Later, Teddy decided to walk to the Atticus Bookstore on Chapel Street for lunch. The day just compelled you to go for a walk. Cool, dry air, the smell of reviving life from the trees and plants and grass. The people all around him were for a brief respite from winter no longer walking swiftly with purpose, bent against the wind or snow, but instead leisurely, without purpose, with enjoyment. New Haven was lovely in the spring and Yale was a lovely enclave in New Haven.
Atticus was a favorite haunt of book lovers. It had a long history in New Haven and was unique in being one of the first bookstores to combine books with food in a pleasant atmosphere of students and families. The soups were delicious and surrounding the central counter where you could eat quickly there were tables scattered throughout the store where you also could eat, peruse a possible purchase, or chat with a small group of friends.
Teddy took a seat near the back of the store, by the railing separating eaters from the browsers. He ordered a cup of cream of leek soup and half a tuna salad sandwich. While he was waiting for his lunch he found a book on accounting, his major, and took it back to his seat to keep himself occupied.
Suddenly the room exploded with screams. A young black man crashed through the entrance screaming for help. He banged into tables, upsetting food and drinks, sending chairs flying, evidently looking for some place of safety, some covering protection. A few seconds behind him another black man burst into the store waving a gun and cursing and calling out the name “Carver!” that evidently belonged to the man he was chasing. He was taller than the first man, with hair in dreadlocks, his face in a rage, arms thrown in all directions, handgun waving wildly. Spotting Carver the second man began firing his pistol at him. Then people dove for the floor. The crazed man had wounded Carver who was trying to curl into a ball beneath a table. Carver was screaming for help. The second man seeing that Carver was wounded and under a table with nowhere to go continued to vent his outrage at something Carver had done to himit was not clear what. He walked up to the table. Carver was still screaming for help when the second man fired two shots at close range into him. He bent down and dragged Carver from under the table and began to kick him. As he was evidently dead there was no reaction from the body but the kicking continued, first to the ribs and stomach and then to the head. The kicking continued for several seconds, which seemed longer when Teddy thought back on it later.
Finally, the man stopped kicking Carver and turned to the patrons screaming at them to lie down on the floor. He began moving wildly about the store yelling at people to lie down, screaming at people who were lying down to shut up, screaming at them not to move, brushing things onto the floor with a flourishing movement as he passed. He kicked someone already on the ground, an old man, whom he felt was staring at him. A young women, perhaps a student at Yale, walked in the entrance at that moment. He ran to her and struck her on the side of her head with his pistol and pushed her slumping body to the floor, accelerating her drop.
He turned to the other patrons lying on the floor. “See what she got. I got plenty more of that for anyone who makes trouble.” An infant began crying loudly as the mother tried desperately to quiet the child. The man flew into another rage, scream “Shut up. Shut up. Shut that brat up, you bitch or I’ll do it for you.” He began to walk menacingly toward the mother. As he passed where Teddy was lying on the ground, Teddy saw him reloading his weapon.
“What are you doing?” Teddy yelled at him as he walked by. The man stopped and turned. Teddy continued. “Just go. The police will be here any second. Get out of here while you still can. Just go!” The man lifted his gun, pointing it at Teddy. “You telling me what to do, white boy? You think you pretty smart, don’t you white boy? Well, you ain’t so smart enough to keep you mouth shut when there be an angry black man with a gun. No, you ain’t so smart, white boy. Yale boy. Dead boy.” And then he fired two shots into Teddy.
One bullet punctured his left lung and the other struck him in the hip. Of his near-death he only remembers the stabbing shock of burning pain filling his body as he collapsed in a growing pool of blood. After that he remembers nothing until he awoke in an intensive care unit at Yale-New Haven hospital.
