this morning.”
“I was a little curious,” Keith said before Joel could make the same comment.
“Well, I had some time to run through it the past couple of days,” Cogburn said, “and I think the timing is right to come clean with the American people.”
Oh, shit. Why now? Joel thought. He remembered a conversation he and Cogburn had back in Washington a week ago. The senator had said some things would come out as the campaign progressed that they would have to deal with. Whatever it was, Joel didn’t think giving the press a handout before the vote on Resolution 95 was such a good idea. He looked over at Keith Swanson, but the chief of staff gave no outward appearance of concern—not like Joel was having.
“From 1981 to 1987, the law firm I was with helped to shelter companies giving money to the mujahideen in Afghanistan,” Cogburn said. “It wasn’t such a big deal back then. The CIA was doing the same thing—giving their own money, in fact. But in order to get the money into the country without the Soviets knowing, much of it was filtered through Iran.”
“Sounds like Ollie North’s Nicaragua scheme,” Keith said.
“Except we didn’t have any k
ind of government approval,” Cogburn said. “And with the sanctions that were in place after the hostage crisis there, we were breaking the law, plain and simple.”
Joel tried not to show it, but he was relieved. Sort of. He half-expected the senator to come forward with some extramarital affair confession which, with John Edwards still relatively fresh in the media’s mind, would throw a wet blanket on Cogburn’s run for president before it even got started. “But you were doing it for the good of the country,” Joel said. “Bottom line is that you were helping to defeat Communism.”
“On the surface, yes,” Cogburn said.
“But...,” Keith prompted.
“But we were also helping to kill Americans,” Cogburn said.
“You can’t take the blame for that,” Joel said. “Because al Qa’ida was born with those fighters in Afghanistan, you think what you and your firm were doing makes you responsible for 9/11? What about the CIA? They’re just as culpable.”
“That’s old news,” Keith said.
“Exactly,” Joel said. “Why resurrect that now?”
“Settle down, Joel,” Cogburn said. “I’m talking about the money going to Iran.”
“What?”
“You don’t think Iran was just going to allow U.S. dollars to flow into their country, just to see it leave again, without taking some for themselves, did you?” Cogburn asked. “The companies we helped to fund the fight in Afghanistan were also helping to fund the Iran-Iraq War. Only, the money was going to the wrong side, because the United States was backing Saddam in that one. And there’s no doubt in my mind that some of that money fueled the tanker war that killed thirty-seven sailors on the USS Stark. We probably even helped finance Hizbullah with that money. Remember the Marine barracks in Beirut?”
Joel looked at Keith Swanson who returned the gaze. Both men tried to read the other’s reaction. Keith was the first to speak.
“You feel pretty strongly about this, don’t you?” he asked Cogburn.
Cogburn nodded. “I do. And I think the voters deserve to hear it from me before some damn reporter digs it up, and Baynard’s people spin it to make me look like a traitor,” he said. “Joel’s right, we were more concerned with stopping the Soviet menace than anything else. We damn sure could have made more money taking on other clients.”
Joel was still uneasy. “When, exactly, are you planning on making this confession?” he asked.
“Tonight,” Cogburn answered. He pulled two identical packets of paper from the leather briefcase by his feet. “I’ve already prepared the notes, and I’d like both of you to look them over. I’m open to your opinions on how I should deliver the news, but not on my decision to bring it up in the first place.” He handed Joel and Keith each a packet. “My intention is to get this story out now and let it fade into a non-story by election day.”
Joel flipped through the pages before turning back to the beginning. Tonight, he thought. Mitchell Evans’ admonition repeated in Joel’s head as he read Cogburn’s talking points—Bill Cogburn has to win the GOP nomination. Joel looked up at Cogburn briefly as he turned the page. He knew Cogburn would think twice about making this announcement, and Keith would surely protest, if either of them knew The Council was watching from above. You better not fuck this up, Bill.
Chapter 32
The Empire Room of New York’s famed Waldorf-Astoria echoed with the thunder of applause.
“I wonder if that’s going to screw things up for him,” Susan asked Andie as Senator Bill Cogburn finished his remarks. The two women sat back down after being socially forced to stand and applaud because everyone else was. The disc jockey started the music again as Cogburn began making his way around the room to personally thank people for coming.
“I doubt it,” Andie said. “If anything, it’ll give him a little credit with veterans. He just argued that he was helping to win the Cold War even though he wasn’t wearing a uniform. And the admission of guilt shows he takes the deaths of American servicemen and women personally.” Andie spooned another mouthful of crème brûlée and added, “Cogburn’s got a long enough history in Washington, that this won’t make it above the fold—if it even hits the front section of the paper at all. Plus, if Resolution 95 passes, there’ll be more pertinent ‘Cogburn’ news to talk about.”
Susan was actually having a good time with Andie Jackson at the fundraiser. Not because Susan was a Cogburn supporter, or even a Republican, for that matter, but because Andie was fun to be around. And the food was damn good. She almost forgot about the morning’s discussions—and Mariam Fahda—until Cogburn started speaking.
