SILVER-2 (NORRIS FILES)

by Marshall Huffman

  "Williams I want you stationed at gate C-22. That's at the end of the building. You're there just in case he recognizes PJ and makes a run for it. We want this guy alive. Don't shoot him. We need him for information. We have no probable cause to use armed force.”

  "How will I know if it's the right guy?"

  "We will let you know by radio. He is six feet, two inches and has blonde hair. It may be sort of white by now. If in doubt, stop him. If we get the wrong guy we can let the lawyers sort it out later. We have to get this guy."

  Sean placed a diagram of the airport on a makeshift easel. He read off the agents names and placed them in pairs at the various exits. He assigned drivers and backup agents as well.

  "Once I have made him, I will let you know by radio. We know he is going to go the Cayman Airlines gate. We will take him down there. The normal security people have been alerted and know what's going on so it should all go smoothly, with a little luck," PJ told them.

  "People, that's it. We have less than an hour before the flight arrives. I want you all to take your places now. Try to blend in with the rest of the crowd. Don't stand around looking like agents."

  They left the hanger and each team went to their assigned location. The driver took up his position. PJ bought a magazine so that he wouldn't stand out any more than necessary. He took up his station at gate C-12 after leaving Sean at the end of the corridor. Everything was in place. The number of people at the gate increased as the time for the planes arrival grew closer.

  "Delta Flight 769 from Washington D.C. is now arriving at gate C-12," the voice said over the speaker system.

  PJ was positioned to see the passengers disembarking. Sean was sure that if it was the right Tolbert, he would be one of the last to get off. The crowd thinned as the passenger flow slowed to a trickle. Within minutes, PJ was the only one left standing around.

  He quickly crossed over to the gate on the opposite side of the terminal and stood with the passengers waiting to check in with the agent. Nothing happened. No one else came off the plane. Had he missed him? Was he in disguise? Maybe it wasn't even Zane. Shit. He decided to cross back over and check out the plane.

  Just as he was starting to cross, a tall white haired man appeared and looked around. JP quickly turned and started talking to the persons standing next to him. When he looked back Tolbert was gone. It was Zane Tolbert alright. He frantically checked down the corridor and saw a white head moving with the crowd. He hurried to catch up without attracting attention.

  "On the move," he said into the lapel mic, "It's him. Everyone get ready. Coming your way Sean."

  By the time Tolbert reached the main terminal, PJ was within yards of him. Sean fell in beside him.

  "That him?"

  "Yep. It's Zane alright.”

  Tolbert stopped at a vendor and bought a hot pretzel and a soft drink. He casually looked around, searching for anything that seemed out of place. He went over to an empty seat and sat down and finished eating. He continually scanned the crowd. Finally he stood up and threw his trash away. He strolled to the men's room and went inside.

  PJ and Sean remained at the small bar watching in the mirror. They did not follow in case Zane was just checking for a tail.

  That is exactly what he was doing. Zane chose a stall and stayed in side for the better part of twenty minutes. Satisfied that no one was following, he washed his hands and left. He checked the area before starting towards the Cayman Airlines gate.

  PJ and Sean followed further back.

  As they approached the metal detector, PJ eased up behind Tolbert and said, “Well, well. If it isn't the famous Zane Tolbert. Nice to see you again."

  Zane froze. He didn't turn around or even flinch.

  "You guessed it. We have your ass covered seven ways for Sunday. Don't move and no one gets hurt. Now, I want you to place the bag on the floor. Slowly. Very slowly."

  Zane did as he was told.

  "Very good. Now put your hands on you head. You know the drill."

  Again, he did as told. Sean stepped over and placed a handcuff around one wrist and lowered his hands behind his back. He then finished handcuffing Zane.

  "Is this the time to say what's this all about?"

  "Very cute. Let’s go Tolbert. We have a lot to talk about."

  "An attorney is out of the question I suppose?"

  PJ didn't even bother to answer but headed him towards the terminal.

  "Driver, bring the car around,” Sean said in the microphone.

