"I'll try-"
"If it's going to happen, it's going to happen in a public place. The Kennedy Center is too dangerous."
"In the past, I've heard him say no terrorist was going to stop the President of the United States from going where he wants to go."
"And JFK said something like that before he went to Dallas. Eleanor, this isn't a security matter any longer. It is a survival matter. It's up to you now. You have to put your foot down. They will kill you if you are with him. This isn't a goddamn game."
"I hear you, Pete."
She glanced at her wristwatch. "I'd better get going. Will you be here if I have to reach you?"
"I'm not sure."
"I'm terrified that you're going to go out there and something will happen. Please stay here where it's safe."
"Be forceful with him. Don't take no for an answer."
"I'd better go before Walter gets worried. I almost had to get in a screaming match with him to convince him to let me come up here alone. I told him my cousin didn't like agents." She took out a compact and checked her makeup. "I'd better get going."
"Will you-"
"Yes. I'll talk with him."
"Tell him I phoned you - that I got through to your office on a signal line. I'll call the Oval Office tonight at exactly four P.M. Have him tell his secretary to put me through."
"But they'll trace the call."
"I'll call through the signal board on a scrambled line. I have the code so I can get in that way. The signal will show I'm calling from New York. Eleanor, you have to convince him to listen to me with an open mind - that assassins don't call the people they are trying to kill. I know all of this sounds outrageous and weird. But the President is a reasonable man. I believe he will listen. He is in mortal danger and so are you."
She had a faraway look. "I was just thinking. If you and I hadn't ... I wouldn't have believed you. I would think you were guilty."
"And you would have been justified by the facts. But you would have been completely wrong."
"Pete, how is this going to end? How are things ever going to get put back into place now that all this has happened?"
"I don't know."
"Pete, it's too dangerous for you to be on the street. I want you to stay here until I can get you in to see my husband."
He nodded agreement.
"I'm not going to stand by and let some traitor do his thing," she said.
She brushed her lips against his cheek and left the apartment.
Garrison walked to the window. Below, she walked to the limousine with Sebastian at her side. He opened the door and she got in. The motorcade pulled away, turning the corner with a wide sweep. Wispy clouds extended west for as far as he could see. In the distance, the Washington Monument pointed toward the sky, a shiny, gray spear glimmering in sunlight.
****
CHAPTER 28
AT PRECISELY FOUR P.M., Garrison picked up his cellular phone and anxiously dialed the White House signal number. An operator came on the line. Garrison asked for the Oval Office. The President's secretary answered and he told her who he was. The line beeped twice.
"President Jordan speaking."
"Good evening, Mr. President. This is Agent Garrison.
"Good evening. Director Wintergreen and National Security Advisor Pierpont are here with me. I'm going to put you on the speakerphone."
"I need to speak with you in private."
"I want a witness to our conversation," the President said impatiently.
"This is about a threat to your life-"
"That's non-negotiable. You and I aren't going to have a private telephone conversation."
"Very well."
There was a brief humming sound as the President activated the speakerphone.
"Can you hear me, Garrison?"
"Yes."
"Agent Garrison, this is Helen Pierpont. Are you all right?"
"I don't have any bullet holes in me if that's what you mean."
"We want you to come in, Pete," Pierpont said as if she knew him.
"So you can lock me up without bail under the Anti-Terrorism Statute?"
"It's time to end all this foolishness," she said condescendingly.
"That is a meaningless statement," Garrison said. "And you don't have to talk to me like I am a child. I'm not insane and I am not an assassin. I'm being blamed for something I didn't do. Framed."
"I didn't mean to imply-"
"I have great interest in what you have to say, Pete," the President said. "But for security reasons we shouldn't be talking on the phone. If you expect me to believe you, you should be willing to look me in the eye, man-to-man."
"Mr. President, I will surrender if you will give me a half hour of your time so I can explain what I have learned concerning a threat to your life. Just you and I. Face-to-face."
