by Jackson, Gil
‘If you tell him,’ Sarah had said.
‘Well now, I’m telling you,’ he said. ‘And how you landed me as your boss.’
David gave him a look of disapproval but Charlie stared straight back at him. He was not of the mind to be intimidated and David had momentarily overlooked the man he was and politely nodded his respect.
Charlie changed his manner back to the gentler image that David was more used to. That same manner that he had tailored out of his closeness to Sarah since the death of her husband; the tempering of his hardness had not come easy, for he always thought that it might be called on again someday — he hoped not, but thought the bastard might reassert himself someday; he was too flash to do otherwise. And David knows the whole story, and I pray to God that Giuseppi is unaware of the new trail boss.
Charlie broke his thinking. ‘When you got to go to Mexico?’
‘Oh yes, I forgot. I may not have to go now. Angus Paul slipped our shadow and slipped out of the country telling immigration he was going on a diving holiday in Mexico. It may be something or nothing, but he’s got himself lost in the Gulf of Mexico. His cover of a diving holiday might have become terminal.’
‘What diving missing?’
‘Apparently they’ve found diving tanks washed up and one had its pillar valve torn from it. Which suggests a dodgy thread; an over inflated bottle; or an explosion in its immediate vicinity.’
‘No body?’
‘Personally, I think he’s still alive. He was too good.’
‘Mm. And he was to be the reason, what on the earth are they playing at?
‘What reason, Charlie?’
‘Never mind.’
‘You think Georgos is something to do with it?’
Charlie said nothing.
‘Why would you think that, Charlie? Or is it a gut feeling? Christ, he’s an academic like Angus Paul. If my life’s on the line with this investigation I need to know. Charlie! Charlie! Will you answer me fuck you?’
* * *
Ever since meeting with Georgos had asked to speak to Charlie, rather than anyone else with the FBI, he wondered if it was out of their previous friendship or something else. Charlie had always suffered the smell of blarney in his job. If there was, he would use the presumed death of his friend to speak to him this time rather than the other way round. Using him to probe further into the Circle and how he had been right about them being a dangerous organization; might have been too much of a coincidence.
Paul’s untimely death was well reported — he had after all been a Nobel Prize winner for his work on gene structures. That was before the scientific fraternity had heard of his working on another strand running down the double helix. The strand that contained the soul. They would have liked to have taken his prize away from him, the best they could do was ostracize him but it didn’t matter, the academic world would close ranks and praise him to heaven. Perhaps Georgos wasn’t the friend of Paul that he said he was.
* * *
‘What was this demon that Paul spoke to you of - the one that was in the way. Did you ever get to the bottom of it?’
Georgos had the annoying habit of answering a question by asking one. ‘Have you ever asked yourself how it is that a human being can live with the guilt of dehumanising his fellows?’
He had, of course. ‘Well he can’t.’ Charlie replied. ‘That’s why the law is there to bring man to account for his crimes. The criminal doesn’t probably appreciate it at first but after apprehension he’s generally relieved to get it off his chest.’
‘You’re right. But Paul was talking of a demon, not a man, how does that equate?’
‘You mean someone that does not recognise the evil that he does; he doesn’t have to be a demon to be able to live with that kind of guilt because guilt does not exist.’
‘And if he is a man, what then?’
Charlie was startled by that remark, but didn’t show it. ‘What brought you to me in the first place?’
‘That’s simple. I didn’t look you out especially, I contacted the FBI. They told me of you interest in child abuse. That you had once been part of their obscene section.’
Charlie smiled. So Lomax did have a sense of unfinished business, or was it a happy coincidence? He would be careful not to mention David Weinberg. Nice of Lomax to get me involved...?
He went on like a machine. ‘Well it’s like I was saying, to Mr. Lomax, how can a human being live debauchery and crimes against his fellow?’ He didn’t wait for Charlie to answer. ‘He cannot. Oh, he can get away with so much, but the diabolical is out of his reach. He can no more get to that plateau than ... well, human beings committing the act of miracles ...’
‘Miracles happen!’ Charlie butted in. He was not going to let this man undermine his faith.
‘Not to the likes of me and you they don’t.’ Georgos continued. ‘So what you’re saying is it has to be a special kind of person to commit acts beyond the pale.’
‘A demon. It has to be a demon.’ Charlie was interested in Georgos philosophising. He half smiled at him. ‘And did Paul mention anyone in particular?’
Georgos started to become agitated. ‘This is real as far as Paul is concerned. It’s an old story, some believe some don’t.’
Charlie continued smiling. ‘That Satan stalks the earth looking for souls, come along now, doctor, it’s not as real as all that.’
But Georgos wasn’t. ‘But you do know don’t you, Charlie? In spite of your dismissals. Cast your mind back to the eighth of November 1916 sergeant!’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your name, along with that of Frank Weinberg. On papers that were with others! You know more of this than any of us.’
Charlie dismissed him giving nothing away. He knew that Georgos was not who he at first professed to be.
‘Don’t worry, you’re secrets safe with us.’
