WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1)

by Lavina Giamusso

  “And where was he working primarily?”

  “In West Africa!”

  “Good God!”

  “Yes! You said it. Not only do we have proof that Sadir was interfering in Mossad’s business, but we now have evidence of his direct involvement in the CIA’s operations in West Africa. Agent Gilford has a tape recording of an interview he and Prince Khalid had with Sadir in Vancouver.”

  Marcel’s mouth dropped. “Why didn’t the prince let us have this information before the trial, do you think?”

  “I can think of only one reason; protecting Samuel and Talya. He knew that if anyone interested in less than their well-being would get hold of that info, they would be in danger no matter where they were.”

  “And since they’re under protective custody now, so to speak, he felt free to release this information, is that it?”

  Billycan looked out the window and realized that they were going in the opposite direction to where he intended to go. “Carl, I’m sorry, but I’d like you to drive us to Mr. Van Dams’s office...”

  “No problem, sir,” Carl replied. “We should be there in ten minutes, given the traffic.”

  “That’s alright, no need to rush. We’re not due in court until morning now.”

  Carl chortled and returned his eyes from the rear-view mirror to the road.

  Billycan returned to looking out the car window. “Glenda was right when she said these guys play their cards close to their chests.” He paused. “By the way, did Glenda make her flight back to Miami?”

  “Yes she did, and she phoned saying she was going to look into the second trawler’s incident right away and if she found out anything before Gilford is on the stand, she’ll inform us straight away.”

  Billycan nodded.

  “And why are we going to see Van Dams now?” Marcel asked. “We haven’t been notified that they’ve got Verduccio yet.”

  “Because we’ve got to find out if Sadir had any connection whatsoever with the FBI. I have no doubt of it now, but I want Van Dams to confirm it, even if I have to put him on the stand to do it.”

  “Does Van Dams know we’re coming?”

  “No, Marcel, he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to be prepared for this meeting. I want to look in his face and see for myself if he’s lying.”

  “Lying about what?” Marcel looked surprised.

  “Come on, Marcel. Do you really think the man was ignorant of the fact that Sadir was working primarily in West Africa or that he had knowledge of the plot to assassinate Prince Abdullah while making him the scapegoat for the CIA’s failed operation? And if you recall, Van Dams didn’t provide us with all the communications Agent Peterson intercepted between Sadir and Lypsick. What’s more—a question that’s been nagging at me ever since we introduced the two IM communications we have on file—why on earth didn’t Van Dams arrest Lypsick when he learned of the plot between him and Sadir?”

  Marcel shook his head. “You’re right, and I think he must have known about the West African operation, but all the same, I don’t think he was aware that Sadir had intercepted messages or even meddled in Mossad’s affairs before Agent Peterson showed him the two damning messages.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he didn’t arrest Lypsick when he had the chance.” Billycan paused. “And with these cagy characters I prefer to have confirmation of anything I may advance in court before I do. In fact, he should have told us about Sadir’s functions before I heard it from one of our witnesses.”

  When Marcel and Billycan arrived at their destination, they saw Van Dams come out of the building as they were about to enter it. A shot rang out and Van Dams fell to the ground in a heap.

  “Call 9.1.1., NOW!” Billycan shouted to Marcel. He was already dialling. “Hang in there, Dietrich. Hang in there, my friend,” the US Attorney said to the dying man.

  “Lyp... sick...” was Van Dams’s last word.

  Billycan pressed his hand to the bleeding chest for a few seconds until he felt the heart stop beating.

  The sirens blared, announcing the arrival of police and ambulance fracturing the silence that surrounded the front of the large building—a solitary centurion towering over the body of one of its occupants. The few people that rushed to assist the injured fellow, and Billycan in turn, were possibly agents who alerted their colleagues and friends inside. It was not until afterward that the US Attorney realized any one of these men and women could have been the shooter.

  “Get me out of here,” Billycan blurted, getting up, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping Van Dams’s blood off his hands. He grabbed hold of Marcel’s arm for support.

