Painless (39 page)

Chapter 88

“Call him,” Billy demanded.

“He would never leave the hearing,” Kelly put up a mild fight.

“Did he stutter? Call him,” Dana snarled. There was no love lost between the two women. And from the looks of things, it went beyond Dana scamming her into meeting. When Billy had returned to the room, Dana and Kelly were standing at opposite ends of the living room like two icebergs floating in frigid waters.

“What would I say?” Kelly snapped back

“Tell him your water broke. Mr. Family Values won’t miss a chance for a photo-op of him heroically taking his pregnant wife to the hospital.”

Billy was right. As soon as the LaRoche got word, he made an announcement that he must shut down the hearings on account he had to be with Kelly as she gave birth. He got an ovation from the other senators, at least those in his party, and rushed home. Within minutes, a police escort delivered his limousine to his house on Capital Hill.

Billy cut him off at the pass in the foyer, just inside the front entrance. An ambush. “Long time no see, Senator.”

LaRoche jumped back. If it was possible to ruffle his perfectly gelled hair and expensive suit, the sight of Billy the (not so) friendly ghost did just that.

“Jesus—what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“I set up a play-date with my own children.”

He shot a look at Kelly. “Are you okay?” he asked her like a concerned husband.

Her face said she wasn’t sure. It also exposed that she’d conspired against him. Once again, ironic. His gaze swelled with disappointment.

“Where are the kids?” he asked Kelly.

“
My
kids are playing upstairs,” Billy interjected.

“Did you also bring the girl you kidnapped?” LaRoche fired back.

“You can’t believe everything you read, can you, Senator?”

“Half the D.C. police department is waiting for us outside to escort Kelly and me to the hospital.”

“I suggest you tell them it’s a false alarm. For once, you’d actually be telling the truth.”

“You are going to jail, Harper.”

“Then I have nothing to lose, so this time I really am going to shoot you.”

Billy reached into his pocket and aggressively whipped out an object. LaRoche flinched. It wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled a gun on him before. Billy knew if Maddie hadn’t called out that night LaRoche would be running for re-election in a different world. And he was sure LaRoche knew it too.

But what he pulled out this time was a piece of paper, although, it was just as lethal. It was the same article he threatened Kelly with in the restaurant, the one that would be the cover of tomorrow’s
Post
, and then splashed all over the Internet blogs, talk radio, and cable news. The one that would be talked about at the water coolers. The one that would send his staff into damage control. The one that would end his run to the White House before it ever got started.

“Bang-bang,” he said with an unforgiving grin, and tossed it at LaRoche.

LaRoche scanned the article, his face sharpening. “Do you know who you’re messing with?”

“You already own the two most precious things in my life, so the way I see it, I have nothing to lose.”

“Your freedom.”

“If we both go down, you have a lot farther to fall, Senator.”

“What do you want?” He was not used to being the order-taker.

“I need your help.”

Confusion covered LaRoche’s face. It wasn’t the expected answer.

Billy followed LaRoche into his office, a powerful oak desk anchoring the room. The wall behind the desk was lined with photos of a younger LaRoche, mugging for the camera with presidents like Reagan and Bush, along with numerous other Washington powerbrokers and world dignitaries.

Billy didn’t have a lot of time to lose, so he gave the highlights version of everything he knew about Operation Anesthesia, including their interest in Carolyn. Then he made him a win-win offer.

If Billy were telling the truth, and LaRoche was credited for taking down Operation Anesthesia, he would be hailed as a hero. But if this were a desperate hoax, then he would be credited with turning over an infamous fugitive. And after delivering Billy, he would be able to discredit him and Spiegel to the point that the
Post
wouldn’t even have the guts to print the story.

Billy won the first hand. LaRoche blinked and said, “I know the one person in the world who could possibly shed some light on this so-called Operation Anesthesia.”

Chapter 89

Kerry Rutherford, the US Intelligence Czar, walked forcefully in LaRoche’s direction, a look of disdain on his face. “So can we get to why you demanded my presence, Senator? I’m sure you have some poll numbers to get back to. I, on the other hand, have lives to save!”

After the media was told it was a false alarm on the pregnancy and ushered away, Rutherford was snuck through a secret back entrance. Rutherford wore a suit, looking out of place without his usual military uniform. He was possibly the most important man in the country when it came to keeping people safe, but for some reason, he didn’t make Billy feel safe. There was something in the layers of secrets behind his eyes.

