Agent of Influence: A Thriller

by Russell Hamilton

  Chapter 43

  Anna stared out the window of the Gulfstream Aerospace G550 jet, gazing out at the muddy snake of the Ohio River that cut the landscape below them. The river marked the border between Kentucky and Indiana. The downtown landscape of Louisville, Kentucky stood below them. A bitter frost currently gripped the city. Malcolm insisted on them taking his own jet for the trip. The sleek, sharp angled plane was his pride and joy, and the Rolls Royce 157 Deutschland BR710 turbofans brought them to Kentucky in record time. The plane, which had its maiden flight in 1995, did not go onto the open market until 1997. At the time, Malcolm had just become CIA Director, and he was the first customer to receive the record-breaking plane. Malcolm had the plane sitting on the runway in Virginia for them, gassed up and ready to go. He was happy to do everything in his power to thumb his nose at the powers that be on Capitol Hill. Anna knew that Malcolm was expecting to be run out of town the following day, and she assumed he was determined to go out with a bang.

  The plane touched down gently on the military runway that sat just east of Louisville International Airport. Alex sat across from her, sleeping quietly until the wheels finally hit the concrete. If he was calm enough to sleep through most of the flight maybe that was a sign that he was finally starting to come around, she thought. The plane taxied quickly and made its way across the open field. It came to a stop in one of the airplane hangars that sat just off the runway. The gargantuan hangar could handle a plane three times the size of the CIA Director’s Gulfstream. The Ford Explorer Anna had requested was parked in the corner of the hangar. A Military Police Officer sat in the driver’s seat, reading a sports magazine. Other than the vehicle, the hangar looked barren, and everything appeared to be in order for their arrival.

  Anna had placed a call to the Louisville Times immediately after they had discovered their information regarding Aziz. She got a hold of Mr. Lauren at his desk as he was banging out an editorial about one of the local sports teams. Anna introduced herself as an FBI agent who needed to ask him some questions about Aman. Eddie Lauren sounded very hesitant and unsure of what to do, but after some prodding he agreed to meet her for a question-and-answer session. He did not have much on his plate the rest of the week, so they arranged to meet at Churchill Downs.

  After talking with Anna he promised he would call his acquaintances at the track and arrange for them to be allowed in. The famous racetrack was closed for the winter so they would have plenty of privacy. As the lead sports reporter for the Times, Eddie could typically get access to the track whenever necessary. The grandstands were an excellent place for an off-the-record meeting, which Anna assured him it would be. There had been nothing veiled about her threat if he told anyone whom he was meeting.

  Anna quickly descended the moving staircase that brushed up against the Gulfstream jet. Alex followed her in silence. He squeezed his coat tightly around himself as the freezer of the unregulated hangar replaced the climate-controlled warmth of the Gulfstream. The Military Police Officer stepped out of the Ford Explorer in silence, ushering Anna towards the driver’s seat.

  “You drive instead,” Anna said as she pointed at Alex. She dismissed the MP, and they both climbed in to their seats. Alex yanked the gear shift into “drive” and cautiously edged the vehicle out of the hangar. There were plenty of signs to lead them off the base.

  “That was simple. Obviously that guy wants nothing to do with us. Where to?” Alex asked as they approached the exit of the airbase. They were waved on through by a lone security guard.

  “Do you know how to get to Churchill Downs from here?” Anna asked.

  “Sure. We’re not that far away. It’s probably closed for the winter though.”

  “Well, that is where we will be conducting our interview with Mr. Lauren. He said he can get us in.”

  “Should be a good place for a discussion like ours,” Alex replied. “Plenty of open space in the grandstand. Difficult place for anyone else to listen or bug.”

  “My thoughts precisely. Good to see you thinking through the scenario, Alex. Remember, when we meet this guy, you are to be seen and not heard. I’m not even going to introduce you. It’s best if he thinks you are just some muscle I brought along to watch over me. I will ask the questions. Just keep an eye out for anything odd. There is always a chance this guy was, or still is, some sort of agent for Aman. I doubt it, but I wouldn’t totally discount it.”

