Finnegan was blessed with an outgoing personality. Slightly overweight physically, Finnegan was not one to bite his tongue or suffer fools. If he was thinking something, he’d say it. Last Friday night, Finnegan had just finished practicing and decided he would accept a few Uber rides. He had an hour to kill and one of the benefits of being an Uber driver was that it allowed him to meet and talk with new people, something he loved.
As soon as he drove off the Georgetown campus, he accepted an Uber request from Amy Duncan, who was either at the Tombs or 1789 restaurant. He wasn’t certain which, because both restaurants had the same address. Finnegan arrived within a few minutes of the call and saw an attractive couple walking across the street away from the restaurant. On seeing this, Finnegan smiled, because he knew what was going on. Following dinner at the Tombs or 1789, many couples stroll across the street to view the Exorcist steps. He had waited on many a fare who did the same thing. If he was in a hurry, he would blow his horn or pull up next to the fare and identify himself so he could get going.
But on that night, Finnegan was enthralled by the chemistry between this couple. The woman was a knock-out. The guy was obviously much older and this was probably early in their dating history, but the energy between them was powerful. Sitting there, in his silver Hyundai, Finnegan did not believe that he had ever seen two people seem so happy together. The feeling surprised him, so he kept watching.
As predicted, the couple walked to the famous site and the man pointed down the steps. He was clearly in rare form and was more the tour guide of the two of them. Then, he turned to face her, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. Finnegan felt as though he was watching a movie, an old Hollywood love story. He kept thinking to himself, “I want that.”
The kiss lasted a long time. After a bit, Finnegan was feeling a little creepy, so he gently honked his horn. Startled, the couple looked up, saw him and smiled happy smiles. Finnegan waved and smiled back. The couple held hands as he walked her to the car. She got in the car and Finnegan drove off. Looking at the girl in his rearview mirror, he noticed that she had turned completely around and had both elbows on the back dashboard obviously savoring whatever lasting look she could get from her date.
When she turned around and sat facing forward in her seat, she said, “Hi!”
“Hiya doing? Well, you two seem happy,” Finnegan said smiling.
Giggling, she responded, “I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. I am in love.”
It went much like that for most of the rest of the ten minute ride. Finnegan and Amy talked about chemistry, attraction and love. When she got out of his car, Finnegan once again thought, I want that!
On Tuesday afternoon, following class, John Finnegan walked into the Georgetown student lounge with his lifelong friend and roommate Joe Sweeney to unwind a bit before dinner. The television was on, tuned to CNN. Wolf Blitzer was talking to a group of panelists who, as he said, either knew or worked with Jackson Lowery. One panelist was a former prosecutor, another an AU history professor and the third, a law firm partner. The caption on the screen said, “Murder in Georgetown.” Normally, these kinds of stories did not interest Finnegan, but as he kept looking at the picture above the name, Jackson Lowery, he knew where he had seen the face. He pointed at the television and screamed, “No way!”
“What are you getting all bent out of shape about, Finn?” Sweeney asked.
“Look at the screen, no way that guy is a murderer!”
Just then, Amy Duncan's picture hit the screen next to Jackson's. Blitzer mentioned that there was a manhunt for Jackson, who may have been responsible for Amy's strangulation.
On seeing this, Finnegan put his hands on his head and kept shaking his head. “No freakin’ way he killed her! You hear me, Joe? No freakin’ way. I am telling you, those two were in love.”
“Wait a minute, is this the couple you have been blabbering about all weekend? The 'epitome of love' couple that you kept going on and on about? And he killed her?”
Finnegan looked like his friend had just slapped him. “Do not say that, Joe. This guy did not kill her. I don't know what is going on, but two people that much in love on a Friday night don't end up in a place where one of them kills the other by Monday night. No fucking way!”
Sweeney just shook his head, trying to take it all in. Finn was acting like he really knew this couple.