  “Yes, sir. Carl is pulling out of the garage right now... He’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Okay…” Billycan’s face paled. He felt unwell. He wanted to sit down.

  Within minutes, the police had the crime scene cordoned off and the EMTs were attending to the U.S. Attorney.

  “My name is Frank,” the young man said to Billycan as he helped him to sit down on the back seat of the U.S.D.A.’s vehicle. “You’ve suffered a shock, and I think it’d be a good idea if we took you to the hospital and have a look at you.”

  Billycan abhorred hospitals. “No, absolutely not.” He pulled his legs from the curb and settled in the seat. “I may have suffered a shock but I am not going to no hospital. I’m going home!” He looked up at Marcel. “We’ll drive you home, too; it’s on the way.” Then he shot a glance to Carl. “Let’s go,” he told him and slammed the car door in the EMT’s face.

  As the car drove away, the officer, who was standing by the body, asked his colleague, “Do you know who that was?”

  “No idea. Why didn’t you stop him? He witnessed the incident.”

  “And he’ll make a very good witness, too,” he replied, still looking after the car going through the intersection.

  “What you mean?”

  “That was the US Attorney himself—Mr. Lucien Billycan!”

  “I’d never have recognized him. You sure it was him?”

  “As sure as I’m talking to you.” He looked back at his partner. “Anyway, let’s see what we can do about getting some info before the detectives arrive...”

  Chapter 80

  “You don’t have to stay and babysit me,” Billycan protested once again as Marcel was refusing to leave the US Attorney until Darlene arrived. He had called and asked her to come to Billycan’s house without giving her much of an explanation.

  “I know that…, but I’ll stay until Darlene gets here,” Marcel replied.

  “You miserable romantic!” Billycan blurted as he poured a stiff scotch for the two of them. “Do you really think I want a woman’s company now?”

  “You may not want to, sir, but I think you will appreciate it once you relax.”

  Billycan laughed. “And I’ll have to take her out for dinner, I suppose”

  “Oh no, you don’t! As a matter of fact, I should think that bullet was not meant for Van Dams but for you.”

  Billycan put the two glasses on the coffee table before he answered, “Maybe...” He sat down. “Yet, if you think of everything we’ve heard thus far, you have to conclude that Van Dams was the linchpin that moved the wheels in this affair.” Marcel watched the U.S. Attorney a circumspect look on his face. “Yes, Marcel. Look…, Van Dams knew of Sadir’s involvement in West Africa. He had access to these communications that our defendant had with Mossad and with Assor. He was aware at least of Lypsick’s movements if not of his menacing Sadir’s family, and last he was well informed of the FBI’s participation into fabricating evidence to inculpate Ms Kartz.”

  Marcel continued staring. The picture became clear in his mind. “Would you then conclude Van Dams was the ‘Puppeteer’?”

  “No, Marcel, but he was sure near the top of the chain.”

  Marcel took a swig of his drink. Billycan’s conclusion made sense, but he was still worried. “Even if that’s true, sir,
wouldn’t you say these guys have you in their sights? They would know that you’ve deduced the truth after Khalid’s testimony this afternoon.”

  “But I’m not going into hiding, if that’s what you’ve got in mind. I’ll be in court in the morning as usual and I won’t do these assassins their bidding under any circumstances.”

  “Even if it kills you?”

  Billycan took a sip of scotch and kept the glass in the one hand. “The next bullet won’t hit me. I promise you. That would be too obvious a move after this man on the court steps told me to watch my back and Van Dams’s shooting. I tell you; whoever it is would be a fool to try it.”

  Marcel was replaying the incident in his mind, drinking his scotch concertedly. “Did Van Dams say anything before he died?”

  “Huh-huh; he said just one word, ‘Lypsick’, but that will remain between you and me for now, until I can figure out what he meant.”

  “Do you think he meant Lypsick fired the shot?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he meant that they found the guy; but we’ll find that out soon enough.”