  Alex steered the SUV onto I-65 North, taking them towards downtown Louisville. At the outskirts of the city they merged onto an exit for I-264 West, known to locals as the Watterson Expressway. I-264 encircled the area, and provided easy access from one end of town to the other. The early afternoon traffic was sparse. Five minutes later they turned off the interstate at the Taylor Boulevard exit. The street was lined with one hundred-year-old houses in varying types of condition. A park sat on the opposite side of the street. It appeared abandoned due to the extreme cold. They hung a right onto Central Boulevard, and a few seconds later they could see the towering twin spires of Churchill Downs, jutting upwards into the frigid air. The place was a ghost town. Alex swung the SUV into the vacant parking lot and drove the vehicle all the way to the front gate.

  They stepped cautiously out of the vehicle and casually strolled up to the lone man standing inside one of the glass enclosed ticket counters. The man appeared to be in his mid-seventies, and judging by the smile and his happy demeanor, he was probably a retiree who loved the racetrack and did his job for the pure enjoyment of it.

  Anna stepped up to the booth and explained they were there to meet with Mr. Lauren. The elderly gentleman said they were early, but that Mr. Lauren did phone in the appointment. It was clearly nothing out of the ordinary to the old man, and he slid them two passes underneath the glass to attach to their coats. Anna waved off his attempt to explain the history of the track, so he grudgingly walked out of his booth, unlocked the gate, and allowed them in. The look of disappointment on his face was obvious, and Anna apologized, explaining they were extremely pressed for time. Her seductive smile served its purpose, and his disappointment vanished.

  Anna took off at a brisk pace, passing the long line of betting windows that sat underneath the grandstands. They were currently boarded up for the winter. Their two sets of legs pounded the concrete, echoing throughout the massive walkway that ran underneath the length of the grandstands.

  “Here it is. Section three-thirty. This is where he said to meet him.” She said as she pointed towards the sign. They bounded up the stairs and pushed through the double doors that led to the open-air second level seating area. Anna scanned the area, analyzing potential problem spots, and exits if they were needed. The expansive track shimmered in the bright winter sun. The surroundings were like a cathedral, and the track seemed massive with no people or distractions to take away from its magnificence.

  Corporate boxes with six metal folding chairs inside each one stretched the entire length of the level which they were standing. Anna and Alex waited beneath a covered area that partially shielded them from the elements. The local high rollers and corporations paid top dollar for the seats that enveloped them. The oval of the dirt track was manicured perfectly, despite that fact that no horse would run on it for several months. Two green wooden posts stood on either side of the track just below their vantage point, indicating the finish line was for most races. Alex glanced around at the quiet scene. He had visited Churchill Downs before, but only when throngs of people occupied the famous landmark.

  They stood silently side by side in the cold air. Alex bounced up and down trying to stay warm until an icy glare from Anna caused him to stop. The gold plaque nailed to the wood of the box contained the name of a law firm etched across it, indicating the owner and his partners had the rights to the box whenever they so desired. Alex glanced at his watch. The meeting was scheduled to begin in five minutes.

  As if on cue, the double doors below them swung open, and Eddie Lauren pushed through them with difficult
y. Anna studied him carefully. It was definitely the same face from the newspaper photo, but thirty years later the face was pudgier, and the wild mop of hair from before had vanished. It was replaced with a receding hairline of honey brown hair, which he was trying desperately to hide with a bad comb-over. The weight gain on his face matched the rest of his middle-aged body. A set of perfectly round spectacles sat on his nose, giving him an absent-minded professor persona.

  Eddie scanned the vast row of seats until he finally spotted the two of them standing almost directly above and behind him. He acknowledged them with a nod and slowly climbed the short flight of stairs. The man was either completely harmless or a very good actor. Anna guessed the former, but she was keeping an open mind. Eddie made it to their vantage point, breathing much heavier than he should have after such a short climb.

