David followed Mahli’s activities closely, reading every article in the papers and newsmagazines and watching intently each broadcast of his movements. Watching a NewsHour with Jim Lehrer special report on PBS about the Somali’s visit, David wondered how such an innocuous-appearing man could draw as much attention as Mahli did. David knew that fact made Mahli all the more dangerous.
Now he was walking the neatly kept paths of Disneyland, keeping an eye on a mildly retarded young man, and watching the closest person he had to a best friend strolling with a man responsible for the killing of a Barringston doctor, among others. Keeping them company was none other than the secretary of state. Around them were three Secret Service agents charged with the protection of Mahli and Secretary Douglas DeWitt. David knew that there were at least three other agents spaced throughout the crowd. And taping it all was the woman with whom David had fallen in love.
The whole outing had been tense from the beginning. Secretary DeWitt had briefed A.J. on Mahli’s plan for food distribution in Somalia. A.J., who quickly recognized the self-serving nature of the scheme, seethed with barely contained anger. The animosity A.J. felt for the killer combined with the revelation of Mahli’s plan had so angered the head of Barringston Relief that he very nearly exploded in indignation. David could only admire A.J.’s resolve to maintain his composure in front of DeWitt, who rattled on without noticing the tension in A.J.’s jaw or his clenched fists. But David knew A.J. too well not to recognize a burning furnace of bitter rage welling up in him.
A.J.’s anger did not diminish upon their arrival at Disneyland. The two-hour drive from San Diego was made in near silence while A.J. stared out the window of the gray limousine in which David, A.J., Kristen, and Timmy were riding. DeWitt had taken the leased air shuttle provided by the White House to Anaheim. Only Timmy was inclined to speech and asked question after question about rides and candy and Mickey Mouse. David had done his best to keep Timmy occupied so that he wouldn’t bother A.J., but it proved an almost overwhelming task. The young man’s uncontainable ebullience was understandable. But A.J. never lost his temper with Timmy. Instead, he smiled, reached across the limo’s spacious back quarters, and squeezed Timmy’s hand.
“You’re my buddy, aren’t you?” A.J. asked.
“Sure am,” Timmy replied.
A.J. grinned for a moment and then returned his gaze to the passing scenery. Only Timmy could not see the anguished soul of the head of Barringston Relief.
David had been able to distract Timmy with a Nintendo Game Boy. “Are you going to be okay with all this?” David asked.
“I’ll be fine,” A.J. replied. “I want it over with, that’s all.”
“Do you think that Mahli will get what he asks for?”
A.J. looked at David for a long moment then shook his head slowly. He had the look of a man with a secret he wanted to tell but couldn’t. “No,” was his simple reply.
A.J.’s disposition was not improved by Mahli’s arrival. His long black limousine, driven by a Secret Service agent, had pulled up forty minutes late to one of the many back gates leading to the Magic Kingdom. Mahli exited the vehicle with two men whom he introduced as his personal security guards. He did not give names. “It’s not that I don’t trust your Secret Service,” he had said to DeWitt, “but one can’t be too careful. After all, someone might wish to harm me as they did my dear brother.” Mahli stared at A.J. when he made the comment. A.J. did not respond.
The two men eyed each other intently. They had never met before, but each knew the other at a deep level, a level that only bitter enemies can reach. David wondered what would happen if Mahli had offered his hand to A.J. Fortunately, he did not. Seeing the two men standing in close proximity was almost comical: A.J.’s tall muscular frame and dark hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail contrasted sharply with Mahli’s short, paunchy body and his graying head. The ultimate Mutt and Jeff, David thought.
The rest of the morning and afternoon had been taken up with a guided tour by one of Disneyland’s senior guides. Lunch was served in the private dining area next to the Blue Bayou, known as Club 33.
David, fearing that Timmy might prove a disruption during lunch, took him to eat tacos at one of the many small restaurants spaced throughout the park. Timmy was filled with the excitement of the day and inhaled his food quickly. “I wanna ride something,” he said eagerly.
“I’m still eating, Timmy,” David answered. “I can’t eat as fast as you.”
“Oh,” Timmy dropped his head in disappointment for a moment, then began to bounce impatiently in his seat.
“Okay, Timmy, okay. I can’t have you exploding here in Disneyland. Why don’t you walk … listen to me now … walk over to the Dumbo ride and get in line. Be polite and wait your turn. The line isn’t long, so you should get to the ride soon. I’ll finish eating and then join you.”
“Don’t you wanna ride Dumbo?” Timmy asked.
“I think I’ll sit here and rest for a little while. You’re hard to keep up with, you know. I can see you from here. I promise to watch you on the ride. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Timmy left David at the outdoor table and quickly walked to the short line waiting to ride Dumbo. David shook his head wearily, took a sip of soda, and sighed.
“I’ll bet he’s a handful,” a voice said behind him. “Seems like a real special kid.”
“He is,” David said, turning to see the speaker. It was Woody Summers of the FBI and Stephanie Cooper of the CIA. Both were dressed casually. Woody wore a blue-and-white windbreaker. “What are you doing here?”
