THE CONTROLLER-Obsession

by Jerry Bruce

  “How am I supposed to get the air time that we’ll need for this without telling my superiors what it’s all about? Have you thought about that, Mr. Blocker?” There was cynicism in his voice.

  “There’s a reason you’re my boss and I assume that it’s because of your ability to deal with upper management. So deal with it.” Ralph flashed his boss a big, broad smile even though he wasn’t trying to be funny. His boss had never done anything to endear himself to Ralph and some of the older reporters. He was easily twenty years Ralph’s junior and acted like it most of the time. He flaunted his ivy-league journalism degree at every opportunity, and it was common knowledge that his Washington D.C. connections were the only reason he got his position.

  Ralph had not given him any details, deciding that it was best if he knew as little as possible for the time being. How Ralph was able to come up with such a coup was incredible and would do wonders for Ralph’s stature in the business, something his boss would probably consider a threat. They spent several hours pounding out a plan that they could take to senior management. They would only have one shot at this and needed to make the most of it. Ralph insisted that he be present in the meeting with the upper crust, something his boss didn’t relish but quickly realized that if there was any flack to take, better that it was Ralph taking it.

  Conveniently their request for some time corresponded to a scheduled staff meeting where they would be given a chance to present their proposal. After what was a fairly heated discussion, with some members wanting more details while others respected the position into which Blocker had been placed, management approved the plan and applauded Ralph’s efforts at pulling off such a considerable feat. Further, they agreed that until Ralph could be provided with a security team, he would have to remain nameless as the interviewer. One senior manager, who had a young female reporter that he was obviously promoting, some say in and out of the bedroom, was bold enough to offer her name up as the reporter to do the interview. Ralph’s boss immediately squelched the idea by saying that it was Ralph or no one, a stipulation imposed by Sinclair under threat of taking his business elsewhere. He didn’t know this to be the case as Ralph had never alluded to it, but it sounded good and there was no way he was going to see Ralph take a back seat to a rookie reporter—especially one who worked for one of his competitors, just because she was beautiful and sleeping with management. So, after all was said and done, Ralph Blocker was given the ball and told to run with it.

  Ralph’s boss impressed his superiors with his plan to promote the interview—he was going to have promotional spots aired not only on BNN, but also on any competitor stations that were willing. This would cost them millions to buy prime time slots but could have a tremendous return if things went as planned. The advertisements would not refer to Blocker until after his security was assured.

  With all the arrangements made, a pleased and confident Ralph went home to go over the questions that would comprise his interview with the former president.

  * * *

  Adam had to do some fancy talking to convince CIA Director Thornton to provide some security for Ralph Blocker. Thornton argued that it wasn’t his job to provide security for reporters. It wasn’t until Adam reminded him that Blocker would be spending a great deal of time with former President Sinclair preparing for the interview that Thornton finally agreed to see to Blocker’s safety.

  Thornton assigned six of his agents to watch over the two men, two per shift for around the clock coverage. He had arranged for them to be housed in the penthouse of an apartment building in Manhattan that the CIA director had recently leased for his own personal use. He was spending more and more time in New York since the formation of the W.O.N. and thought it would be more convenient to stay in the city rather than commute, when required to attend sessions. The four bedrooms could comfortably house Sinclair, Blocker and the security team for the limited time that they would need it. Thornton was somewhat amused that the recently furnished apartment had never been used and now it was going to be occupied by one of the most significant politicians in history. He could envision a future with the apartment being described by its own version of the “Washington slept here” scenario.

  Once the arrangements were made, the electronic sweep team made sure the apartment was free of any electronic surveillance devices and the agents assigned to the detail verified its safety. Richard and Ralph were then clear to move into their new quarters.

  The media blitz began the same day that Richard and Ralph were securely entrenched in the safe house. The half-minute promos were simple and dignified, showing a picture of Richard in one corner while Ralph, with the White House as a backdrop, told the viewer the date and time of his exclusive interview with former President Richard Sinclair. Ralph went on to explain that viewers would hear the reasons the president led the world to believe that he had been assassinated and promised them shocking new information regarding world leadership.

  All the major networks, cable channels and public broadcasting stations carried the promotional spot except one—Artistel.

  * * *

  “That’s right, ten million dollars. Kill Richard Sinclair before he goes on the air and that is what will be deposited into your bank account.” This was the third and last call the Controller made to his assassins. Only one was willing to take him up on the offer. The other two knew that even if they could succeed, it would be the last time they would ever work. Killing a president, even a former one, meant dropping off the face of the earth for all intents and purposes. You would be prey until the day you died, turning yourself from the hunter to the hunted.

  With the money she had accumulated over the last few years, and with this latest contract, she would be able to retire to a place where money could prevent extradition, should her identity become known. This contract was something she would normally turn away, but the lure of so much money carried a lot of weight in her mind, enough to offset the risk. She knew immediately the location to where she would disappear, a remote island near the Bahamas where no one saw anything nor asked any questions.

