Desperate Measures

by David Morrell

  "You're dreaming."

  "in that case, wake me when this is over."

  "Come on," Jill said. "Straighten yourself up. When this train stops,

  I want to hit the ground running."

  "Are you always this energetic so early in the morning?"

  "Only when I'm terrified. Besides, when you're used to working the night

  shift, this is late afternoon, not morning.

  "Not for me." Pittman's eyes felt gritty, as if sand had been thrown

  into them.

  "Let me whisper something that might get you going. "It better be

  good."

  "Breakfast, and I'm paying."

  "You're going to have to, since I don't have any cash. But I'll say

  this-you do have a way with words.

  ,-montpelier? Sounds French."

  "The first settlers in this area were French."

  ',And this is the capital of Vermont?" Pittman sat with Jill at a

  restaurant table that gave them a window view of New England buildings

  along a picturesque street. "It doesn't feel as if many people live

  here."

  "Fewer than ten thousand. But then only about six hundred thousand

  people live in the entire state."

  "A good place to hide out."

  "Or to send students to a school that's isolated enough that they won't

  be contaminated by the Outside world while they're being taught to be

  aristocrats."

  Pittman sipped his coffee. "Do I detect a little anger?"

  ,'More than a little. My parents tried to raise me that wayto think of

  myself as better than ordinary people. They're still horrified that I'm

  a nurse. All those sick people. All that blood.

  "I get the feeling your background involves a lot more money than-"

  "In polite society, this isn't talked about."

  "I was never good at manners."

  "Millions.

  Pittman blinked and set down his coffee cup.

  "I don't know how much," Jill said. "My parents won't discuss it. We're

  having a difference of opinion about how I should conduct my future.

  They've been trying to punish me by threatening to disinherit me."

  "So that's what you meant about the trust fund from your grandparents. "

  "They're the ones who earned it. They could handle it without being

  jerks. But my parents think the money gives them some kind of divine

  right to look down on people."

  "Yes, you are angry."

  "I told you, I want to help people, not ignore them or take advantage of

  them. Anyway, my grandparents anticipated all this and let me be

  independent byestablishing the trust fund for me.

  "We have a similar attitude. When I was a reporter-"

  "Was? You still are."

  "No. I'm an obituary writer. But there was a time ... before Jeremy

  died, before I fell apart ... The stories I loved doing the best were

  the ones that involved exposing the corruption of self-important members

  of the Establishment, especially in the government. It gave me a

  special pleasure to help drag them down and force them to experience

  what life is like for all of us ordinary bastards of the world."

  "Drag aristocrats like Jonathan Millgate down?"

  "I sure tried my damnedest."

  "Be careful. If you talk like that to the wrong person, you could be

  providing a motive for why you might have wanted to-"

  The next obvious words-kill him-never came out. Abruptly Jill stopped

  talking as the waitress set down their orders: grapefruit, English

  muffins, and yogurt for Jill; hash browns, eggs, and bacon for Pittman.

  "You'll never get back into shape if you keep eating that way," Jill

  said.

  "At least I ordered whole-wheat toast. Besides, I've been using a lot

  of energy lately."

  "Right. You're not in enough danger-you've got to order a death

  sentence for breakfast.

  "Hey, I'm trying to eat."

  Jill chuckled, then glanced around at the warm dark tone of the wood in

  the rustically decorated room. "I'll be right back. "

  "What is it?"

  "Somebody just left a newspaper. USA Today." She looked eager to read

  it, but once she returned to their table and studied the front page, she

  murmured, "Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore."

  "Bad?'-'

  As the waitress seated a man and a woman at the table next to them, Jill

  handed him the newspaper. "Some things are better left unsaid."

  Pittman scanned the story, becoming more and more disheartened. The

  crazed obituary writer's murder spree continued, bold letters announced.

  Pittman was being blamed for killing Father Dandridge. He was also

  being charged for shooting a man who, with two associates, had

  supposedly been sent to Jill's apartment by Jonathan Millgate's son to

  pass on his thanks for the skillful attention she had given his father

  while in intensive care. In addition, Pittman was suspected of

  abducting Jill.

  "It keeps getting worse," Pittman said. "Maybe I ought to just hang

  myself and be done with it."

  "Don't say that, not even as a joke."

  Pittman thought about it. "The thing is, it was a joke about suicide.

  I'm amazed . A couple of days ago, I wouldn't have been able to do

  that."