"Surely you can't expect the Secret Service to abdicate its responsibility for Presidential security," Pierpont said. Garrison remained silent. "Pete?"
"I heard you."
"Well?"
"I will accept any and all security precautions the President deems necessary. I had nothing to do with the Marine One sabotage."
"I agree to meet with you if you will come to the White House unarmed," the President said.
From the President's tone of voice, Garrison tended to believe that he was telling the truth: that it wasn't just a ruse. But there was no way to know for sure. It all depended on Eleanor - on how successfully she had fought for him. Garrison told himself that from what he knew about their relationship, the President wasn't going to agree to accede to Eleanor's request to meet with him and then coldly ensnare him. At least he hoped not.
"Considering the situation as it stands, Mr. President, how do I make it there without getting killed?"
"I'll send an intermediary to escort him in, Mr. President," Wintergreen said. "How about Walter Sebastian, Pete? You trust him, don't you?"
Garrison closed his eyes to consider the offer.
"And he can accompany me to the meeting with the President?"
"Yes," the President said.
Garrison didn't trust either Wintergreen or Pierpont. But he was sure that Walter would never double-cross him. He realized he was at the point where his options were limited. He had the President's attention and he certainly wasn't negotiating from a position of strength.
"I'll agree on one condition: that Walter gets his orders directly from the President, not through any intermediaries."
"I will speak with him in person," the President said. "You have my word on that."
"I won't be arrested?"
"I give you my word that you and I will be able to talk alone," the President said after a brief silence. "If you aren't involved with the bombing, you have nothing to worry about. I will clear you."
Garrison shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Mr. President, if you're thinking about setting a trap for me, think again. What I have to say involves a mole in the White House who is involved in a conspiracy to assassinate you."
"If you convince me of that, I will personally take over the investigation," the President said.
Garrison's temples throbbed. The President could be lying. They could all be lying. But if he refused the offer and got caught, Garrison could end up dead or spending the rest of his life in prison for something he didn't do and the President might get assassinated.
"Okay. Let's do it."
"Be at the service entrance behind the Woodley Park Marriott Hotel exactly one hour from now," Wintergreen said. "Sebastian will meet you there."
Garrison wondered whether the two-hour wait was to give Wintergreen time to insert surveillance agents into the area.
"If I see anyone other than Walter there, the deal is off," Garrison said choosing to believe the President.
"Neither you nor I have anything to gain by playing games, Pete," the President said. "Stay cool. We'll resolve this."
Garrison pressed OFF. He dro
pped the phone on the bed and reviewed the conversation, mulling over every word, trying to detect a double cross. He decided he had to take the President at his word. Besides, Garrison knew the layout of the Marriott Hotel by heart from having written an advance security survey for a Presidential visit there. If the President or Wintergreen were laying a trap for him, he would be able to detect it.
In the Oval Office, Wintergreen lifted a two-way radio from his belt and pressed the transmit button.
"Wintergreen to Crown Control. Have Agent Sebastian report to the Oval Office ASAP."
A radio voice said: "Crown Control, Roger.
Wintergreen felt energized. He relished the middle of a crisis, the heat of battle.
The President stood at the window gazing out, looking distracted. He turned to Pierpont.
"What do you think?"
"If Garrison was innocent he wouldn't have run from the safe house," she answered.
"He could be telling the truth," the President said.
"We have mountains of evidence stacked against him," Wintergreen said, and clipped the radio onto his belt. "Mountains." Wintergreen considered the President to be the picture of mediocrity - a field commander frozen in the midst of battle.
"If he's guilty," the President said, "if he is responsible for the bombing, why would he go through this charade?"
"Maybe he figures he has nothing to lose," Pierpont said. "Maybe he figures it's just a matter of time. He probably wants to save his life. He'll try to convince you, then later he'll ask for a deal."
"I could flood the area with agents - drop a net on him," said Wintergreen.
"He'll have taken precautions, the President said. "I have the feeling that if we do anything untoward, he might pull the ripcord. And once he goes under again, you might never find him. No, we're going to go through with this."
