The Eighteenth Green

by Webb Hubbell

  “Rachel had two concerns. The first was that the weapon might have been sold or stolen rather than dismantled. Of equal concern was that the designer of the system had also been awarded the contract to dismantle the system. Longstanding Pentagon policy forbids the company that designs a weapon to either test or dismantle it. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

  “She contacted a high-ranking employee of the company that had been awarded both contracts and told him of her fear that the system had been sold on the black market rather than dismantled. She also raised the possibility that the Pentagon’s policy had been violated. At first, he assured her neither could be the case—he said it wasn’t possible, but agreed to look into the matter.”

  So far I hadn’t named names. It was the Attorney General who let the cat out of the bag.

  “I appreciate you honoring my request that you not give specifics, but the name of the company that builds a particular weapon system is not a national secret. You can tell us who built the system.”

  The Deputy Secretary of State didn’t look that comfortable, nor did Carol, but I forged ahead.

  “The rocket system was designed and manufactured by Rouss Military Systems.”

  That brought one of Rouss’s lawyers to his feet, but he remained silent. We weren’t in court.

  The Attorney General wasn’t finished, and I realized he knew what he was doing. “And who was the high-ranking individual whom she contacted? Is he in the audience?”

  “That person’s name was Harold Spencer, who was then the head of the testing division at Rouss. I wish he were here today, but he was murdered a little over a month ago.” I was careful not to smile.

  That was news to almost everyone, and the room erupted with questions. The Attorney General was able to restore calm in short order, but the lawyer remained standing. He’d heard enough.

  “My name is Christian Small, attorney for Rouss Military Systems. I’m not about to sit still and listen to Patterson’s lies and slanders. Enough of this fairy tale.”

  I wanted to tell Attorney Small where to stick it, but this was the AG’s show, and he was quick to respond.

  “Please sit down, Mr. Small. I may have started this by asking Mr. Patterson for a little clarification, but I’d like to remind you I said no interruptions. No one is forcing you to sit still and listen—you are welcome to leave at any time. I will ask Mr. Patterson to address your concerns. Do you have any evidence that your client ever spoke to Mr. Spencer?”

  “I do, and that evidence will be delivered to you this afternoon.”

  “That’s impossible. We—” Small quickly caught himself, but the damage had been done.

  The AG raised his eyebrows. “That’s an interesting reaction, Mr. Small. I play golf occasionally at Columbia and was aware of Mr. Spencer’s death. I believe the investigation into his death is still open. If you or your client has any pertinent information regarding his death, please turn it over to the police immediately.”

  He turned again to me. “Mr. Patterson, since Mr. Small has questioned your truthfulness, can you tell me what sort of evidence you have that establishes Mr. Spencer’s communications with your client?”

  “Yes sir, I can. After Rachel’s arrest, Mr. Spencer left a sealed envelope with his wife that she was to deliver to me if anything happened to him. He feared for his life, so he wrote a letter setting forth why Rachel had contacted him and what they had discovered over a period of two years.”

  “A letter. What did it say? And why did he leave if for you?” he asked.

  “I feel that a truthful answer to that question might lead us into areas that could compromise future investigations. Perhaps I should show you a copy of the letter and let you decide.”

  He gave me a quick smile of thanks and called for a fifteen-minute break. Micki handed him a copy of Spencer’s letter. He scanned it quickly and motioned for Peggy to join him. She read it, and they sat down to confer.

  I went to sit with Micki. “Sorry to steal your thunder; the exhibits are part of your presentation.”

  Micki smiled. “You’re doing fine—we play this one by ear. I’m happy to carry your briefcase this time. Your girlfriend sure doesn’t look happy—I wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.”

  “That’s where I am, and I’m liable to remain there.”

  I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw Clovis motioning to me from the side door. Glancing at my watch, I walked over to meet him.

  “Pretend you need to go to the bathroom, and meet Stella in the conference room. I want to keep it quiet, so the rest of us will stay here.”

  I did as he said and hurried to the conference room.

  Stella was all grins. “Whoever wiped Rachel’s computer should be fired—they did a piss-poor job. She kept a journal, but it’s encrypted much like the zip drive, only better. She installed programs I’ve only heard about that prevent the standard bleaching and wiping systems from eliminating a file. Whoever tried to wipe the computer didn’t stand a chance. Rachel sure knew computers.”

  I couldn’t believe our luck.

  “What’s in the journal? I don’t have time to read it,” I asked.

  “We’ve just now managed to break the encryption, and I’ve only scanned the journal, but it appears to confirm everything that’s on her zip drive and in Spencer’s letter, but in much more detail.”

  “That’s okay. Do we have a copy to give the Attorney General?”

  “We do. We also have copies for you and Micki to read when you’re through. You may have noticed that Beth and Jeff aren’t here. They’re in a separate conference room reading it word by word, and will come running if there are any surprises.”

  “I have to get back, but I could kiss you, Stella. Thanks.”

