Without looking up Katherine answered, “I guess I’m tired of living in fear. Beyond that though, I need you to stop coddling Layla, treating her like a victim. Sam’s a nice lady, but Layla’s such a pain in the ass.”
“Katherine! I don’t want to hear that language,” her father began. “Your sister had a completely different experience than you in that warehouse.”
“I know, Dad! I was there too, remember? Or did you forget that!” she shot back. “Just because I wasn’t raped doesn’t make the event any less traumatic for me. Try living with it!”
“Listen,” Josh started to reply when Katherine cut him off.
“No! Dad! You listen,” Katherine said as she started to raise her voice and draw attention to the pair. “I can’t live in that house anymore if you are not going to treat her equally. I’m tired of the fighting. I am sick and tired of constantly walking around on egg shells near her. She won’t move on with her life if you don’t start treating her like a normal adult human being! Now!”
Josh snapped at her, “Watch your tone with me young lady. Your sister – ”
“What!” she replied not backing down. “What about her! You were going to make another excuse for her behavior weren’t you? You’re unbelievable!
Josh shot out of his seat and said, “Guard! We’re finished here,” and abruptly turned away from his daughter.
Josh was led back to his cell as she was escorted from the Visitor Center. Juan and Katherine drove home in silence.
The pair arrived at the farm shortly after Giuseppe departed. He delivered the news that Josh had tried to explain to Katherine during her visit. Both girls knew that the reason for their father’s constantly heightened state of alert was because the rape kit determined that there were three men and not just the two Josh killed. The third man was still at-large.
Layla ran to the truck as it neared the cabin. Out of breath, she quickly blurted, “They’ve got a match!”
“Huh?” Katherine replied.
“After your little outburst in court, Giuseppe reviewed Dad’s file. He never would have looked and they wouldn’t have found him if it weren’t for you snapping at the Judge.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Giuseppe said that your tirade on the Judge sparked something in him so he decided to review Dad’s case. That’s when he discovered that the prosecutor in Columbus never added the DNA for the third guy into the criminal database. It took a while, but he had them add it. When the crime unit ran it, it came back with a hit. He’s an absolute match to the rape kit. Don’t you see? You caught the guy, Katherine!”
“Oh my God!” Katherine replied. “Who is he? Where’s he been?”
“His name was Charles Javier Dolbrow. He was the younger stepbrother of Emil Bedford, one of the two men Dad –,” she started to say but couldn’t bring herself to try and label what they had seen their father do.
“The cops never looked at him as a suspect because he wasn’t at the scene. He had witnesses that stated he was up in Mansfield the entire time. He’s thirty-three years old now which means he was older than eighteen when we were abducted. He’ll be tried as an adult when they catch him. The Franklin County Prosecutor’s office said they’d go for the death penalty if he ever stands trial.”
“It doesn’t do us much good until he’s caught though. We’re still in the same hole. He’s out there doing God knows what and we’re living in fear here,” Katherine answered indifferently.
“Well yeah, but now they have something to go off of! This is great news! I can’t tell you how excited I am for the day they catch this guy and I can go to sleep without being in fear of him standing over my bed.”
“That’s what Dad was trying to tell me,” Katherine said.
“Trying? What do you mean trying? What happened Katherine?” her sister inquired.
“Dad said he had good news. One was that he was getting out at the end of the month, but he never told me the second part before–,” she said as her voice trailed off.
“Before what Katherine? What did you do?”
“He wanted to know why I freaked out on the Judge at our hearing.” She quickly decided to keep the topic of the conversation to herself, but added, “I raised my voice to him and he basically kicked me out of the Visitor Center.”
Her sister whistled a reply before saying, “That’s worse than talking back to Basilia.”
“I know... I know!” Katherine retorted.
“What are you going to do?” Layla asked.
“Go next week for our usual visit and apologize, I guess.”
Josh fumed about the exchange between father and daughter the rest of the day and into the night. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t think of anything else to do so he wrote it all down in a letter to Samantha.
* * *
Secretary McInerney entered the Oval office to see a red-faced and highly irate President Rayburn pacing around the most powerful room in the world. Sitting on a couch was his cohort from the Justice Department, U.S. Attorney Ryers, and the man’s boss. Across from them, in a finely appointed upholstered chair, was the Secretary’s old friend, President Sarkes.
“Have I come at a bad time?” Elias asked as he entered the room and surveyed the faces of the attendees.
Sarkes chuckled at his naiveté and replied, “That’s an understatement.”
“Shut the door,” Jim Rayburn commanded harshly.
The Secretary did as instructed and then sat in the only available seat, next to President Sarkes.
“I have one question I’d like you to answer for me. None of these three are willing to provide me with the information I require, so I summoned you,” Rayburn began.
“Okay, if I know the answer I’d be happy to provide you with what you need,” he responded cheerfully in an attempt to cut the tension in the room.
“Great. Who’s your whistleblower,” the President asked without any pretense.
Shocked at the question, Elias looked around the room at the two attorneys and former President. It was clear from their demeanor that none of them was willing to supply an answer. The Secretary saw Ryers shake his head ever so slightly. That told him all he needed to know in terms of his tact.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s privileged information.”