  They heard the doorbell. Marcel went to the front door and after looking through the peephole, opened it wide. “Ms Stovall, good evening,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake. “Good of you to come.”

  Darlene took Marcel’s hand and dragged him close to her with it. “Why didn’t you say anything? I heard the whole thing on the radio…”

  “Please come in. We’re in the study.” Marcel didn’t want to answer. He pulled his hand away and backed up from the attorney. He knew Billycan would be standing behind him any minute now. And he was.

  “Darlene! Thank you for joining us, but I think Marcel was a bit pre-emptive in his calling you to my side...” Billycan’s jocularity didn’t ring true.

  “Pre-emptive? Pre-emptive, you say? I should say it was the right thing to do. You look a mess!” She was right. His shirt was undone at the collar. His necktie hung down his chest and with his hair tousled, Billycan looked a sorry sight indeed.

  She approached him. “And why didn’t you call me yourself, you selfish bastard?” She took the glass away from him. “You almost got shot, and you want to dismiss me like a second-rate housekeeper. Where is she anyway?”

  “If you’re talking about Melinda, she won’t be back until morning now…, why?”

  Marcel observed the bantering with pleasure. It was time for him to leave. “Sir, I’ll be here at 8:00…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Marcel... Are you leaving now?” Approval laced the question. “Okay…, but you don’t have to come here in the morning. I’ll be fine. Carl will drive me as usual.”

  “Okay then... I’ll see you in court,” Marcel said. “Ms Stovall—a pleasure as always.”

  Chapter 81

  The news of Van Dams’s sudden death spread over all forms of media within minutes of the shooting. Within an hour, the CIA was on “lock-down alert” and all concerned parties were advised to stay put for at least twelve hours.

  When Khalid heard the news, he took no time to make his way down to the hotel’s garage. He wanted to get to the ambassador’s house before anyone had an opportunity to tell Talya and Samuel what had happened. He found Mark already in his car, waiting for him. The backdoor was open.

  “Where’s Uncle Abdullah?” Mark asked. “He should come as well.”

  “He’s fine.” Khalid climbed in the back seat. “He’s taken a cab to the ambassador’s house already—less obvious.”

  “Good.” Mark then told the driver where they wanted to go. He turned to Khalid. “Who do you think fired the shot?”

  “I thought you could tell me,” Khalid replied.

  “I’d say Lypsick did, but I’m not sure. Lypsick would have shot the man in the head, not in the chest. That was a sloppy job, if you ask me.”

  “Do you think the bullet was meant for someone else?”

  “I don’t know yet, but if they tailed Billycan, maybe it was meant for him.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think so.”

  Mark looked at Khalid, a question mark on his face. “What makes you say that?”

  “The person who shot Van Dams must have been in court this afternoon and when he heard what I said about Sadir being a liaison officer in West Africa…”

  Mark’s questioning expression receded into a stunned one. “You mean you told them about the meeting with Sadir in Vancouver and you contacting the CIA Director—why?”

  “I had to do it, Mark. I didn’t want to let anyone know and that, until I was on the stand. The CIA Director himself asked me to keep the information quiet—for obvious reasons—and he was right. His deputy is now dead because of my divulging that someone was interfering with their operation before it fell apart.”

  “So…, we’re back at the beginning, aren’t we?”

  Khalid nodded. “Yes, Mark, we are. All of us have tripped one way or another on information regarding the CIA and Mossad’s operation, and now someone is definitely trying to shut our collective mouths.”

  “But that means whoever it is, is after a dozen people. He won’t make it.”

  “Maybe not, Mark, but he’ll surely try. I have no doubt of it.”

  “But why? What purpose would that serve? I would think he would be better to make himself very scarce for a while, at least until the trial is over.”

  “But, as you’ve said, the shooting was sloppy. Perhaps we’re dealing with an enraged killer. I really don’t know, Mark.”