Now glued to the screen, the two friends watched the telecast as Blitzer shifted to an earlier press conference held by Idaho Senator Rex Duncan, Amy's father.
“See, see! Do you see that, Joe! There is the connection. That's the answer. Amy's death has something to do with her father running for president and these bastards are trying to pin it on Lowery. You, of all people, have to understand that!”
Well, Finn had him there, Sweeney thought. Plus, that bit of information did shed a different light on things. “Touché on that one, Finn! You may actually have something there, especially since you saw how they were with each other. And, of course, I do know how the government can be.”
Joe Sweeney was a techie genius. Going back to age nine or ten, Sweeney was a wonder with computers. He could hack into any system, any time, any place. As he got into high school, his skills improved and so did his mischief. He hacked into school records, DMV sites, and potential girlfriends’ computers. Once, he accessed a major bank site, and when he saw how easy it was, he got scared and signed off. Trying to be responsible, his parents enrolled him in a program for highly gifted young techies.
In truth, the program was setup by the government to find those kids with skills like Sweeney's so they could squash them. Sweeney now knew that there were approximately two hundred young people like him on the east coast, more in other parts of the country. They got paid a hefty stipend not to be on their computers. They were heavily monitored and constantly watched. Some did work for the government. Others, like Sweeney, did not. Sweeney was an English major at Georgetown. He picked a field as far away from computers as possible so as not to draw scrutiny. After years of dealing with government regulators, monitors, and secret agent types, Sweeney's inescapable conclusion was that the government was full of pricks.
“What are you going to do, Finn? I know you too well. You are going to do something.”
“I am calling MPD, the local police. Maybe even the senator's office. I must report what I know to save Jackson. The real murderers are getting away while they go after the guy who loved Amy.”
Again, Sweeney was struck by how Finn talked about the two of them like they were old friends. Whatever the truth, there was no denying that seeing them together left a lasting impression.
“That could be dangerous, pal. What about the blowback? If it is the government, these folks could easily turn on you.”
“True. But I gotta do something. Help me think!”
The two friends sat silently for a bit, learning more about both Jackson and Amy from CNN.
Finally, Sweeney offered a suggestion. “How about this? You talk to the local cops who patrol near our campus. Get one of the Georgetown Security cops to go with you. Tell them what you know and ask them to at least talk with their desk sergeant about whether to take it further up the food chain. I am with you, it feels better to sound this out with local folks first, before going full bore with the Feds.”
“Love it,” Finnegan replied. I am going to do this now before I practice. Thanks, partner!”
One hour later, Finnegan had a brief, straightforward conversation with two young MPD police officers and one of the best on the Georgetown Security team. The officers took the information without any strong opinion or expression. They did promise, however, to talk with their sergeant, as Finnegan requested.
Later that night, Finnegan had finished practicing at the Davis Performing Arts Center at the edge of the Georgetown Campus, not far from the corner to 37th and O streets in D.C. On nights when he had his most thorough practice sessions, he walked ri
ght across the walking path to Healy Hall. Finnegan volunteered at the Kennedy Institute of Ethics, which was located in Healy Hall. When he practiced late, afterwards, Finnegan would drop by the Institute to finish whatever administrative assignments that were left for him. Once done, he would walk the couple of flights down the black concrete stairs located between Healy and Gaston Halls to the main floor, then out of the building.
Finnegan had followed the same routine week in and week out for three years, without incident. On this night, Finnegan was starting to walk down the steps with his flute case in hand and his backpack over his right shoulder. Deep in thought, Finnegan was still reeling a bit thinking about. the Jackson/Amy tragedy. I guess, he surmised, sometimes, life is not fair. At that same moment, having stepped down onto the first step, a strong, unseen hand pushed him at the top of his back, sending him headfirst down the stairs.
For Finnegan that night, life was not fair. He landed on his head, breaking his neck and instantly killing him. The man with the unseen hand scuttled quickly past Finnegan's body and headed out of the building.
