The Assassin (Max Doerr Book 1) (29 page)

Sitting
across the large glass table, Doerr moved in his chair; he had spent the last
half hour explaining everything Lazarus had told him the night before and
everything that had happened to him in the last eight months.
Proof! Proof!
Proof!

“Ask
Faizan,” Doerr finally said. “He already told us Samuel is in their team.”

“What
else?”

Doerr
was thinking. Now he thought he should have had the voice recorder in his
smartphone turned on when he was having the verbal melee with Lazarus.

The
phone rang, and Stonewall picked it up, spoke for two minutes, and then turned
back to Doerr. “What else?”

“Speak
to the receptionist at the front desk? She was involved. She told me lies.
Lazarus must have made her tell lies.”

“Ah-huh.”
Stonewall nodded. “But which one, though? We have eighteen receptionists who
work here.”

Debra
or Dawn? The name surely started with D.
He tried hard
to remember. “Dawn, her first name was Dawn,” Doerr said.

“What
else do you have?”

“The
people at the Thirty-Third Street office.”

“You
got any names?”

Doerr
tried to remember the name of that man at the New York Thirty-Third Street
office who had told him that Samuel did not work for the agency.
Steve,
definitely Steve
.

“Well?”
Stonewall asked, and she held a sympathetic look.

“Steve.
His name was Steve.”

“Okay,
let me conduct an investigation. I will talk to Dawn, Steve and others. And you
can take a few days off in the meantime. But don’t go away too far. I may need
to talk to you.”

The
conversation was over.

CHERRY
TREES WERE blossoming in East Potomac Park, in Washington, DC, a place not too
far from a memorial named after the third president Thomas Jefferson,
considered to be the founding father of America. Senator Brushback met Lazarus
in this park, under a large oak tree, facing the waters of the Potomac River.

“I
think this is a fitting place for our meetings,” said Brushback, his face
pointed down. “I feel as if our founding father is watching us, guiding us. I
had many meetings here with senators, congressmen from both parties, and other
important people of this town. I met most of them after I came to this town soon
after becoming a congressman.”

“You
became an important person in the organization,” Lazarus said. “And you rose
through the ranks with a lightning speed, and now people are talking about you
becoming the next president.”

“Yes,”
said Brushback. “We held meetings here to decide what is good for America, to
decide what it was that the president and his administration were not doing. We
made sure those things were done. Sometimes we have to make the tough
decisions, like the one we made to terminate the DEA Administrator six months
back. Remember? You were also here that day.”

“Yes.
How can I forget that day?” Lazarus sounded angry. “The decision made that day
has brought me to
this
. I was going to retire from the agency with my
head high, a fat pension. Publishers were reaching out to me for a book deal.
But now, there is an investigation going on against me. I feel frustrated all
the time and fearful sometimes, Senator.”

“Don’t
worry. Things went wrong for us before, and we always recovered from them. I agree
things have gone a bit too far this time. But I assure you – you will be fine.
Just stay put and don’t talk too much to anybody. That is an advice I’m giving
you as a lawyer and as a friend. Trust me. Your troubles will end soon.”

“I
trust you, Senator, but sometimes I feel it is just too much to bear.”

“Me
and my friends will pull you out. But I think you should not have blurted out
everything to that Max Doerr the way you said you did.”

“I
thought Max would be an easy recruit. He killed the DEA chief. He was in a
compromising position. That’s how we recruited many people. You know that. And
I never thought Max would go to the director and tell her everything. I mean
some agency operatives know many things. But they all keep their mouths shut.
But this Max guy is different. He doesn’t care.”

“Yeah,
Lazarus.” Brushback started walking along the riverbank, and Lazarus closely
followed him. They both stopped at the next tree. “You should have known the
man better. Someday, I
will
take care of that Max Doerr.
The assassin
has to be assassinated. But for now, I will focus on getting you and Samuel out
of the logjam.”

“Thank
you, Senator.”

“And
one more thing.” Brushback faced Lazarus and made eye contact. “I understand
you mentioned my name when you
talked
to Max Doerr. Right?”

“Right.”

“Make
sure you don’t take any senator’s name, including mine, during the
investigation. In the worst scenario, if you go to jail, the next president
will pardon you. I guarantee it. Make sure you mention no other name. Just you
and Samuel did everything.”

“Now
suddenly we are talking about me going to jail?”

“No,
I’m not talking about you going to jail. I am saying in case it happens. I will
get you out, very soon.”

“Mark
my word, Senator,” Lazarus said ominously, “you better guarantee that I get
into no trouble. If something bad happens to me, I will take everyone down.”

THE
NEWSWOMAN ON the TV was speaking as loudly as she could. Doerr watched from his
New York apartment, a few weeks later. The newswoman continued, “There has been
an unbelievable development here at the White House. We have just learned that
the FBI went down to Langley and arrested Deputy Director Lazarus West of the
CIA. We also know that an operative has been taken into custody, and more
arrests are certain to follow. These arrests are the result of a whistleblowing
by an inside operative. The man’s name is a closely guarded secret. Many in
Washington are now blaming the president for choosing a woman without military
experience as the head of the CIA.”

The
camera zoomed out, and a man appeared, wearing an overcoat. The newswoman asked
the man, “Senator Brushback, what do you think of the recent development with
the current administration?”

The
man started speaking as the newswoman extended the microphone to his mouth. “I
was one of the few who voted against Stonewall’s confirmation. As I have said
many times before, under this president, cronyism has skyrocketed, and
ineptitude has reached a new high.”