  They reached the main entrance and got into the waiting car without incident. Little was said in the car as they headed to the F.B.I. building. When they reached the agency the area director was on hand. PJ had a short conversation with him in private. They were shown to the lower level where a cell was waiting for Zane.

  What's the plan?" Sean asked after they had placed Zane in the room and closed the door.

  "I've talked to the director. We will not be bothered down here. As a matter of fact, we aren't even here. Never have been. Look Sean, this could get rough. You're F.B.I and, well, we do things a little differently. We have the latitude to bend the laws some. In fact, a lot. If you don't like what's going on, you feel free to bail out. No hard feelings. I'll understand your position."

  "What in the hell to you intend to do, kill him?" Sean asked with concern.

  "Maybe. Just short of that if necessary. Sean, make no mistake about it, I will get him to talk. No matter what it takes."

  "Look, you do what you think is necessary, I'll leave if I think it's getting out of hand. I understand what you may have to do, but that doesn't mean I have to approve or participate."

  "Fair enough. Now shall we talk to our famous guest?" PJ said opening the door to the cell.

  Zane was seated behind a small table. His hands were still cuffed behind his back.

  "Hello Zane. I'm from OPS3. No need to introduce yourself, I know a great deal about you already. What I don't know, you are going to tell me, isn't that so?"

  Zane just looked at him with an amused expression.

  "Ah, I can see by your look, an attitude adjustment may be necessary. I sure hope not. I hate that sort of thing. Look Zane, you need to get the picture. I have you at long last. I don't know you very well but I know of you. What I do know, I don't like very much. Don't expect to be treated like the average criminal. In this room you have no rights. I am the only right you’re entitled too. No lawyer is going to walk through that door and bail your ass out. I can and will, do what I want to you. You already know at some point you're going to tell me what I want. Do us both a favor and let me keep this civilized."

  "Screw you Mr. OPS3," Zane said evenly.

  "Be reasonable Zane," Sean said, "We know who you are and what you have done in the past. We know that you’re working for Wells again and whenever the two of you get together it means trouble. We know you’re planning to assassinate again. We know the cities you have been to. Don't be a fool Zane. Tell him what he wants to know."

  "Up yours you too pal,” Zane said.

  Without warning PJ smashed his fist into the side of Zane's face, knocking him off the chair and onto the floor. He immediately kicked him in the ribs.

  "I ain't dicking around here Zane," he said picking him up and slamming him in the chair.

  "Maybe we need to start slower. Tell us what cities you visited in say, the last three weeks," PJ said.

  Nothing. Zane just sat and stared at him.

  "We know you were in Indianapolis, Louisville and Phoenix. What am I forgetting?"

  He just sat there.

  PJ smashed him straight in the nose, knocking him over backwards. His headed bounced off the floor. PJ kicked him in the side viciously. PJ bend down and whispered in Zane's ear.

  "You jerk. You belong to me, on one is going to save your sorry ass. I will kill you Zane. I have nothing to lose."

  "Is he out?" Sean asked.

  "Na. He is faking it. Hell, can't say that I blame him. He kn
ows this is just the warm up. He's just resting up for the main event. Say, this would be a good time for you to go get us a nice Diet Coke. Bring one for my friend here. Take your time though," PJ said.

  Sean turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  PJ pulled Zane back into the chair. Blood ran down his nose. His upper lip was split open as well.

  "It's you and me buddy. Now, you are going to tell me what I want, or else I'll quit being so nice.

  "If you want to charge me with something, go ahead. You have nothing," Zane spit out.

  PJ grabbed him by his hair and smashed his face into the table top. Blood splatter everywhere. He shoved his face harder into the table.

  "Give it up Zane. I have unlimited energy, you on the other hand, have limited blood."

  He quickly pulled Zane's head up and shoved it into the table again, breaking his nose. Blood gushed out of nose and mouth. His teeth had been knocked loose.

