by J. C. Fields
“How long have you been planning this, Thomas?”
Zimmerman smiled. “It was actually his father’s idea. Bill thought Stephen’s condition would continue to deteriorate, and we would eventually have to have him declared incompetent. But before we could accomplish it, Bill had the heart attack and…” His smile disappeared, he frowned and looked at Judith. “If you think my intentions are less than honorable, you could be right. They’re mostly aimed at self-preservation. Stephen controls the majority of our company’s stock. He could get a wild idea someday and sell to the highest bidder, or he could decide to replace everyone in management. He has the power to do it. So far, I’ve seen no inclination he would go in this direction, but you never know.”
Judith nodded and took a sip of her wine. “Having someone committed or declared incompetent takes more than the word of a psychiatrist; it takes a judge and a court order. My evaluation might be considered, or it might not be, depends on the judge.”
“I know. The company’s lawyer explained the process.”
“What about the board?”
Zimmerman took a sip of his scotch and shook his head. “The board will follow my lead. I’ve already had conversations with several of them. They’re also concerned about Stephen making a decision that could hurt the company.”
Judith stood, picked up the small plates still on the table and walked them back into the kitchen. When she reappeared, two cups of coffee were in her hands. She placed one in front of Zimmerman and sat down. “Wouldn’t it be easier to buy his shares?”
He looked at her and noticed two more buttons were open on her blouse. Staring at the exposed cleavage, he smiled. “It would be, but our lawyer says we can’t buy them unless Stephen volunteers to sell them. The only alternative is to have him declared mentally incompetent and someone given power of attorney.”
“And that would be you?”
Zimmerman nodded. “That’s the plan, but a judge could appoint someone unaffiliated with the company. We were getting the paperwork ready, but Bill died before he could sign them. Now we have to go through the court system.”
She leaned across the small table and placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe after I meet Stephen tomorrow, I’ll have a better idea of his mental state.”
“I hope so.”
“Now, do you have to rush off or can you stay for a while?” As she spoke, her left hand undid another button on her blouse.
Zimmerman watched and drained his last swallow of scotch. “I believe I’ll stay.”
***
Bishop stared at Camila’s body. She expired too quickly for his tastes. Not like the women in Thailand. Those women were tough. Getting rid of the body would not be an issue. During his exile in Thailand, the process of ridding himself of a petite woman’s body became routine. A newspaper story of the discovery of a missing man inspired him. The teen had been missing since 1976. His car was discovered in an Oklahoma lake, having failed to make a corner on a winding access road adjacent to the water. The perfect way to be rid of Camila.
He would drive Camila’s car, with her in the trunk, to an estuary of the Chattahoochee River and roll it into the river. With luck, it might never be found, but if it was, he would be long gone. He would not tell Stephen about Camila until the final hours of the man’s life. He smiled at the thought of seeing the look on Stephen’s face when he learned about Camila.
Chapter 11
Springfield, MO
“I’m a little disappointed you didn’t feel you could tell me I wasn’t officially retired, Alan.”
Alan Seltzer stared at the napkin he was folding and unfolding. He arrived in Springfield the night before to brief Kruger and Joseph on the details of the president’s plan. Their location was the same sports bar where Kruger and Joseph met a week earlier. Their table was in a secluded part of the busy restaurant, and Joseph was in the men’s restroom.
“We…” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to have that conversation with you. I felt bad keeping it from you. But…” he sighed, “Paul thought it was the only way to keep you from losing your seniority when you came back.”
“It was assumed I’d come back?”
Seltzer nodded. He continued to study the napkin in his hand.
Kruger smiled. “Thank you.”
Seltzer looked up at his old friend. “I figured you’d be furious.”
“I probably should be, but…” He chuckled. “I’m bored. I like interacting with the students; it’s the administrative work that bores me. Lately, it feels like that’s all I do, admin stuff.”
Joseph returned to the table. “Have you two figured out why you’re not talking to each other?” He sat and crossed his arms, his brow pinched.
Kruger laughed. “Was it that obvious?”
Shaking his head, Joseph frowned. “The tension between you two has been on full display since Alan’s arrival yesterday.”
Both Kruger and Seltzer smiled. Kruger spoke first, “We’re fine now, Dad.”
Joseph chuckled. “Good, we need to get down to business.”
The waiter appeared at the table and took their drink orders. They remained quiet while he was at their table side, except to order, and after he left, Joseph continued. He leaned slightly across the table and whispered. “NSA has agreed to allow JR access to their system. With conditions of course.”
“How do they know about JR, Joseph?” Kruger’s shoulders tensed and he stared at his old mentor. The humor of a few moments ago gone like mist in full sunlight.
Joseph raised his hand, palm toward Kruger. “Relax, Sean, they don’t know who he is. They just know he’s on my team. That’s all I would tell them.”
Taking a deep breath, Kruger let it out slowly, his shoulders slumped slightly. “Okay, what are the conditions?”
“He has to submit a report on everything he discovers.”
