Ross Whitman sat back in his chair. “I’d like to offer the Phillips woman immunity from prosecution if she rolls over on Payton. Other than finding her at the scene, we can’t tie her to anything illegal. Payton's obviously used her as a pawn, and no jury’s going to convict her anyhow. Her attorney will paint her as the innocent victim of a highly manipulative man.”
“She’ll never go for it,” Mary Neill said, trying to read Thiesse’s reaction. But he remained quiet, letting the two agents talk it out.
“Why not? She’s got everything to gain, and absolutely nothing to lose.”
“She’s in love with the man. It’s plain as day. She’ll never abandon him, especially not now.”
“She may love him, but there’s no way she’s going to spend the next twenty years in prison if she can help it. Offer her immunity, and see what happens.”
“Has she been charged yet?” Thiesse asked. If she had been formally charged, they would already have lost that option.
“No. I was going to interrogate her after our meeting,” Agent Neill told him. Mary Neill had decided to question Janet Phillips herself rather than leave her interrogation up to a male agent. Neill was counting on Janet Phillips being more responsive to questions coming from another woman.
Thiesse sat there thinking for a few minutes. “I put the U. S. attorney’s office in Baltimore on alert half an hour ago. Federal prosecutors are already on their way.”
Thiesse picked up the phone and punched the button connecting him with the U.S. attorney’s office. After explaining their current strategy, he replaced the handset in its cradle. “Go ahead and see what you can get out of her. If it looks as if immunity will get her to testify against Payton, make the offer. We’ll formalize it later.”
. . . . . .
When Mary Neill walked into Elm, she found Janet Phillips nervously glancing around the room. The three agents guarding the woman, two men and a woman, were keeping a close watch on their prisoner. One of the men guarded the door, while the female agent was sitting across from Janet at a small table someone had set up for the interrogation. The other agent sat in an armchair against the far wall.
Mary wanted to give Janet some breathing room, while at the same time making the situation less charged. She figured that by taking that tack, her chances of getting valuable information from the suspect were enhanced.
“Let’s give Ms. Phillips some room here,” she suggested to the agents. “She’s not going to do anything stupid, are you?”
Janet’s response was immediate, “Of course not. I’m–I mean, we’re–only trying to help. That’s what we’ve been trying to do all along.”
Mary Neill turned to the agent guarding the door. “I think we can dispense with the handcuffs.”
With the cuffs removed, Janet massaged her wrists, then flexed her arms, trying to get feeling back.
“Before we go any further, I have to inform you of your rights under the law.”
She Mirandized Janet from a card identical to the one that Agent Whitman had used prior to Payton's interrogation. Janet said she acknowledged her rights, and indicated that she wished to cooperate with the government. That the government felt she and Payton were involved in the assassination attempt didn’t enter her mind.
Mary Neill set up two tape recorders. “You understand that for both your protection and ours, we need to have a record of what’s said here,” the agent told Janet, watching to see if there was any change in her demeanor now that the recorders were going.
The ASAIC recorded her name, Janet’s name, and the other particulars, and then began questioning the woman. Her initial queries covered Janet’s background, where she lived, her marital status, whether she had children, as well as the other information Mary Neill needed in order to get a better picture of the suspect. She then shifted to how Janet had met Payton, how she would characterize their relationship, and how Janet first became involved with him.
Janet’s answers appeared to be forthcoming, although she obviously felt some reluctance to discuss her relationship with Payton. Once over that hurdle, Janet seemed eager to explain how they had found out Wingate was planning to kill the President, and everything else leading up to the incident at the tower.
From the sound of Janet’s answers, Mary Neill felt that at worst case, she was Payton's unknowing dupe. The preliminary background information on her suggested she was telling the truth about how she had met Payton. That lent credence to the theory that she was not part of any scheme Payton might have devised to kill President Varrick. On the other hand, it was conceivable that Janet Phillips had fallen in love with Payton and become an accessory to the crime both before and after the fact.
