“Be careful what you do, Mr. Flynn. We’re watching you.”
The voice, the accent—Flynn recognized none of it.
“Who is this?”
The line went dead. He hoped it was a silly prank.
Flynn looked around to see if he noticed anyone suspicious. Suddenly, the entire airport appeared suspicious to him. He collected all his personal items and hurried toward ground transportation. He wanted to get out of there—and fast.
CHAPTER 16
IVAN ENJOYED SPOOKING FLYNN. It wasn’t a game by any means, but the monotony of always being ahead of the people he sought to destroy, ruin, or embarrass grew old. Besides, he wasn’t just having fun. He really did have eyes on Flynn. From the moment his plane landed, Ivan began receiving updates with pictures every few minutes, detailing all his movements. Yet for the moment it was pure sport, anything to distract his mind from being tucked tightly into a corner of the rafters in the U.N. general assembly hall.
His phone buzzed again.
“How are our plans coming along?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Splendidly. You have nothing to worry about,” Ivan answered.
“Good. Let’s keep in that way. I’ll expect to hear from you tomorrow after you complete your task.”
“Don’t worry. It will be a good report.”
“Just in case you run into trouble, I wanted to let you know I’ve dispatched a team to give you some added leverage.”
“Excellent. And what might this leverage be?”
“I’ll send you a picture.”
The man hung up as Ivan awaited the image to appear on his phone.
Still careful to be quiet and discreet, Ivan chuckled to himself.
“ Ideal’nyy .” Perfect .
Everything was falling into place.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN FLYNN FINALLY CHECKED into the Wyndham Midtown 45 hotel just a couple blocks away from the U.N., he wondered if another coherent sentence would come out of his mouth the rest of the evening. In less than four days, he had gone from checking out a lead in Washington related to the JFK assassination to seeing footage of the elusive second gunman to receiving threats from an underground Russian extremist group he’d never heard of. It was moving too fast. He needed to stop and think. He needed a drink.
Meandering down to the hotel bar, Flynn hoped he could find a quiet table where he could mull the recent events. But there wasn’t one available. And at the bar, there was just one lone seat. He reluctantly sat down and ordered a beer. If he had one request, it was to be left alone.
The portly gentleman seated to his left dashed that dream when he recognized Flynn almost immediately.
“Hey! I know you! You’re James Flynn, aren’t you? That conspiracy theory guy on television,” he announced. The whole bar heard him.
As much as Flynn wanted to lie, he promised that he would never deny his identity to people in the public. They were lied to enough already.
“Busted. In the flesh,” Flynn responded, mustering up as much personality as possible.
“Yeah, I saw you last night talking about that lady who wrote a memoir claiming she was a spy in Germany while cleaning houses. I bet she wishes she made up another fake biography now.”
Flynn winced, remembering that he desecrated the woman’s vulnerability. It was for her own good, but he still regretted the fact that people like the large gentleman on his left would call her a liar for the rest of her life.
The man continued to babble on about something, but Flynn tuned him out, straining to hear the latest news report on the situation brewing in Russia over the missile sites being erected. Suddenly, Flynn realized what was happening. The picture became clear in light of all the recent events. He needed to call Osborne.
Flynn threw a ten spot on the bar and left his glass of beer half full. He remembered hearing his fellow patron protest and offer to buy him another round if he stayed for a few minutes. But Flynn ignored him. This is big. Osborne is going to thank me for this.
“Are you sitting down?” Flynn asked Osborne the moment he picked up.
“Flynn, what are you doing calling me at home?” Osborne responded, ignoring the question.
“I figured it out. I know what’s going on.”
Osborne decided to ignore the fact that Flynn contacted him at his personal residence. It was a breach of protocol at the very least.
“OK, I’ll humor you. What did you figure out?”
“Who was behind JFK’s assassination, why I’m being followed and why I think something big is going down tomorrow at the U.N.”
“Whoa, there, Flynn. Slow down. I know you’re good but you’re not that good.”
“Just hear me out—It’s got to be the Kuklovod. They’re behind it all.”
“Didn’t I tell you to drop doing whatever you were investigating so they’d leave you alone?”
“You did, right. But it’s too late now.”
“No, it’s not. Just stop chasing this story like a fool. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“If I reveal that they were the shadow organization that first initiated the assassination attempt against JFK, they’ll be exposed.”
“And how is saying their name out loud on national television going to stop them?”
“It won’t—but it will get every law enforcement agency looking for their operatives tomorrow.”
“Flynn, you don’t understand how these guys operate.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t think you do either.”
“What very limited information I have on them that I can share with you is that it’s a small group of individuals who like to influence world events for their own agenda. They are hard-line communists.”
“Exactly. Your description of them fits my theory, which is why I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about why they would’ve wanted to kill JFK.”
“Please, dazzle me with your theory.”
“OK, quick history lesson. Think back to 1963. Tensions between the U.S. and Russia ran high. Russia was threatening to bring missiles to Cuba to help defend them against the U.S. JFK ordered a mission into Cuba to overthrow Castro that was severely botched. It told us one thing: JFK didn’t have the guts to launch a full-scale war. Those theories that the CIA wanted JFK dead because Lyndon Johnson was more likely to take U.S. troops into the Vietnam conflict—it makes sense.”