Kruger’s shoulders tensed again, and he sat up straight. “He won’t agree to that.”
“I know, I’ve already had this discussion with him. He did, however, propose a compromise.”
“Not surprising.”
“It was a typical JR solution. He’ll use the access he’s given to figure out how to circumvent their system, then create his own access. That way he can’t be monitored. He’ll use the access he’s given with what he calls a zombie computer. They’ll monitor the zombie. Since they won’t be monitoring his real access, they’ll never know what he’s actually looking at. He tells me they won’t be able to trace him either.”
Seltzer shook his head. “Glad he’s on our side. He can be scary sometimes.”
The waiter brought their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Joseph shook his head. “Please give us a few more minutes.” The waiter smiled, nodded, and left to check on another table. “I agree, he can be scary. But he is ethical. He won’t use anything he finds to his own advantage. No one in Washington understands that; they’re afraid he’ll use something he finds against them.”
Kruger chuckled. “I have this funny feeling JR could bring the whole system down, and no one would know who did it.”
Joseph half smiled. “Remember the four-hour interruption of trading on the New York Stock Exchange a few months back?”
Both Seltzer and Kruger nodded. Seltzer said, “Yeah, they blamed it on a software upgrade. Was that JR?”
“Yes. One of the companies JR consults for was working with the Exchange to upgrade their security. Someone in the company’s IT department told him they succeeded in making the Exchange safe from hacking without his input. JR proved her wrong.”
They ordered dinner, and the conversation turned to more mundane topics. After the waiter took the dishes away, Joseph swirled the ice cubes in his glass. “Sean, there’s a reason you were named to head this new endeavor.”
Kruger raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I’m not getting any younger. I need someone available to take my place, should something happen.”
Frowning, Kruger looked at his old
mentor. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that someone needs to understand what I do and be prepared to carry on. That’s all.”
“Does anyone, besides yourself, know what you do?”
“The President.”
“Who besides the President?”
“No one, except maybe the Director of the CIA and Paul Stumpf. Lawrence Osborne will be the third chief executive I’ve served in my current capacity.”
Neither Kruger nor Seltzer spoke.
“When the President asked you to do a few things for him while you thought you were retired, what do you think he was doing?”
Kruger shook his head.
“He was making sure you were the right person to take my place.”
“What exactly do you do, Joseph?”
The older man smiled. “I help make problems go away. Actually I don’t, but my team does.”
“What type of problems?”
Joseph turned his drink tumbler clockwise, then he turned it counter-clockwise. “During the administrations prior to Osborne, my team was utilized mostly overseas. But since Afghanistan, the military has finally figured it out and increased the number of Special Forces personnel. Plus, they have improved their training. My team isn’t needed as much anymore. However, Special Forces can’t be used inside the United States. The Posse Comitatus Act prohibits the use of military force as a law enforcement agency. Since I was originally with the CIA, our, let’s say, missions were always under their jurisdiction. We are and will remain independent. I answer only to the President. Because of the domestic aspect of our new mission, it was decided to bring in an agent with the FBI. You will officially remain an agent, but, like myself, you will only answer to the President.”
Kruger stared at Joseph, his eyes blinking more rapidly than normal.
Joseph smiled. “That was why you were never officially classified as retired. It’s also why all of the specialists with my team were transferred to the Coast Guard. Even though the Coast Guard is unaware of their status.”
“Why the Coast Guard?” Seltzer spoke for the first time during this part of the conversation.
“Because the Coast Guard falls under the jurisdiction of Homeland Security and has domestic law enforcement capabilities within the United States.”
“Very neat, Joseph, very neat.” Kruger’s frown increased. “Exactly what will this team do moving forward?”
Joseph looked Kruger in the eyes. “When JR finds a problem and local law enforcement is outmatched, or calling in the FBI would create a media circus, your new team will handle it. They will go in, take care of it and be gone. The team can be on the scene in less than four hours anywhere in the country. Usually a lot faster.”
“What about the rights of the person we’re concerned about?”
“That’s one of the reasons you’re being placed in this position. Your experience with psychotic criminals may help you determine if someone has the potential to walk into a crowded church and start spraying the faithful with an AR-15. You will be the individual who decides to send in the team. At that point, the situation will have deteriorated to where the individual or group of individuals has already forfeited their rights.”
Kruger sat back in his chair. He looked at Seltzer and then at Joseph. He brought his hand up to cover his eyes. Shaking his head, all he could say was, “Ah… Geez.”
***
Stephanie Harris-Kruger smiled. “I think you should do it.”
Kruger was pacing. He stopped, shook his head slightly, and stared at her. “What?”
“I think you should do it. You’ll be perfect.”
“Do you realize what you’re saying?” He paused briefly. “I would have to determine if someone should be arrested or ignored. If I send in the team, someone could die.” He stared at her and started pacing again. “Do you understand the consequences of that responsibility?”