“Kerry, this is Billy Harper,” LaRoche made the introduction, “He has told me an interesting tale that I think is the concern of US intelligence,”

Rutherford’s brow crinkled. “I know who he is, Senator. He’s the man you stole your children from.” He turned toward Billy. “Between you and me, Mr. Harper, I would’ve shot the son of a bitch.”

Billy was surprised by the knowledge, but then remembered who he was talking to—the man probably knew who shot JFK or if man really landed on the moon. They also seemed to have a common bond in despising LaRoche, which Billy hoped would aid him in being heard out.

“But let me say something, son,” Rutherford continued, “taking somebody else’s kid is no way to get back at him.”

LaRoche stepped in, “That’s just it, Kerry. I think there might be extenuating circumstances on why he took the girl.”

“And this is a concern of national security?” Rutherford asked, skeptically.

Billy gave a “yes sir” nod. The intense Rutherford brought back bad memories of the first time he felt the wrath of Coach Blake during his freshman year.

“Then let’s hear it,” Rutherford said, in between glances at his watch.

They moved into LaRoche’s dining room, which featured dark mahogany furniture resting under a grand chandelier. The three men convened at one end of a freshly polished dining room table. Rutherford took symbolic position of power at the head of the table, looking like he was prepared to carve a Thanksgiving Day turkey. Billy began to tell the whole story from soup to nuts, hoping he wouldn’t become the turkey.

Rutherford listened intently, like a priest hearing confession. He would occasionally nod his head, but didn’t tip his hand. When Billy finished his crazed tale, Rutherford cleared his throat and said, “We have been tracking Operation Anesthesia for some time now.”

Billy was surprised by the admission. He was more expecting to be secured in a straightjacket and sent to the loony bin.

“Tell me this thing isn’t connected to the CIA or any US intelligence agency,” LaRoche condescendingly addressed Rutherford.

Rutherford’s glare practically slapped LaRoche across the face. “It did start out as part of the DIA,” he replied, before remembering Billy’s amateur status and dumbed it down, “DIA stands for the Defense Intelligence Agency, a Pentagon sponsored intelligence agency. As with most things, the research started out with good intentions. It was run by some of America’s most brilliant doctors. The purpose was to research weapons and tactics of medical warfare. Mostly defensive tactics. For example, if our enemies found a way to invade our food supply, or attack us with a deadly strain of the flu, it would be as effective as any weapon of mass destruction. The group’s purpose was to find ways to stop such attacks.

“But in the mid-1980s, post Iran Contra, most politicians lost their gumption. And at that moment in history many covert sections of the intelligence community were disbanded or declared illegal. Basically, they tied our hands behind our backs.”

His glare never left LaRoche, whose posture cowered.

“What does this have to do with this Operation Anesthesia that’s after Carolyn?” Billy asked.

Rutherford nodded, as if to say he was getting to that. “There was a section of this group that performed research on genetic mutations. One such mutation being studied was CIPA. The sub-section in charge of research on CIPA was known as Operation Anesthesia. What we later learned was that a couple of ambitious doctors continued the work after Operation Anesthesia was officially disbanded by the DIA. Since those with CIPA couldn’t feel pain or temperature sensation, they were kidnapped and bred as soldiers who could go anywhere and survive any amount of torture. These rogue doctors then began selling these soldiers to our enemies. In the 1980s it was Eastern Bloc countries and Middle Eastern nations like Libya and Iraq. Lately it’s been terrorist organizations like Al Muttahedah.”

“Let me guess,” LaRoche snidely interrupted, “you have conveniently forgotten to catch them over the years because of the potential embarrassment, since it originated in your precious DIA?”

Rutherford stung LaRoche with a glare that Darth Vader would’ve been proud of. “Politicians,” he mumbled with disgust, before continuing, “On the contrary, ever since we became convinced that they were responsible for what happened in Iran, Operation Anesthesia became the top priority of US intelligence.”

“And you never thought to mention this during the hearings?”

“Those hearings had nothing to do with the truth or Iran. They were about you and your colleagues getting your faces on television.”

“Do you know how many taxpayer dollars were wasted?”

“A US senator telling me about wasting taxpayer dollars, now that’s a good one.”

“You did a disservice to your country,” LaRoche fired away, as if they were back at the hearings.

Billy noticed the comment hit a nerve. Rutherford appeared to take patriotic pride in being the nation’s protector. His face darkened to crimson and a vein jetted from his forehead.

“The reason I didn’t mention this was because lives are at stake. A concept you wouldn’t understand, Senator. We’ve been getting close for years, but never could infiltrate it. But since Iran, we have been able to get a man on the inside. And what we learned from him has been backed up by Mr. Harper’s story.”