  I turned to leave, but she reached out to stop me. “One more thing, Jack. You should know that Rachel believed from day one that someone inside the Israeli military murdered her husband. That’s why she never spent a dime of the life insurance or the widow’s pension. She was still thinking through what to do with what she referred to as their ‘blood money.’”

  79

  I RETURNED TO MICKI and quickly told her about the journal. We had too much momentum going to take the time to stop and read it. I had to rely on Stella’s quick scan, as well as Beth and Jeff’s more detailed reading. The AG approached the microphone.

  “I have conferred with the JAG Commander, who will now assume the lead in investigating the death of Mrs. Goodman. He will coordinate with the Montgomery County Police Chief who is handling the murder of Mr. Spencer. We are all in agreement that this letter is too important to both investigations to make public. I know the media is disappointed, but I’m sure it will become public at the appropriate time. Mr. Patterson, why don’t you continue?”

  I approached the podium again and raised the microphone.

  “I believe I was talking about Rachel contacting Mr. Spencer. He didn’t think her allegations were credible, but since he had worked with her before, he agreed to look into the matter from his end. Rachel focused her research on whether there were other instances where Rouss had been given the contract to both design and dismantle a weapon. She identified five such instances over the last four years.

  “She also discovered that in all five cases, a weapons system almost identical to the one rejected by the Pentagon was subsequently sold by Rouss’s overseas subsidiary to a foreign entity.

  “Meanwhile, Spencer realized that Rouss’s revenues for these five contracts made little sense. The earnings for these five projects exceeded normal revenue and profit margins by almost double the company’s average.

  “Spencer believed these numbers could be explained as accounting errors rather than the double-dipping Rachel suspected, but he did a thorough analysis and was forced to agree with her conclusions. We have this analysis and will give it to the Attorney General this afternoon.

  “Now, neither of these individuals went off half-cocked. Instead they worked tog
ether to prepare a report for the Inspector General of the Department of Defense. This draft report contained no confidential plans or designs, nor did it draw any conclusions. Ms. Lawrence can give you all a summary of these exhibits.”

  As I paused, a man rose from his seat on the front row. He didn’t look like a reporter. He appeared to be about forty or so, trying to look younger. His hair was closely trimmed, and both his tailor-made suit and expensive shoes were of a certain style.

  “Mr. Patterson, until we can review and scrub these exhibits, there will be no further discussion about their content. I have heard enough to believe we are dealing with national security concerns, and our office must intervene.”

  I said, “I’m sorry, sir, but who are you?”

  He stood up a little straighter and walked toward the podium. “Richard Ewing, Deputy Director of National Intelligence. Any further discussion of the contents of those documents, and you’ll find yourself in custody.”

  I looked to the AG and Peggy, who seemed to want to throttle the guy. The AG didn’t budge much. “I will review both your credentials and your position before making a decision. We’ll take a five-minute break.”

  The whole room was abuzz, and for the first time the Rouss people and Carol relaxed. I sat down with Micki.

  “Maybe we’ll need those prison clothes after all.”

  “What’s with the ‘we’? I kind of like the guy; he cut my presentation to zero. Do you know him?”

  “The Director of National Intelligence is a big deal, reporting directly to the President, but I had no idea there was a deputy. He looks kind of familiar. I might have met him at Carol’s.”

  “If he was at Carol’s, you’ve been keeping bad company,” she said, as she elbowed me.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Peggy approached us a few minutes later. “Our hands are tied. We can’t let you reference a document that national intelligence considers confidential, regardless of whether they’ve seen it. They’ve directed us to round up all your documents and turn them over for analysis. We’ll fight it, but you need to shut this down before you get in hotter water. Ewing’s orders are coming straight from the top.”

  Her personification of “national intelligence” startled me. It reminded me of Moonrise Kingdom, an eccentric but provocative film where a specific state employee was always called ‘Social Services,’ even to her face. I tried to let it go, but the comparison was troubling.

  “Peggy, you know this is the only chance I’ll get to exonerate Rachel. Thanks for the advice, and please come see me in jail, won’t you?”

  Peggy looked at Micki, “Talk some sense into him, please.”

  Micki’s quick, sharp laugh attracted stares from those near enough to hear.

  “Peggy, you’ve known him longer than I have. Please tell me how to do that, will you?”

  The Attorney General returned to the podium, hardly able to conceal his disappointment. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the deputy director’s decision regarding the exhibits takes precedence today. I don’t see how we can proceed. Sorry.”

  Micki gave me a sharp jab with her elbow, and I rose.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Attorney General. You’ve been very helpful, but I believe this is my press briefing, my show. I won’t reference any exhibits, but I would like to finish my statement. May I have the microphone, please?”

  He smiled and handed it to me.

  Ewing lost his urban chic, whining, “Burt, aren’t you going to stop him!”

  The Attorney General didn’t hesitate, “Nope, not even going to try.”

  John Robert Spencer had changed into to full dress uniform and now walked down the aisle to stand next to Deputy Director Ewing. A quick look told me that our SEALs, now all in full uniform had placed themselves in strategic places around the room, No one could miss their presence.