  Jill looked at him harder. "Maybe some good will come out of this."

  Pittman gestured toward the newspaper. "At the moment, it doesn't look

  that way. We'd better leave. We've got plenty to do."

  "Find the library?"

  "Right." Pittman stood. "There's a reference series most libraries

  have. The Dictionary of American Biography. it lists the background,

  including education, for almost every intellectually famous person in

  the United States. "It'll tell me if all the 'grand counselors went to

  Grollier. Then maybe the librarian will be able to help with something

  else."

  "What's that?"

  "How to find Grollier Academy."

  ,Four hundred dollars?" Jill shook her head, skeptical.

  "I know. I'm not crazy about it, either, but I think this is the best

  deal we're going to get," Pittman said. "Every other used car on the

  lot costs more than the cash we have."

  The car salesman, gangly, wearing a bow tie, watched with interest from

  the window of his Office as Pittman and jill'circled the gray 1975

  Plymouth Duster. The two-door sedan had what was once considered to be

  a sleek outline, but the rust on the rear fenders and the cracks in the

  vinyl top were evidence of the hard use that the vehicle had received.

  "Then let's forget about paying cash," Jill said. "I'll write him a

  check and get something decent."

  "cant." Pittman recalled an interview he had once conducted with a

  private detective who was an expert in tracing fugitives. "An

  out-of-state check. The salesman will probably decide to call your bank

  to see if the check is good . The police will have put the bank on

  alert about reporting any attempt to get money from your account. My

  guess is that the grand counselors will have used their influence to get

  the same information. They would all know where to focus their search.

  It's the same reason we can't rent a car. To do that, we need to use

  your or my credit card. The moment either name is in the computer,

 
; we're blown. The grand counselors would immediately figure out why

  we're in Vermont. They'd have men waiting for us by the time we showed

  up at Grollier Academy. "

  "Four hundred dollars." Jill bleakly surveyed the rusted automobile.

  "I know. It's a fortune when the only money at our disposal is a

  thousand. But we don't have an option. At least we bargained the

  salesman down from four hundred and fifty. "

  "But can we be certain the car won't break down when we drive it off the

  lot?"

  "Well, the best thing I can tell you is, this car has a Chrysler

  slant-six engine. It's almost indestructible."

  "I didn't realize you knew about auto mechanics."

  "I don't."

  "Then how-?"

  "I once did a story about used-car lots and ways to tell if the buyer

  was getting cheated."

  "Remarkable. I'm beginning to realize you're the sum of all the

  interviews you conducted."

  "Something like that."

  "And if we buy this heap, yu think we'll be getting a good deal?"

  "Only if the salesman gives us a free tank of gas."

  As they headed northwest from Montpelier Past the mountains that flanked

  Route 89, the Duster performed better than Pittman expected, its

  slant-six engine sounding Powerful and smooth

  Because his bandaged left hand made it awkward for him to steer, Jill

  did the driving. She opened her window - "Whoever owned this car sure

  liked cigars-"

  "on the positive side, the seat covers don't look bad. Which is more

  than I can Say about me- I'd better get presentable for when we arrive

  at Grollier."

  He took the battery-powered razor from his gym bag, and while he shaved,

  he stared at the wooded Peaks. "The map the used-car salesman gave us

  says this range is called the Green Mountains. An odd name for a place

  known for skiing."

  "I told you the French were the first settlers here- Analyze the name of

  the state. Vermont is another way of saying mont vert. Green

  Mountain."

  4,It seems so peaceful here. What could there possibly be about

  Grollier Academy that's so terrifying to the grand counselors?" hy "At

  the library, the DictionarY of American Biography sure wasn't much

  help," Jill said. "Professor Folsom was right. ustace Gable

  arid-Anthony Lloyd went to Grollier, the same as Jonathan Millgate. But

  the other two grand counselors don't have any mention of Grollier in the

  entries about them.,."

  That still doesn't prove anything. Does it mean they. didn't actually

  go there, or is it that they don't want to advertise?"

  As the Duster rounded a curve, revealing a meadow flanked by spruce

  trees, wooded peaks looming above them, Pittman was so preoccupied, he

  barely noticed the vista. "Maybe they realized that it wasn't in their

  best interests for it to be known that they all went to the same prep

  school.

  "Why would that hurt them?"