  The hilltop house she purchased several years ago was equipped with the latest in early warning systems technology to safeguard her privacy—and health. The only people she feared were those from her own profession and she was confident that none of them would bother taking a contract against the person that could pull off a presidential assassination and make it to safety.

  As much as he wanted Richard out of the way, the Controller knew that there was little hope of him being found, and even if he were found, the security surrounding him would be too daunting for a single assassin to face. It would have to happen while he was in the BNN studio, minutes before the interview, when confusion would likely provide an opening for his killer to accomplish the task. He had spent enough time in his Artistel studios to know that there were dozens of people scurrying about seemingly without purpose adding to a general state of disorganization. This would force Sinclair’s security detail to deal with one stumbling block after another. Such diversion could be tailor-made for an assassin.

  What he didn’t know was that the interview had already been taped in the penthouse apartment that overlooked Central Park. The “live” interview would be anything but live. Should any assassin show up at the BNN studios, he would be walking into a well-laid trap, one from which there could be no escape.

  * * *

  Agent Steven Robert’s team had been given a crash course on duplicating the chaos that sometimes precedes a live broadcast. No one would think it unusual if this particular broadcast was more chaotic then usual, considering the guest and the circumstances. The idea was to replace all the station’s personnel with CIA and FBI agents. Each agent went through the motions his position as a TV technician required, all the while observing his surrounding area. Every agent would be in constant radio contact with the central command center that had been tucked away in a corner and out of sight, making sure that any unfamiliar face could be immed
iately reported.

  As per normal studio procedure, two security guards were posted at the door to make sure that only personnel with the proper credentials gained admittance. One outside door at the rear of the studio was padlocked and purposely left unattended. There had to be a way for an assassin to get in if the trap was going to work. Everyone was informed ahead of time that it was imperative that the assassin be taken alive.

  While all this was taking place, Richard and Ralph were safely ensconced in their plush penthouse apartment. Blocker had to be convinced to curtail his normal activities in deference to security issues. At first he was opposed to the idea, wanting to be seen arriving at the studio and visibly present on the set, but when told that he could lead the Controller to Richard if he were to be taken hostage, should there be a team of assassins, he backed off. He didn’t want to be responsible for any harm coming to Richard. Whether it was the camaraderie that resulted from being twin targets or the rapport they developed over the years, Ralph felt a special closeness to Richard.

  Suddenly the radio silence was broken by an agent who was posted on the roof of a neighboring building that afforded a clear view of the studio’s rear entry.

  “Station six to station one. Over.”

  “Go ahead station six. Over.”

  “I’ve got a woman, repeat a woman, breaking into the rear door. She is wearing a dark business suit, high heals, and carrying a large purse. She is blond, with long hair and above average height. She is now opening the door. She’s in. Over.”

  “Everyone be alert but carry on as if nothing is unusual. Remember, no shooting unless absolutely necessary.” Roberts whispered into his mouthpiece and at the same time quickly scanned all the stations to make sure no one was out of position. Per their rehearsal, he would be the only one shouting out orders to the rest as if he were the director.

  The back door area of the studio was unlit and provided the assassin with cover after she sneaked in. Once out of sight, she opened her purse, removed a clipboard, and stashed the purse behind a piece of equipment. Carrying her shoes she made her way around to the main entrance, so it would appear that she came in that way. After putting her shoes back on, with loudly clicking heels, she boldly strode right up to agent Roberts.

  “Mr. Warren sent me over to check on things. Are we proceeding on schedule?” She had no difficulty in finding out the name of the studio head and his aides and hoped to bluff her way close to Sinclair. She needed to get close to Richard for the small caliber automatic that she had strapped to the inside of her left thigh to be effective.

  Startled by her attractiveness, Roberts had to think fast. He didn’t want to alert her, yet he couldn’t just let her get off without being questioned, something she was surely anticipating.

  In a non-threatening manner, Roberts took a step toward her and asked, “Who are you? I don’t recall having seen you around here before.”

  With an air of confidence that impressed Roberts, she authoritatively replied “I’m Sheila Knowles, one of Mr. Warren’s aides. I’ve only been working for him for a couple of weeks. Now, about my inquiry.”

  Roberts appeared to accept her explanation. “On schedule. President Sinclair and Blocker are in makeup. They should be coming out any minute now.” Roberts had made a motion with his head that indicated the location where Richard was supposedly being made up.

  “Good. Mr. Warren wanted me to extend his best wishes to President Sinclair so I’ll go do that now, rather than disturb your set.”

  Roberts was amazed at this woman’s poise and boldness. She’s a cold one he thought to himself.

  As she started off for the dressing rooms, Roberts waited until she was in the doorway to the narrow hall before he gave the orders. “All right men, she’s in the hallway heading towards the dressing rooms, everybody move into position.”