  Chapter 82

  If there was ever a busy night for the police force, the FBI and the CIA in the District of Columbia, this was it. Soon they determined that a sniper shot Van Dams from behind one of the trees that surrounded the CIA’s compound. The investigation promised to drag on for days, if not weeks, and Billycan had no intention to let the incident slow down his ferreting information out of Verduccio. The Florida police, with the FBI’s assistance apprehended the man and brought him back to D.C. within hours of Van Dams’s shooting taking place.

  Billycan walked into the visitors’ room of the detaining centre at 6:00AM the next morning. The two officers who had participated in the investigation of the Marianne incident were already there. The older of the two detectives made the introduction. “I’m Jim Laslo, sir, and this is Craig Fisk.”

  “Lucien Billycan.” The US Attorney shook hands with the officers. “Glad to see you in D.C., men. Let’s sit down for a minute before the witness is brought in. I’m not going to waste your time with lengthy explanations.” Sitting opposite each other, the US Attorney brought two folders out of his briefcase and put them on the table. “All I want from this Verduccio is the name of the person or persons who assigned him to the clean-up operation after the Marianne incident. Then we’ll go over the shooting incident that occurred the next day.” The two men looked at each other baffled. “I gather no one has explained anything about this to you two.”

  “No, sir,” Laslo said, “we’ve only been involved with the Marianne Case.” He looked at his partner sitting beside him. “We know nothing about another shooting, sir.”

  “Okay, let me give you a quick run-down of what happened the next day.”

  In a few minutes, the officers knew as much as Billycan did about Mark being shot at the time Aziz, Talya and he were bringing back the launch to the boat rental shack at the Jacksonville marina.

  “You two were supposed to go and interview the boat rentals’ owner, but given the circumstances, the Director of the CIA decided to bring Verduccio to D.C. immediately at my request.” Billycan then waved to the guard at the door for him to bring the witness to the room.

  Verduccio came in, sat down, facing Billycan, and looked up at the two officers who had retreated to the back of the room. His hooked nose, ashen face, and sunk-in eyes wouldn’t inspire anyone’s confidence talking to him. Again, Billycan had no time to waste with physiological analysis of this witness.

  “Agent Verduccio, I’ll come to the point. You were assigned on or
about June of last year to a clean-up operation that occurred on and near a disused pier of the Jackson River in Florida, is that correct?”

  Verduccio slid his lanky frame down in the chair and put his hands in his lap. He looked at the U.S. Attorney from over his brow. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Who gave you the order to attend to the clean-up in question?”

  “Special Agent Fillmore did.”

  “And did Agent Fillmore give you any specific instructions regarding the clean-up and how you should handle the reporting afterwards?”

  “Nothing specific, no. He said that I was to accompany the bodies to the morgue and make sure we got all evidences packed and tagged properly for the lab.”

  “Did you return to the morgue once the M.E. had performed his autopsy of the victims?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What was the purpose of that second visit?”

  “Special Agent Fillmore asked me to get two copies of the autopsy report and bring them back to the office.”

  “Was that usual or according to FBI procedures?”

  “Not to my knowledge, no, but I had never been involved in a similar operation before, so I didn’t think too much about it.”

  “Okay, and then when you brought the reports to Agent Fillmore, what happened next?”

  “Nothing. I mean nothing happened for months after that.”

  “But something did happen to have you suspended from your functions at the Bureau, what was that?”

  “It was when Fillmore got a call from somebody—I don’t know who—saying that the knife that killed one of the CIA men had been recovered and that I had tried to cover up the fact that Agent Nadir had not been killed with a knife.”

  “So you were accused of falsifying the M.E. report, is that it?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Fillmore said.”

  “Did you do anything about it?”

  “Yeah. I went to see Dr. Helldish and asked him for a copy of the autopsy he’d done on the two men and brought the report to Officer Laslo here.” Verduccio pointed to him. “He wasn’t at his desk when I got to the precinct, so I put the file with another that was tagged with the Marianne’s name on it. I figured these guys would find it and prove that I didn’t fudge the report.”