The Legacy

by Stephen W. Frey

  Cole shook his head and gestured at her finger, still bleeding profusely. “After your performance at the video store, you’ve earned yourself an exclusive on the tape. Ten million dollars is more than enough. In fact, I’m going to share some of the cash with you. If you hadn’t stopped Bennett on his way out the back of that place, this tape would be long gone right now, and so would my ten million.” He grimaced as he looked at her hand again. “I don’t know if I could have ripped off my own fingernail. That’s one of the most courageous things I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

  “One of the dumbest too.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I couldn’t trust you any more than I do right now.” Cole glanced up into her eyes. Despite the hell she’d endured in the last two days, she still looked damn good. “You’re something else.”

  “Thanks.” She managed a thin smile.

  Cole touched her arm gently. “Let’s get down to the car. In a few minutes there’ll be cops and dogs all over these woods.”

  Tori grabbed his arm as he started forward. “But I don’t understand—the Bronco is out of gas.”

  He jammed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, holding them up for her to see. “I found these when I took the key to the handcuffs out of Bennett’s pocket.”

  She laughed despite the pain throbbing from her finger all the way up her left arm to her shoulder. “You have an answer for everything.”

  “Not always.” He tossed the keys to her, then limped down the slope to the interstate. A minute later they were in the white sedan and were moving out into traffic.

  “What if Bennett tells the police to search for this car?” Tori asked, her eyes darting from rearview mirror to side mirror and back to the windshield in search of police cruisers. “He must have seen you take the keys out of his pocket. He could give them the license plate number of this car and a description of me.”

  “Bennett won’t be a problem.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did you hear a gunshot as we were running across the blacktop behind the stores?”

  She nodded. Now that she thought about it, she did recall hearing a blast come from inside the video store as they were sprinting out the back. “Yes, I did.”

  “Bennett’s not going to be giving information to anyone unless he’s a very poor shot from point-blank range. Or his head is even harder than I think it is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Bennett’s dead. I’m pretty sure that gunshot was him committing suicide. As I was going through his pockets looking for the key to the handcuffs, he asked me to leave his gun on the floor. He wanted to die on his own terms. I have no doubt he did that.”

  Tori gazed forward, as if in a trance. It was incredible what they had been through.

  “Turn here.” Cole pointed at an EXIT sign.

  Tori guided the car down the gentle incline to the traffic light at the bottom of the hill.

  “Go left,” Cole directed. “South.”

  As she pulled the car out into the intersection, they suddenly heard a loud siren. “Where is it?” she screamed.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know!” Cole looked behind and to the side, searching for the police car.

  Suddenly they saw the ambulance coming at them from the opposite direction. Tori eased off to the side of the road as the emergency vehicle raced past.

  “I don’t know about you, Cole,” Tori said quietly, “but I’ve had enough of this. Let’s pull over and I’ll call my boss at NBC. He’ll have bodyguards meet us. They’ll fly a private jet out for us. I’m sure they could have one in Billings by the time we get there.”

  “Great.” Cole smiled. “Now we’re talking. I like the idea of a private plane and bodyguards. But first let’s put some distance between the Helena police force and us. Then you can call your boss.”

  An hour later Tori guided the white sedan off the road and into a gas station in the tiny town of Cardwell, forty miles south of Helena. Tori used the pay phone first, calling New York with the calling card she had purchased in Billings early that morning. When she was finished, she trotted back to the car, a huge smile on her face.

  “What are you so happy about?” Cole asked as he pulled himself from the car. His ankle was swollen, and he winced as he put pressure on it.

  “I can’t believe our luck. I tracked down Ray Burgess at his home in Greenwich, Connecticut. Ray’s an executive vice president at NBC News.” She was giddy. “It’s after eight o’clock in the east. He was about to leave his house for some charity event. I told him the whole story. He couldn’t believe it. I’ve never heard him so excited.”

  “Great.”

  “And I’ve got good news for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He said we’d pay you fifteen million dollars.” She nodded at the tape in Cole’s hand. “He wants to make certain that becomes the property of NBC News.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not.” Her smile disappeared. “Although I’m a little disappointed in you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You still don’t trust me.”

  “Huh?” He didn’t understand. “Oh, the tape.” It had been a reflex action for him to reach in the back for the Dealey Tape as he was getting out of the car to head for the pay phone. “I’m sorry.” He placed the tape on the passenger seat.

  Tori handed him the calling card and watched him hobble to the pay phone. When he had entered the booth she moved back to the driver’s-side door, eased behind the wheel and reached up to turn the key. But it was gone. She shook her head. Cole didn’t trust anyone completely, even if he said he did. It just wasn’t in him.

  Cole pulled the pay phone door closed behind him. His first call was to the Helena police. He gave them detailed directions to the General’s house outside of Powell, informing them that a cult suicide had just taken place in the house, knowing they would be headed out there immediately with that kind of information. Then he dialed the number of the Andersons’ house in Duluth.

