by Henry Hack
“I agree with your assessment all the way,” Danny said.
“So do I,” George said. “And I also believed him when he showed fear of enhanced interrogation methods.”
“Do you think he was afraid of the pain?” Joe asked. “Or afraid of what he may tell us?”
“A bit of both,” Harry said. “After we check out the compound, we’ll have another go round with him.”
“Okay, keep me informed. I’ll pass everything on to Negron and Kobak. Good luck out there.”
* * *
Herman Muntz directed McGoey and Jackson to turn onto a dirt road which ran left off the highway into a deeply wooded area. “About a mile in you’ll come to a padlocked gate blocking the road,” he said. “The entrance to the compound itself is another quarter mile farther. I have keys for both gates.”
They switched off their headlights as the cars approached the first gate. “Want me to open it?” Herman asked.
McGoey radioed the request to the car behind them and Harry said, “Yeah, but let’s not drive in yet. I’d like Herman to carefully walk in with Danny and George. Check the place out as thoroughly as they can without opening the lock on the second gate. Then come back and report to us. Everyone okay with that?”
They all agreed and the threesome headed quietly down the road, Danny and George keeping their flashlights off as much as possible. They were back in less than a half hour with the information that they observed no movement inside the compound. Danny and George had climbed to the top of the fence in several areas, and saw that all was dark and quiet inside, with no signs of human activity. “Okay,” Harry said. “Let’s take the cars up there. We’ll probably need the headlights.”
Once inside the compound, a short surveillance confirmed that all buildings were indeed vacant. “See, I told you so,” Herman said. “I told you the truth. Let me show you the barracks, kitchen, cottages, generator room and the Committee’s headquarters.”
“Okay,” Harry said, “but don’t touch anything. That goes for all of us as we look around. George, would you call Joe Ramos and tell him to get that crime scene team ready to go?”
“Sure. Hey Herman, you have to help me with the exact directions to get here.”
“Yes sir, I’ll be happy to do that.”
They all knew that Herman Muntz thought he had gotten through this, that he had successfully bamboozled these hot shot cops. They could see it in the relief in his eyes, and in the slight smug smile on his face.
McGoey and Jackson remained at the compound to await the presence of the search team which was several hours away in Denver. Harry said they would contact the Casper office to have a couple more agents join them, and to come with food and drink.
As they turned on to the main road Herman said, “Where are we going?”
“Back to your place,” Harry said. “We’re going to talk some more before we decide where you’re going to spend the night – in the jail in Casper, or on a plane to Washington.”
“Wait a minute! I told you guys everything. You know I told you the truth.”
“Some of the truth,” Danny said.
“You didn’t tell us where Jeremy is, and we know you certainly know his location,” George said.
“And you threw out some first names of the other Minutemen, but denied you knew where they now were,” Harry said. “That’s pure bullshit. We want first and last names and locations. Towns are good, addresses are better.”
“But, I….”
“Just be quiet and think it over on the drive back,” Danny said. “Think hard, and know that the truth now will save you a lot of pain later.”
“And I guarantee you’ll tell the CIA anyway. So you might as well tell us now and avoid all that pain and misery,” Harry said.
“We’re going to thoroughly search your house,” George said. “And your computer and your cell phone. You are going to provide passwords to both and you will explain each name and phone number we find.”
“If you don’t play ball, we will seize all your stuff and wait for the CIA to call us with the passwords, which you will most assuredly readily give up,” Harry said. “So as Danny Boyland just said, “be quiet and think hard about your situation on the way back home.”
And think hard Herman Muntz did on that long, dark ride back to his house, a house he would most likely never see again. The sweat trickled down his armpits and dropped from his eyebrows, terrified of what lay in wait for him. And by the time Danny pulled the car into the driveway of his house, Herman Muntz had reached his decision, a decision which surprised not only the agents, but also himself.
* * *
During that trip home, Herman had reached deep within his soul searching for the core of his being – for his reason for existence on this planet earth – and he found it. He found it in the charisma, faith and hope instilled in him by Christopher Steadman. So when they once again took off his cuffs and sat him on his living room sofa, he relaxed and took a deep breath.
“We’re all ears,” George Washington said.
“I’m not going to tell you anything more,” Muntz said. “I am a murderer, for which you will arrest me, and for which under federal law, I am eligible for the death penalty. If I have to suffer pain first, I will bear it as best as I can, but right now I am determined not to give you any information that will be detrimental to the Minutemen’s cause.”
“I must confess,” Harry said, “that I didn’t expect this response from you.”
“Neither did I expect to give it. I obtained this courage from a thorough soul-search on the ride back. I am a true believer in Christopher Steadman and a true believer in what we are on the verge of accomplishing. I will not betray our victory. And you, Harry Cassidy, were close to being a believer, too. Correct?”
“I must admit that Christopher Steadman captivated me also – until the killings began.”
“That’s untrue, and you know it. You stayed on the sidelines quite awhile as we picked off those liberal politicians, didn’t you?”