She smiled. “I know you would agonize over the decision, and you wouldn’t make it until you were certain.” She stood, placed her hand on his chest to stop his pacing. She looked into his eyes. “I would rather see someone like you making those decisions than some faceless technician in a basement office somewhere in Washington, D.C.”
He relaxed. “I guess…” He paused briefly, searching for the correct words. “Maybe I’ve lost confidence in myself.”
She nodded. “Yes, you have. It’s my fault. I’ve put a lot of pressure on you to not travel.”
Shaking his head, Kruger hugged her. “No, that was my decision. I don’t want to be away from you and Kristin.” He grew quiet, turned his head, and stared out the window of their bedroom. “I missed eighty percent of Brian’s childhood. Most fathers don’t get a second chance. I’m not going to repeat the mistake with Kristin.”
“Sean, I’m not going to let you repeat it either. But,” she paused and smiled, “you are bored to tears with teaching. When you retired from the FBI last year, something changed. I can’t put my finger on it, but you don’t laugh as hard. You don’t sleep well anymore and you don’t jump out of bed with… I don’t know, the enthusiasm you did when we first met. I’ve felt like a small part of you died when you retired. Does that make sense?”
Still staring out the window, he just nodded, but remained quiet.
“I’ve been a little selfish, too. I can deal with you traveling. I just don’t like being away from you. When we both traveled so much those first years, I was miserable when we were apart. Even my friends at work noticed it.” She stopped and hugged him tighter. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you if the traveling gets out of hand. But I don’t think you’ll let it.”
She fell silent and put her cheek against his chest. They stayed like that for several minutes.
He stopped staring out the window and kissed the top of her head. “Not sure what I would do without you.”
Chapter 12
West of Atlanta, GA
Randolph Bishop stood at the library window and watched Judith Day get into her car parked in the circle drive of the mansion. His eyes were narrow, and his brow was furrowed. As the therapist’s Audi moved forward and headed toward the gated entrance, he briefly thought about not allowing her to leave. The thought was quickly dismissed. Now was not the time to panic. When the car was out of sight, he headed down the stairs to the basement.
He opened the soundproof room where Stephen Blair lay dosing on a mattress. Bishop turned on the overhead lights and waited for Blair to stir. It took several minutes, but the groggy captive leaned up on one elbow and stared at Bishop.
“What do you want?”
“How long has Zimmerman been discussing having a therapist talk to you?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bishop smiled grimly. “Are you sure you want to lie to me? Camila won’t like it.”
Taking a deep breath, Blair exhaled. “He started talking about it several months ago.”
Bishop ran toward the mattress and kicked Blair in the stomach. He screamed, “Why didn’t you tell me? You fool, you’ve screwed everything up.”
Gasping for air, Blair stared up at Bishop, but stayed quiet.
“She was here. She knows.”
Blair shook his head and continued to gasp for air. In between labored breaths he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Knows what?”
“I’m not you.”
***
Judith Day nervously pulled out of the circle drive and drove to the front gate and waited anxiously for it to open. To her relief, it did. She drove straight to Zimmerman’s luxury condominium in the Buckhead district and let herself in. After pouring two fingers of scotch into a glass, she downed it in one gulp. She sat at the kitchen table and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She found the number she wanted and pressed the call icon. It was answered on the second ring.
“How did it go?”
She briefly hesitated. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had a therapy session quite like it.”
>
Zimmerman was quiet for a few moments. “I’m not sure how to take that. What happened?”
“Well…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Let’s say, he wasn’t what I expected.”
“How so?”
“He’s on the edge. He’s a volcano ready to explode. There’s no way he has scopophobia. He’s more psychotic than anything. He scared the hell out of me.”
“Judith, you are a seasoned therapist. You’ve seen a lot of psychosis. What made this so different?”
“Not sure. His eyes got to me. They stare right through you. I’m not sure how to describe them, but the word evil comes to mind.”
“Judith, Stephen is a gentle soul, there is nothing evil about him. He has his challenges about being in public, but I’ve never heard him to say anything threatening or antagonistic.”
“Tom, I did not detect one symptom of scopophobia. He looked straight at me the entire time, never sweated, wasn’t short of breath and enunciated his words perfectly. He looks different from the picture you showed me. He looks ten years older and a lot heavier. It was…” She hesitated briefly. “Creepy.”
“Should we be worried?”
“We should get the hell out of town, is what we should do.”
Zimmerman was quiet for a long time. “You’re exaggerating, Judith.”
“No, I am not, Thomas. He has either lost it, or it was someone impersonating him, which I know sounds crazy.”
“So you think we’re too late?”
“I would say so. Thomas, I’m not going back. I will only see him in a professional setting with bodyguards.”
“I doubt he will agree to that.”
“Don’t care. Those are my conditions.”
“Very well, I’ll see what he says in the morning during our call.”
***
After the conference room emptied and Thomas was alone with the computer. “How did your therapy session go yesterday, Stephen?”
“You know exactly how it went, Thomas. You sent her to spy on me. She’s no therapist. You’re trying to have me declared incompetent, aren’t you?”