  "I shit you not Zane. I will kill your dumb ass. Now, I'm tired of being polite. If you don't start telling me what I want to know I'm going to take my gun out and shoot your knee cap off. After that, your elbow. And on and on until you talk, or I run out of bullets. Or else you die. The gun has thirteen shots, my guess is that you will either talk or die, before I run out. Want to see?"

  Zane looked at him. Blood continued to flow freely. PJ could see the hate in his eyes.

  “What do you want to know?" he mumbled.

  "Why are you back in the States?"

  "Scouting cities."

  "For Harmon Wells?"

  "Yes."

  "Where is he?"

  "I don't have any idea. I passed the reports over to an intermediary. I don't know, nor did I have a need to know."

  "Where did you meet the intermediary?"

  "Fairfax, Virginia, Holiday Inn."

  "Shit. I knew he was close. How do you contact him?"

  "I call a number; he sets the time and place."

  "Don't be stupid. Give me the number."

  "I will, but he will be long gone. He was leaving as soon as he received the information."

  "Just give it to me, dipstick."

  "352-5627"

  "202 area code?"

  "Sure."

  "What cities?"

  "Chicago, Indianapolis, Louisville, Cincinnati, Kansas City and Phoenix."

  Zane knew it was close enough to the truth that he would have to consider it as true.

  "Don't screw with me Zane. You didn't have time for all of those. You were never in Chicago, that much we know for sure."

  "I didn't actually have to go. I was supposed to, but as it turned out, it wasn't necessary."

  PJ pulled out his gun and chambered a round. He placed it on Zane's knee cap, "Ya know, I've always wanted to see if someone could stand up to this much pain. Let's find out, shall we?"

  "Look, I didn't go to Chicago. I didn't have to go to Kansas City either. I told you I got all I needed in the other cities."

  "Assassination locations," PJ said as a fact.

  "Yes."

  "Who? Who is the target?"

  "I don't know. I swear. I was just the recon man this time. I don't know who it is. I didn't want to know."

  "The President?"

  "I don't know."

  PJ placed the gun on his knees and pushed the barrel against it hard.

  "You’re probably right. I would guess the President," Zane said quickly.

  "Why? So I won't shoot your damn knee cap off?"

  "No. Because of the money. I was to get a half a million for the reports," Zane lied.

  "Christ. Half a million? You ain't wrong. For that kind of money it has to be him."

  "What city?"

  "I don't follow? What city, what?"

  "Don't start with that shit. What city did you finally select?"

  "No, no. It wasn't like that. I was given a list of cities. I was to check out each one and make a report. I didn't make a recommendation. I just scouted out the cities. I turned it over and the shooter was to come up with his own selection. Honest."

  "What city?"

  "What? Can't you hear? I didn't make the selection."

  PJ whipped his gun up side of Zane's head. Zane flew out of the chair and crashed to the floor. PJ didn't say a thing. He got up and went into the hallway. Sean was standing there with a Diet Coke. He handed it to PJ.

  "So?"

  "Making some progress. He is trying to tell just enough truth, mixed with lies, to keep me off balance. I may have to take his knee cap off if he doesn't come clean soon."

  "You can't do that," Sean protested.

  "The hell I can't," he said and went back into the cell. Zane was still on the floor. PJ picked him up once again.

  "What city?"

  "You can kill me, but I can't tell you what I don't know."

  "Let me ask you a different way. What city would you pick if you were the shooter?"

  Zane didn't answer for a few seconds.

  “Phoenix I think."

  "Why?"

  "It's a golf thing. The course is loaded with good sites. I was like a kid in a candy store. Every place I went, I found another location. No way could the Secret Service cover all the places available."

  "Why there over say, Bloomington or Evansville?"

  "Where? Hell, I haven't ever even heard of those places. Honest. I don't even know what state they are in," Zane said.

  PJ realized that while they had some of the same cities, they must be working from a slightly different list.

  "Then why not Cincinnati or Indianapolis?"

  "Not Indianapolis. The Indy 500 is just like the Super Bowl. Too many people, too many cops and too confined. Cincinnati was good. Lots of easy places to shoot from."