The federal agents walked to the other side of the table and sat down. “A little interagency cooperation, that’s all,” Woody said. “Unofficially, we are part of the Secret Service team.”
“I didn’t know you were trained for such things,” David said coolly.
“It’s a complex world, Dr. O’Neal. The FBI, DEA, ATF, and local police often work together. We’re protective of our own turf, but we’re all on the same team.”
“Why do I doubt you’re here to protect DeWitt?” David asked.
“We’re not. We’re here to watch Mr. Barringston and Mahli. I, we,” he said nodding at Stephanie, “still believe your boss is our man.”
“And I still believe he’s innocent.” David turned to Stephanie. “I thought the CIA’s charter prevented you from working cases in the United States.”
Stephanie shrugged. “I’m an interagency observer.”
“I see,” David said. “Why are you sitting at my table? Aren’t you afraid I’ll alert A.J.?”
“You haven’t alerted him before; I doubt you will now,” Woody answered
“How can you be so sure?”
“Let’s stop the charade, Dr. O’Neal. You’re a man of principle. I think you’ve been fooled by a very complex man. Your loyalty is admirable, but we are loyal too. We’re loyal to the laws of the land, and those laws have been broken. I believe you know that to be true. You also know that we’re just doing our job—an important job. You have too much integrity to alert Mr. Barringston, because you know, deep down, that there’s a good chance we’re right.”
“Why show yourselves to me?”
“You would have spotted us sooner or later, Dr. O’Neal. We thought it best to be up-front with you.”
David turned toward the Dumbo ride. Timmy had made it through the line and was riding in the gray fiberglass-and-plastic elephant as it rose up and down in the air and spun around its carousel pedestal. Timmy was grinning from ear to ear. He saw David and waved. David smiled and waved back.
“What do you want from me?” David asked.
“Nothing. We wanted you to know we were here and to warn you to be careful. Mahli and your boss have a very stressed history.”
“I already know that,” David said sharply. Then he softened. “Look, I know you two are doing your job, and I’ve not been much help to you. But I know A.J., and I believe he’s innocent of every accusa
tion you’ve made. He has become my friend, a close friend. You’re chasing the wrong rabbit.”
“David,” Woody began, “there’s a great deal you don’t know about A.J. He does a wonderful work, but there is mounting evidence that he is the mastermind behind several international incidents. We’ve told you about some of them, but there are some things to which you are not privy.”
“We’ve been interviewing a man named Mohammed Aden in Somalia,” Stephanie added. “He’s worked for both us and for Barringston Relief. We’ve talked to him before—he was the one who told us about Mahli’s brother—but now, because of Mahli’s new power, he’s been more forthcoming. Aden has placed Roger Walczynske in Somalia and has admitted that both he and Roger were working for Barringston Relief. It’s an interesting and violent story.”
David sat in silence. Pieces were falling together, and he didn’t like the picture.
“Dr. O’Neal, despite our differences,” Woody began, “I’ve come to respect you and hope the feeling is mutual. Be careful. Mahli and A.J. are a bad mix. Watch your back.”
“I understand,” David said. “I’ll be careful.”
Woody and Stephanie rose to leave. “I wish I were wrong about all this, David. I really do. But I’m not wrong.”
“What was lunch like?” David asked Kristen when the group congregated in front of the Pirates of the Caribbean.
“You could cut the tension with a knife,” she replied. “Everyone is putting on a good front, especially if I have the camera on them, but there’s no love lost in that group.”
“How’s DeWitt dealing with things?”
“He’s the consummate diplomat. I can see how he made so much progress in the Middle East.”
“What about A.J.?”
“He’s miserable,” Kristen said, shaking her head. “He speaks only when spoken to, and he stares intently at Mahli. If A.J. looked at me that way, I’d melt in fear, but Mahli seems to be enjoying it.” David thought of Woody’s words. He wanted to tell Kristen about the unexpected visit from the federal agents, but he felt that the news would only upset her. Besides, the situation was tense enough.
“Are you able to get the shots you need?” David asked, pointing at the small video camera Kristen held in her hand. It was a small camcorder, barely larger than her hand.
“For the most part, but it’s going to take an awful lot of editing to find any footage that’ll be useful for PR purposes.” Turning her attention to Timmy she asked, “Are you having fun, Timmy?”
A huge grin spread across his face. “Oh yes. We rode Dumbo and Alice in Wonderland and Mad Tea Party. I didn’t like the teacups; it made my stomach feel funny.” David rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. “But I feel better now. David bought me tacos to eat and promised me that we could ride on Space Mountain again.”
The tour guide had led the group on several rides, including several roller-coaster types. Since dignitaries were involved, they were ushered to the front of the line through side doors. Only one patron in line complained, and he was immediately silenced by an icy stare from one of the Secret Service agents.
“What’s the plan now?” David inquired.
“We’re going to ride the Pirates of the Caribbean, then tour the Disney Museum. After that we’re going to the Small World ride. That’ll wind the day up. Secretary DeWitt has arranged a meeting with a few business leaders from Los Angeles. Apparently Mahli thinks he can entice some foreign investment.”
“He’s a dreamer.”
“What about you and Timmy?”