After the meeting at IWG, Susan and Casey went to find Andie. They discussed the revelation that Joel Simpson requested the CRS report Mari was subsequently assigned to write. Andie reiterated her position that they shouldn’t draw any hasty conclusions just because Cogburn’s advisor made the request on behalf of another senator. She pointed out that there was a lot of work-sharing at the lower levels on the Hill, and cooperation in Washington was more prevalent than most people thought—just not among the elected officials.
Casey was more cynical than that. After his conversion to “believer in The Council’s existence,” he was looking for anything of convenience that sounded a little too good to be true or too coincidental. He immediately attributed Joel Simpson’s involvement with the CRS report and his run-in with Susan as the work of The Council, and he believed all of it still implicated Cogburn. That view didn’t change when Susan brought up Mari and Joel’s alleged personal relationship. In fact, it made Casey question Joel’s motives.
Susan hadn’t considered that scenario. Susan’s fear of Joel possibly stalking her to find out how much of the truth behind the Houthi report she knew was amplified when she thought that Joel’s intentions regarding Mari were anything but innocent. Casey’s suggestion opened up the possibility that Joel Simpson was also the reason Mari feared for her life in the first place.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a man’s voice said from behind.
Susan and Andie both turned around, but Susan was the only one who jumped.
“How could you? I don’t think we’ve even met before,” Andie said, standing up and offering her hand to Joel. She was also surprised by Joel’s appearance at their table, but she knew about Susan’s anxiety before they even got the Waldorf-Astoria, so she was prepared to step in.
Joel hesitantly shook Andie’s hand and smiled. “No, we haven’t,” he said. “My name is Joel Simpson.” He looked down at Susan who was still seated.
“Andie Jackson,” Andie said, finishing the introduction and trying to regain Joel’s attention.
“Like the president?” Joel asked.
“Short for Andrea,” Andie replied.
“Nice to meet you, Andrea,” Joel said, “but I was actually talking to Susan here.” He put his hand on Susan’s shoulder, and the analyst reflexively flinched. Joel’s smile faded and he pulled his hand back.
Susan gathered herself and stood up. “Hello, Joel,” she said.
“If I knew you were into politics, I could have gotten you free tickets,” Joel said.
“My editor got them for us,” Andie said.
“Editor?” Joel asked.
“Washington Times,” Andie said, smiling.
“I didn’t know you worked for a newspaper, too,” Joel said to Susan.
“I don’t,” Susan said. “Andie was just nice enough to invite me out to dinner.”
Joel eyed Andie with suspicion. “Well, I hope you both enjoyed the meal.”
“It was wonderful, thank you,” Andie said. “I enjoyed the senator’s speech, too—very revealing.” She smiled when she saw Joel’s eye twitch after her comment.
Susan also noted Joel’s agitation. On the way to the fundraiser, she and Andie discussed how they would deal with Joel if they saw him, and Susan recognized the opportunity to speak up. She looked at Joel with faux sincerity and said, “I’m glad you’re here, actually. Whe
n Andie asked me to come, I was hoping I might run into you.”
“Really?” Joel asked.
“Well, when I saw you at the memorial on Tuesday, I had no idea you were there to pay your respects to Mari,” Susan said. “I would have offered my condolences.”
Joel’s eyes darted between Susan and Andie. He had no idea how Susan connected him to Mariam Fahda, but he knew from the woman’s accusatory tone that complete denial was not an option. He quickly chose misdirection. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The memorial service at St. Patrick’s,” Susan said. “I didn’t know you knew Mari Fahda. She was a good friend of mine.”
“I was at the memorial service because Senator Cogburn was speaking,” Joel said. “And what do you mean, was a good friend?”
Joel seemed confused by her comment, but Susan was the one who was confused. She expected Joel to be defensive when she brought up Mari, and she wasn’t sure how to react. She finally decided she had to keep up the indirect interrogation if she was going to get the answers she really wanted. “Mari is dead,” she said. “She was killed in the bombing last week.” Susan allowed a tear to fall, maintaining the act, though the tear was real.
Joel stayed calm, but his voice wavered. “Oh my god,” he said. “I just saw her a few weeks ago.”
Susan looked at Andie for a reaction, but the ex-reporter just stared at Joel, observing. “I’m sorry you had to find out about it this way,” Susan said.
“It’s okay,” Joel said. He wiped his eyes, though there were no tears—real or fake. “What was she doing in New York, anyway?”
Andie stepped in again to deflect the question. “How close were you and Mari?” she asked Joel.
“We dated for a while, but it didn’t work out,” Joel said. “Once the campaign started, I couldn’t devote enough time to our relationship, so I broke it off. It wasn’t fair to Mari to just string her along.”
“She was my roommate at Berkeley,” Susan said with a distant look in her eyes and an even more distant voice.
The Complicity Doctrine Page 19
