Killing the Giants

by Jeff Bennington

  “Now what?” asked Blake.

  Sarah sat still and thought of Dr. Liggin. “I know someone who can help. But I’ll tell you right now, we have to play by their rules until we can expose them, reveal their secrets and bring their corruption to light.”

  “How do we do that?” asked Blake. “How can we expose them before they catch on to us? If they’re so powerful, they’ll know what we’re up to, won’t they?”

  Jonathan stood from the table and said, “How am I supposed to carry on like nothing’s happening? I’m no Caesar, and I’m definitely not an actor. I don’t know if I can keep this charade up much longer.”

  “You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want to,” said Sarah. “I can carry on this investigation with or without you. But it’ll be a lot easier with your help. If you don’t mind, the next time we meet, I want to introduce you to an old friend of mine who I think can help us.”

  “Sure,” replied Jonathan.

  Blake nodded.

  “Okay, Mr. Stalwart,” said Sarah, turning toward Jonathan, grinning, enjoying the thrill of battle.

  “Please, call me Jonathan.”

  Sarah winked. “If you’re in, Jonathan , you need to live your life as normal as possible. Go to the club and act like the gifts and ideals suit you. Just roll with it and we’ll get a GPS location. I’ll have to get this done quietly, with friends that I trust, because Caesar may very well have eyes everywhere, including inside the ATF.” She turned toward Blake. “I know it’s going to be hard, but you need to hibernate for a while.”

  Chapter 23

  Madame Speaker

  Senate Floor, The Capitol Building, Washington, DC

  The Speaker of the House commanded, “The senator from North Carolina may take the floor. Senator, you have five minutes.”

  Senator James McCutchen, a wealthy businessman who owned a generic drug empire, had very strong ties to the banking industry. In fact, the largest donors to his campaign fund came directly from investment bankers.

  The senator cleared his throat and spoke with his usual southern eloquence. “Thank you, Madame Speaker. I want to thank my fellow colleagues for this opportunity to speak on behalf of the banking industry. I accept my time with much gratitude.” The senator turned away from the Speaker and looked out at the Senate floor.

  “It has become clear that our economy is in a downward spiral, and at the helm of this sinking ship is the fate of our financial institutions. This system, which is the foundation of this country, desperately needs our help. The system seriously needs an injection of funds that can sustain the banks and lending institutions throughout this country. Without a viable solution and a strong capital infusion into our weakening monetary system, these banks will lose business, lay off workers and tighten their lending standards. As a result, large corporations, midsize manufacturers and mom-and-pop storefronts will slow growth or close their doors faster than you can say foreclosure!

  “However, that’s not all that’s at stake. As we consider passing bill H.R.444, we must realize that there are many weaknesses in this system. And I must add that many of these weaknesses are a direct attack on the taxpayer. I’m talking about the security of the FDIC maximum deposits, which should be increased to at least 250,000!” Senator McCutchen laughed. “Come on folks. Are we living in the dark ages, or what? I’m talking about SEC regulations that make it impossible for banks to manage incentives and stock options in a fair and timely manner for the stakeholders in these institutions.

  “However, this bill is not just about the banks. It’s also about sustaining struggling businesses. We must loosen the reins on lending standards so banks can make their funds more readily available; because the only way to get through these hard times, for some institutions and businesses, is by securing low-cost debt.

  “The truth is we all want what’s best for these institutions, and what’s best for the American people. In fact, I talked with my banker just this morning. He told me that our small-town bank is on the brink of bankruptcy, and if this bill does not pass, they will have to close their doors within weeks. He told me that 220 people will be out of work, and many more will be at risk of losing their jobs. And that’s just at that bank alone.

  “I, for one, do not want to see my local community fall apart because of the ignorance of a few out of touch bureaucrats in Washington. But I don’t think we’ll let that happen. I think we’re better than that. I think we’re smarter than that. So I’m casting my vote in favor of bill H.R.444, and I ask my colleagues to do the same. I yield my time to the good gentleman from Indiana.” Senator McCutchen left the podium and returned to his seat.

  • • •

  Senator Bill Peterson, the junior senator from Indiana, took the floor and gazed at the crowd as he tapped his notes on the podium and carefully set them down. A retired implement dealer, short, thin and balding, Senator Peterson was also familiar with the ins and outs of economic cycles and the need for debt to sustain small and midsize businesses. He grew his business throughout Indiana over the course of three decades and knew whom he represented.

  Senator Peterson looked at his colleagues across the aisle, then looked up at the Speaker of the House and said, “Thank you, Madame Speaker. I accept the time I have been given and ask for the option for an additional five minutes.”

  “Granted.”

  “Thank you, Madame Speaker. I’d also like to thank the fine gentleman from North Carolina for his very thoughtful, articulate and genuine speech about the virtues of the banking industry. And I do mean industry. I am morally obligated, however, to point out to my colleagues here today that the senator from North Carolina is fundamentally and theoretically somewhere out in left field.