Charlie had often wondered if he and Frank had been used. That was what Georgos was suggesting, wasn’t it? Whatever Paul knew, he was unlikely to find out now. He’d always put it to the back of his mind that there were others that knew. It was not unreasonable to assume that they would have ideas of those events directly thwarting his and Frank’s efforts. Was it all that surprising, after all he’d been guilty of the same: dismissing those same events. For what - fear of failure to bring to justice dangerous men? Being held up as a lunatic or a fraud? Should they have exposed Giuseppi’s crimes with what Frank had seen and hang their careers or waited, as they had done, for hard evidence? It was all academic now.
‘“By secret, being safe”, what’d you mean by that?’
They had other duties that had to be performed. They were serving officers. Perhaps that’s how it was done: keeping them busy. Well it may not yet be too late, if not for him, at least a chance for David to avenge the killing of his father. Perhaps young blood would not so easily be put off. Every generation steals an inch from the last. It would still not be easy. He had contacted J. Edgar Hoover personally and told him that he wanted to work on his father’s and Charlie O’Hare’s behalf in bringing to an end the suffering of all these children that had and were being brutalised and murdered. Charlie hadn’t been surprised after he had told him that his father might have been the subject of some syndicate hit by those involved. The only concern that he had was Sarah. She was under the impression that Frank had been fatally wounded by a stray bullet in a mob shoot-out; and had not wanted David to speak of it in any other way. For the moment though he would need to speak to Lomax if for no other reason than to tackle him as to the status of Georgos; whether he had been, or was to be a recruited government officer.
He smiled. ‘Obvious, Charlie. What you may know. If the government had wanted it to come out, you would have been confronted by it by now. The fact that it hasn’t means they either haven’t found anything, or they’re keeping it quiet.’
* * *
Lomax answered that you could never be sure these days. Georgos might be an
officer from higher up within the FBI, it was anyone’s guess. And that was all he knew.
The other alternative was that Georgos was the Bloodhound? This brought to mind another question. Did Frank know this, when I did not? Frank surely would have said something to me, unless ... he was protecting me.
At the time Frank had searched his memory as well as police files to trigger identification with no outcome. He’d tried press libraries, photo agencies that had hundreds of pictures of celebrities and film stars, still nothing had shown up. Yet the mask of the Clown had been knocked off in the skirmish, had he seen his face? the hint of recognition from the both of them, of each other, was he thought clear at the time, but he might have been mistaken, he was hanging partly out of it at the time.
He had been sure at the time that the man had shook his head at Frank as if to say, Let me go! Frank had, but Charlie could never be sure if it was for purpose or the man had escaped his clutches. Whatever. The best chance they had of busting child-dealing rested on Frank coming up with a positive identification and he couldn’t. Charlie thought deeper. Or wouldn’t.
And he wondered. What was in all those files that had been taken away from Harry Rivers’s office by Agent Johnson at the time? He seemed to know us well enough to recommend us for promotion. Although, it had turned out that he and Frank had worked with each other before, as young patrolman.
‘And you say he was a field agent working undercover before we were ever involved?’
Lomax nodded: ‘Did you think it possible that Giuseppi’s activities had gone unnoticed?’
And that was the second time that he’d heard that phrase before. The first time by someone outside of their immediate circle which gave Charlie a grain of comfort. ‘Well, it wasn’t a question of that so much as deciding who could and couldn’t be trusted. You’ve to remember that corruption was all around, much like now. Me and Frank had a job of work to do, that was, what’s the word, sometimes, not to the book accordingly.’
Lomax nodded understandingly.
* * *
Director Lomax was not the kind of man to have agents’ working with their hands tied behind their backs, adding, into the ear of an angry director of research, that if someone within government were up to anything it was not to be at the expense of the lives of his people.
He went on....
Did he suppose that for one moment that agents’ in the field were not capable of disseminating what they needed to know to complete a case without upsetting some amateur surveillance unit who may or may not wish to exist to cover up possibilities of space aliens and other crackpot ideas for the so-called benefit of conspiracy theorists? That kind of remark always got up the nose of special research who shouted back down the telephone at Lomax that there was more to them than looking for flying saucers. Lomax had replied that in that case they would be better employed concentrating on doing that and leaving the likes of professionals that worked within the framework of proper law enforcement agencies to pursue longer-term unsolved objectives. At which point research lost its temper and told Lomax that David Weinberg had no need to know anymore other than check-out Professor Angus Paul’s possible demise, or not; going on to say that the relationship between Paul and Dr. Allan Georgos, was nothing more than a couple of immature academics that had been arguing the toss with each other for years – and let Weinberg carry on and thunning well stop from happening what he has been sent to stop without questioning his superiors’ view of the overall picture and report on that — assuming he finds him — without preconceived ideas of what he (Lomax) might have on his mind. At which point the telephone had been slammed down causing Lomax to issue the verbal adjective as to the marital status of the other’s mother and father.
He felt better, but in the back of his mind was the worry that research had asked for David Weinberg by name for the task. What little difference, he could not imagine it would make who went to investigate what had happened to Professor Paul? and the adage: To kill two birds with one stone, entered his mind.
