"Six-fifteen. "
"I don't suppose there's any coffee left from last night.,"
"You're dreaming."
"in that case, wake me when this is over."
"Come on," Jill said. "Straighten yourself up. When this train stops,
I want to hit the ground running."
"Are you always this energetic so early in the morning?"
"Only when I'm terrified. Besides, when you're used to working the night
shift, this is late afternoon, not morning.
"Not for me." Pittman's eyes felt gritty, as if sand had been thrown
into them.
"Let me whisper something that might get you going. "It better be
good."
"Breakfast, and I'm paying."
"You're going to have to, since I don't have any cash. But I'll say
this-you do have a way with words.
,-montpelier? Sounds French."
"The first settlers in this area were French."
',And this is the capital of Vermont?" Pittman sat with Jill at a
restaurant table that gave them a window view of New England buildings
along a picturesque street. "It doesn't feel as if many people live
here."
"Fewer than ten thousand. But then only about six hundred thousand
people live in the entire state."
"A good place to hide out."
"Or to send students to a school that's isolated enough that they won't
be contaminated by the Outside world while they're being taught to be
aristocrats."
Pittman sipped his coffee. "Do I detect a little anger?"
,'More than a little. My parents tried to raise me that wayto think of
myself as better than ordinary people. They're still horrified that I'm
a nurse. All those sick people. All that blood.
"I get the feeling your background involves a lot more money than-"
"In polite society, this isn't talked about."
"I was never good at manners."
"Millions.
Pittman blinked and set down his coffee cup.
"I don't know how much," Jill said. "My parents won't discuss it. We're
having a difference of opinion about how I should conduct my future.
They've been trying to punish me by threatening to disinherit me."
"So that's what you meant about the trust fund from your grandparents. "
"They're the ones who earned it. They could handle it without being
jerks. But my parents think the money gives them some kind of divine
right to look down on people."
"Yes, you are angry."
"I told you, I want to help people, not ignore them or take advantage of
them. Anyway, my grandparents anticipated all this and let me be
independent byestablishing the trust fund for me.
"We have a similar attitude. When I was a reporter-"
"Was? You still are."
"No. I'm an obituary writer. But there was a time ... before Jeremy
died, before I fell apart ... The stories I loved doing the best were
the ones that involved exposing the corruption of self-important members
of the Establishment, especially in the government. It gave me a
special pleasure to help drag them down and force them to experience
what life is like for all of us ordinary bastards of the world."
"Drag aristocrats like Jonathan Millgate down?"
"I sure tried my damnedest."
"Be careful. If you talk like that to the wrong person, you could be
providing a motive for why you might have wanted to-"
The next obvious words-kill him-never came out. Abruptly Jill stopped
talking as the waitress set down their orders: grapefruit, English
muffins, and yogurt for Jill; hash browns, eggs, and bacon for Pittman.
"You'll never get back into shape if you keep eating that way," Jill
said.
"At least I ordered whole-wheat toast. Besides, I've been using a lot
of energy lately."
"Right. You're not in enough danger-you've got to order a death
sentence for breakfast.
"Hey, I'm trying to eat."
Jill chuckled, then glanced around at the warm dark tone of the wood in
the rustically decorated room. "I'll be right back. "
"What is it?"
"Somebody just left a newspaper. USA Today." She looked eager to read
it, but once she returned to their table and studied the front page, she
murmured, "Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore."
"Bad?'-'
As the waitress seated a man and a woman at the table next to them, Jill
handed him the newspaper. "Some things are better left unsaid."
Pittman scanned the story, becoming more and more disheartened. The
crazed obituary writer's murder spree continued, bold letters announced.
Pittman was being blamed for killing Father Dandridge. He was also
being charged for shooting a man who, with two associates, had
supposedly been sent to Jill's apartment by Jonathan Millgate's son to
pass on his thanks for the skillful attention she had given his father
while in intensive care. In addition, Pittman was suspected of
abducting Jill.
"It keeps getting worse," Pittman said. "Maybe I ought to just hang
myself and be done with it."
"Don't say that, not even as a joke."
Pittman thought about it. "The thing is, it was a joke about suicide.