  “Anna?” Eddie asked with a great deal of trepidation.

  “Yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lauren.” She extended her gloved hand. “This is my associate. He will be making sure we are not disturbed.” She motioned for Alex to back away and he obliged, stepping into the box above them so Eddie could sit and chat with her more privately. Alex was still close enough to assist her if any problems arose, but Mr. Lauren reminded her of a scared animal. He would be much more afraid of them than they were of him.

  “Please forgive me if I seem a little nervous, but it’s not everyday I get a call from the FBI asking me questions. You do understand?” The southern drawl of his voice was soothing and made him seem even more harmless.

  “That’s fine. I just have a few questions for you. Hopefully it will not take long,” Anna replied. She guessed she would be using more carrot than stick for this conversation.

  “Yes. You said you were interested in the 1973 Derby. Secretariat, of course. Probably the most famous horse in history. That was actually the first Derby I covered as a reporter,” Eddie said with a hint of nostalgia.

  “Correct, Mr. Lauren. I’m doing some research for the government, tracking down information on a man by the name of Aman Kazim. He was the owner of another horse that was scheduled to run in the Derby that day,” Anna said. She wanted to get the conversation moving immediately.

  “Of course. Desert Sheik. What a magnificent animal. It was a tragedy; that horse dying the day of the race like that,” Eddie replied with true regret.

  “Uh-huh. I have been assigned by the FBI to make sure Mr. Kazim is completely clean as far as his different business ventures go. Just routine stuff. As you may be aware of already, Mr. Kazim is an acquaintance of the man about to become president. We just want to be sure the new president does not get blindsided by something in one of his friends’ past. He’s already going to have enough on his plate to deal with, so we are performing in-depth background checks on his friends for him.”

  “I’m not sure how much I can be of assistance, but I will be happy to answer any questions you have.”

  “Good. I truly appreciate it. Now, did you ever actually meet Mr. Kazim during the time he was here for the Derby?” Anna lifted one leg and put it on the folding chair in front of her. Her elbow rested on her knee and her left hand supported her chin as if she was thinking deep thoughts. Her gloved hand was nestled warmly in her coat pocket, gripping a hidden pistol that was pointed directly at Eddie Lauren’s stomach.

  “Sure. That was the first year I was assigned to cover the Derby as a reporter. I got to meet all the owners and most of the trainers,” he replied.

  “Did you find Mr. Kazim to be friendly?”

  “He seemed a little standoffish, to be honest. He did not like to mingle with the rest of the owners. He tended to keep to himself. I was intrigued by his horse though, so I eventually got him chatting a little.”

  Anna reached into her pocket and extracted a copy of the short article Eddie had written many years earlier. She held it out to him before returning to her previous pose. He looked at the article and smiled in a distant way that suggested to Anna that it brought back both good and bad memories.

  Eddie shook his head. “I see you have been doing a little research. When I told Aman I was writing an article picking his horse as a sleeper to win the race he became a lot friendlier. I think he just wanted someone to acknowledge the fact that he brought a good horse to the race.”

  “And did he?” Anna asked.

  “Definitely! The horse was a dominant force in Europe. It won several huge races over there. We don’t like to pay attention to horses from across the pond though.”

  “Do you really think the horse had a chance to win?”

  “Absolutely. I would not have made the pick otherwise. I would have been a laughing stock if the horse flopped. Who knows, maybe the virus that killed that horse saved my career. Maybe I was young and arrogant at the time, but part of me still wishes Desert Sheik could have run in the race that day.” Eddie nervously fiddled with his spectacles, adjusting them even though it was not necessary.

  Anna studied him carefully. He was on edge, but that was to be expected. It is not every day that the government calls someone up to question him. He would probably be just as fidgety if the IRS showed up at his door.