“I thought we would ride the Haunted Mansion, then Space Mountain again …”
“Goody!” Timmy interrupted. “Will the Haunted Mansion be scary?”
“Not too scary,” David replied patiently. Turning his attention back to Kristen, he said, “Then we’ll join you at Small World. If we’re not there on time, go without us. Unlike you folks, we don’t get to go to the front of the line.”
“I’ll bet you’re glad you brought that,” Kristen said pointing at the Game Boy in Timmy’s hand.
David nodded and pulled a pack of AA batteries from his pocket, “I came prepared.” Kristen smiled. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“What did I do to deserve that?”
“Nothing, but wait until you do something,” she said with a wry grin. “Gotta go.”
David watched as she hurried to join the others and wished deeply that he could go with her. Disneyland would be a magical place for them. Someday he would bring her back, and they would come sans Secret Service agents and government officials. As he watched Kristen make her way through the crowd, he noticed A.J. and Mahli standing by themselves to one side. DeWitt was not to be seen. Probably in the rest room, David thought. He watched the two men for a moment. A.J. was peering down at Mahli, who was craning his neck to look up at A.J. Even at this distance, David could see the ongoing tension and wondered what they were talking about.
“At last we have a few moments to ourselves,” Mahli said coolly as he looked around. Several Secret Service agents were nearby as were Mahli’s personal guards. One agent spoke into the small mike he held in his palm. Two other agents were at the door to the men’s room, politely turning away patrons.
“Our time is short, so I’ll get to the point. I want you to approve my plan.”
“My approval is not necessary,” A.J. replied coldly.
“No, it’s not. I can and will go on with or without your endorsement. It’s a good plan, and everyone gets what they want. Your president gets a good image, I get solidified power, and you get to continue feeding hungry people. What could be better?”
“You floating facedown in a sewer comes to mind.” A.J. was stone-faced, but Mahli was taken aback.
“What would Secretary DeWitt say if he heard you speak that way?” Mahli let his grin return.
“I could care less. You are nothing more than a murderer.”
Mahli actually laughed out loud. “I’m a murderer? So are you, Mr. Barringston, so are you. I know you killed my brother. Not directly. Not with your own hands, but I know you’re behind it. It took me a while to put the pieces together, but I did. My brother, Mukatu, was a violent man, a sadist, actually, but he was my brother.”
“And Dr. Judith Rhodes was one of my people. You killed her, you little scum.”
“She attacked me,” Mahli protested. “I have a right to defend myself.”
“If she attacked you, she did so with good cause. I only regret she didn’t do a better job of it.”
Mahli’s grin dissolved into a grimace. “Since we’re being so blunt, let me tell you how it’s going to work from now on. All food supplies to Somalia and Ethiopia will go through me. I see to the distribution. There is no room for discussion here, no debate. You will permit it because if you don’t, I’ll see to it that more than one woman doctor dies. You’ll be picking up the bleached bones of your workers for years. Even now, I have men watching several of your camps, and at one word from me they decimate the people in the camps. The world will think it’s the work of a rival warlord, but you and I will know that it was your fault.”
“My fault?” A.J. took a threatening step forward and saw a brief glimmer of fear in the warlord’s eyes.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” DeWitt said, striding quickly to join them. “I’ve been out of the country so much that home cooking doesn’t sit well anymore.” He chortled at his own joke. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the guide standing discreetly by the front wrought-iron gate. “I think you’ll enjoy this ride. I went on it once a decade or more ago. It was great then, and I’m sure it will be enjoyable now.”
Mahli was grinning once again. He looked at A.J. and shrugged. “I think you see my point,” he said. A.J.’s reply was communicated through his eyes, and his message was not wasted on Mahli.
The music, redundant and loud, mingled with the machine sounds of chains meeting gears, hydraulic pistons rising and falling,
and the clicking of electronic switches. The noise was annoying, and the music, which he had heard cycled over and over again for the last eight hours, grated on his final raw nerve. His back and neck ached from a night spent sleeping on the cold concrete foundation that ran underneath the Small World ride. He might have been a little more comfortable if he hadn’t been wearing a Kevlar bulletproof vest. The vest pinched and shifted, making lying down painful. Only the anticipation of the events about to happen made the noise and the cold tolerable.
Roger rolled over on his back, adjusted the mouthpiece of the headset he was wearing, and said simply, “Your turn.”
“Got it,” Sheila said.
It was part of the planned procedure: Roger would watch the lines of people through a small surveillance camera aimed through a half-inch hole that he had drilled through the wall. The camera was a type used by private investigators and law enforcement agencies that could provide closeup images to a small handheld monitor. Sheila had an identical setup at her position twenty feet away. The Small World ride consisted of boats carrying sixteen people along a fiberglass channel. That channel separated Roger and Sheila.
Roger smiled as he thought of Sheila, her short blond hair now died coal black, her makeup heavy to darken her complexion. His smile widened when he thought of himself with the same makeover. He thought of his own light hair dyed dark and the makeup he wore. He almost laughed out loud, but he hadn’t come here to entertain himself—he had come to kill a man.
Terminal Justice Page 29