  Tori searched the glove compartment and the backseat for tissues or a towel but found nothing. She shrugged her shoulders and began to bite the nail away as close to the skin as possible. In the end it would be less painful to tear it completely off. As she bit down, Cole opened the passenger-side door, leaned inside and picked up the Dealey Tape, then let himself slowly down onto the white sedan’s passenger seat.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Cole?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  “Hey, I’ve got some more good news,” she offered. “Ray Burgess said he could have a private jet in Billings by midnight. NBC has a plane on call in Chicago. We’ll be in New York City by daybreak in the east. He said he’d send along some bodyguards, too.”

  “Great,” Cole answered quietly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That private jet is going to have to make a stop between Billings and New York.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cole pulled the car keys from his shirt pocket and handed them to Tori. “They’ve got a hostage.”

  “Who has a hostage?” She grabbed the keys from Cole.

  “A covert operation inside the Defense Intelligence Agency,” he said quietly. “The people Bennett accused you of being part of back at the video store.”

  “And?”

  “And they’ll release the hostage if I hand them the last copy of the Dealey Tape.”

  Tori gazed at him for several moments. “Who is the hostage?”

  “A woman named Nicki Anderson,” Cole said grimly. “A woman I care about very much.”

  Tori exhaled heavily. “Where does the plane have to stop?”

  “Minneapolis.”

  “I guess we bet
ter get going.” She turned the key and the engine roared to life.

  Cole said almost nothing for three hours as he studied the road map he had purchased at the gas station in Cardwell. He made just muted grunts as he guided Tori over the back roads of south-central Montana. He had been so stupid. Of course they would take Nicki hostage. Bennett had known about her, why wouldn’t Magee and his superiors? Cole put a hand to his head and rubbed his eyes. He needed sleep, but he couldn’t get any knowing Nicki was in their hands.

  For a long while Tori said nothing as Cole stared out into the darkness and the miles passed. Finally she spoke up. Maybe it would be good for him to talk. “There’s something I don’t understand about what happened at the video store.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When Bennett grabbed me and pushed me toward the storage room, you were standing in the way. He shot at you, but he missed. He was five feet away from you at most. How could he have missed you from that short a distance?”

  “He missed me on purpose,” Cole answered indifferently. “I guess down deep he didn’t really want to kill me. That’s why I left the gun for him. That and the fact that as I was looking for the key to the handcuffs, he whispered to me that I should take the keys to this car.”

  “You mean you didn’t just happen on them?”

  Cole shook his head. “I suppose there was still some loyalty left inside Bennett after all,” he murmured as the lights of Billings appeared on the eastern horizon. “So, are you willing to help me one more time?” Cole asked. “Will you fly me to Minneapolis, or do I drop you off at the Billings airport and keep heading east by myself?”

  Tori took a deep breath. “These people sound pretty serious.”

  “They are,” Cole assured her, still silently berating himself for not anticipating their move on Nicki.

  “I guess there isn’t much of a chance that you’ll head into a confrontation with them and come out with both Nicki and the Dealey Tape.”

  “Not much,” Cole agreed.

  She glanced at her bloodied finger in the dashboard lights. The pain had subsided somewhat over the past few hours. “What the hell. Let’s go for it.”

  26

  The Gulfstream IV roared south over the Minnesota River and touched down gently on the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport runway at 3:37 A.M. Central Standard Time. The plane taxied for several minutes, then coasted to a stop at the private terminal. Cole descended the steps of the plane slowly. The frosty night air was laced with the smell of jet fuel. He was refreshed after sleeping two hours during the flight from Billings, but the ankle was still killing him and he limped noticeably as he made his way into the terminal and headed for the airport’s main entrance.

  “I need to go to the Sofitel in Bloomington,” Cole instructed the cab driver as he slid onto the seat. Through her tears, Nicki’s mother had managed to give him a Washington, D.C., number when he had called from the pay phone in Cardwell. It was a number the man who had kidnapped Nicki had instructed her mother to give Cole as she lay bound to the bed. From the Gulfstream Cole had called the Washington number and a monotone voice had directed him to the Sofitel, a hotel located on the outskirts of Minneapolis. There he was to wait in the lobby for further instructions. The voice had warned him to inform no one of what had happened. If he did, Nicki would die.

  Twenty minutes later the cab pulled up in front of the Sofitel’s main entrance. Cole paid the fare with money Tori had given him, and limped inside. The hotel lobby was pin-drop quiet and empty except for a woman behind the registration counter who glanced at Cole suspiciously as he eased back into a comfortable chair. Almost instantly a man Cole had never seen before walked directly to the chair.

  “Come with me,” the man ordered.

  Cole followed the man to the elevator bank, hesitating in front of the open doors.

  “Let’s go.” He saw Cole’s trepidation. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Cole stepped into the car and the doors closed behind him as the man pushed the button for the third floor. The man said nothing as the car rose quickly and the doors reopened.