  “Did you ever get to meet Mr. Kazim’s trainer?” She lifted her knee off the chair and stood up so she could pull her jacket tighter around her small frame. The covered grandstand was serving as a wind tunnel for the icy breeze funneling through it.

  “No. Honestly, that was one thing I always thought was strange. He went out of his way to keep his trainer away from me and the rest of the media. I had his name, but he kept a low profile. He made Aman seem like a showboat.”

  “Do you remember his name by any chance?” Anna asked. So far, she thought he was being very cooperative.

  “His first name was Aziz. I cannot recall his last name. I saw him wandering around the track on a few occasions. I tried to ask some questions, but his people would not let me near him. He didn’t seem to have any interest in talking to anyone,” Eddie replied.

  “Do you remember what he looked like? I know it has been a long time.”

  “He was a small guy. Skinny. He wore thick glasses with big black frames. The glasses looked like they were too big for him.” Eddie stammered before regaining his composure. “He looked like he could have been a jockey himself.”

  It was the answer she wanted to hear, so she continued the conservation. “Mr. Lauren, we have reason to believe that Aziz was a terrorist, or at the least, a facilitator of terrorist activities in Cairo. We do not know if Mr. Kazim knew this or not, but we are trying to verify as much as possible. Can you think of anything else from that weekend that could help us? Any strange things that either one of them did that did not make sense at the time? Please think carefully. There could be a grave threat to the new president’s life if Aziz has any friends left in this country.” Anna thought it best to dangle the possibility that Zachariah’s life could be in danger as a way to make him talk.

  Eddie Lauren remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. He stared off once again into the empty space of seats behind Anna. Eddie avoided Alex’s gaze, who was now watching the reporter with an intense look of his own. After a few moments Eddie turned his back to them and gazed out at the frozen dirt track and the empty grass infield, apparently grappling with some inner problem. The long silence told Anna that he was not a spy, and certainly not any type of operative for Aman. If he were an enemy, he would not have remained quiet for the past few minutes. He would have had a cover story ready to go. Instead, he was drawing too much attention to himself. She had the impression that he had something to say, but was scared to start talking.

  “Mr. Lauren, I don’t need to stress to you the consequences of lying to the federal government.” She wanted to appear tough enough to scare him, but did not want to frighten him so badly that he would scurry into a hole, or worse yet, start asking for an attorney. She surely did not want to add kidnapping to her growing rap sheet either.

  “There is one thing I have lef
t out from that weekend,” Eddie said as he continued to gaze upon the track. If he felt more comfortable talking while not looking directly at her Anna was fine with it. She was satisfied as long as his mouth kept moving.

  “Okay. What have you got?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  Mr. Lauren’s voice went into cruise control, telling the story in a hurried fashion that suggested he wanted to distance himself from it as quickly as possible. “I ran into Mr. Kazim at a dinner for all the owners the Friday evening before the race. I told him that I was writing a short piece about his horse for the next day’s paper, and that I was picking it to win. I told him I had followed the trail of his horse over the past several months.” He swiveled his head for a moment to look back at Anna before continuing with the story. “The horse came from an incredible lineage. Its roots could be traced back to some of the finest desert horses from the early 1900s,” Eddie continued as he turned towards the track again.

  “I’m not interested in his abilities as a horse owner Mr. Lauren.” The agitation in her voice came back.

  “Well, I was,” Eddie shot back. “We talked for fifteen minutes. He was impressed with how much I knew about his horse. I asked for an interview for the following day. If, by some reason, his horse would have pulled off a victory the pre-race interview with the owner combined with my bold prediction would have shot my career into the next stratosphere.”

  “Did he agree to meet with you?” Anna regained her interest.

  “Yes. He told me to be at the stables the next morning at 3:30 and he would grant me the interview. He even agreed to show me the horse. I slept in my car that night because I was so afraid of oversleeping and missing the interview,” Eddie said, and then stopped again.