He had been unconscious for several days. Quick action and the superb staff at the Yale-New Haven emergency center had saved his life, barely. Teddy had plenty of time during his recovery to rethink that scene that almost was his last. Why had he spoken up and drawn attention to himself? He believed it was because he thought for sure the man was about to kill either the mother, the child, or both of them. That black man obviously was crazy, rushing into Atticus in broad daylight, firing away like that. Killing had meant nothing to him. His own safety had meant nothing to him. He was just crazy.
Teddy was sure he had spoken up to try to get the man simply to leave. He had not assessed the situation correctly he told himself. He should have tackled the man as he walked byas he reloadedinstead of speaking to him. At least he would have had a fighting chance. In fact, his chance of subduing the man, big as he was, in hindsight, seemed far better than his chances of reasoning with him. And others might have joined in and helped him. Maybe not. Probably not. What the hell was he thinking? Dumb.
Teddy hadn’t really thought about crime except in the peripheral way most people do. Suddenly, he was keenly aware of it. He pored over the New Haven Register. He began to take a greater interest in crime across the nation and across the world. Doing research with his laptop and wireless connection and he became conscious of the different types of crime. White-collar crime, business crime in its infinite aspects. Blue-collar violent crime, the usual rapes, murders, armed robberies, domestic violence, assaults. International terrorism in its sickening and uncompromising belief in its own validity. Environmental crimes. Follow the money was a pretty good underlying theme for almost all of it, either too much that corrupted, or too little. His interest in accounting was starting to take a wider relevance for him as he more and more became a student of crime.
By the time Teddy was fully recovered he had decided he would become an FBI Special Agent. He had read that all early FBI agents were accountants as well as investigators. So, he felt he and the FBI would be a good fit. When he announced his plans to his family there was a period of shock bordering on mourning. His father, William London, was a prominent surgeon in Wooster, Massachusetts. It seemed most family members, including the women, were doctors. But Teddy was adamant. He finished his degree and walked to the FBI field office in New Haven to apply for a job as a Special Agent.
88
Special Agent Theodore London had not reported back to Amanda Brock for several days. Other agents were investigating the Capital explosion. He didn’t much care how that turned out. He had been given his marching orders. Nail that son of a bitch Slaider and use Carlyle to do it. It wasn’t going to be difficult to follow her. She was holed up in her apartment with James Marshall. She had been there for a couple of days when the personnel carrier arrived. Special Agent London called for aerial surveillance of the vehicle when the MPs left Carlyle’s apartment with Carlyle and Marshall in tow.
Getting in his car, London followed the personnel carrier over the Brooklyn Bridge to the financial district in lower Manhattan. The vehicle moved cautiously through a number of military checkpoints leading to the main entrance of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, corner of Liberty and Nassau Streets. Special Agent London pulled his car onto the sidewalk several blocks from the Federal Reserve building and placed an ‘official business’ sign on the dashboard.
He walked back to a position where he could observe the entrance to the building. The personnel carrier had left and he could only assume that Carlyle and Marshall were somewhere in the building. He was able to get through two checkpoints with his FBI credentials. It would not be unusual to have an FBI Special Agent visiting a Federal Reserve Bank so he felt he would arouse no interest on the part of the troops manning the checkpoints. He entered the building, observed the level of s
ecurity, made mental notes of the number of guards, the weapons they were carrying, and that they were all militaryno civilian guards.
Special Agent London wondered, “Why here?” He had no obvious answer to that question. There was no way to determine where the two had been taken without arousing interest in why he was asking. After one more glance around, he left the building to wait for them to come out again. He went back to his car and moved it to a space next to a fire hydrant that gave him a clear view of the entrance to the Federal Bank building. And there he waited.
89
General Slaider put down his cigar and came from behind his desk to sit at the small table in the office he had taken over in the Federal Building. He motioned for his Adjutant, Colonel Tommy Tomlinson, to sit with him at the table. On the table was a map of the eastern half of the People’s Republic of China.
