“It's okay, Colin, take your time,” Merrill calmly urged.
Colin took in a deep breath. “Although it's not yet official, it's pretty clear we're dealing with a car bombing. Sam had to be the intended target.”
“Who and why?” one of the directors growled from the far end of the conference table.
“The motive isn't clear yet,” Colin calmly answered. “But we have to assume it's them.”
“A goddamned car bombing?” Merrill exclaimed in frustration. “We've never seen anything like this from them before.”
“We still have a long way to go with our investigation,” Colin continued. “But we can already draw some troubling conclusions. Their knowledge of our organization is far more comprehensive than we initially thought. The attack on the Dignosco test flight told us they had an embedded organization in place. However, being able to access detailed employee information to plant car bombs is something entirely different. We have far bigger security issues than we ever imagined.”
“What's the point of doing something like this?” Walt asked.
“We're currently working under the assumption that they learned Sam was the one who killed their operative last month.” Colin replied. “It's the only motive that fits right now.”
“So this is about revenge?” asked another.
“On the surface it may seem like a rash act of revenge,” Colin replied. “But I suspect there's a deeper purpose behind this attack. I'll need to gather more evidence before I'm comfortable enough to elaborate.”
“I think it would be helpful if you told us what your theory is,” Merrill urged. “Colin, this is new and troubling territory for everyone. We need to know what you're thinking so we all know what to look for.”
Colin sighed. “If they just wanted to eliminate Sam, there's a number of cleaner, low-key ways to do it. They instead opted for a car bomb, and considering the size of the crater it left behind, they loaded it up with far more explosive punch than necessary. I think they intended to cause a lot of collateral damage. The blast was just big enough to draw in federal agencies that aren't connected with our program. This is going to cause us enormous complications and tie up resources for a long time in order to clean up. It could be a way to keep us off balance for a while in order to slow us down. Whatever the purpose, this represents a paradigm shift we never anticipated, nor are currently prepared for. This isn’t simple surveillance from a distance anymore. They just kicked in our front door and tossed in a live grenade.”
“I think that's a reasonable theory,” one of the directors concluded to everyone.
“Thanks for elaborating, Colin. Can you please explain to everyone what to expect from now on?” Merrill requested.
“It's time for us to get fanatical about security. I'm bringing in several specialists and we're reviewing everything. It's going to get messy for everyone. Expect a lot of attention to aspects that you were always sure weren’t problems. We're also going to be assigning extra assets for protection, particularly for Sam.”
“How's Sam doing?” Christine asked.
“He's grieving,” Kyle answered. “Which is actually good. He's moved past the denial stage, thanks to a rather special friend at his side right now.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“He's going to be down for a while, but we need to show him unwavering support.”
“He'll get it,” Merrill demanded. “Whatever he needs.”
“We already set him up at the Regal Apartments and got him a car rental,” Christine reported. “We've also arranged for full concierge service to get him anything he needs.”
“I'll also be keeping a very close eye on him,” Kyle added.
“Good,” Merrill affirmed with a nod.
“Merrill, can I make a suggestion?” Walt asked. “Maybe it's time to read him into The Initiative. We can't keep feeding him bullshit cover stories at this point. It's too much of an insult after all he's done and sacrificed for us. He deserves to know the truth. He deserves to know why Angela died.”
Merrill bowed his head and sighed. “He deserves an explanation. He'll get one. What about the media?”
“It's a fucking circus,” Colin hesitantly reported. “Car bombs going off in quiet neighborhoods is lead material these days. The FBI and ATF aren’t saying anything, which is only making it worse. The story already has legs to go international, particularly after what happened in Oklahoma City a couple of months ago.”
“Options?”
“We're limited. After consulting with my friends at the NSA, we feel it's best to steer it to something else. We'll plant information that will lead the FBI to a possible copycat serial bomber they've been investigating.”
“Jesus, that sounds cartoonish,” Merrill scoffed.
“It's the simplest thing to steer it to. You'd be surprised how easily the public will accept that another McVeigh could be out there.”
Thursday, June 29, 1995
Huston Associates- Lowell, Massachusetts
“Please, tell me what you're feeling right now,” Kyle asked Sam, who was sitting in a slouched position in one of the club chairs.
“I just don't know,” Sam replied in a melancholic tone. “Nothing, I guess.”
“I understand there's a memorial service for Angela tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready to face it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, you technically do, but you're doubtlessly feeling there is none.”
Sam grew perturbed. “Why would you think I'd actually consider missing her funeral?”
“Some people just can't handle something like that.”
“I'm not some people,” Sam rebutted in a firm tone.
“So I've noticed,” Kyle replied with a smile. “Are you going alone?”
“Sues is taking me.”
“Good. You know, I had a very nice talk with her the other day. She's a remarkable young woman. I can see why you're so fond of her. I think you're very fortunate to have her as a friend, or sister, as she likes to think.”