Janet’s questioning had gone on for well over two hours at this point. From Janet’s perspective, she couldn’t determine whether the Secret Service agent believed what she was telling her or whether Neill was simply trying to draw her out in order to get additional information. She hoped it was the former, but feared the agent’s demeanor was a ruse.
“Ms. Phillips, I think it’s time to make a clean breast of things. I’ve been authorized to offer you immunity from prosecution on all federal charges relating to today’s events.” That was true with respect to the federal indictments. Of course the local authorities would probably press charges against her relating to the deaths of the two deputies, but Mary didn’t have to tell her that.
Janet started to interrupt. “Please let me finish, Ms. Phillips.”
“In return, we want your full cooperation and your testimony against Steven Payton.”
“Is Steve all right?” she asked finally getting the chance to find out about Payton.
“Mr. Payton's fine. He’s in custody. We’re holding him in a nearby cabin.”
So much for wondering whom the government believed. They obviously thought that she and Payton had conspired to assassinate President Varrick. Now they were offering her total immunity, in exchange for her testimony against him. If not, they’d throw the book at her.
Visions of Lincoln’s assassination conspirator Mary Surratt’s hanging danced in front of her eyes. Janet shuddered.
“Let me make sure that I understand what you’re saying, Agent Neill,” Janet said carefully. “If I agree to testify against Steven, and answer all your questions, I can go home?”
Janet had taken the agent into a legal minefield. She had to make sure she didn’t mislead her. “Look, this is your way out–the only way you stand a chance of putting all this behind you. All you have to do is make a statement naming Steven Payton as the person who planned and then carried out the assassination attempt against President Varrick. In return, we’ll get the U. S. attorney to drop the federal charges against you.”
“And Steve?”
Mary Neill shook her head.
Janet looked the agent in the eye. “You can go to hell!” she told her brusquely.
Mary Neill got up and slowly placed her chair back under the table.
“I’m truly sorry you feel that way, Ms. Phillips. In light of your position, there’s no sense going any further. Why don’t we take a break? I want to talk to some other people, and I am sure you’re tired. We’ll take this up this as soon as I get back. In the meantime, these agents will stay with you,” she said, clicking off the recorders.
“I won’t have anything to say until my attorney’s here,” Janet said, glaring defiantly at Mary Neill.
CHAPTER 54
Mary Neill left the lodge where she had interrogated Janet Phillips. Now that the woman had thrown a monkey wrench into their strategy, Neill didn’t want to proceed until she had spoken to Allen Thiesse again. She was about to try to find her boss when she walked into Charles Wingate, who had stepped from his cabin and was now heading toward the road. Another agent was following at a discreet distance behind him.
“Ms. Neill, now that I know President Varrick is all right, I’d like to return home. Of course, if you wish me to remain here until you complete your p
reliminary investigation, I’ll certainly do so.”
“Let me check with Mr. Thiesse.” Bringing her sleeve-mounted mike to her lips, the ASAIC pushed the transmit button on her transceiver. A few seconds later, Allen Thiesse responded.
“Stockman wants to return home unless we have some reason for him to stay here.” Stockman was Wingate’s call sign. “Any problem with letting him go?”
Thiesse thought for a moment before he responded to her request. There wasn’t any reason to detain Wingate. He was a close personal friend of the President's, and if he wanted to leave, so be it.
“No reason to inconvenience him. Go ahead and let him call his limousine. I think he said the driver was spending the night in Thurmont. Have the Marines at the main gate notify me when his car gets here. I’ll escort him out.”
Mary Neill turned to Charles Wingate. “Go ahead and make arrangements for your chauffeur to pick you up. Agent Thiesse said he’d walk you to your car.”
Wingate thanked the agent, and then headed back to his lodge. It would take his chauffeur about twenty-five minutes to get to the retreat, and Wingate wanted to get out of Camp David as soon as possible.
