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Iron Orchid

Page 4

by Stuart Woods

“Since right now, sir, by order of the president. Your elevator is waiting.”

  Kinney was shown to the director’s private elevator, and Green and two other agents rode with him. “I need to stop by my office,” Kinney said.

  “We’re going directly to your new office, sir,” Green said. “Your secretary has already supervised the removal of your effects from your old office.”

  Kinney stepped out of the elevator to a round of applause from dozens of agents and clerical workers. He quieted them. “Thank you very much,” he said. “Have all you people been watching television when you should have been working?” Everybody laughed. “Get back to work; you’ll be hearing from me.” Helen, his secretary, was sitting at a desk in his new suite of offices, and Kerry Smith was waiting for him.

  The three secretaries stood and applauded, and Kerry shook his hand.

  “Come in, Kerry,” Kinney said. “I’m appointing you chief assistant to the director.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Smith said.

  “You can still call me Bob when nobody’s around.” Kinney set his briefcase on his new desk and looked around. A large conference table was at the other end of the big office, and it was filled with many objects wrapped in plastic.

  “What the hell is all that?” Kinney asked.

  “It’s the wreckage of Teddy Fay’s airplane,” Kinney said.

  “What’s it doing here?”

  “I want you to see it personally.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s something very odd about it.”

  Kinney didn’t like the sound of that.

  SEVEN

  HOLLY CALMED HESELF, taking deep, regular breaths. She had taken a polygraph before, in the army. She had even attended a class where she learned to administer them. She forced herself not to think about the money in the Grand Cayman bank account or the credit card in her purse. She was not able to prevent herself thinking about the statement she had signed, under penalty of perjury, that she had divulged all her financial information.

  A man opened a door and beckoned her inside a small room. A woman was sitting in a chair next to the machine, and a large mirror was built into one wall. Holly assumed that this was a one-way mirror that allowed others to monitor her performance.

  “Please remove your upper body clothing down to your bra and sit down,” the woman said.

  Holly pulled off the sweatshirt she was wearing and sat down facing the mirror.

  “You are here to take a polygraph examination. Have you ever had a polygraph before?”

  “Yes, once, in the military.”

  “This will be different from that experience,” the man said. “Much more sensitive. We’re going to wire you up now, so just relax and take a few deep breaths.”

  The man and the woman began attaching devices to her body: a strap around her chest, probes like those used in an EKG to various parts of her torso, clamps on her fingers and something glued to her throat. Both of them sat down behind her.

  “All right, we’re ready,” the man said. “It is very important to your career with the Agency that you not lie on any question, unless instructed to. Periodically, throughout your career, you will undergo polygraph testing as a security measure, but this is the most important one you will take. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to ask you some questions, which will be easy to answer truthfully.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t speak, except to answer yes or no.”

  Holly sat quietly, breathing slowly and evenly.

  “Are you sixty-four years old?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a male human being?”

  “No.” She was breathing rhythmically and answering on her exhales.

  “Have you ever served in the military?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know how to drive a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you own a pet?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, now I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to lie on each one. This is to help establish a baseline. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your mother living?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your father living?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have sex with a man last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have sex with a woman last night?”

  Holly tried not to laugh. “Yes.”

  “Did you eat steak for lunch today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you lie on all these questions?”

  “No.”

  “Very good. Now we will begin. Answer yes or no, and always tell the truth. Some of the questions will be personal, but you must answer them. ”Is your name Holly Barker?“

  “Yes.”

  “Is your father’s name Hamilton Barker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he retired from the military?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you retired from the military?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you were in the military, did you ever steal anything?”

  Holly paused.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever steal anything worth more than one thousand dollars?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know how to drive a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever fired a weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever had sex with a woman?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever stolen money entrusted to your care?”

  It hadn’t been entrusted to her care and, she told herself, it wasn’t stealing. “No.”

  “Have you ever committed murder?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever killed anybody.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was the killing in the line of duty?”

  “Yes.”

  The questioning continued for more than an hour, and Holly became very relaxed, answering the questions easily, hardly thinking about them.

  “In the questionnaire you answered about your background, did you lie about anything?”

  “No,” she said easily.

  “Anything at all?”

  “No.”

  “When you were younger than twelve years, were you ever sexually molested by anyone, male or female?”

  “No.”

  “As an adult, were you ever sexually molested?”

  “Yes.” It had eventually caused her to leave the army.

  “Were you molested by a superior officer?”