“Who is this so-called source?” LaRoche asked skeptically.

“It’s classified, even to you, Senator. All I can say is he’s a doctor who is embedded in the operation.”

“Why not just bring in the National Guard and break down the gates?” LaRoche asked. It was logical.

“If I broke down the gates and was found to be wrong, and we had another Waco on our hands, then you and your cronies would have dragged me down to Capital Hill for another public stoning. I work for the President of the United States, and he doesn’t appreciate your little commissions.”

“Who is Hasenfus?” Billy interrupted their cold stare-down, “Or should I say Franklin Stipe.”

Rutherford pulled his angry glare away from LaRoche, and answered, “We believe Stipe is a partner with Jordan who runs a company called Stipe Security. We believe Stipe Security helps fund the operation. Stipe once worked for the DIA, and we think that’s where the connection began. I think if we find whoever set up Stipe Security, then you will find the true mastermind behind Operation Anesthesia.”

LaRoche didn’t look happy. “Stipe Security is a legitimate company that receives hundreds of millions of dollars in government contracts. In fact, I use them myself to protect my house and family.”

“Since Stipe Security is one of your main campaign contributors, it doesn’t surprise me that you have been very supportive of them getting those government contracts. And I hate to be a cynic, but since I know they installed those expensive, high-tech security systems into your homes at no charge, I might be led to conclude they gave you a little thank-you note for your assistance.”

LaRoche conveniently changed the subject, “What do we do now?”

Rutherford strapped on an “I’m in charge” look. “Thanks to Mr. Harper, we now have the second source we need to go in. I have a Special Ops unit on standby in Clarksville, prepared to strike. I will ask the president for permission to go in at sun-up. We can’t wait any longer. With Jordan out of the picture, they will be on the move within forty-eight hours.”

Billy saw the political glimmer in LaRoche’s eyes. It said he found a way to capitalize on the situation. The way Billy saw it, LaRoche would work with Rutherford, making sure to be front and center in the glorious photo-op when mission was accomplished. He’d look tough on national security, but at the same time look like he was putting the country’s best interests over partisan politics by working with Rutherford and the current administration. But if things went badly, he could plausibly deny any connection, and could use the “screw up” as a political anvil to hold over the current president in the next election.

“I pledge my full support,” he predictably said.

The response didn’t seem to surprise Rutherford, who had one last request. “I would like to meet this other fine patriot, Carolyn Whitcomb.”

Carolyn was pulled away in the middle of telling Anna and Maddie the heartwarming story of how she got shot. She walked into the dining room and was immediately hesitant of Rutherford’s presence. Billy wondered if she’d seen the same thing in his eyes that he had.

Rutherford pulled her up on his lap as if he were a mall Santa Claus. “I just had to meet this brave hero,” he gushed.

“Who are
you
?” she asked, hesitancy in her voice.

“My name is Kerry.”

“Kerry is a girl’s name.”

She tried to squirm away. Billy could tell she was cognizant of her rudeness.

Rutherford began to poke and prod her. “Amazing,” he mumbled at every indication that she really couldn’t feel pain.
And this guy probably knew about the aliens in Roswell,
Billy thought. It must have taken a lot to amaze him.

“If you don’t mind, I wanna go back and play with Anna and Maddie,” Carolyn said. She urgently hopped off his lap and bolted toward the door. Maybe it was a desire to get back to playing with the twins, but Billy sensed it was something more.

“Carolyn,” Rutherford barked in his commanding voice.

She stopped in her tracks, a frightful look on her face. “Yes.”

“Your country thanks you for your service.”

“Tell him he’s welcome,” she said and exited stage left.

After Rutherford left, LaRoche called in his long-time, and more importantly, tight-lipped, doctor to his home under the ruse that Kelly was having issues with her pregnancy. But his real job was to patch up Billy and Carolyn. Billy’s dislocated shoulder was placed in a sling. Carolyn had her bullet wound looked at, along with checking for any internal injuries that might’ve resulted from her tumble off the plantation wall. She was also running one of her fevers, most likely from all the commotion of playing with the girls. Everything considered, she received a clean bill of health.

Dana slept with Carolyn in the guestroom, while Billy slept on the couch in the living room. Sometime during the night, Anna came downstairs and slipped next to Billy on the couch. Then Anna’s protective older sister—by seven minutes—came looking for her. Maddie climbed up next to Anna and Billy and snuggled up to them.