A Triple Thriller Fest (43 page)

Dan put his arm around Nicole and gave her a quick squeeze. “Looks like I’m gonna be Gary Cooper after all.”

“Gary Cooper?” she quizzed.

“It’s not important.” Dan laughed.

“Well, I’m off,” Connor said. “I’ve got to fly to New York and meet with an old friend. Good to meet you again, Dan. I’ve started to read your book, and I can understand why you feel the way you do. Together, I believe we can make a contribution toward saving the Constitution we both cherish. And as to your ‘contact,’ you can rest assured that in addition to the qualities you’ve obviously noticed about her, she’s also a first-rate intelligence officer. I’ll leave you two to discuss what’s left. Nicole, I’ll be in touch and will probably be back in several days. Again, Dan, my condolences on your grandfather’s death.”

Dan shook Connor’s hand. “Thanks, Pug. If you’ve been reading my book, then you’ll be aware that in some respects, I’m repeating history. If these
devious people,
as you call them, win out, I could hang for treason.”

“You could always retrace the steps of your history.”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t your family start out in New England? Nicole’s from Connecticut. It’s a beautiful place to live … if necessary.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all we ask.”

After Connor left, Dan pulled Nicole close, enfolding her in his arms and kissing her gently, then running his fingers through her hair. “I’d like to arrange some future ‘contact,’ if you don’t mind, ma’am.”

“Dan, this is serious,” she said, placing her hands on his chest and making a small scowl.

“Oh, I know it is, Nicole. Believe me, I know. And it frightens me. But if we’re ferreting out ‘origins,’ let’s not forget
ours
in the process. It’d be nice if we could work out both issues and arrive at popular support on both fronts. You have my support, Agent Bentley. Have I yours?”

Nicole stood on her toes and pressed her lips to Dan’s, allowing her hands to slide behind his head. “All of it, Assemblyman Rawlings, all of it. And you can trust Colonel Connor, truly. He’s a good man, Dan. I’ve quickly grown to trust him.”

Dan nodded his head and started for the kitchen to finish the breakfast cleanup before leaving for the day. He paused and looked back toward Nicole. “Oh, and by the way,
Voices in My Blood
is going to be a movie,” he said nonchalantly.

“
What?”
Nicole exclaimed.

“My agent called to say Hollywood was going to make it into a movie. But before you get too excited, she also told me that what Hollywood
intends
to do and what they
do
, are two entirely different things. They only want to buy the option.”

“They’ll make it,” she replied.

* * *

For twenty minutes, Dan tried to explain to Governor Dewhirst his dilemma about working with Colonel Connor. Once again, Dan was impressed and astonished at how calmly the governor accepted information that Dan would have thought provocative.

“Governor, it seems I’m to be reviled by both sides in this charade.”

“You looking for absolution, son?”

Dan was taken aback by the governor’s direct accusation. “No, sir. But it seems that either way I go—”

“Look, this is a tough game we’re involved in. You need to learn when to compromise and when to stand your ground. I can’t teach you that—it’s an inherent quality that each person has to develop for himself. Personally, son, I think you’re on solid ground. You told me when I first called you in that you were an American. Well, then, be one. Both you and I would rather see this secession nonsense go down the tubes, but we’re proceeding forward with it in any case. I might take a different position were I not governor, but I am, and I have those responsibilities, and the voters have told me what they want. I can either follow their lead or get out of the way and let someone else lead. Dan, I don’t mean to be harsh, but do you understand?”

“I believe so, sir. My main reason for the visit was to make you aware of Connor’s approach.”

“I appreciate that. Maybe you don’t know how rare such loyalty is, but by the same token, I need to keep my oars in the water on many fronts. I’ve already spoken with the president, and he told me he had someone out here—‘keeping an eye on things,’ was, I believe, the expression he chose to use. Now, thanks to you, I know who he is. The president has faith in the man, as I do in you. Do what you need to do, and so will I.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Governor.”