The other attendees smiled faintly at his response. Rayburn went nuts.
“What the hell has gotten into you people? Why is no one telling me who this person is? What’s the big secret?”
President Rayburn’s administration had been facing the full brunt of the media onslaught as news and insight came fast and hard. During an interview, Elias mentioned, almost in passing, that he had been in contact with foreign agricultural ministers for assistance. The various organizations latched on to the statement and tracked down every one they could find.
“For starters, sir, you are prohibited by law from meddling in the affairs of the judiciary. Second, these are sealed indictments. We couldn’t tell you even if we wanted to,” the Secretary responded candidly.
The President exhaled loudly and took a seat in an upholstered chair between the two couches.
“Surely I can invoke some sort of Executive Privilege,” the POTUS responded exacerbated. When no one offered any additional comments, the man sighed and took a seat.
The weary leader leaned forward in his chair and spoke plainly, “Look guys, I’m getting phone calls every day from Presidents, Ambassadors, dignitaries of all shapes and sizes with offers to aid us given the revelations regarding GMO crops. I’ve got citizens on both sides of the political spectrum here demanding answers. All I’m looking for here is a little assist.”
“That makes sense,” Elias offered. “Most of the western European nations banned GMOs at the turn of the century. All of them are collectively eyeing the United States for export revenue in material for organics, manufacturing, and their expertise in growing in various mediums. The Dutch have long been the standard bearers when it came to
greenhouse cultivation due to their large tulip exports worldwide.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that because, from where I sit, we could use the help. Interestingly, the only nation that hasn’t called and provided some form of assistance is the Brits. Instead of helping in a crisis, their jackass Prime Minister goes on TV and offers this pearl, ‘It appears as if Rome is stumbling’,” Rayburn offered as he mocked the PM’s accent. “What kind of crap is that?” he asked rhetorically.
“On top of that little nugget,” he continued. “Sarkes here tells me he’s receiving phone calls of a different sort. Go ahead and tell him, Tom,” he concluded as he nodded in the former Presidents direction.
“Most of you know that while I was in office,” Sarkes began. “I triggered a series of events that alienated us from several of our allies. Some even derided it as isolationist in nature. Regardless of the political definition, we moved further away from our traditional ally, the British. As a result, some of this business with the English is partly my fault. That being said, I received a call from the French Ambassador to the UN and he had some very disturbing news.
“It would seem that PM Goodspeed has spent a considerable amount of time and effort recruiting the former oil producing nations. If my friends have it figured right, the monarchy appears to be angling for some international finance law reform. These changes, on their face, appear to be designed to pit all of the counties owning our debt against the United States. However, the end game is still unclear, but at the very least they’ve begun testing the waters.”
“Now,” Rayburn said, “As a measure of good faith, I am willing to provide you with a seat at the table and tell you what the PM is up to,” Rayburn offered.
“Well, two of us presumably already have a ‘seat at the table’ given our positions as cabinet members, Jim,” Elias quipped. “I have a different idea, since we seem to be entering the negotiation phase of this conversation.”
“Oh, do tell,” Rayburn answered mockingly.
“In exchange for the name of the whistleblower, how about you tell this collective group who, exactly, is pulling the strings and trying to get Sarkes’ Amendments repealed.”
Jim Rayburn sat back in his chair and contemplated the request. While he waited, Elias unlatched his leather briefcase and removed a file folder. President Rayburn watched as the Secretary laid it on the coffee table for all to see.
“What have you got there?” Sarkes asked.
“Think of it as insurance. Or if you prefer, it’s an instant antidote for BS,” Secretary McInerney answered.
“You want to play political chicken? Is that it?” Rayburn asked.
“Only if you do. Of course, you could always fire me in which case I’ll take my little manila folder and go have a chat with the press corps waiting outside. Your call,” the old Texan stated and then added, “Sir.”
Rayburn looked at the faces of the men in the room and weighed his options. He absolutely hated being in the dark about anything. That damned report was keeping the nation tied up in knots and was preventing him from pursuing any legislative action. What he really needed was Congress to put it in gear and get the hearings going.
“Okay, I’ll bite. The folks on the PAC have a lot of friends that were former members of each House. They have no discernable skills outside of politics and they feel that Sarkes took away their livelihood. Happy?”
“Ah, let’s be clear,” Tom Sarkes started. “All I did was suggest that the states convene a Constitutional Convention when their elected officials wouldn’t lift a finger. By trying to repeal either Amendment, I would say that you are most definitely defying the will of the people.”
“It’s okay, Mr. President. Rayburn is only speaking in half-truths. Aren’t you, Jim?”
“I don’t have time for this crap. With each passing day, the citizenry are growing more impatient. Shelves are bare and the political wrangling and rhetoric is all consuming. The news channels are reporting stories of robbery and armed assaults in their cycles every day. Delivery trucks are being hijacked on the open road as they try to make deliveries. The people are desperate!
“Drivers, en masse, have begun arming themselves. Hoarding and price gouging are on the rise and Homeland tells me that the black markets have already sprouted up in our larger population centers.