  "And Louisville?"

  "Yes. That's not so bad either. Not as good as Cincinnati but not bad."

  What about the shooter?"

  "I don't know anything about him. That's Wells department. Never met him, never talked to him."

  "And the weapon. Don't lie to me Zane. You had to know what it could do to pick locations."

  "I never saw it. Wells said it was something new. Shot a laser beam or some damn thing. Said I could go out as far as 9,000 feet. Bullshit. Who can hit anything from that distance?"

  PJ ignored the question.

  "When is this supposed to take place?"

  "I don't know. All I know is that it has to be finished before June 1st."

  "Why? What happens June 1st?"

  "Hell if I know. All I know is that Wells mentioned that he was under a time line that could not extend past then. He didn't say, and I didn't ask."

  "Why did they ice Judge Brooks?"

  "Who? I don't know anything about a Judge Brooks."

  "Don't start this shit again. What is it with you? You need more pain to remind you of what's going on here? I'll be glad to oblige if that's what you want."

  "Look, I'm telling you. I don't know anything about this Judge guy. Wells said that the shooter needed to test the weapon, but that's all I know. It didn't affect my part. I just gathered the information. You have to be smart enough to know how it works. Need to know. I didn’t need to know."

  "And got paid a cool half a million dollars for it."

  "It isn't just for money. Don't you understand that? Wells isn't in this for money. It's about what's going on around you. Are you blind? Can't you see what this country is coming to?"

  "Now the, 'I'm a patriot' commercial,” PJ said sarcastically.

  "You can joke, but it's true. You don't look too dumb. You tell me. How is it that they hold a Black Miss America contest but you can't hold a White Miss America? Why do they allow a Business Woman's Association to exist but not a Business Man's Association. You can't

  discriminate against a Gay or Lesbian, but you sure can against a white male Christian. You can damn sure put up a billboard saying, 'Keep Business In The Black, support the Black Business Coalition. If I substituted the word white, I w
ould be called a bigot. If I'm anything but a white male, I'm being oppressed. How sad. So it's okay to screw the white guy? Is that what you think this country is all about? What is equal about that? Either make it right for everyone, including whites. It's time for people to stand up and say enough of the bullshit excuses. It was his fault. It was my parents fault. I'm black. I'm a woman trying to be a man. I'm a man longing to be a woman. It's everyone's fault but mine. Makes me want to puke."

  PJ just looked at him. What the hell was he talking about? Had he been hit too hard?

  "Sure I'm crazy. I know what you think. But you mark my words; this shit has got to stop. At some point people will get tired of hearing about being politically correct. Faggots will be faggots and that will be that. You can come up with fancy names, but it doesn't change what they are. When the time come for judgment, no fancy name, no fancy language, will save their sorry ass."

  "You are a raving lunatic, Zane. What in the hell gets into people like you? Even if everything you said were true, do you really think that justifies killing the President of The United States? Or anyone else for that matter? You're crazy. Worse, you’re dangerous and crazy."

  "You either stand up and fight for what you believe or you get run over."

  "You’re a frickin' nut case."

  "And you need to open your eyes and look at what is happening. Where are our morals today? Do you even have any left? How are we so different? You were willing to kill me for answers. You would kill for what you believed in, so would I. Where is the difference?"

  "Up yours Zane. Who supplied the list of cities? I want the name."

  "That was Wells thing. I know he has a connection high up, but I don't have a name. Kill me if you must but it won't change a thing. I don't know.”

  "In the administration? When you say 'high up', is that what you mean?"

  "I honestly don't know but he, or she, was high enough to know the travel plans."

  "Damn it to hell."

  "Oh, you’re going to go to hell alright if you keep supporting the current administration. We're no different, you and I. You do what you think you have to do and we'll do what we have to do. Do you know they intend to replace the VP when he suddenly gets sick? With his wife? His wife. And that’s okay with you? Is your head so far up your ass you can’t see what that means?"