For the first time since he arrived, Sam cracked a feeble grin. “She basically is my sister. Sort of the only family I have.”
“Well, just don't lose her, Sam.”
“She'll never allow it, ”Sam replied with a faint chuckle.
“Have you made contact with Angela's parents?”
Sam's expression shifted back to despondent. “No, and I stopped trying. Sues said it's pretty ugly. Her mother is especially angry with me. The media reports aren't helping. Those fucking vultures keep suggesting a connection with drugs and gangs.”
“Yes, that's a tactic they use to draw you out for a comment. The company tried to reach out to the FBI to put a stop to it, but it's unlikely they're going to do anything. They don't like to comment on press reports because it usually escalates the media frenzy. I have to agree that commenting will likely make it worse. I'm sorry you're being victimized because of it.”
“It just sucks.”
“I agree. What about Angela's father?”
“What about him?”
“Considering what you've shared with me about his past with Angela, I find it curious that it's her mother who seems to be front and center in all of this. Has her father said anything?”
Sam gritted his teeth. “I don't see why that's important right now. I'd rather not waste time talking about that fucking loser.”
“Okay, not a problem. Has anyone else reached out to you?”
“A couple of old college buddies and colleagues from work.” Sam paused as he continued to recall. “The minister from the church I used to go to wants to have a talk. I'm not ready to face him. He wouldn't like what I'd have to say.”
“There's nothing wrong with being honest.”
“Will I ever know what happened?”
“I think someday soon, Sam. Please be patient and let it work through the system.”
Sam leaned forward in his
chair. He wanted to say something, but it took him a few seconds to work up to it. Kyle sensed that it was something important and patiently waited.
“I keep wondering if it's my fault,” Sam finally said.
“How?”
“It was my car.”
“How does that make it your fault?”
“Because the bomb was meant for me, not her.”
Kyle paused and nodded. “Did you plant the car bomb?”
“Of course not.”
“Then how could it be your fault?”
Sam winced. “I don't know if I like that answer.”
“Welcome to the next stage of grief, Sam.”
“Is there any way to skip to the last stage? I just want to get past this.”
Kyle chuckled. “Please let me know if you find a way that works.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it. Shortcuts never work for this sort of shit.”
Kyle leaned back in his chair. “Sam, have you been having any thoughts of harming yourself or turning to controlled substances?”
Sam smirked as he shifted in his chair. “No, I'm not suicidal. No drugs, either. I never got into them.”
“Sorry, I just have to ask these things. How's your alcohol intake?”
“A little more beer than usual.” Sam paused, stopping himself from saying something.
“But?” Kyle asked.
“I went out yesterday to get a case of beer,” Sam reluctantly continued. “I caught sight of something in the store; a shelf of vodka. I actually put one on top of the case and headed to the check out. I was in line and kept looking at it. It was so clear and clean, like water. I started to remember some of the parties from college. And then I remembered--” Sam paused and hesitated.
“Remembered?” Kyle urged.
Sam shook his head. “I put it back. I'm not even sure why I picked it up.”
“I'm glad. It's probably something you should stay away from for a while.”
“Do you think I'm ready for tomorrow?”
“It's not going to be easy. It's part of the closure process.”
Friday, June 30, 1995
Saint Mary's Parish- Belmont, Massachusetts
Sam sat in the front row of an intricately adorned Catholic parish. Susan sat beside him and they were the only ones occupying the row on the left side. It was at the insistence of Angela's parents that the memorial service was being held at their home church. Sam was in no frame of mind to argue or even care. It actually turned out to be a wise choice of venue, as it was able to accommodate the large crowd in attendance.
It would be the only public gathering to honor Angela's passing. A traditional wake would normally feature an open casket and a beautifully made-up corpse, but there was no body to view. They would later hold a small grave-side service for family members only, and Sam was intentionally excluded. There was just too much hostility with her parents. Her mother openly blamed him for her death, convinced by the press that he was secretly involved with something nefarious. It was probably drug-related, she had summarily concluded to anyone who would listen. She now sat in the opposite row, refusing to make eye contact with him and struggling to tolerate his presence.
The service was long, filled with many who shared their memories of a beautiful young woman who was so full of life. Sam couldn't bring himself to stand in front of a crowd, particularly with Angela's parents glaring at him from the front row. All the strange Catholic rituals from the requiem mass also unnerved him. It was a strange experience he had never seen before at the few church services he had attended elsewhere. Whatever he thought of God was now a confusing mess of contradictions that he just didn't want to deal with anymore.
The service eventually concluded and, row by row, everyone exited to form a receiving line her parents had arranged outside the front of the church. Sam lingered in his seat with a blank stare. Susan gently rubbed his shoulder.
“You were right,” Sam mumbled.
“About what?” Susan asked.
“What you said about us living together. It was a solution that came with its own unique set of challenges.”
“Not exactly what I meant,” Susan softly replied.