  They had read her military record. “Yes.”

  “Did you testify at his court-martial?”

  “Yes.”

  “During your testimony, did you ever lie?”

  “No.”

  “During the accused’s testimony, did he ever lie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did another female officer testify against him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she, during her testimony, ever lie?”

  “No.”

  “Was your superior officer convicted?”

  “No.”

  “Did you feel that justice had been done?”

  “No.”

  “Did you leave the military as a result of his acquittal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did anyone pressure you to leave the military?”

  “No.”

  “Did you feel that, if you remained in the military, there would be prejudice against you, because of your testimony against a superior officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you feel that it was impossible to advance in the military because of this testimony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was major your highest rank held?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel that if you had not testified against a superior officer you could have advanced in the mil
itary?”

  “Yes.”

  “During your time in the military did you ever have voluntary sex with another officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “During your time in the military did you ever have sex with an enlisted man?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever have sex with an enlisted man while you were an officer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever have sex with a female officer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever have sex with an enlisted female?”

  “No.”

  “During your time in the military, were you ever insubordinate with a superior officer?”

  “Once.”

  “Answer yes or no. Were you ever insubordinate with a superior officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have sexual intercourse on a regular basis now?”

  “No.”

  “Are you seeing one man to the exclusion of other men?”

  “No.”

  “Do you consider yourself highly sexed?”

  She paused. “Yes.”

  “Have you ever had sex with a married man?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any homosexual tendencies?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever slept with more than one person of either sex at the same time?”

  “No.” She had thought about it, though. God, they were really interested in her sex life.

  “Have you ever had a strong desire to sleep with more than one person at the same time?”

  She paused again. “No.”

  “Is your net worth more than two million dollars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you own stocks and bonds worth more than one million dollars?”

  “No.”

  “Is your income more than two hundred thousand dollars a year?”

  “No.”

  “Do you owe any unpaid taxes?”

  “No.”

  “Did you lie on your last income tax return?”

  “No.” There had been no place on the tax return to list illegally obtained assets.

  “Did you recently buy a new car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you pay for it with illegally obtained funds?”

  “No.” Thank God, she thought.

  “Did you pay cash for it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you obtain the cash legally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any foreign bank accounts.”

  She exhaled slowly. “No,” she breathed.

  “Do you have any overdue debts?”

  “No.”

  “Do you carry any large credit card balances?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever forged another person’s signature to obtain money?”

  “No.”

  “Do you owe any person money?”

  “No.”

  “Do you own a house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there a mortgage on the house?”

  “No.”

  “Have you lied about anything during this examination?”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “That concludes the test,” the man said. “You are a liar.”

  EIGHT

  KERRY SMITH LED BOB KINNEY over to the conference table in his new office and picked up something the size of his hand, enclosed in bubble wrap. “This is a piece of Teddy Fay’s airplane,” he said, unwrapping the object.

  Kinney took it from him and turned it over in his hands, then handed it back, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands thoroughly. “You’re right, these are pretty small pieces,” he said.

  “Right,” Kerry said. “That greasy, gritty black stuff you’re wiping off your hands is the residue of a combination of burnt aviation gasoline, saltwater and plastics explosives. It’s on nearly every piece of the airplane we’ve found.” He picked up a larger object, unwrapped it, and read an attached tag. “This is about a quarter of the right-side passenger door of the airplane.” He held it up, but Kinney did not touch it.

  “It looks pretty much like the other piece you showed me, but larger.”

  “Yes, and please note that the inside of this part of the door-we can distinguish it from the outside, because the outside has part of a stripe that ran the length of the airplane-is bare metal, with no trace of the upholstered lining of the door.”

  “Yes, I see that. What are you getting at, Kerry?”

  Smith walked around the conference table and picked up a very large chunk of the airplane that was leaning against the wall. He unwrapped it. “Do you recognize this?”

  “It’s obviously the other door of the airplane,” Kinney said.

  “The left-side pilot’s door,” Kerry replied. “Please note its condition. It’s bent, on a line from upper left to lower right, but the upholstery is intact, and the Plexiglas window is still in the frame. And it has no gasoline or explosive residue on it anywhere.”

  Kinney tried to relax the knot in his stomach. “What are you telling me?”

  “It would appear that this door was not attached to the airplane when the explosion occurred.”

  “Well, if Fay was sitting in the pilot’s seat at the time, his body would have taken much of the force of the explosion, wouldn’t it?”