__________
Steve Mills was feeling somewhat vindicated. Just earlier that day, he shared with Bill Merchant his concern about someone coming forward and suggesting that Lowery and the Duncan girl were in love. Merchant saw his point and passed on the concern to Tyler and the contractor. Lo and behold, not long after that, some chubby Georgetown student doubling as an Uber driver told the local D.C. police about picking up Amy Duncan, who talked about being 'madly in love' with Lowery. This was exactly the type of thing that Mills warned could happen. Fortunately, the kid had an 'accident' and all was back on track. Mills felt good about his foresight, which could not have come at a better time. Tyler got the group together as soon as the mess was officially cleaned up. Mills had to get back on good graces with his group. He could feel that Tyler was trying to edge him out. But as his most recent insight made evident, Mills was still a valuable asset, and he thought that as long as he remained patient, he would be able to work himself back into the group’s leadership.
SIX
Jackson and Ronnie were on their way to meet Ronnie's former marine bud, Jenny Roberts. Throughout the day, they had been traveling partially on I-77 south, but primarily through the back roads and woods of West Virginia. They went through Beckley and near Bluefield, West Virginia. They skirted along parts of I-81 southwest and the Great Smoky Mountains heading in the direction of Knoxville, Tennessee, when they decided to stop at a diner in Newport, Tennessee. Still almost four hours outside of Atlanta, they had plenty of time to kill.
To her credit, Jenny offered to drive part of the way to meet them. Like Ronnie, she was wary of the technology found in major cities. Plus, whoever they were dealing with could easily choose Atlanta as a target to watch. Jenny would meet them later in the night in a hotel room just south of Asheville, North Carolina, where they would hear her thoughts and switch cars.
In the meantime, Jackson and Ronnie put their thinking caps on over a light meal. Ronnie had a cheeseburger, while Jackson has a plain salad with tomato soup. The waitress, sporting a name tag that read, 'Doris', looked at him strangely when he said that was all he wanted. Ronnie shook his head, waited until she left and said, “We have gone undetected all day until you draw attention to yourself by eating like a Yankee!” He was smiling when he said it, but only partially. Years of undercover work and training had taught Ronnie that the number one rule to live by when hiding was to do whatever you could to blend in. Ordering a plain salad and tomato soup in Newport, Tennessee was not how to go unnoticed in that town.
“My bad,” Jackson said. “Let's go back to some of the stuff we have been talking about off and on while on the road. We both feel like this is some kind of assault on the food supply that will disproportionately impact people of color, right?”
“Yep, agreed.”
“Ok. And let's go back to the school district idea. You would need access to a bunch of these school districts to have any kind of meaningful impact. So, we are talking about food service providers, right?”
“Again, agreed, Jack. That is why I briefed Jenny a little bit on the phone. She is going to research these contractors and the politics of the whole school lunch program.”
“That's good. Real good. But, why is Senator Duncan so important to all of this? He really cannot help deliver these contracts. It would be hard for him to be that heavy-handed without being noticed. We are missing something, Ronnie. Why would his presidency matter to this plan?”
“That, my friend, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. There has got to be another aspect to all of this that we just cannot see. Why would it be so important to have a guy in the White House who is unaware of your plan, but critical to the plan's success?”
Jackson smiled. “I think I just said the same thing. Either way, understanding that question helps connect the dots big time.”
“ Jenny will certainly help. I figure once we spend some time with her, we can get some shut-eye before getting back on the road. All soldiers know that you eat and sleep when you can. In the heat of battle, you may need to go a long time without either one.”
Nodding, Jackson commented, “Then what, Ronnie? Back to D.C.? What is our plan?”
“We do have to get back to the D.C. area. I see it as the only way to clear your name. These assassins expect it too, so we are walking on eggshells here. But you know, Jack, your question about Rex Duncan is key. We need to have a sit down with him and also his wife.”
“I agree, but don't see how these guys will let this happen.”