  Ewing was livid. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

  “Sir, my name is John Robert Spencer. I am Harold Spencer’s son. If you care to hear why my father was killed, I will be glad to escort you to your seat. If not, I’m here to escort you out of the room. Your choice.”

  Ewing looked around for help, but finding none, returned to his seat, accompanied by Spencer in case he should get lost.

  The room had fallen totally silent, so I began. “Neither Harold Spencer or Rachel Goodman ever attempted to sell or give away government secrets. Rather they worked together to find out how weapons that should have been relegated to the scrap heap ended up in the hands of foreign countries. Rachel thought she had uncovered a blatant act of corporate greed, and Harold searched relentlessly for an accounting error. The answer lies in the documents I’m prohibited from discussing, so we can only hope that Mr. Ewing and the intelligence community will make them public one day. I won’t hold my breath.”

  Micki gave me a signal to speed it up. How in the hell was I going to do that?

  “Until this afternoon, I was afraid that Harold Spencer’s murder would be buried and Rachel would be forever branded as a spy who hung herself in a jail cell. Since the FBI and the JAG have now opened an investigation into Rachel’s death, and because the Montgomery County Police now have a cooperating witness, my fears of a cover-up have lessened. If I’m wrong, well I’m not going anywhere, and I hope the press will continue to follow both stories with interest.

  “But we still don’t know why they were killed. According to Harold Spencer’s letter, he feared they were both in danger because they had uncovered a scheme by Rouss to triple dip—get paid to develop a weapon system that failed, get paid again to dismantle and destroy it, and get paid a third time when they sold the system under the table to a foreign country.”

  CEO Maxwell turned pointedly to his attorney, but this time the man didn’t budge.

  “But I think the evidence points to a more complicated plot. I believe Rouss was only one player in a much larger enterprise. Let me propose a different scenario that fits the facts, as I know them. When I do, the members of the Senate and House committees will now understand why they were invited today, why the ambassadors from certain countries were asked to come, and why both Rachel and Harold were murdered. They were investigating something more complex than either imagined.”

  “Let’s speak in hypotheticals so I don’t violate national security. I’ll leave it to you to decide how far off base I am. Let’s suppose that an administration or the military, or both, thinks it’s in our national interest to put certain weapons in the hands of our allies. This is done all the time. Jet fighters are sold to our allies every year. There’s an agency at the State Department called the U. S. Defense Security Cooperation Agency that facilitates the sale of weapons made in the U.S. to our allies. Several members of that agency are here today.” I pointed in their direction.

  “So what I suggest is not unusual. But let’s say the administration or the military doesn’t want anyone to know that a certain weapon or weapons system is being sold to an ally. A sale to Israel, for example, might offend certain Arab countries, or a sale to Germany might make Russia nervous. Moreover, all such sales require congressional approval, or at least notice given to certain congressional committees. And we all know that when Congress knows, the whole world knows.” I smiled and was rewarded with a few chuckles.

  “Occasionally, Congress’s refusal to approve a sale can be embarrassing both to an administration and its allies. This occurred just a few years ago when several well-publicized sales weren’t approved. The military brass was madder than hell, and the administration was caught with egg on its face.

  “So how does an administration get around congressional notification requirements? How does an administration sell weapons to its allies without anyone’s knowledge? It would take someone very creative, very senior, and very well connected to pull off such a scheme, right?

  “First, you’d need to repeal the Pentagon’s policy that prohibits the designer of a weapons system from also dismantling and destroying tho
se weapons. Lobbyists would argue that such a rule was impractical—who better to dismantle a system than the company that designed it? Besides, it would be a money saver.

  “We know that in at least five cases the Pentagon’s rule was waived or ignored. How exactly the Pentagon’s long-standing policy was changed is up to the press, Congress, and others to find out. I only know that it happened.

  “I expect there have been other instances where designers of weapon systems dismantled what they built, but Rachel was only interested in projects where Rouss was the designer, so I only know of five. But I don’t believe for one minute Rouss is the only contractor that took advantage of the administration’s change of heart.

  “Next, in order to bypass congressional approval, the administration and the military must develop a weapon that our ally wants and that the administration wants them to have. That part is easy: the military develops weapons all the time. Some work, some don’t. Next, the designer must insert a flaw into the design that can only be remedied by the designer himself.

  “Finally, the designing company must be awarded the contract to dismantle the weapon. It then simply fixes the flaw rather than scrapping the system. As far as the public or Congress knows, the weapons system no longer exists. The designer then can use an offshore subsidiary to sell the renamed system to whomever, and no one is the wiser. Except, of course, for the very creative, very senior, very well-connected person who has directed the entire process on behalf of the administration.”

  I paused a minute, but no one interrupted, so I continued.

  “I know that to accomplish what I have suggested, the scheme would need to be far more complicated than I have described. Would it even be doable in these days of transparency? Maybe it’s only a hare-brained theory, but before you discard my musings, let me give you a bit of information that comes from public websites on the Internet.”