“Oh, and Dan. Be careful who you confide in. There are a lot of folks out there who wouldn’t take kindly to your … shall we call it …
activity.”

“Yeah. That’s what Colonel Connor said. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re coming closer all the time to Gary Cooper’s role, aren’t you?”

Dan grinned and nodded. “But this isn’t fiction, Governor, and I’m not writing the script.”

Chapter 31

Woodbridge, Virginia

The following morning, Pug was escorted up to the office of the Director of the FBI. Ushered in, Pug found Judge Granata talking with a well-dressed man of Latin extraction. Both men rose as Pug entered the room.

“Morning, Pug. Glad you could make it,” Granata said. “Colonel Connor, I’d like you to meet General Rodrigo Cordoba, retired from the Mexican army and currently head of the Mexican federal police. My counterpart, as it were.”

The three men shook hands and sat as Judge Granata refilled Cordoba’s coffee cup. “Pug, General Cordoba is here unofficially, but he feels he’s stumbled across something of import to us. Perhaps I should let him tell it,” he said, nodding to Cordoba.

“
Si
. Thank you, Mr. Director.” Facing Connor, Cordoba set his coffee cup down and studied Connor’s face for a moment, a gracious, but inquisitive glint to his eyes. “Colonel, Judge Granata tells me you are a man to be trusted. I hope so,
Señor
, as my life, possibly that of my family, and perhaps your life as well, will be at risk should the source of this information be discovered. But it is important that you are informed. You are aware, of course, that Mexico has recently recognized the proposed government of the Republic of California.”

“I am, sir,” Pug replied, interest rising, and impressed by Cordoba’s command of English, punctuated by only a hint of accent.

“The basis for Mexico’s recognition of California comes more from a business interest than from a political alliance, Colonel. You are familiar, are you not, with a man called John Henry Franklin, of the Franklin Group?”

Pug nodded his assent, vaguely aware of the financial reports he’d read over the years on Franklin’s empire.

“Mr. Franklin has a long reach and much influence in many quarters, including some within my government. I’m sure you will understand that I am not privy to all aspects of this venture, but certain details have come to my attention that relate to the California issue. Several months ago, I was witness to the hideous outcome of a failed attempt to smuggle Mexican citizens into the United States. It was a most distasteful incident in which the lives of sixteen of my countrymen were needlessly lost. Many more have been lost,
Señor
, but these—these were horrible deaths and uncalled for by all accounts. As I began to investigate this tragedy, I discovered that a man I have met in a social setting was directly involved in the planning of that operation. I am speaking of illegal immigration,
Señor
, and the deaths of those who cross the border by whatever means are at hand. This man, known to me as Jean Wolff or Jean Minards—a man who probably has many other names—established the channels by which these people are promised passage into your country and employment through a series of temporary agencies, all without proper documentation. The money is sufficient to entice those at the highest government levels, those who could possibly interfere, to look the other way on
both
sides of the border. Several in my personal employ have participated in this venture as well, although they are not aware that I have discovered their involvement.”

At the mention of Jean Minards, Pug immediately recognized the name from Agent Bentley’s reports about the man who had been involved in the California elections office.

“General, you say you’ve met this man?”

“Si, Señor
. At Mr. Franklin’s retreat in northern California, and once in Mexico City.”

“You would recognize him—?”

“We’ve covered that, Pug,” Granata said, dropping the photograph taken at the California Interstate 5 rest stop on the table. “One and the same,” he said, as Pug picked up the picture. The photo was similar, although obviously taken at a different time of day, to the one Pug had seen of Jackson Shaw and Grant Sully.

“General, in what capacity did you meet this man? What was his function at Franklin’s?”

“That was not explained. He was there along with several other guests, including Senator Turner.”

“Our lead secessionist.” Pug exhaled, looking toward Judge Granata.

 Just over an hour later, Pug thanked General Cordoba as the Mexican federal policeman prepared to leave the director’s office to return to Mexico.