  “Some, perhaps, but compare it to the fragment from the other door. Quite a contrast, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes. What do you posit?”

  “I posit that Fay opened the door, removed it from its hinges, threw it out of the airplane, set the timer on a bomb, then jumped out.”

  “Maybe there’s another explanation,” Kinney said.

  “I don’t think so. Also, this door was found much closer to the shore than the other fragments of the airplane, indicating that it began its fall sooner.”

  “I see,” Kinney said, feeling a little sick. “And you think Fay was wearing a parachute?”

  “Imagine you’re about to die,” Kerry said. “Do you choose a six-thousand-foot drop into the cold sea as a means of dying or an instantaneous death from the explosion?”

  “Apart from the airplane door, what evidence do you have that Fay might have jumped?”

  “It’s the evidence we don’t have,” Kerry replied. “We don’t have any fragment of a corpse, and not only is there no explosive residue on the pilot’s door, there’s no Teddy residue, either. No blood and guts.”

  “We both know that a highly fragmented body in the sea would be eaten by some assortment of creatures very quickly.”

  “True.”

  “Do you have anything else from shore that might point to Fay’s survival?”

  “There is one thing,” Kerry said, “but it’s not much.”

  “Tell me”

  “As part of the shoreside search, we entered and searched a number of houses, most of them closed for the season.”

  “And?”

  “And we found a bicycle in the garage of one of them.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m sorry, what I mean to say is, we found a woman’s bicycle, but we contacted the owner, and he told us there was also a man’s bicycle in the garage. It’s gone.”

  “Any other evidence in the house?”

  “One anomaly: the water in the hot water heater, which was turned off, was slightly warm, indicating to us that someone might have heated it in order to take a bath or shower. It would take several hours, at least, for it to cool to the same temperature as the inside of the house. The owner of the house is being transported from his home in Boston as we speak, so that he can tell us if anything besides the bicycle is missing or out of place.”

  “I want to hear about that as soon as you speak to him.”

  “Of course.”

  “If you were Teddy Fay and you had escaped from that airplane with your life, what would you do?”

  “I’d search for dry clothes and transportation,” Kerry said.

 
“And where would you go?”

  “The nearest town was Kennebunkport? From there I’d go to Kennebunkport, then find a ride to Boston. It’s a transportation hub, and he could have taken a train, plane or bus anywhere, even overseas. Ireland might be a good guess. We know Fay had access to all sorts of apparently genuine information documents.”

  “I suppose you’re already checking on passengers?”

  “I’ve got a team on the phones right now, checking every mode of transportation.”

  Helen knocked on the door and opened it. “Kerry, there’s a Mr. Taylor on the phone for you from Kennebunkport ”

  “That’s the owner of the house,” Kerry said, picking up the phone on the conference table and pressing a button. “Hello? Yes, Mr. Taylor thanks for calling. Have you had an opportunity to look around the house?” He listened for perhaps two minutes. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Our agents will see that you’re transported back to Boston, and we’re grateful for your help. All right, put him on.” Kerry covered the phone with his hand. “The agent in charge there wants to speak to me again.” He turned his attention to the phone again. “Yes, I’m here.” He listened intently for ten seconds. “Thanks.” He hung up.

  “Tell me,” Kinney said.

  “Mr. Taylor is missing some clothing: a couple of shirts and some underwear, a gray suit and a Burberry raincoat, in addition to his bicycle.”

  Kinney nodded.

  “And the agent told me they dug up Mr. Taylor’s garden and found a parachute.”

  Kinney exhaled loudly. “The son of a bitch is alive.”

  “Yes,” Kerry replied.

  “And I’ve just told both the president and the national media that he’s dead.”

  “I tried to stop you on your way out, and I tried to call you, but your cell phone wasn’t on.”

  “I’m never going to turn it off again,” Kinney said.

  NINE

  HOLLY STOOD UP and put on her sweatshirt. “I didn’t lie on the polygraph,” she said to the examiner.

  The man opened a side door, revealing another small room, which held a steel table and some matching chairs. “Go in there and sit down,” he said.

  Holly went into the room and sat down, and the man closed the door behind her. She found herself facing another mirror. Knowing that she was probably being watched, she sat still and tried to breathe normally. She sat that way for what seemed an hour but was closer to five minutes, then two men walked into the room and took chairs on the opposite side of the table. One of them, Bob, the younger of the two, carried a thick folder.

 

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