“The looting and pillaging has resulted in the mobilization of the National Guard in a number of states. Several cities have come within a hare’s breath of martial law. The last time the nation saw any degree of that was in Boston after the marathon bombings.
“The only thing that has been apparent,” he continued as he heaped disdain on the Secretary. “Is your utter lack of effective planning. The global stock markets are already in chaos thanks to your report, Elias,” Rayburn added with an air of contempt. “If the Brits add insult to injury and try and collect what we owe them–”
The three men desperately wanted the POTUS to finish his sentence. Unfortunately, he realized what he was saying and stopped himself.
Silence permeated the room.
DA Ryers broke the stillness when he asked, “What do you mean half-truths?”
Elias cleared his throat and answered. “What President Rayburn didn’t say was the word ‘Super’ before PAC. The largest donors to his campaign were Tomason Industries, Ruhr Chemical, and NFCC. The same three conglomerates I’m fighting to take down.”
“What! That’s impossible! I reviewed the list personally,” the POTUS exclaimed incredulously.
“Whether you knew or not is immaterial. You’re compromised. They were your biggest contributors and they are the ones pulling your strings. Here,” Elias added, “it took a lot of serious digging, but look for yourself,” and slid the folder toward Rayburn.
While President Rayburn reviewed his campaign contribution list, the old Texan took over the meeting.
“I’m sorry to say,” he began, “but you are correct in your assertion that I underestimated the population’s willingness to continue consuming GMO laden food. The farmers seem to insist on adding fuel to the proverbial fire. They are refusing to take to the fields and plant any crops, let alone GMO crops. A byproduct of that is the reduced availability of stock in the grocery stores. The corn-belt is more than willing to wait to receive their allotment of seeds from the USDA. I’m starting to think we might have to crack open our vault at Svalbard. As a result, and based in no small part to the rioting you mentioned earlier, Mr. President, I am recommending that we re-implement rationing into the nation’s lexicon.”
Elias then turned to DA Ryers. “I have a plan, but I’m going to require the assistance of my whistleblower.”
Chapter 19
June 1st, 2022 – August 30th, 2022
Heather White and her manager climbed aboard the California Zephyr Amtrak train and settled into their cabin. The cross-country trip from Los Angeles to Pittsburgh should only take a day or so. They were unaware of the shadow that had followed.
Javy had been watching Heather’s every move for months. His single minded obsessiveness with retribution against his brother’s killer was all consuming. Fate had finally dealt him a winning hand. Heather was indeed resuming the search for her father. In all of the week’s spent surveilling Josh’s unknown daughter, he had only lost track of her once. As an unavowed addict, the monster within was unable to resist the ever-present temptation of the narcotics he peddled. When several well-known celebrity clients requested a delivery from ‘Dr. Feelgood’ in Vegas, he stuck around and participated in a weeklong bender.
Three fresh new graves dotted the landscape of the Mojave after that trip.
However, Heather’s social media accounts made the process of keeping tabs on her all too easy sometimes, even when bombed out of his gourd.
The actress and her manager could have just as easily flown to Philadelphia and requested that the producers chauffer them to the set in Pittsburgh. She only needed to ask. However, to the benefit of her career, her mother an
d grandparents had instilled a great deal of self-reliance. That, and Jessica had always told her that actresses that continually make diva-like demands don’t keep steady paychecks or get the first read for sought after scripts.
Instead, she wanted to relax during her journey and spend her time making additional inroads in the search for Josh via laptop and smart phone. Javy had been listening and heard the entire agenda.
Once the train arrived in Pittsburgh, the two would rent a car and enjoy the scenery of the open road as they headed ten hours south to Pinehurst, North Carolina to collect her birth certificate.
After returning from Bosnia and the USO tour, Jessica had been spirited away to her childhood home in a small town near the well-known golf resort community. Jessica’s mother, or Nana as she was known to Heather, had grown up there and raised Jessica while her husband, Brent, worked his way up the chain of command in the Marine Corps.
For the first month after returning, Jessica stayed in her room crying and experiencing extremely volatile mood swings. When her mother took her to the doctor, they discovered she was pregnant with Heather. A few months into the pregnancy, her father had entered her bedroom and broke the news. Josh had died during a rescue attempt. At the time, that was the truth. Sometime thereafter, the intel was corrected.
Brent had flown directly to D.C. and gone to Walter Reed himself. He was briefed on Josh’s ordeal and made the decision to spare Jessica the years of painful recovery. Josh was not going to be coming home the same man that she remembered.
A decade later, after several bourbons and a woman’s intuition, Heather’s grandmother had pressed her husband for the truth she knew he was hiding. Brent drunkenly confided in his wife that the after action report had initially been wrong. Josh had been severely wounded, but survived. By this time though, Jessica had moved on, her career had taken off, and Heather was approaching her tenth birthday. They decided to leave well enough alone.
According to the itinerary Javy had written down from their conversation, once Heather and Anna were done collecting her birth certificate, the pair would then head back to Pittsburgh via Columbus to see if a death record existed.
When Rome Stumbles Page 24