Harry Cassidy, who believed of all despicable human traits that hypocrisy was the worst, said, “Yes, I did. Until the attack at Cardinal Cooke High School.”
“Would you still have stayed on the sidelines if your FBI daughter hadn’t been injured? That was on the news, you know.”
“No, I’m in the fight now because of two reasons – one, the wanton, vicious murders at the school….”
“Which you know was not sanctioned by the Minutemen.”
“But for which you are responsible anyway.”
Herman nodded his head in assent and then said, “Your second reason?”
“I philosophically reached the decision that the fate of this country should depend solely on the will of the people at the election polls, and not determined by terror, threats and murder at the point of a gun.”
“And your decision is wrong, philosophically unsound, and in direct opposition to the beliefs, doctrine and writings of our Founding Fathers. Don’t you realize they foresaw and sanctioned a second revolution when it became necessary?”
“It is not necessary now,” Harry said, “and I will not further argue with you. It’s time for you to get a change of clothes and for us to pack up your cell phone and laptop. We have a long trip ahead of us.”
“I’m ready to go, but I’d like to remind you of a quote from our greatest Founding Father, Thomas Jefferson. He said, ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’ I’m a patriot. What are you?”
The question caught Harry up short for a moment, remembering the famous quotation from his first meeting with the Minutemen. What was he indeed? He said, “Unlike you and your group Herman, I am a true patriot. All of us in law enforcement are true patriots.”
Herman shook his head and said, “No you’re not. You’re all blind fools.”
* * *
Danny and George sat in the front seat and Harry sat in the back seat with a handcuffed
Herman Muntz. Herman’s computers and cell phone, along with a change of clothes, were in the trunk. They drove to Casper as the small regional airport near Cody was shut down for the night. They would first drop Herman at CIA Headquarters, and then drop the computers and cell phone at the FBI laboratory in Quantico. By the time they arrived back in New York, the day would be half over – the fifth day. Five more to go to locate and arrest the Minutemen before the President made his next move.
As they sat around the table in the conference room briefing the other team members of the results, or lack thereof on their trip out West, Nick Faliani said, “You should have taken me with you. I would have gotten that bastard to open up.”
“I’m not sure of that, old friend,” Harry said. “He claims he is a true believer in the Minutemen’s cause. You probably would have killed him.”
“So what? One less Minuteman to deal with.”
“Yeah,” Danny said, “but one no longer able to talk.”
“And now we’re back to waiting,” George said. “Waiting for Muntz to crack and waiting for whatever the search team finds out in Wyoming.”
* * *
On the third night, after the Committee had re-located to their alternate headquarters, Chris Steadman began to feel very uneasy. His attempts to contact Herman Muntz had been unsuccessful. All his calls to Herman’s cell phone had gone immediately to voicemail. He dialed Jeremy, who picked up on the second ring. Chris said, “Have you spoken to Herman lately?”
“No, we’ve been laying low like you wanted.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“When he dropped me off at my house the night we returned from New York.”
“I know he told us that Stutzer had no idea where Herman lived, but do you think Stutzer provided the Feds with something we didn’t know that he knew?”
“Geez, I don’t think so. And don’t forget we used phony names for all our travels.”
“You live pretty close to him, right?”
“Not long. Fifteen minutes.”
“Go check his place out. See if he’s home. Be extra careful, okay?”
“Sure. If everything’s in order, do you want him to call you?”
“Yes, right away.”
Jeremy parked around the corner from Herman’s house and carefully made his way toward it on the darkened street. After observing from ever shorter distances, he crept up to a side window and peered inside. The house was dark. He carefully tried the doorknob to the kitchen at the back of the house. Locked. Relaxing a bit, he walked to the front and tried that door. Also locked. He rang the bell. No answer. He knocked on the door. No answer. He took out his phone and dialed Herman’s cell phone. It went to voicemail. He scrolled through his contacts and located Herman’s landline number. He heard it ring inside the home. He let it ring six times and then it went to an answering machine.
He started back to his car when he noticed Herman’s truck parked in the driveway. He looked inside and tried the doors. Both locked. He felt the hood of the engine. Ice cold. He dialed Chris and said, “Something’s definitely wrong here.”
Chris took a deep breath as he took in the results of Jeremy’s findings. Unknown to both of them, Herman was just then on his way, with five agents, to their old compound.
“This is bad,” Chris said. “We have to go on the assumption that he’s been picked up.”
“Oh, shit, he knows where I live,” Jeremy said.
“And he knows where I am, too. Get out of there now. Go home and pack up your stuff and get the hell out of Cody now. How are you fixed for money?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good. Call me after you’re settled in somewhere. I’m getting us all out of here too. This time the Committee will all go our separate ways. We won’t reunite until after the election. Hang in there, Jeremy. Only a few more days to go.”
“Will do. Uh, do you think they’ll get Herman to talk?”