When Grant’s round had hit the television monitor, Wingate had known the Committee’s plans had been foiled. But until the agents returned to Camp David with Payton and Janet Phillips in custody, he had had no idea why.
Wingate had watched as the Secret Service moved Payton into one lodge and placed the Phillips woman in another. Both were heavily guarded.
Fortunately, they hadn’t captured Grant. Assuming he’d escaped, other than Payton's feeble story there weren’t any ties to him. By now, Payton must have repeated the same yarn he had spun in Washington. If Allen Thiesse hadn’t bought it then, he’d never go for it now.
Besides, if Thiesse did suspect him, he’d never have let him leave the compound. The Committee’s problem with the presidency was still there, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. The only thing Wingate had to do was to get back to the estate.
Once there, he’d do two things: call an emergency meeting of the Committee to decide what to do next, and place the second call to Grant’s portable phone. If the Secret Service got a line on John Grant, it wouldn’t take long before they beat a path to Wingate’s door.
He used the phone in his lodge to call his chauffeur.
. . . . . .
The Marines notified Thiesse that Wingate’s car was at the gate, and he left the command post to escort Wingate out. When he got to the cabin, he found that Wingate was already packed and ready to go.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Thiesse asked.
“No, thank you, Agent Thiesse. I believe I have everything.” They left the lodge and turned to go down the access road. “Have any leads on who tried to kill the President?”
“We have two suspects in custody, but we’re not yet certain of the extent of the conspiracy.”
“You mean you believe that this was more than the act of a single madman?” Wingate asked, seemingly appalled.
“Yes, we have reason to believe there are additional people involved in what happened here this morning, but I’m not at liberty to say more right now. Obviously the whole incident is under intensive investigation.”
As they neared the gate, Thiesse’s eye caught a glint of sunlight. When he looked again, it wasn’t there. Later, when he tried to recall the exact sequence of events, Thiesse wasn’t certain if he first heard the gunshot or the crack of the bullet as it ripped past him.
Instinctively, the Secret Service agent reached out to push Charles Wingate aside when the financier’s body crumpled to the ground. The man’s legs seemed to come out from under him as the bullet’s force propelled him backwards.
The Marines, led by Lieutenant Damoni, along with some of the other agents, ran to where Thiesse stood over the mortally wounded Wingate. Thiesse hit the push‑to‑talk button. “Snapshot, snapshot. This is Horsepower One. Stockman’s down–the main road. Get the paramedics here right away. Mary, stay with Cutter and be certain he stays put.” Thiesse had to be certain that the President was well covered.
Thiesse turned to Lieutenant Damoni. “Get your men out and search those woods across from the gate. The shot came from somewhere over there.” Thiesse pointed over to the woodlands between Park Central Road and Camp David’s access road. The three Marines who had bolted up from the gate ran back down the road, their M‑16s locked and loaded.
“Also get hold of the Park Police. Have them shutdown the intersection of Park Central and Manahan, and Route 77 and Park Central. If they get the roadblocks up fast enough, your men should have him.” The distance between where the sniper had fired from and the first intersection was less than a mile. To the second, it was a little over two miles.
They had two minutes to set up the first roadblock and maybe four for the second. They didn’t have enough time, especially if the sniper went west toward the Manahan intersection.
“Lieutenant, handle the other roadblocks in the area. I want everything sealed off. If we don’t get this guy, we’ll never be able to figure out who’s behind all this.”
As Thiesse bent down to check on Charles Wingate, Lieutenant Damoni barked orders into his two‑way radio. “Have the locals close Foxville‑Deerfield where it intersects Church Road near St. Moriah’s Church, Foxville‑Deerfield where it intersects Route 550, and 550 where it intersects the road that cuts over north of Piney Mountain.
Get the park police to supplement the roadblocks,” he said, thinking that would improve their chances of an arrest.