“Tommy,” Slaider said, “I need you to go here.” He pointed to a location on the map. Then he picked up a large envelope an emptied the contents on the table. “Here is a list of the contacts you will make along the way and where. This other document specifies your formal meetings and how far you are authorized to go at those meetings. I want the minimum goals set in stone. Anything above that and you will have made your boss very happy, indeed.”
Tomlinson leafed through the papers.
“These are all things we have talked about in detail already so I don’t need to spend a lot of time on this with you. I would like you to leave tomorrow. Are there any questions?”
“No, sir, General. As you said, we’ve covered this ground pretty thoroughly already.”
“Good. Then tomorrow it is. Take whomever you need with you, but get this done.”
“Yes, sir, General. Will that be all?”
Both men got from their chairs by the desk and shook hands.
“That’s it. You’re dismissed Colonel.”
A few moments after Tomlinson left Slaider’s office a sergeant knocked on the office door and entered his office. She announced that Sylvia Carlyle and James Marshall had arrived.
General Slaider got up from his desk and walked to a sofa in the sitting area in his office. When the sergeant returned with James and Sylvia, he motioned for them to sit with him around a small coffee table. Without a word, and with doubtful glances at each other, they both sat in the separate upholstered armchairs opposite the sofa that Slaider was sitting on.
“So, can I offer you some coffee, tea?” Slaider asked, watching them try to look comfortable.
“Uh, General Slaider, I guess we’re a little disoriented at the moment. Are we under arrest?” James asked. “Because those MPs who brought us here sure gave a pretty good impression that we were.”
“Actually, Mr. Marshall, under the circumstances you should think of it as a protective escort.”
“Protective escort?” Sylvia asked. “Protected from what, General? Am I—is AJC Fusion still a target? James and I assumed that things had gone beyond us by now.”
“Quite right, Ms. Carlyle. I would say ‘protected from and protected for.’”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Protected from any possible danger from conspirators and protected for America. I need you, Ms. Carlyle. Actually, America needs you. We don’t want anything to happen to you.” Slaider waited a moment for his words to settle, to begin the work of creating subconscious possibilities.
“I need you both because I’m reassembling the AJC Fusion team. Most of the principal scientists have become rather missing I am afraid. I regret to inform you that the same can be said for your Dr. Cranshaw and Mr. Berman. Now Ms. Carlyle, don’t look so distressed. Missing means precisely that. We have no reason to believe any of them have come to harm. They are simply missing. In all probability they have sought some safe refuge until the present dangerous times become more peaceful. Hopefully that is it and that Dr. Cranshaw has orchestrated their safe hiding place. A man of his brilliance could certainly be expected to plan for a wide range of eventualities.”
An aide entered the room and General Slaider looked questioningly at James and Sylvia, “Tea? Coffee?” Neither responded, their minds still busy trying to anticipate General Slaider’s intentions for them. The general turned to his aide and ordered, “Three coffees, strong, milk and sugar on the side.” Then he turned to James and Sylvia again, saying, “I prefer milk rather than cream. Better for your health. I hope you don’t mind.” They both nodded, suggesting acceptance of his statement.
“The company we have been so counting on for the bright future of the world seems temporarily to exist as equipment only. There don’t seem to be any people anymore. We need to do something about that, don’t you think? And you, Ms. Carlyle, are an important accessible link to the staff. To be quite to the point, my dear, I need your help to rebuild the company, which means having the staff return.
“As for you, Mr. Marshall, I understand that you are a physicist, or should I say, was? Actually, it is my understanding that once a physicist always a physicist. In fact, your rebellion from the faith to take up a career in the fourth estate merely confirms you as a physicist, a group well-known for their wandering ways. You offer an interesting accumulation of talents, Mr. Marshall. Physicist, accomplished journalist, popular author to the lay public, specialist in humanizing science, and last but not least, close personal friend to Ms. Carlyle.”
Slaider smiled benignly at Sylvia.
“Your many talents can be very beneficial to a new AJC Fusion organization. I’ve always found that name to be a bit pretentious on Dr. Cranshaw’s part. Undoubtedly, under the new circumstances, when he returns we can find a more . . . hmmm . . . patriotic name.”