  “Apparently, he believes, as do others here, that the banking industry is an American institution funded by the taxpayer. He seems to think the banking industry is a federal institution. He seems to believe that the American people are somehow responsible for ensuring the viability of this industry! Now, my good friend and colleague from North Carolina surely understands the basic principles of the free-market system.

  “Without oversimplifying, I must point out that a public institution is only as public as the number of individual investors who own their share of that industry. In the case of the banking institutions, public does not mean taxpayer. Likewise, any industry should hold the ‘stakeholders’—as my colleague calls them—solely responsible for not only a profitable endeavor, but for their mishaps as well. Do not investors reap the rewards of a profitable industry by way of dividends and capital gains? And since we all know that that’s true, is it not conversely the responsibility of the investors to absorb any losses resulting from their investments as well? Why would we ask voting taxpayers to foot the bill for the financial mismanagement of an industry that profits at their expense?

  “In the case of bill H.R.444, we’re not talking about the American public’s responsibility to ensure that responsible, professional and prudent business practices are adhered to. That’s the responsibility of the market…a free and unadulterated market. So we must take the focus off of our constituents in this case, and turn our eyes toward the managers!” Senator Peterson pounded on the podium in time with every word. “We must hold them accountable, and demand that they accept responsibility for their mismanagement!” He took a deep breath and rested his voice for a moment.

  “I have to tell you,” he said chuckling. “I’m honestly miffed by the political rhetoric that I’ve heard today. It’s almost comical listening to my colleagues plotting to steal from the American people, our employers …openly discussing a deviant scheme. And yet it is incredibly frightening at the same time. Are we that corrupt? Are we criminals? I think not! But in my mind’s eye, that’s exactly what this bill makes us out to be if we pass such reckless legislation. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this bill has nothing to do with banking, but simply means to eliminate the middle class by adding yet another burden to the working men and wo
men of this great nation? Either way, passing this bill does not make sense to my constituents or myself. And if I had to make a guess, it probably doesn’t make sense to anyone except the few wealthy bankers who intend to rape the working class again!

  “Are we so out of touch with the men and women who cast their vote to get us in office that we’re willing to put their hard-earned dollar into the hands of a few wealthy men, simply because they’ve had a bad year? Are we so out of touch with our constituents that we’re willing to take billions from them and transfer it to only a few? Will someone please explain to me how this bill could possibly demonstrate that this is a government by the people, and for the people?

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my opinion that anyone who votes in favor of this bill is guilty of treason and embezzlement! I cannot see how any of us could vote in good conscience to pass this bill. So I ask my colleagues in favor of this legislation: have the banking lobbyists bought you out?” The senator pointed toward the outer doors. “They’re standing outside these walls right now, drooling over your decision. Are you going to represent them, or the men and women who put you in office?

  “My fellow colleagues, I urge you to consider carefully who you represent when you cast your vote. Please think about what’s at risk when the banking industry, or any industry that’s willing to fill your campaign treasure chest, is considered ‘foundational to this country.’ That, my colleagues, is a sign of the state of our leadership. That kind of ideology is a clear indication that corruption has overrun these halls, and demonstrates the complete disdain and disregard that elitists, like my colleague from North Carolina, have for the Constitution! Which by the way, says nothing about taxpayers bailing out or funding banks in any way, shape or form!”

  Senator Peterson gathered his papers and cleared his throat. “Thank you for my time, Madame Speaker. I relinquish my remaining time to the gentlewoman from Arizona.”

  • • •

  An hour later, after the votes were cast and the bill was made into law, the banking lobbyists outside celebrated with their political associates and business partners. Deals were made, secrets concealed and futures were locked in place. Several senators’ dreams of success were finally realized, as promises of corporate board-ships, speaking engagements and executive positions were made. No money was exchanged, nor were tangible gifts handed out. It was all part of a long-term partnership, a long-term commitment to the senators who agreed with the economic policies of the Giants.

  After his speech, Senator Peterson stepped outside of the Capitol Building to get some fresh air. As he leaned against one of the pillars, Isaac Bernstein, a large, intimidating man and powerful lobbyist from the Trilateral Commission, approached him.

  “That was quite a speech you gave in there, Senator,” said Mr. Bernstein in a monstrously deep voice. Isaac stood over six feet seven inches tall, wearing a black suit, dark sunglasses and a black overcoat.

  “Thank you. I meant every word of it,” said Senator Peterson, straining his neck as he looked up at the Goliath. “What can I do for you?”

  Isaac popped peanuts in his mouth and answered while he attempted to chew and talk at the same time. “Well, it’s not so much what you can do for me, but…” Cleaning out his teeth with his tongue. “It’s what you haven’t done for me that I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry…who did you say are you?”

  Isaac put the small bag of nuts in his overcoat pocket, wiped his salty hands on his pants, and reached out to shake Bill’s hand.

  “Isaac Bernstein, from the Trilateral Commission.” The two men shook hands and the senator felt his knuckles grinding.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” lied the senator. “But as you know, I made it very clear throughout my campaign that I was not for sale; not then, not now, not ever. I apologize if there was some kind of misunderstanding about my acceptance of your organization’s gift to my campaign fund.”