Thiesse frowned as he looked at Charles Wingate. The man was dying. The bullet had taken him in the center of his chest, and punched a good-sized hole going in. Thiesse wasn’t about to move Wingate to see how much damage it had done on the way out. That was if it had gone out his back instead of fragmenting into a thousand pieces inside the man’s chest.
Bright red arterial blood blossomed across the front of Charles Wingate’s shirt. Thiesse heard Wingate’s labored breathing first slow, and then wither. Still, for a few minutes the man’s chest continued to rise and fall, his lungs trying to suck air into his body in a hopeless effort to sustain life.
Charles Wingate looked up at Thiesse as if he wanted to tell the agent something. Thiesse leaned closer, turning his head in order to position his ear over the man’s mouth. Before Wingate could utter another word, his eyes clouded over and the arrhythmic movement of his chest ceased. Charles Wingate was dead.
The medical team arrived minutes later. The President's doctor put his stethoscope against Wingate’s chest, listened for a few seconds, and then turned to Allen Thiesse and shook his head.
“Even if we had been standing here when he was shot, we couldn’t have done anything for him. It wasn’t a matter of saving his life; his wound was mortal. We might have made him more comfortable for the little time that he had left, but that’s it.”
Thiesse left the agents and support personnel, and walked over to Aspen where Mary Neill had been guarding President Varrick. She met him near the stone path leading to the door, and asked, “What the hell happened?”
“The sniper just killed Stockman. Is Cutter secure?”
“Yes, we double teamed him since we got him back here.”
“Did he hear the shot?”
“He had to. They probably heard it in the Thurmont. Are you going to tell him about Wingate?”
“Yes. I’ll handle that task, but I’m afraid there’s going to be more bad news before the day is over.”
He walked past her, and up to the front door. Just as he was about to knock, the chirp of his portable phone caused him to pause. Thiesse removed the phone from his shirt pocket, flipped open the unit and pressed the Receive key.
CHAPTER 55
At NSA, Lauren Woods watched the courier leave her office before she broke the seal on the envelope. Its front and back, top and bottom were all stamped with the designation, TOP SECRET CUTTER, as
was each page of the contents.
She removed the sheets of paper from the envelope and carefully began to read the entire clear-text of the intercepts the Cutter team had been working on. Most of the material was routine. There was nothing contained in the intercepts that aroused her interest. That was until she got to the last page. Carefully she read its contents.
Classification: Top Secret Cutter (TSSI)
1029‑9C1974/NJK
Date of intercept: 26 October
Time of intercept: 1934 Hours
Location of intercept: Landlines emanating from residence of Charles Wingate II
Type of Transmission: Digitally encoded, modem link
Decrypted by: NJK
Decrypted on: 1 November
Clear-text Messages follows:
Recipient: Grant
Sender: CW
Confirm transfer of funds to designated overseas account. Request you expedite mission. Target will be available at previously identified site for news conference. Imperative that schedule be met as originally set forth.
A news conference: of course. President Varrick had scheduled a conference up at Camp David for sometime today. My God, the intercept referred to the President. Somebody was going to try to kill him! She had to get the decrypted message to the Secret Service as fast as possible.
Lauren glanced at the digital clock on her desk. It was already past noon. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She’d have to go through the DDO’s office. No big deal, it would only take another few seconds. She picked up the secure phone, and punched in Goldberg’s extension.
Gene Goldberg’s secretary answered the call, and informed Lauren that the DDO was out of the office, and wouldn’t be back for two days. The DDO had left specific instructions that his secretary shouldn’t page him unless quote, ‘the building was burning down’.
Frustrated, Lauren dropped the handset back in the cradle. The information she had in her hands was by definition classified at the CRITICOM level. It had to be in the President's hands within ten minutes. She’d lose crucial time if she waited for Goldberg’s office to run him down. On the other hand, she knew the DDO wouldn’t be happy if she released their analysis without his approval. Her boss would have to run interference with Goldberg. There was no time to lose.
The Cassandra Conspiracy Page 39