“
Señor
, our countries have not always agreed on immigration policy, and other matters as well, but this trail of death carries many fingerprints. It is my fervent hope that we can work together to stop the needless dying, but also that we can come to some accord on access to employment within your country for migrant labor. I know that is not your responsibility, but if this information has helped in any way, perhaps you would be so kind as to remember it in the right quarters within your government.”

“I understand, General,” Pug said, shaking Cordoba’s hand. “Please be assured, I am in your debt. I would appreciate it if you could give us a few weeks before you take any of this public.”

“You have my word, Colonel. I have much to accomplish before I proceed.”

“Thank you. And a good day to you, sir.”

“George,” Pug said, after Cordoba left, “this is the break we need.”

“There’s a wrinkle.”

Pug’s eyes widened. “There always is.”

“Cordoba contacted the resident FBI agent in Mexico to establish contact with me, which was requested several days ago. The agent called him back two days ago to inform him of the meeting. The resident CIA officer was in our Mexico City field office. He heard my agent confirm Cordoba’s meeting with me.”

Pug picked up immediately. “And it would only be prudent of him to advise up the line to Grant Sully that a senior Mexican police official wanted to speak with the director of the FBI.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you warn Cordoba?”

“Of what? That one of the top CIA officials in the United States is also in on the secession movement and might do him harm?”

“I see your point,” Pug said. “He’s an open target, George.”

“Maybe not. They didn’t try before he got here, and his call was nearly a week ago.”

“No, but the info channels aren’t that efficient all the time. If the report was sent as a routine matter, maybe Sully doesn’t yet know or hasn’t decided how to handle it.”

“We’ll keep an eye on Cordoba, but there’s not much we can do to protect him.” Granata turned to his desk. “I think you should read this,” he said, handing Pug a manila folder. “It seems that Franklin is the brains
and
financial backing behind the home telephone voting systems in four states, with contracts pending in six others.”

“Dabbling in elections as well?”

“I’ve run some background, but thought I’d leave the California issues to you and your team.”

“Thanks, George. And to think that when you called last night, I thought you wanted to play golf.” He laughed.

“I do. But we better tend shop first.” He stood and pressed the intercom on his desk. “Marilyn, is the car available for Colonel Connor yet?”

“Standing by, Mr. Director.”

“Good. Thank you,” he answered, punching the button. “Pug, your appointment with Prescott is in twenty minutes. Good luck.” He smiled, clapping Pug on the shoulder and leading him to the door.

“Does she know?”

“No. I left that one to you as task force leader. I just told her that you would need to see her immediately after we met.”

“George, you were ill-used on the judicial bench.
This
is where you belong,” Pug said. “Thanks again. It’s good working with you.”

“And you. Give my regards to Agent Bentley. A copy of this file has been couriered to her as of this morning.”

“Thanks, Mr. Director. I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

Events moved rapidly for Dan Rawlings as he began drafting the new California constitution. His overnight popularity amazed him, until Nicole reminded him of the fleeting nature of such fame—not that he had been fooled by the false front most legislators and special interest group lobbyists presented. But still, coming from an appointed position as a local government administrator, it was a new sensation to have everyone seeking his approval and his opinion.

Literally dozens of special interest groups had called, but the call from John Henry Franklin’s chief legal counsel had piqued Dan’s interest and was of significant concern to Nicole and, ultimately, to Pug Connor. Franklin’s interest was “the health of the new nation’s economy,” as the lawyer had put it, and had to do with proposed immigration laws and the draft document he wished to provide for the committee’s consideration. Anything the law firm could do to assist was available, he had said, and all Rawlings had to do was ask. Offers to be of assistance were plentiful, but this firm, one of the largest in California, had placed all of its resources and several of its finest constitutional lawyers at his disposal. When Dan called to discuss Franklin’s offer with Professor Julius, his former constitutional law instructor at Stanford, the crusty old teacher had just laughed.

“Bring ’em aboard, Dan. Better to have the wolf in sight than lurking around the corner,” the professor had advised.