  “Well, I appreciate your honesty Mr. Peterson, but you have to understand, it’s not my job to accept apologies on behalf of my associates. It’s my job to get legislation passed. I’m sure you’re quite aware of that, which brings me to the purpose of my visit.” There was a short pause. “If you have time, I’d like to take you out to lunch so we can get further acquainted, or perhaps forge a closer relationship that has a mutual benefit.”

  Always open for a good debate, Bill responded with a chuckle. “I’ll go to lunch with you, Isaac, because I’m hungry, not because I’m going to accept any of your gifts.”

  Isaac clasped his hands and laughed at Bill’s comment.

  Bill smiled and said, “So, sure, let’s go. Is American dining okay with you?”

  “Whatever you want, Senator.”

  The two men walked down the steps and into a long black limousine. Bill called one of his aides to inform her that he was taking an extended lunch with an associate.

  Senator Peterson never returned to his office.

  Chapter 24

  Capitol Hill

  High Street Hotel, New York City

  The next evening, Sarah Perkins sat in her stale hotel room, looking over the lab results from the Chapleaux suspect—identified as Timothy Briggs, a thirty-eight-year-old bus driver who worked for a contractor out of Texas. The report claimed that Mr. Briggs had been upset over the way he was treated by the local union, especially Blake Driscole. The report concluded that he was motivated by his resentment toward the local union.

  The report further claimed that Briggs’s employer, a temporary staffing contractor for skilled trades in the oil business, trained and equipped craftsmen to serve the industry throughout the world. Tim was once a foreman and knew the oil and gas industry quite well, making him knowledgeable enough to pull off the crime. The local investigation stated that he was killed upon impact—case closed.

  Frustrated by another dead end, Sarah closed the file and gave her attention to the news. She turned up the volume on the television and heard the anchorwoman say, “Jennifer Hudson is live from Washington. Jennifer, we understand that there are rumors circulating about Senator William Peterson’s death. What’s going on there in Washington?”

  “That’s right, Kate. I personally spoke with one of the paramedics who arrived at the parking garage, where Senator Peterson’s body was found. He told me that there were signs that he may have been killed by strangulation. But later, the coroner announced that he had actually died from a heart attack. Even more disconcerting is the fact that he gave a very strong speech opposing the banking bailout this morning, and that he was seen leaving the Capitol Building with Isaac Bernstein, an influential lobbyist for the Trilateral Commission. Apparently Mr. Bernstein has been questioned but is not a suspect at this time. So unless the coroner changes his tune, it looks like Senator Peterson’s unfortunate passing will not be surrounded with controversy, only sadness. I’m Jennifer Hudson, reporting live from Capitol Hill.”

  At that moment, Sarah’s cell phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Sarah, this is Dave Liggin. Do you have a minute?” He sounded concerned.

  “Sure. What’s up?” She was surprised to hear his voice.

  “I need to talk to you about the investigation.”

  “Okay.” Sarah spoke slowly, afraid of what he had to say.

  “I heard about your friend in Grande Isle and the bus driver from Texas, and I think you’re in serious danger as well.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a friend from Yale that gave me some information that I need to talk to you about. Where are you?”

  “I’m in New York.”

  “I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I’ll call you when I arrive at JFK.”

  “Okay…” She had never heard Dr. Liggin talk so seriously.

  Dr. Liggin whispered, “Be very careful.”

  “I will. Talk to you soon.”

  Sarah knew if she was in danger, Blake was as well. She hung up and considered the risks if Dave was right; they could all be
killed and they’d find another way to cover it up.

  She lay down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling and dialed Blake’s number.

  “Sarah?” Blake sounded sleepy.

  “Yes. Hi. I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait until morning?”

  “No. Can you come to the hotel right now?”

  Blake was half asleep. “Yeah…I was getting ready to hit the sack.” He yawned. “I’ll take a cab.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “I’ve got my buddy with me…just bailed him out. Is it all right if he comes too?”

  “No problem.”

  “I don’t want to leave him. I’m afraid he’ll get into trouble.”

  “I understand. Just hurry!”

  Chapter 25

  The Good Old Days

  An hour or so later, Blake and Dennis stood in the lobby of the High Street Hotel, waiting for Sarah. Tired from his time in jail, Dennis sat down on a sofa. Blake kept a close watch, suspicious of everyone who passed by. The loss of his family and his previous conversation with Sarah and Jonathan had made him overly sensitive to the idea of a conspiracy. He had begun to question anyone who even looked at him. He kept his gun under his coat and his knife in an ankle sheath. Blake wasn’t afraid of anyone, but he didn’t trust anyone either.

  Sarah stepped out of the elevator and immediately noticed Blake and Dennis. They definitely stood out. Blake wore his Canadian military parka and field cap. Dennis wore a wool hat with earflaps, flannel shirt and rubber galoshes.

  Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed out loud when she saw them. They looked so unlike New Yorkers.

  “I hope you two aren’t on a covert operation!” said Sarah.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Dennis as he took off his big hat, revealing his tousled hair.