“I am not sure I know yet, either. But the answers are all in the D.C. area. Sorry, Jack, but we gotta go right into the mouth of the lion, my friend.”
“I get it. And I know that we are dealing with an incredibly massive undertaking. If these guys come close to pulling this off, millions could be affected. We have got to get to the source of all of this.”
“We will. By the way, Jenny will have info on Steve Mills and Bill Merchant for us as well. We may need to pay them a visit when we go back to D.C.”
Jackson was staring out the window. Now completely dark, the quiet southern town was beginning to feel very sleepy. “Let me ask you something, Ronnie. It is hard for me to accept or even understand this level of hate. How was it for you being undercover around all that hate day in and day out? It had to be awful.”
Now, Ronnie was looking out the same window as Jackson, seeming to call up and suppress some of those memories at the same time. “Here's the thing, Jack, day to day, you do not feel you are around hate. At least not all the time. You get to know the people. Their hopes, dreams, aspirations for their family. You get to know their loves, likes, strengths and weaknesses. You see, for so many of them, they are hungering for something to believe in. Something, for the most part, they did not get at home. They wanted to belong and often got swept up by their environment. Then, the bad group-think mentality kicks in with steroids. And trust me, having spent years in the
military, too much group-think is not a good thing.”
“I guess I never looked at it like that,” Jackson said. “In my experience, especially while doing criminal law, I saw that some folks were just plain evil. They were the scariest kind.”
“I know what you mean, Jack. Those types are still there and must be dealt with. My only point is that the face of evil can be deceptive because it can often appear so normal. Also, good people can do bad things. Never forget that.”
“That is so true, my friend.”
__________
Joe Sweeney was sad and distraught. Sweeney knew that his best friend had been murdered. He just could not prove it. They had said that Finn had slipped and fell on the steps between Healy and Gaston Hall, which led to him breaking his neck. But Sweeney knew the truth. His friend had been killed. Based on all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Sweeney also knew that Jackson Lowery was innocent; th
at he was not the man being caricatured on all the news outlets. There was some big conspiracy taking place with Senator Duncan at the center of it all. Yet, the senator wasn’t a direct part of it. Sweeney needed to do something. But what? Just by going to the local D.C. authorities, Finn ended up dead. What should he do?
In Sweeney's mind, it all came back to the senator. He had to talk with him, something virtually impossible with all the added security. What about his wife? Sweeney thought. If he could plant the seed with her, it could generate some real movement on behalf of her husband. Whatever he did, Sweeney knew it would have to be done soon. He was going to violate his deal with the government and do some research on the senator and his wife.
_________
General Brock was in his full dress uniform when he visited Rex and Reba Duncan that evening. Upon seeing his longtime friend, the senator nearly broke down. “Thanks for coming, Michael. This is the toughest thing that I have ever had to deal with. Nothing else compares.” Brock hugged his old friend, while motioning for Reba to join. There stood the three of them, held close together in the spacious front foyer.
Reba grabbed each man by the hand and led them into the living room. The Duncan's sat on a sofa while Brock got comfortable in an easy chair he always seemed to find during his visits to the Duncan home.
“Any updates from the authorities, Rex?”
“There is the nationwide manhunt still going on. Everyone says it is just a matter of time before they find this guy. It is all so hard to believe, Michael. None of it makes any sense.”
It was at moments like these when Brock found it was most important to bite his tongue. His internal views were so strong that he generally had to rein himself in before speaking his mind.
“One thing is for sure, Rex,” Brock said, looking at Reba. “This will work itself out. The answers you seek will come. They may not be pretty or tied up in a neat bow, but it will all come out. Trust in knowing how special Amy was and how magnificent her growth was on this short journey. You all should be very proud of how much all of you hung in there to experience her maturity. As tough as it is to swallow that she is gone, you have to give yourselves time to celebrate her life. The other stuff will work itself out. That's about the best advice I can give tonight.”
The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1) Page 10