“I’m following you so far. What are you getting at?”
“There’s more. What happened after JFK was assassinated? Russian President Nikita Khruschev became erratic about how he wanted to handle defense. Some times he wanted to take a hard-line approach; other times he preferred diplomacy. But when he came out in the summer of 1964 and said he wanted to talk about reaching an arms treaty with the U.S., Khruschev’s own political party shuttled him out faster than he could say, ‘nuclear bomb.’”
“I’m still waiting for your point.”
“I think the Kuklovod was trying to start a war back then—and they might be trying to do the same thing today ... in the exact same way. Except this time, they have a president who has no qualms about launching a missile in our direction.”
Osborne remained quiet.
“So, what do you think?”
“Well, it’s a good theory. Not sure how much of it you can prove.”
“I don’t care about proving it at this point. All I want to do is set every law enforcement agency on high alert for tomorrow’s speech at the U.N. The last thing I want to write about is another assassination attempt. I want to write about the one nobody’s ever been able to figure out—until now.”
“I think you’ve got some good points, points that would be taken seriously if you were still an operative. But I just don’t see how going on television is going to create more intense security measures tomorrow.”
“Trust me, it will. Besides, the American public deserves to know that there’s a group trying to infiltrate this country and wreak havoc.”
&
nbsp; “Why do they deserve to know? The public barely knows a shred of the truth when it comes to what’s really going on in this country anyway.”
“They deserve to know because this group killed our President and now they’re trying to make a move again.”
“Letting the American people stay in the dark about JFK isn’t the worst thing that could happen to them.”
“Yeah, but it is if this group somehow gets a foot hold again. Do you even know what Kuklovod means?”
Of course, Osborne knew. He didn’t waste his Russian degree from Princeton.
“Yes. It means puppeteer ,” Osborne said.
“Exactly. And they’re pulling the strings again. This has got to stop.”
“No, what has to stop is you. I’m only going to say this one more time, so listen closely: you don’t know what this organization is capable of doing. For your own sake, just let it go.”
“Just hear me out, Osborne. If the Kuklovod is active again, who knows what their end game is. But all signs are pointing toward a repeat of history.”
“Fine, post all your cockamamie theories on The National’s blog site. Just please tell me you’re not going to get on television with these accusations. I’m begging you.”
Flynn decided to side step the question. “Now how could I do that so quickly?”
***
IT WAS ONLY SEVEN O’CLOCK, which gave Flynn less than two hours to convince one of the cable news network programs being broadcast in New York City that he had discovered who was behind the JFK assassination. If he were anyone else, it would be an impossible task. But his name was James Flynn.
He placed a call and within minutes he was heading down to one of the area studios to share his theory with the world—a theory with proof.
It was a risky proposition at best, blurting out who killed JFK without all the hard concrete evidence necessary to publish an article. But there wasn’t time. If the Kuklovod was active on American soil again, Flynn needed to do what he could to get law enforcement looking for them, if not for anything else but to heighten security tomorrow. By ten o’clock that evening, this revelation would dominate the front page of every newspaper and website in the U.S. and beyond.
Flynn knew just enough to make a splash. He had only disjointed theories as to what the Kuklovod’s end game was and why they might be suddenly active in the U.S. again. What he did know was that they paid George de Mohrenschildt to orchestrate the assassination of JFK and that one of their operatives fired a bullet from a street culvert that was ultimately responsible for JFK’s death. The CIA was involved in some capacity, but Flynn suspected de Mohrenschildt trusted the agency to cover his tracks. If the government that’s supposed to be investigating a crime assigned the top suspect to commit that crime, their “findings” will lead nowhere. Flynn thought de Mohrenschildt was betting on it—and he bet right.
During the cab ride to the studio, Flynn called his editor and told her what he was doing. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she consented as long as he typed up a story with supporting media before the show aired. Flynn hung up and began pounding away on his laptop. It was a blog and most of the people were dead. If he played a little loose with the facts, he reasoned that it was OK for now. He wanted to gin up the idea that the Kuklovod was active on U.S. soil so other defense agencies would begin an aggressive search for the terrorist group’s operatives. It was the best plan he could come up with on such short notice.
He even called Osborne back and gave him a courtesy heads up. Flynn rejected Osborne’s sharp protests, urging his friend and agent to call his superior and alert him to the possibility that the Kuklovod was planning an attack of some sort. It wasn’t exactly the best way to secure the trust of a longtime friend, but Flynn trusted his gut more than anything—as well as Osborne’s capacity to forgive him later.
CHAPTER 18
THE BRIGHT LIGHTS of the USN studio didn’t bother Flynn. He thrived in this environment, especially during prime time. But moments before the show began, Flynn felt like he might throw up. This wasn’t just another interview where he debunked an alien crash site in an Iowa cornfield or dismissed the idea that NASA staged the lunar landing. No, this was different. This was the moment upon which his career as a journalist would turn, where he would either achieve great credibility or be labeled a fraud.