“Yes, unfortunately they will.”
* * *
The Task Force in New York waited the rest of that fifth day and it was four in the afternoon of the sixth day when the phone finally rang. The CIA agent calling from Langley said, “Your pal Herman finally opened up. He was a tough nut to crack, I’ll give him that.”
“How is he now?” Joe Ramos asked.
“Sleeping. Got your pen ready?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
While Joe Ramos was scribbling on his yellow pad, another phone rang and Harry picked it up and identified himself. “Agent Jackson here Harry, calling from the wilds of Wyoming.”
“How did it go?”
“They must have really left in a hurry. Crime Scene lifted a couple dozen latents and found a lot of hairs. All the evidence and Ed McGoey are on their way to Quantico. They’ll call you as soon as the results come in.”
“Thanks Tony, and thank Ed for me also. You two were a great help to us.”
“You’re welcome. Anything from Herman?”
“Ramos is on the phone with Langley right now. They cracked him.”
“Terrific,” Jackson said while wondering just what the CIA did to that poor guy to make him talk. “I guess he really wasn’t such a true believer after all.”
“Guess not,” Harry said, “but we still haven’t caught the leaders yet. And that’s what we have just three days left to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joe Ramos finished his conversation with the CIA agent and said in a loud voice, “Listen up, guys. We have Jeremy Riggins’ address and the location of the second compound.”
“I just got off the phone with Tony Jackson. Let me get back to him and give him the info,” Harry said.
“Are we going back out there again?” George asked.
“I think we should have the Casper guys scoop up Jeremy and ship him down to Langley,” Ramos said. “And I think all of us should head out to Denver and get reinforcements from our field office. It’s time for us to make a big attack.”
At last the Task Force would be in action, an action that could probably put an end to the reign of terror instituted by the Minutemen. Their hopes were high as they gathered their gear to head for the airport. Spider Webb, who had seen little action as he had remained with his injured partner Lizzy Cassidy, was positively euphoric when Lizzy was finally medically cleared for action. However, Pete W was still too disabled to make the trip and would remain in the New York office as the communications contact man.
Joe Ramos would lead the six person group of Danny and George, Spider and Lizzy, and Harry and Nick Faliani. Sitting next to each other on the plane, Nick said to Harry, “Just like old times, partner.”
“Yeah, and I must admit it’s good to be back in the fight one more time.”
“You have any mixed feelings about these Minutemen?”
“Some.”
“Me, too. I worry they may be right. I worry that when we take them down it may be the beginning of the end of our great country.”
“You could be right, and believe me I wrestled with that dilemma a long time. But we are the law, sworn to uphold the constitution, and I resolved my dilemma in those terms. The democratic political process expresses the will of the people and must be honored. Let the chips fall where they may.”
“And if we end up living in a socialist paradise, what will you do?”
“Wyoming is a beautiful place.”
“Fucking Wyoming? You’d move to the sticks? Give me a break.”
Harry laughed and clapped his hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Let’s stop second-guessing ourselves and concentrate on the job ahead.”
* * *
When the seven arrived at the Denver FBI Office, their euphoria was immediately dampened by the special agent-in-charge, Dave Kiernan. “Riggins was not at home. We broke in and a quick search revealed he had vacated in a hurry. Most of his clothes were gone and no cars registered in his name were in the vicinity.”
“Did you pick up his prints?�
�� Ramos asked.
“They are still processing the place, but they got a lot of latents so far. If he has a record, maybe we can determine some other locations where he might run to. Are we ready to plan our move on the compound?”
“I think we are ready right now,” Ramos said. “The sun will be up soon and we all got some shut-eye on the flight out here.”
“The Committee is five people?” Kiernan asked.
“Yes,” Harry said. “Let’s not leave anything to chance. Can you spare thirteen agents? If we go in with twenty, we should be able to prevent anyone escaping.”
“If they’re there,” Nick said.
“If they are there,” Harry said.
* * *
They were not there. No one was there. The compound was much smaller than the first one they searched, and the forensic team processed it for hours. This time there were no latents at all, the occupants having had sufficient time to thoroughly wipe the place down.
Back in the Denver office, a disappointed group of agents and Task Force members evaluated what they had and didn’t have so far. All the prints in Jeremy’s house belonged to one person – most likely Jeremy – but not for certain since no match was found in the automated fingerprint data base. When Harry called in to Pete W back in New York, Pete said, “Of all the unidentified latent prints brought to Quantico from the first compound, they only got one hit from the data base, a guy named Kevin Connelly.”
“Tell me about him,” Harry said.
“Former military – that’s where his prints were taken – Colonel, USMC.”
“That could be the real name of James O’Grady, one of the Committee members,” Harry said experiencing a spark of excitement amidst the gloom of recent failures. “Listen Pete, get as much as you can on this guy from the Corps. Maybe his dossier will enable us to find him. And find out where his service pension goes, hopefully to his current location.”
“Will do. You guys coming back?”