I'm amazed . A couple of days ago, I wouldn't have been able to do
that."
Jill looked at him harder. "Maybe some good will come out of this."
Pittman gestured toward the newspaper. "At the moment, it doesn't look
that way. We'd better leave. We've got plenty to do."
"Find the library?"
"Right." Pittman stood. "There's a reference series most libraries
have. The Dictionary of American Biography. it lists the background,
including education, for almost every intellectually famous person in
the United States. "It'll tell me if all the 'grand counselors went to
Grollier. Then maybe the librarian will be able to help with something
else."
"What's that?"
"How to find Grollier Academy."
,Four hundred dollars?" Jill shook her head, skeptical.
"I know. I'm not crazy about it, either, but I think this is the best
deal we're going to get," Pittman said. "Every other used car on the
lot costs more than the cash we have."
The car salesman, gangly, wearing a bow tie, watched with interest from
the window of his Office as Pittman and jill'circled the gray 1975
Plymouth Duster. The two-door sedan had what was once considered to be
a sleek outline, but the rust on the rear fenders and the cracks in the
vinyl top were evidence of the hard use that the vehicle had received.
"Then let's forget about paying cash," Jill said. "I'll write him a
check and get something decent."
"cant." Pittman recalled an interview he had once conducted with a
private detective who was an expert in tracing fugitives. "An
out-of-state check. The salesman will probably decide to call your bank
to see if the check is good . The police will have put the bank on
alert about reporting any attempt to get money from your account. My
guess is that the grand counselors will have used their influence to get
the same information. They would all know where to focus their search.
It's the same reason we can't rent a car. To do that, we n
eed to use
your or my credit card. The moment either name is in the computer,
we're blown. The grand counselors would immediately figure out why
we're in Vermont. They'd have men waiting for us by the time we showed
up at Grollier Academy. "
"Four hundred dollars." Jill bleakly surveyed the rusted automobile.
"I know. It's a fortune when the only money at our disposal is a
thousand. But we don't have an option. At least we bargained the
salesman down from four hundred and fifty. "
"But can we be certain the car won't break down when we drive it off the
lot?"
"Well, the best thing I can tell you is, this car has a Chrysler
slant-six engine. It's almost indestructible."
"I didn't realize you knew about auto mechanics."
"I don't."
"Then how-?"
"I once did a story about used-car lots and ways to tell if the buyer
was getting cheated."
"Remarkable. I'm beginning to realize you're the sum of all the
interviews you conducted."
"Something like that."
"And if we buy this heap, yu think we'll be getting a good deal?"
"Only if the salesman gives us a free tank of gas."
As they headed northwest from Montpelier Past the mountains that flanked
Route 89, the Duster performed better than Pittman expected, its
slant-six engine sounding Powerful and smooth
Because his bandaged left hand made it awkward for him to steer, Jill
did the driving. She opened her window - "Whoever owned this car sure
liked cigars-"
"on the positive side, the seat covers don't look bad. Which is more
than I can Say about me- I'd better get presentable for when we arrive
at Grollier."
He took the battery-powered razor from his gym bag, and while he shaved,
he stared at the wooded Peaks. "The map the used-car salesman gave us
says this range is called the Green Mountains. An odd name for a place
known for skiing."
"I told you the French were the first settlers here- Analyze the name of
the state. Vermont is another way of saying mont vert. Green
Mountain."
4,It seems so peaceful here. What could there possibly be about
Grollier Academy that's so terrifying to the grand counselors?" hy "At
the library, the DictionarY of American Biography sure wasn't much
help," Jill said. "Professor Folsom was right. ustace Gable
arid-Anthony Lloyd went to Grollier, the same as Jonathan Millgate. But
the other two grand counselors don't have any mention of Grollier in the
entries about them.,."
That still doesn't prove anything. Does it mean they. didn't actually
go there, or is it that they don't want to advertise?"
As the Duster rounded a curve, revealing a meadow flanked by spruce
trees, wooded peaks looming above them, Pittman was so preoccupied, he
barely noticed the vista. "Maybe they realized that it wasn't in their
best interests for it to be known that they all went to the same prep
school.
"Why would that hurt them?"