  "Too blatantly chummy. The general public might catch on about one of

  the federal government's nasty secrets: how inbred it is. Certain prep

  schools for the elite prepare the cream of the future Establishment to

  go to Ivy League colleges. That future Establishment graduates from

  those colleges and heads toward Washington. There they dominate.

  various branches of the government. The CIA is tight withYale, for

  example. The State Department used to be dominated by people from

  Harvard. Clinton's administration has a close relationship with Yale

  Law School.

  "But it gets more specific. Ivy League colleges have secret societies,

  and the most prestigious-Skull and Bones, for for example-are almost

  exclusively for members of the Establishment. A President appoints his

  classmates, his fellow society members. They become ambassadors or

  serve on the cabinet or as his advisers. You know the story-the

  President goes out of office and his appointees move into the private

  sector, where as members of the boards of various corporations use their

  influence in Washington to manipulate government regulations. Or else

  they form their own consultation businesses and cater to foreign clients

  who pay them extremely well to use their powerful contacts. That's the

  reason I wanted to bring Millgate down to my level. Because he was in

  thick with the weapons manufacturers. He advocated military involvement

  in Korea, Vietnam, Panama, and Iraq, to name the most famous instances.

  But the question is, Was that for the good of the country and the world

  , or was it for the good of the weapons manufacturers and Millgate's

  Swiss bank account?

  "on the most basic level, one of the reasons there is SO much corruption

  in the government is that few Politicians and diplomats have the courage

  to question the behavior of a former classmate and club member. Good

  old so-and-so made a mistake by accepting bribes. But he's not really a

  bad guy . Why turn him in and make trouble for him? Some social

  commitments are more important than representing the American people.

  Did you ever hear about Bohemian Grove?"

  "No." Jill looked puzzled.

  "It's another secret society-. a males-only club, the main purpose of

  which is a summer Outing that takes place each year in a compound in the

  woods of northern California. Its members are among the most powerful

  men in the United States: senators, cabinet members, major financiers,

  and corporate executives. Every Republican president since Nixon has

  been a member. The members are allowed to bring equally powerful guests

  from foreign countries. And what do all these influential men do? They

  get drunk, sing campfire songs, put on skits, and have pissing

  contests."

  "A boy's camp for grown-ups," Jill said.

  -,Right. And when the festivities are over, when all those men go back

  to their Powerful occupations, is it likely that any of them would ever

  accuse any Others-they pissed against trees together at lamP-Of improper

  Professional conduct? No way. The ultimate consequence of Bohemian

  Grove is to make it seem in terribly bad taste for Power brokers to

  accuse one another of being unethical. And that's just one example of

  how club rules are more important than society's rules. The whole

  damned thing stinks.

  Except for the drone of the Duster's engine, the car became silent. Jill

  steered around another curve, passing cattle near a stream in another

  valley.

  At last she spoke. "Now that you've got that off your chest, do you

  feel better?"

  "No. , , "My father went to Yale. He was a member of Skull and Bones.

  "I wasn't trying to be personal."

  "But it's true. My father works in international commodities. Because

  he belonged to Skull and Bones, he seems to have more influence than his

  competitors. He's able to call in better favors."

  "Then imagine the influence the grand counselors have," Pittman said.

  "Advisers to Presidents from Truman on. Ambassadors, members of the

  cabinet. At one time or another, three of them were secretaries of

  state. Two of them were secretaries of defense. Several were chiefs of
/>   staff and national security advisers, not to mention ambassadors to the

  United Nations, NATO, Great Britain, the USSR, Saudi Arabia, West

  Germany, et cetera. Never elected. Always appointed. With influence

  since the Second World War. A government within the government. When

  their power wasn't officially granted to them by the White House-during

  the Kennedy and Carter years, for example-they still managed to maintain

  their influence indirectly by creating foreign policy as members of

  think tanks like the Council on Foreign Relations, the Rand Corporation,

  and the Rockefeller Foundation. Three of the grand counselors went to

  Harvard. Two went to Yale. And at least three of them, maybe all of

  them, went to the same prep school. But one of them felt so troubled by

  that prep school, he wanted to confess something about it on his

  deathbed, and the others were prepared to do anything to stop him,"

  At a scenic town called Bolton, they turned north off Route 89,

  following a narrow, winding road that took them through a long valley

  filled with meadows alternating with sections of pine trees. "If the

  librarian in Montpelier knew what she was talking about," Jill said,