Frances Clarke hosted USN’s nine o’clock program On the Hill , which covered political issues of all stripes. Flynn had appeared on the program several times in the past and curried plenty of favor with Clarke. It’s the only reason he was sitting in the studio on such a short notice.
Once the show began with the ominous intro music, Clarke made sure her viewers understood that tonight’s show was non-nonsense and would be historic in nature. Her thick blonde hair and perky personality often gave her an edge with her interview subjects. Bedazzled by her good looks, many politicians failed to take her seriously. But when Clarke peppered her interview subjects with difficult questions, they realized they were dealing with a woman who had no qualms about eviscerating them in a matter of moments. Clips of her contentious interviews often worked their way into the 24-hour news cycle moments after the show ended. Flynn hoped she would put away the attack dog style for tonight’s interview.
After ten minutes of briefly recapping the day’s top political news, Clarke introduced Flynn.
“So, Mr. Flynn, you are here tonight because you want to answer a question that has haunted history buffs, politicians, and conspiracy theorists for half a century: Who was behind the JFK assassination? Was it Lyndon Johnson? Was it the CIA? Did the mob order a hit on the President? Was Clay Shaw involved? Did Russia have a hand in his death? Or perhaps Cuba? I could go on with all these theories, but why don’t you tell us which of these groups is responsible for JFK’s death.”
Flynn paused, hoping he could deliver his pre-planned line the right way.
“Well, Frances, the answer is simple: they all did.”
Clarke forced a nervous laugh, wondering if she had been taken by Flynn for a cheap publicity stunt. Her fake smile wouldn’t stay plastered there for long if Flynn didn’t give her what she really wanted.
“What I mean is that everyone wanted JFK dead for various reasons. But nobody did anything about it until the Kuklovod hired a CIA asset to orchestrate a plan that included Lee Harvey Oswald serving as the patsy.”
Clarke furrowed her brow.
“Now, back up here for a minute. Who exactly is the Kuklovod and why have we never heard of them?”
“The Kuklovod is an extremist group dedicated to the principles of communism. And you’ve likely never heard of them because the CIA barely knew of their existence in the early 1960s. By the time they had plenty of information on them, the horse was out of the barn, so to speak, when it came to trying to figure out who killed JFK. And quite frankly, accusing another group would look bad since they had claimed to have their man already.”
“So, why now? Why come out with this information today?”
“Because I’ve learned the Kuklovod is active again on U.S. soil and that they’re plotting some act of terrorism very soon.”
“How soon? Or can you say?”
“I can say, Frances. I believe they’re going to make another attempt on the life of a U.S. President—and they’re going to do it tomorrow at the U.N.”
Clarke ate it up. Seconds after the words spilled out of Flynn’s mouth, a ticker at the bottom of the screen captured a condensed version of the quote: “Journalist believes President’s life in danger at U.N. speech.”
For the rest of the interview, Clarke looked intrigued and excited, like she had struck the TV talk show lottery. And she had. Flynn picked her show to reveal one of the greatest mysteries in American politics, even if the details were sketchy and didn’t make complete sense yet.
Flynn, ever the showman, refused to divulge all the details, encouraging viewers to go to The National’s blog if they wanted to know more and view supporti
ng media and documents. Teasing people’s curiosity on such a subject equated to mental torture. The second Flynn left the set, he imagined everyone bolting for their computers, tablets or smart phones, visiting the magazine’s blog for more information.
On his way back to the Wyndham, his cell phone buzzed nearly the entire time, from text messages or voicemails. Requests for more information, and invitations to appear on other TV and radio programs streamed in. The only incoming call he answered came from his editor, Theresa.
“That was quite a show you put on tonight,” Theresa said.
“Thanks. I hope what I said is taken seriously,” Flynn replied.
“Well, if our web traffic is any indication, people are definitely interested. The site has already gone down twice in the past ten minutes. It’s easily going to set a record for our most-read story if we can keep the site live.”
“Fantastic. I hope I’m wrong about tomorrow, but I’ll be here to prove myself a fool or prove myself right if they arrest someone. Either way, it’s going to be a big day.”
“Well, thanks for all your hard work. I knew sending you to New York was the right call.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. The only reason she asked him to do it was because two other reporters were sick. Otherwise, none of this would be happening.
He decided to take the humble route.
“I appreciate the opportunity. I hope I can make you proud tomorrow, too.”
Theresa wished him a good night before hanging up. Flynn couldn’t help but feel like that interview would be the turning point of his career, one that was already going well. If he could make all the evidence make sense, book deals would come flying in, and so would the speaking engagements. It might give him the time and resources necessary to chase a few other conspiracy theories that befuddled him more than JFK’s assassination. Maybe I could hire an assistant, too. He already had in mind a certain young lady from Washington.
He thought about calling her and seeing if she happened to watch his revelation of JFK’s assassination conspirators. But she always went to bed around nine o’clock. Calling her at this hour wouldn’t be thoughtful and might even come across as braggadocio. He could wait until the morning.
The Warren Omissions Page 8