"Too blatantly chummy. The general public might catch on about one of
the federal government's nasty secrets: how inbred it is. Certain prep
schools for the elite prepare the cream of the future Establishment to
go to Ivy League colleges. That future Establishment graduates from
those colleges and heads toward Washington. There they dominate.
various branches of the government. The CIA is tight withYale, for
example. The State Department used to be dominated by people from
Harvard. Clinton's administration has a close relationship with Yale
Law School.
"But it gets more specific. Ivy League colleges have secret societies,
and the most prestigious-Skull and Bones, for for example-are almost
exclusively for members of the Establishment. A President appoints his
classmates, his fellow society members. They become ambassadors or
serve on the cabinet or as his advisers. You know the story-the
President goes out of office and his appointees move into the private
sector, where as members of the boards of various corporations use their
influence in Washington to manipulate government regulations. Or else
they form their own consultation businesses and cater to foreign clients
who pay them extremely well to use their powerful contacts. That's the
reason I wanted to bring Millgate down to my level. Because he was in
thick with the weapons manufacturers. He advocated military involvement
in Korea, Vietnam, Panama, and Iraq, to name the most famous instances.
But the question is, Was that for the good of the country and the world
, or was it for the good of the weapons manufacturers and Millgate's
Swiss bank account?
"on the most basic level, one of the reasons there is SO much corruption
in the government is that few Politicians and diplomats have the courage
to question the behavior of a former classmate and club member. Good
old so-and-so made a mistake by accepting bribes. But he's not really a
bad guy . Why turn him in and make trouble for him? Some social
commitments are more important than representing the American people.
Did you ever hear about Bohemian Grove?"
"No." Jill looked puzzled.
"It's another secret society-. a males-only club, the main purpose of
which is a summer Outing that takes place each year in a compound in the
woods of northern California. Its members are among the most powerful
men in the United States: senators, cabinet members, major financiers,
and corporate executives. Every Republican president since Nixon has
been a member. The members are allowed to bring equally powerful guests
from foreign countries. And what do all these influential men do? They
get drunk, sing campfire songs, put on skits, and have pissing
contests."
"A boy's camp for grown-ups," Jill said.
-,Right. And when the festivities are over, when all those men go back
to their Powerful occupations, is it likely that any of them would ever
accuse any Others-they pissed against trees together at lamP-Of improper
Professional conduct? No way. The ultimate consequence of Bohemian
Grove is to make it seem in terribly bad taste for Power brokers to
accuse one another of being unethical. And that's just one example of
how club rules are more important than society's rules. The whole
damned thing stinks.
Except for the drone of the Duster's engine, the car became silent. Jill
steered around another curve, passing cattle near a stream in another
valley.
At last she spoke. "Now that you've got that off your chest, do you
feel better?"
"No. , , "My father went to Yale. He was a member of Skull and Bones.
"I wasn't trying to be personal."
"But it's true. My father works in international commodities. Because
he belonged to Skull and Bones, he seems to have more influence than his
competitors. He's able to call in better favors."
"Then imagine the influence the grand counselors have," Pittman said.
"Advisers to Presidents from Truman on. Ambassadors, members of the
cabinet. At one time or another, three of them were
secretaries of
state. Two of them were secretaries of defense. Several were chiefs of
staff and national security advisers, not to mention ambassadors to the
United Nations, NATO, Great Britain, the USSR, Saudi Arabia, West
Germany, et cetera. Never elected. Always appointed. With influence
since the Second World War. A government within the government. When
their power wasn't officially granted to them by the White House-during
the Kennedy and Carter years, for example-they still managed to maintain
their influence indirectly by creating foreign policy as members of
think tanks like the Council on Foreign Relations, the Rand Corporation,
and the Rockefeller Foundation. Three of the grand counselors went to
Harvard. Two went to Yale. And at least three of them, maybe all of
them, went to the same prep school. But one of them felt so troubled by
that prep school, he wanted to confess something about it on his
deathbed, and the others were prepared to do anything to stop him,"
At a scenic town called Bolton, they turned north off Route 89,
following a narrow, winding road that took them through a long valley
filled with meadows alternating with sections of pine trees. "If the
David Morrell - Desperate Measures Page 21