Lomax caught up with Charlie and put his concerns to him. That after his interview with Dr. Georgos, was there anything in it that he could or might conceive could put David Weinberg at any a special risk in looking into what had happened to Prof. Angus Paul and into why he had attempted the assassination of the head of Ocean International?
Charlie had his back up. ‘Do you suppose that I would be holding back information from you that would jeopardise the welfare of David Weinberg, Franklin? Have you perhaps picked up something that David should know? Is there perhaps a question of the right hand not knowing what the left’s doing here? — Tell me, Franklin.’
‘Nothing at all, Charlie. Calm down. It’s only ... I got a bit of an earache from research when I asked for the detailed operational file.’
‘Oh. Is that all? Why should that be so? Did they say: Let’s send an agent that’s expendable? Who’ve we got? I know, David Weinberg.... He’s Jewish—!’
Lomax waited for him to settle down before saying: ‘Have you quite finished? ... Thank you. They merely said it was a routine operation that might suit David Weinberg. No more than that.... Did you think that they may have some kind of ulterior motive?’
He thought they might have. ‘The last time anyone I know was recommended for a special operation of little consequence and danger was my partner, Frank Weinberg, and after his death; and with still nobody in the frame for it, I smelt blarney; and if you don’t mind my saying, Franklin, it reeks of it still.’
Lomax listened intently.
Charlie continued. ‘I don’t want to have to go tell his wife and mother that, their husband and son’s been murdered, as their previous husband and father had been because someone wants him dead because of who he is. Because at the end of the day that’s the only way that they’re going to stop my inquiry into Marco Giuseppi. There’s no need to take a risk if you think it likely, Franklin. You can, if you’ve any doubts, pull him back, you have that option.’
‘OK. There could well be reasons for me not knowing anymore than I do; and if I pulled a field agent out every time I had bad feelings we would never get anything done. If you don’t know that, Charlie, you should have got a job as a photographer, that’s black and white.’
‘Bit late for that now,’ Charlie said under his breath.
‘Yes, well don’t push it, you’re damn near retirement if not past it – David’s going to Mexico to look into the activities of Angus Paul, that’s all, I asked you if there was anything else. If there isn’t, that’s great.’
‘Just wondered who the head of Ocean International is, that’s got a small ship out in the Gulf of Mexico?...that Angus Paul tried to take out....
* * *
That evening, Charlie O’Hare suffered a massive heart attack halfway through a Guinness in Doheny & Nesbitt’s bar on
42nd Street and was duly pronounced dead by the same doctor he’d been arguing religion sitting on a barstool next to his.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 11 – 1950
Charlie had no idea where he was. He could hear voices, but who they belonged to and where they were coming he couldn’t say. Not that he was thinking much, he wasn’t aware of much of anything; didn’t care; wasn’t worried. He did think that he might be dead though.
He had a ringing rattle in his head that was becoming louder. And while one of his senses was wondering that, one of the other’s was aware of an odour. The same they gave you in the dentist. The gas that came out of those half-inflated medicine balls that gave you dreams of being put in and taken out of a sack of ants; that made you feel like shit — there was nothing to laugh at over that.
When the ringing rattle stopped, he opened his eyes. The light was bright but was not the cause of his lack of vision. Nothing was in focus except the faint image of a face — a woman’s face. She had a white bonnet or cap over the back of her head. He opened his eyes to get a better look. She was wearing an overall and was tapping him on the arm.<
br />
‘CHARLIE?’ a voice screamed. ‘Nurse, quickly, he’s coming round. Opening his eyes! NURSE! DOCTOR!’
Charlie thought that she was being a bit formal for an angel and decided to close his eyes again which made him faint and nauseas but when the effect wore off he started to float off again. It was warm and comfortable and he didn’t want to open them again. The angel spoke once more. ‘Wake up, Charlie O’Hare we’re not finished yet.’
A nurse came running pursued by a doctor. He pulled Charlie’s pyjama jacket open and connected his chest to the cold ring of metal from the listening end of his stethoscope. He listened. Slowly looking up at the nurse then looked down again as if he couldn’t believe the memory of his previous hearing. ‘His heartbeat is as it should be, I don’t get it — he’s as strong as a young man. Charlie. Mr. O’Hare can you hear me?’
He opened his eyes again. ‘Hear you? ’Cause I can hear you, I might be a lot of things but deaf isn’t one of them.’
‘Mr. O’Hare, I have a visitor for you, do you feel strong enough?’ The direction of her voice changed. ‘He’s not with it yet — it’s quite unbelievable, he has been — well, you know.’
‘Yes, of course. Do you mind?’
He recognised the voice but couldn’t immediately put a name to it. Still confused, he tried to open his eyes to see if he recognised her but the light came back, with nobody in the way to shield it caused him to keep them tight shut.
‘I’ll wait a little longer, if that’s all right, nurse?’
‘As you like. Try and get him to take a little water.’ She smiled. ‘We’ll need to examine him again later.’
‘Thank you, nurse.’ Sarah replied.
Sarah? What’s she doing in my dream? He opened his eyes fully.
Sarah Weinberg looked down at him lying there. ‘Hello, Charlie,’ she whispered, adding, ‘what have you been up to now, you’ve given us cause for concern, so you have.’