Sam looked back to see the long line of people trailing out of the sanctuary. “They're right, you know.”
“Who?”
“Her parents. This whole thing is my fault.”
Susan gasped. “It was not. How many times do I need to tell you that?”
Sam was about to reply when a group of four broke free from their seats and approached the front: Merrill, Walt, Ken, and Christine. Sam rose to greet them. Merrill held back as the other three exchanged handshakes and shared their condolences. Then Merrill stepped forward.
“Sam, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry we all are,” Merrill said in a low conciliatory tone. “I remember Angela well from the company Christmas party. She was a jewel that lit up the whole evening. She'll certainly be missed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“This must be your sister?” Merrill asked as he turned to Susan.
“Well,” Sam hesitated, “yes. This is Susan.”
“I hear you've been instrumental in helping Sam through this. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Susan replied and shot a confused grin to Sam.
“Sam, can we talk a minute?” Merrill asked, gesturing to a side door. They left the four to exchange small talk.
“Sam, I know you must be pretty frustrated over the lack of information you've been provided about what happened. We've needed time to get our facts straight. I'd like you to come in to meet with me on Monday morning. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Did they find out who did this?”
“Yes and no. We'll talk more about it on Monday.”
“Okay.”
“Good, please try to rest and recover until then. I don't want to hear about you trying to get any work done. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Merrill then looked back out to the sanctuary. “I know that all of this has been unbelievably difficult for you. You deserve answers and you're going to get them.”
“Was it my fault?”
“Sam, it was anything but your fault.”
Merrill and Sam walked back into the sanctuary, exchanged final pleasantries, and the Blanchard quartet left.
“Sorry, but that was sort of a scary looking man,” Susan commented as she watched them disappear through a side door, bypassing the receiving line.
“Mr. Drake?”
“Yeah, a really intense guy.”
“He runs a multi-billion dollar corporation. Intensity comes with the job.”
“Please promise me you won't run a company and turn into a wrinkly old scary dude.”
Sam almost blurted a laugh as three more people approached: Laura, Ron, and Tom. Laura stepped forward and gave Sam a long hug.
“I'm so sorry,” Laura whispered as she teared up. “Sam, I don't even know what to say.”
“I know,” Sam whispered as he released her embrace. “Thanks.”
“It has to be making it much worse having to deal with her parents. I heard they won't even let you attend the burial service. That's just--”
“Understandable,” Sam finished. “I've got to deal with the consequences of my choices.”
“I don't think it's fair.”
“I'm surprised to hear that coming from you.”
“I suppose,” Laura reluctantly conceded. “Sam, I need to say something--”
“Sam,” Ron interrupted as he stepped next to Laura. “No matter how bad things seem to get, God always has a plan.” Ron put his arm around Laura and drew her close. “Sometimes it seems mysterious, but it's always for the better in the end.”
Susan gasped as Sam grew abruptly irate.
“So long as us heathens got what's coming to us for shacking up, right?”
Ron's expression quickly dropped. “Oh, wow, I really didn't mean it that way.”
“You didn't mean it that way?” Sam seethed. “You sanctimonious prick. Get out of my sight. You don't deserve to be here.”
Ron immediately turned to leave, pulling Laura with him. She seemed initially hesitant as she worked through the shock of the short, intense exchange. Sam glared at them as they made a hasty exit.
“Hey, buddy,” Tom quickly said as he stepped forward. “Sorry, Ron was way out of line. I don't know why he did that. I'll try to talk with him.”
“You do that,” Sam gruffly retorted.
Tom nodded and headed after Ron and Laura. Sam glanced back to Susan who was giving him a bewildered look.
“I'm not apologizing for that.”
Susan smiled. “You handled it better than me. I probably would've kicked him in the nuts.”
Sam replied with a shocked expression.
Susan sighed. “Ron's not everything he seems.”
“Finally,” Sam proclaimed. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Monday, July 3, 1995
Blanchard Corporation- Chelmsford, Massachusetts
“Sam, please come in,” Merrill beckoned from inside his palatial office. Sam entered and looked around in amazement. He'd never seen a bigger office. It was nearly five-hundred square feet of space located in the front corner of the third floor. He saw Colin and someone he didn't recognize.
“Good morning.”
“Sam, do you remember Colin Ross from the Christmas party?”
Colin stepped over and shook hands with Sam. “Sam, great to see you again. I'm very sorry for your loss. I remember meeting Angela at the Christmas party. She was stunning, easily one of the most beautiful young women I've ever met.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ross.”
“Sam, this other gentlemen is Senator Hector Barlow of North Dakota. He chairs a powerful committee that gives our company a lot of business.”
“Sam,” Hector said as he shook hands with him, “I don't think I can possibly put it more eloquently than Colin about how sorry everyone is over the loss of Angela. I've never met her, but I understand what she meant to you.”
The Initiative: In Harm's Way (Book One) Page 18