  “This way.”

  Cole followed the man down the long hallway, their shoes padding softly over the thick carpet. After passing four doors, the man stopped in front of the fifth and knocked. Several seconds later the door opened a few inches and someone peered out through the crack. The door closed quickly as the person inside removed the chain, then opened again. Cole moved into the suite in front of the man who had met him in the lobby.

  William Seward sat at one end of a long couch in the suite’s living room smoking a cigarette, and General Zahn, dressed in civilian clothes, sat at the other end. Seward took a last puff from the cigarette, snuffed it out, and stood up. “I’m William Seward,” he said without offering his hand.

  “You’re DIA, head of Operation Snowfall.”

  “How the—”

  “Insider information,” Cole interrupted. “Remember, I work on Wall Street.” It was information Bennett had gasped at the video store when he accused Tori of being with the DIA.

  Seward glanced to the right as the doorknob to the bedroom turned.

  Cole followed Seward’s glance. His eyes narrowed as the bedroom door opened and Commander Magee stepped into the living room. “Hello, Magee,” Cole said calmly. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought I tied you up pretty tightly in Wisconsin. How did you escape?”

  “Fuck yourself.”

  “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

  “Enough.” Seward held up his hand. “I assume the tape isn’t on you, Mr. Egan. You’ve proved yourself quite a resourceful adversary. I can’t imagine you’d just come up here and hand it over.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Do you have the tape in your possession?”

  “Let’s say, under my control.”

  “What is the plan?” Seward asked.

  “We’ll make the exchange at the Minneapolis airport at six forty-five this morning.” Cole checked his watch. “In a little over two hours. Nicki Anderson for the tape. We’ll make the trade in front of baggage carousel number two.”

  “That’s unacceptable.” Seward reached into his suit jacket for another cigarette.

  Cole pointed at Seward. “If I don’t get back down to the lobby in seven minutes and call the person I’m working with, she will take the tape to her people and President Kennedy’s assassination will be playing on every television set in America within a few hours. That tape clearly shows Kennedy being shot by someone standing behind the fence on the grassy knoll in Dealey Plaza.” Cole shrugged. “But why am I telling you what you already know? The point is, Mr. Seward, everyone will see what you’ve been trying to hide from the American public for thirty-five years. The investigation into the assassination will be reopened and everyone on the Hill will get involved. I can’t wait to get my front-row seat at the Congressional hearings that will follow.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Cole noticed a short figure in a dark suit moving into the doorway of the suite’s kitchen.

  Seward glanced at Anthony Bianco nervously. “All right, Mr. Egan, you’ve made your point.” Seward lighted the cigarette and the match shook in his hand as he took a second look at the short man.

  “That’s better,” Cole muttered, satisfied that Seward had capitulated to the demands so quickly. Still, he wasn’t finished. “I need to see Nicki before I leave.”

  Seward didn’t hesitate. He nodded at Magee, who moved back to the bedroom door.

  Cole noticed that people seemed to be moving faster now that the short man had appeared.

  Magee was back from the bedroom quickly, leading Nicki into the living room.

  When she saw Cole, she bolted past Magee and ran into Cole’s arms. “Please help me,” she sobbed. “I’m so scared.”

  He held
her tightly as she cried. “Everything’s going to be all right, Nicki. I guarantee it.”

  27

  Upstairs, the morning rush had already begun as business people hurried into the airport terminal to catch departing flights. But down in the baggage claim area, one floor below the ticket counters, things were still calm. Down here there were just a few people being dropped off in front of the arrival area to avoid the traffic jam on the upper level, a skeleton crew of car rental people behind their respective counters, and a few skycaps resting on their hand trucks.

  Cole stood in front of the baggage carousel and scanned the floor once more, wondering how many of the people down here were really DIA. He caught the eye of a woman behind the Hertz counter. She seemed to be studying him too intently.

  Maybe it was just his imagination working overtime again. He glanced at the monitors listing the arriving flights, then at his watch. It was almost time.

  Suddenly he spotted them. Nicki was between Seward and the man who had met Cole in the Sofitel lobby. She wore jeans, a bright yellow sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her head and sunglasses. Seward and the other man each held one of her elbows tightly.

  Cole watched Nicki and the two men walk slowly through the baggage area from the other end of the terminal. He glanced up at the monitors again. Where the hell were the people? The information on the screen indicated that the flight had arrived. They should have been here by now.

  Cole could see Seward’s kindly face now, as he was only a few feet away. Seward was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Cole thought to himself. He glanced around again. This wasn’t going to work.

  Then suddenly people were streaming down from the upper level, streaming down the stairs and the escalators, enveloping Seward and Nicki and the other man like a flood. The flight from Tokyo had reached its Minneapolis destination and four hundred tired passengers were now rushing toward the carousel to retrieve their luggage. As deserted as the area had been five minutes ago, it was now a beehive of activity.