"As you wish, sir."
Wintergreen felt stimulated at the President's words. It had been the reaction he'd anticipated.
'*I wonder what he has to say," Pierpont said.
"Don't worry," Wintergreen said. "Whatever it is won't negate finding C-4 in his apartment."
The intercom buzzed.
"Walter Sebastian is here, Mr. President,” a secretary said over the speaker.
"Send him in."
The door opened. Sebastian walked into the room. He had a troubled expression.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?"
"Thanks for getting here so promptly, Walter. Please sit down."
Sebastian complied, sitting hesitantly at the table. The President nodded at Wintergreen.
"Walter, listen closely," Wintergreen said. "We don't have much time." He explained that a bomb believed planted by Pete Garrison brought down Marine One and that shortly after the bombing, Garrison killed a member of the Aryan Disciples who might have tried to silence him for his part in the assassination conspiracy. Further, while being questioned, Garrison escaped and killed Frank Hightower, a listed confidential informant who was working on the case. Finally, Wintergreen related the contents of Garrison's telephone call to the President.
"The President has agreed to meet privately with Garrison," Pierpont said. "Garrison balked at surrendering to Wintergreen or me."
"He has agreed to accept you as an intermediary," the President said. "I want you to go out and escort him here."
Sebastian looked pale. His eyes moved from the President to Wintergreen, then to Pierpont.
"Any questions?" Wintergreen asked.
"Just one. Are you shitting me?"
"We couldn't be more serious," Pierpont said.
"Garrison isn't a bomber," Sebastian said.
"That remains to be seen," the President said.
"I know him. He isn't a killer. Anyone who says he is is out of his goddamn gourd. Somebody must be framing him."
"That's what we'd like to think," the President said. "You're going meet Garrison and bring him safety here. Others are hunting for him as we speak, and it's not safe for him just to come strolling in."
"Does that mean that you have paper on him?"
"That doesn't matter at this point," Wintergreen said.
"The hell it doesn't," Sebastian said. "If you have people on the street trying to kill him, I have the right to know-"
"Of course it matters," the President said. "Walter, you can assume the worst. Garrison may be a target. You'll need to use precautions bringing him here. But I have confidence in you to handle it for me."
"Mr. President, with all due respect, if you're looking for someone to help you trap him, maybe you'd do better to find some other agent."
Wintergreen cringed.
The President cleared his throat.
"This isn't anything like that. I have given Garrison my word that he will not be arrested and that he will be allowed to speak with me alone when he arrives here. I'm telling you the same thing. You are to encourage him to come in. Encourage him. I'm ordering you to handle this for me."
"Yes, sir," Sebastian said reluctantly.
The President said he had to get to another meeting and departed.
"When you get back here with Garrison, search him thoroughly and run him through a magnetometer," Wintergreen said. "Enter using the Executive Office building entrance and bring him to the Situation Room. You will remain with him when he meets with the President."
Wintergreen followed Sebastian out of the office. Wintergreen had always felt uncomfortable around Sebastian, who he sensed didn't like him.
"The Man has the dogs after Garrison, doesn't he?" Sebastian said.
"I'm following orders just like you are."
Sebastian stopped. "Translation: Yes, Walter. Garrison has a price on his head."
"It wasn't my doing."
"Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Director. You and I both know Pete Garrison is not a damn murderer. You know him as well as I do. He's flat out not involved in any shit like that. Did you tell the Man that?"
"Walter, I like Garrison as much as you do," Wintergreen said focusing on Sebastian's eyebrows, a technique he'd developed over years of dealing with the rich and powerful. "All this makes me sick. But what am I supposed to do? The cards have been stacked against Garrison and there is nothing I can do. I say let Garrison convince the Man that he isn't involved. There is nothing I can do but let this play out."
"The way I read it, Pierpont is in there pulling the strings and no one could give a rat's ass about Garrison."
"Tell Garrison I'm on his side. Tell him that if he'll go through the hoops, I'm sure this whole thing can be washed. Put him at ease and let's resolve this."