He never took his eyes from Sylvia, watching her closely as he spoke.
“Ms. Carlyle, I’m asking you to help restore your companyfor America, and perhaps, for world stability.”
James and Sylvia looked at each other, afraid to jump too quickly to conclusions. Sylvia shook her head slowly from side to side, not as a sign of negativity, but rather as an unconscious expression of her mystification. She had no idea how she got to play in this ballgame or what was expected of her.
“General, I thought you were against a government joint venture with AJC Fusion?”
“Not at all, Ms. Carlyle. I was against the improper application of its technology. Against the inadequate preservation of itsof ourcrucial secrets. But against AJC Fusion? Never. Why, I was the one who introduced Dr. Cranshaw to President Drummond. You didn’t know that did you? I suppose I should say the late President Drummond. What terrible times these have been.
“No, you mistake my apprehensions. I have nothing but admiration for your team and their wonderful accomplishments. I greatly admire the skill and dedication of your company. It could only happen in America.” Once again he smiled benignly at them both. “Our Dr. Cranshaw has a very special team of people—a team that must be preserved for the benefit of America. That’s why you’ve been brought here. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here in New York.”
“So, if I understand what you’re telling us, we weren’t under any particular threat when you had us brought here? You just wanted to make us an offer we couldn’t refuse.” She returned Slaider’s steady gaze. “I guess I don’t like getting scared to death just prior to a job interview, General. Your men need a little training in personal relations if you’re going to send them on recruiting missions. As for ‘protective escort,’ frankly, for a few minutes this afternoon, I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t your men I should be afraid of.”
“These are difficult times, Ms. Carlyle. May I call you Sylvia? Thank you. I regret any misunderstanding that may have arisen from my method of summoning you here. Believe me, the urgency of our task did necessitate—shall we say—prompt and efficient delivery. I’m afraid soldiers are not subtle instruments.”
Slaider smiled broadly. “Sylvia, I can see that this has been a terrible strain on you and that you have every right to be
upset. I understand that—and I apologize for any actions of mine that may have contributed to your anxiety. But please feel free and comfortable now. You are perfectly safe, I assure you.”
“Thank you, General, but I’m having a real problem with what you’re saying. And please don’t get me wrong. I think—we both think you’ve done a spectacular job rising to the occasion, so to speak, and showing decisiveness during this horrible, horrible situation. But you know, there are the charges by the vice president . . . ”
Sylvia felt James tug at her arm but she pulled away from his touch. “I mean, what is all this?—it’s got a sweet face on it but when you come right down to it, those MPs were definitely intimidating, goddam frightening actually. To tell you the truth, I’m getting a little sick and tired of being on the verge of a nervous collapse about I don’t know what or why and the whole world turned upside-down and Dr. Cranshaw and Samuel Berman missing and the president dead and the country in a state ofexcuse me for putting it this waymilitary occupation, and I just don’t really know whom to trust.” She looked at James for encouragement, but saw only his anxious look of concern for where she was going with her conversation.
“You ask me to believe you, General. I really don’t know if I can do that. Are you trying to overthrow the government of the United States and replace it with a military dictatorship?” She was now pushing Marshall’s restraining hand decisively away. “No,” she said to Marshall, “I will not stop,” she said.
“Because if that’s what you’re trying to do, I will not help you. I mean our system of government may have its flaws—and god knows being black I’ve seen enough of them, but its a damn sight better than anything anyone else has come up with so far and I don’t know what aid and comfort I’d be giving you by doing whatever it is you want me to do. And it must be important to you or you wouldn’t have gone through all this strong-arm business to get to me. What the hell’s going on? If I’m so important to your plans then I need to trust you if you want my help. I may not have all the facts, General, but please don’t think of me as stupid.” She turned and looked defiantly at James and turned back to the general.
On Deception Watch Page 36