“What
would you suggest the president do at this time?” the newswoman asked.

“I
think Stonewall should resign immediately. If she does not do that, then the
president should force her out and nominate someone with solid experience.”

“But
the White House has already indicated that they want Stonewall to continue, and
they have also pointed out that the crooks inside the CIA have been working
with their own agenda long before Stonewall even took office.”

“I
leave those details for the FBI to investigate. But my priority is to clean up
the White House and clean up Washington because I love America too much.” The
senator turned to leave.

The
newswoman said, “Please stay tuned. After the break, we will talk to the Democrat
Senate majority leader.”

Doerr
rubbed his eyes. He could hardly believe that Stonewall was being blamed for
everything. After listening to Doerr, she must have conducted her investigation
and found out everything about Lazarus, Samuel, and the others. She had done an
excellent job.

Doerr
picked up the phone to thank Stonewall. But then he thought he should go over
and thank her personally. He started getting ready for the five-hour drive to
Langley.

TWO
MONTHS LATER, walking through Times Square in the evening, relishing the thin
crowd and thick air, the only thing Doerr could remember were the basketball
games he had played with Billy last summer. The following day, it would be nine
months since Billy’s death. The temperature was warming, spring was near, and
summer would follow.

His
work was done. Samuel was languishing in jail; Halim’s man Faizan had been
stopped.

He
took a few more steps and stood in front of the Java coffee shop where he had
spent many hours over the years. Before entering the shop, he looked up. The
stars in the sky were having their own party.

Stonewall
had offered him a big promotion and told him that no one needed to know who had
really murdered the DEA administrator. That information would always remain
buried under a pile of classified documents.

But
Doerr was not sure whether he should go back and work for the agency. He was
not crazy about the idea. The manager from his old editing job had also called
and offered a big jump in salary for him to come back, though Doerr was sure
that it was not a job that he would do again.

MAX
DOERR AND Gayle walked into their favorite steak restaurant on Forty-Second
Street in Manhattan. The place was crowded, and more than thirty people were
waiting for a table. But Doerr and Gayle were seated within five minutes; Doerr
had called earlier to book a table.

Doerr
ordered Heineken beer, and Gayle asked for some red wine.

After
the drinks arrived, Doerr started sipping and looked at Gayle’s beautiful face.
She finished her wine quickly.

“Another
one?” Doerr asked.

“No,
one is enough for me.”

“Why?”

“I
gotta go work tomorrow. Also, I have to login and do some work tonight from
home.”

“You’ve
got to find a new job,” Doerr said, chuckling.

“Honestly,
after seeing what you do for a living, I’m much more content with my job now.”

Doerr
smiled and placed his beer bottle on the table. “I don’t do it for a living.”

“I
know.” Gayle fidgeted with her empty wine glass. “Max, can I ask you a
question?”

“Sure.
Go ahead, hon.”

After
a pause, she said, “Max, do you want a child?”

Doerr’s
face became serious, and he kept staring at his beer bottle. He could see
Billy’s hazy face there.

“I
know it is hard for you. Sorry, we can talk about it later.”

“No,”
Doerr said and raised his face. “I have been thinking about myself only. I
should be the one saying sorry.”

“I’m
saying it only because I’ll be thirty-seven next month. And I’m not getting
younger.”

“Let’s
go ahead.” Doerr wanted the baby for her, no matter how difficult it was for
him. “I want a child too,” he said to make her feel good.

“Are
you ready with your order?” the young male server asked.

“Yes.”
Doerr ordered a medium-rare steak.

“For
me, a grilled chicken sandwich,” said Gayle, “and some salad.”

Doerr
gave her a glance.

“I
have to work tonight,” she said. “So I want something light.”

Doerr
nodded, and the server noted down the order and left.

Gayle
leaned forward and said, “So, tell me, Max. What’s going on?”

“About
what?”

“About
all the people you worked within the last one or two months.”

Doerr
looked around. Though there were a lot of diners around, everyone was busy with
their drinks, food and talking. There was loud music. So even if someone wanted
to eavesdrop, it would be hard for them to listen.

“Samuel
and Lazarus are in jail,” Doerr said. “I told you that. The prosecutors are
preparing the case against them. Same with Faizan. He has agreed to take a life
sentence to avoid the death penalty.”

“What
about Irene Clark? The woman who died in her Fifth Avenue condo. I know you
were sure Samuel killed her. But did the FBI find out anything?”

“As
a matter of fact, yes. Two of the guns left in her condo were tied to Samuel.
Samuel had burnt off the serial numbers. But with the latest technology, the
FBI found out the numbers. Even though the number was gone, it left an
impression in the metal layer below. It is amazing nowadays what all they can
do.”

“What
happened to the professor? I felt bad about the way he was treated by the
government.”

“He
has been released. FBI apologized to him. His relatives are now asking him to
file a lawsuit and demand monetary compensation.”

“Is
he going to?”

“I
think he is mulling about it but he has not filed a lawsuit yet. I feel bad for
him. I know how hard it is to lose your only child.” Doerr let out a deep sigh.
“It is like you don’t want to live anymore. The professor is a great man. It
proves that there is nothing wrong in Islam religion. It’s that some people
interpret it the wrong way. I myself have read about a third of the Koran and
find that there isn’t much difference between Islam and Christian religions. Do
you know that the Koran considers Jesus to be a son of God and Abraham an angel?”