"If you are using me as bait to bag Garrison, you and I are going to have a problem. Man-to-man, outside the House and off duty."
"Don't threaten me."
"I'm not bullshitting. I can always get myself another job."
"I've given you my word. There is nothing else I have to say."
Wintergreen stepped into the elevator. Sebastian stared at him, nodded, and then followed. Wintergreen felt uncomfortable.
****
CHAPTER 29
SITTING IN A Metro train car on the way to Woodley Park station, Garrison imagined what he was going to say to the President. Without the CD and the tape recording Breckinridge had obtained, he had no solid evidence to give the President. All he had was some supposition and the fact that Breckinridge had seen Flanagan run her off the road. It wasn't going to be easy. And that was if the President had been leveling with him, rather than drawing him into an arrest trap.
The train slowed as it pulled into Woodley station. He walked off the car and mixed into the crowd on the platform. He knew that if they were trying to trap him, the area could be flooded with agents. As he scanned faces, looking for Secret Service agents and telltale gun bulges, he considered what he would do if he were in charge of the Garrison case. He would allow the suspect to take the escalator up to the street before making the arrest, eliminating the danger of a shoot-out in
a crowded subway station and the opportunity for him to jump back on a train and escape.
A young man standing near the wall glanced at him. Garrison knew that agents who'd been assigned to surveil and arrest him would be from outlying Secret Service field offices - agents who'd never met him. The young man opened a newspaper as if to read. A newspaper was the sign of an inexperienced surveillant. A six-year-old moved to the man, and he tousled the boy's hair in a familiar manner. They were probably father and son. Garrison felt relieved. Agents didn't bring their kids on surveillance duty.
Garrison strolled to the other end of the station, casing the other passengers. A woman in her thirties sat alone on a bench. She looked trim and fit like most female agents. She wore a business suit under which, he imagined, she might be carrying a gun. He kept an eye on her for a while. A minute later, a train roared into the station. She boarded it.
Moving through the crowd, he reached the escalator. Riding it to the first level, he stopped and looked back, allowing passengers to pass him. He spotted no one paying any attention to him.
He emerged from the escalator onto Connecticut Avenue. The multilevel Marriott Hotel next door was built on a corner lot overlooking the fashionable Adams-Timmons suburb. To his right, Connecticut Avenue followed a moderate downgrade through Rock Creek Park toward D.C. proper. Garrison stood at the curb for a few minutes, trying to spot signs of surveillance. There were people sitting at outdoor restaurant tables across the street, the perfect cover for agents on stakeout. After studying faces, people and cars, looking for anything untoward, any signs of people using two-way radios, Garrison walked across the street.
Ambling along the sidewalk, he passed funky shops and hip cafes. No one seemed to pay any attention to him.
At the corner, he looked across the street at the Marriott, focusing his attention on the edge of the roof. If he'd been setting up surveillance there, he would have used an agent on the roof with binoculars. He saw none. But for all he knew, there could be a dozen agents staring at him from rooms inside the hotel. He might be the subject of remote-operated cameras installed in car headlights and hollowed-out trunk locks.
He went across the street to the hotel. Rather than going directly to the service entrance where he was to meet Sebastian, he walked around the corner and entered the side door. Inside, he crossed a breezeway, opened a door near the bellman's station, and moved down a stairway to the basement. Hurrying down a hallway, he made his way to a door at the end. He tried the handle. It was locked. He took a credit card from his wallet and, after a few tries, managed to shim the bolt back into the frame. Shoving the door open, he moved into a darkened utility room. Closing the door, he hurried past furnaces and air-conditioning equipment to the window. Garrison leaned close. There were no signs of agents on surveillance in the service alley. A truck and a delivery van were parked at the hotel's loading dock. He glanced at his wristwatch. If Sebastian didn't arrive in a minute or two, he wasn't going to wait. He would assume the proposed meeting was nothing but a trap and would make a run back to the Metro station.
The Sentinel Page 23