  The plan was for the assassin to be trapped in the narrow hallway. The only door she would be close to was the supposed presidential dressing room. On Roberts’ command, agents Bender and Case would burst out of the dressing room and subdue the killer.

  “Now, Bender!” Roberts couldn’t help but raise his voice above a whisper, the tension was so great.

  As the door burst open, the assassin noticed the weapon in the hand of agent Bender before ever actually seeing the rest of the man emerge. In one fluid motion, she bent over, slightly lifted her skirt with her left hand and with her right hand swiftly withdrew the thirty-two caliber automatic from its holster.

  “Federal agents, drop your weapon!” Bender shouted so loud the entire studio echoed his words.

  Ignoring the order, she spun back toward the direction from which she came. Upon seeing agents closing in from that direction, she quickly assessed the situation and decided on the only course of action available.

  Before an agent could get within three feet of her, she pointed the pistol to her right temple and fired. The sound from the small caliber automatic was magnified by the confining hallway, sounding like a weapon of much greater destructive power. However, it was more than capable of delivering a fatal bullet. The assassin fell, face forward, landing inches in front of agent Roberts, her beautiful blond hair now streaked with blood.

  “Damn it!” Roberts was prepared for every conceivable outcome but this. He had no way of knowing how much fear of being imprisoned this assassin was carrying with her. She had long ago resigned herself to committing suicide rather than being taken alive.

  “Great, just great.” In his disgust, Roberts forgot about the open microphone and everyone heard the comment he intended for himself. Realizing his mistake he said, “All right, everyone. Let’s wrap things up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Richard was alone in his room at the penthouse apartment writing down what he wanted to say at the funerals for Veronica, Randall, and Jennifer. He knew if he tried to speak from his heart, without prior preparation, he would break down before he could utter a single word, better that he prepare and memorize a statement. That way he would be forced to concentrate on repeating the words he memorized without attaching any emotion to them.

  He could not get his mind to stray from the self hatred he was feeling for letting the Controller get away with hurting his loved ones. Richard couldn’t bring himself to admit that he vastly underrated the Controller. Somehow he felt that there was a line that his nemesis wouldn’t cross, at least not when it came to him; anyone else might be subject to such despicable revenge, but surely not the president that assisted in his assumption of power. If Richard had a flaw, it was his belief that there was some good in everyone, even the Controller. Richard now had to resign himself to the idea that this flaw was the worst—a fatal flaw.

  A knock on his door brought him back to the world that still placed demands upon him, in spite of everything else.

  “Yes, come in.”

  Ralph appeared in the doorway, “Richard, the agents want to give us an update on what happened at the BNN studios. Are you available?”

  “Yes, of course, Ralph.” Richard rose from his chair and followed Blocker to the living room where an agent he had never met was standing, awaiting his arrival.

  “Mr. President, I’m FBI agent Roberts. I was in charge of the detail that staked out the BNN studios earlier today.”

  “I’m glad to meet you agent Roberts. How did things go over there? It’s been quite a while and we were wondering why it was taking so long to get an update.”

  “Sorry to take this long, sir, but we had to spend some time at the studio getting all our facts together. Basically it went down pretty much like we thought it might. An assassin, a female, made her way into the studio posing as an aide to the studio’s operations manager. We had a trap set that would enable us to apprehend her without the need for any shooting. We hoped that she might be able to give us some information regarding the person that hired her, if we were able to take her alive.

  I’m sorry to report that in spite of our best efforts, the assassin, upon se
eing that she was trapped, managed to use her weapon to kill herself before we could reach her. She died instantly of a gunshot to the head. We’re attempting to identify her and once we do, her identity might lead us to whoever hired her.”

  “I have my suspicions that you will only find a dead end waiting for you. But, nevertheless, I appreciate all your efforts. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “No sir, that’s it.”

  “Very well, if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters that require my attention.”

  Richard proceeded back to his room and closed the door. He sat down to continue with his eulogy, but upon seeing the names of his family, he burst into tears, got up and fell upon the bed, where he would sob himself to sleep.

  * * *

  After allowing himself a couple of days to contemplate where matters stood with the Controller, Richard arranged with his security team to have Christine and Adam brought to the safe house for a clandestine meeting. Richard’s security team made certain that exceptional precautions were taken to protect Adam and Christine from being compromised. They arrived separately and the agents didn’t get anywhere close to the apartment until they were certain that they were not being followed.

  Richard asked that the agents give them privacy so that they could discuss items of national security, so the agents took up station outside the apartment in the hallway.

  “As I told you both a couple of days ago, when the trap we laid was unsuccessful, I don’t have any delusions that we are at the end of the line. There is no way that we will ever be able to identify the Controller. I’m afraid that we have failed and he has won.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Richard.” Adam had never known Richard to admit failure was an option. Not in all their years together at Harvard, Radliff Financial, two terms in the White House and his tenure at the World Organization of Nations had he ever heard the word “failure” uttered by Richard Sinclair. “I won’t let you give up hope, not while there is breath in my body.”