The Legacy (12 page)

A short time later they reached a clearing next to a muddy river. As they neared the waters edge, Magee saw a large crocodile slither along the opposite bank where it had been sunning itself and plunge into the river with a loud splash. For several minutes Magee took in the sight, memorizing every detail about it. This was where the gun battle was supposed to have taken place.

Finally he turned to the boy. You said there was a grave.

Yes. The boy gestured downriver and took off again.

Magee followed, lugging the shovel on his shoulder. A few minutes later he hustled around a bend and found the boy squatting down, pointing at a mound of dirt in the shadow of a crude cross made of tree limbs. Move back! he ordered, dropping the shovel. The boy obeyed as Magee knelt down and touched the bare earth.

You happy? the boy asked. Maybe give me more dollars?

Magee looked up. Maybe. His eyes narrowed. The man who made this hole and buried the body, what did he look like?

He was a big man. The boy spread his arms wide, then pointed at his head. His hair was the color of the sun.

That had to be the man who had chased him in Manhattan, Magee thought to himself. Lets go back to your village.

You no dig? the boy asked curiously.

No.

The boy found it strange to have trekked so far through the jungle simply to turn back around again. But he had heard that Americans were odd, and this one with the scar running through his cheek certainly fit that description. He shrugged his shoulders. Okay.

As the boy turned to go, Magee stood up, slid a long serrated hunting knife from his combat belt, grabbed the boy around the face and plunged the blade deep into the boys throat, slicing it wide open. The boy dropped to the ground, grabbing at his neck, gasping for air. He writhed on the ground for a short time but soon lay still. Magee smiled. He could have simply snapped the boys thin neck, but he liked the sight of blood. Seward was right. He enjoyed killing. And the more painful the death, the better.

Magee removed the thirty dollars from a pocket of the boys grimy shorts, then picked up the body and hurled it into the water. It splashed loudly as it hit the surface. Within seconds Magee saw the sinister eyes of crocodiles gliding just above the surface as the reptiles torpedoed toward the boy. Magee glanced up. High clouds bringing the afternoon rainstorm were beginning to form over the mountain crests off to the west. Between the crocodiles gorging themselves on the flesh and the rain washing away the blood, there would be no trace left of the boy in a very short time.

Magee picked up the shovel and began to dig.

THE CANOE BOBBED and turned as Cole moved into the rapids, using deft strokes of his paddle as well as raw power to maintain perfect balance through the white water. At the bottom of the rapids, Cole steered into an eddy near the bank and looked back upriver. He laughed aloud as he watched Bennett struggling to maintain control of his craft. He was in no real danger because the river was relatively shallow here, but his pride was suffering a severe blow.

Cole dropped the anchor on shore, moved to the front of his canoe, leaned out and snagged the bow line of Bennetts canoe as it floated swiftly past. All he had to do was hold on, and the canoe drifted out of the fast water and into the shallows with the current.

Thanks, Bennett yelled gratefully.

Cole smiled. No problem.

Ten minutes later they were feasting on a shore lunch of turkey sandwiches and potato salad, food Cole had brought with him from his aunts kitchen.

This is good, Bennett announced through a huge mouthful, glancing around. Boy, its nice out here.

Yes, it is, Cole agreed. It was another beautiful day. There were no clouds in the sky and the temperature had risen into the fifties, which was warm for northern Wisconsin at this time of year. Now earn your lunch, Bennett.

Huh? Bennett had just taken another bite of the sandwich.

When we were back at the camp you told me that my father married Andrea Sage, Cole reminded him. That it was bizarre, but that the situation became even stranger. Maybe Bennett had hoped Cole wouldnt press for further information, but there wasnt any chance of that.

Right. Bennett finished chewing and swallowed. About a week after your father married Andrea in front of a justice of the peace, he and I were approached by members of something called the Defense Intelligence Agency. They wanted us to join the agency immediately.

What is the Defense Intelligence Agency? Cole asked.

Exactly what it sounds like. An intelligence group contained within the Department of Defense and established in 1961 to serve the Joint Chiefs of Staff and coordinate intelligence operations of the different service branches. The DIA employs mostly civilians and is rarely operational, meaning that it isnt involved in anything clandestine or covert. It operates primarily as an analytical group, although the DIA director, who is always a three-star general or admiral, also has reporting responsibilities to the director of Central Intelligence.

Does the DIA still exist?

Oh yes.

Ive never heard of it.

Surprisingly, not many civilians have. It doesnt grab the headlines the way the CIA does.

Cole started to take another bite of his sandwich, then hesitated. Suddenly Jim Egans lifetime absence might be somewhat justifiable. He could feel the weight of the bitterness and resentment lift slightly. My father was with the DIA?

Yes. He and I joined a month after being approached by DIA officials. Our superiors on the Dallas police force recommended strongly that we agree to join. It was almost as if we wouldnt have had a job with the police force anyway if we had refused. We always found that a little odd.

What happened after that?

We went through thirty-six months of intensive training, then went on our first mission. Ten of us slipped into Cambodia to rescue four Navy A-6 pilots. Our information was that they were being held in a jungle prison just across the border from North Vietnam. It was a top secret mission. We were never officially there. If we hadnt come back out, no one would have come looking for us.

But, Bennett, you just told me the DIA isnt involved in covert operations.

Officially not, which makes it a wonderful platform from which to conduct those kinds of missions.

My father was an intelligence agent for the federal government, Cole said aloud. He liked the sound of that.

Yes, and a damn fine one. Bennett wanted Cole to be proud of his father and to understand. So fine he didnt have time to raise a child when his wife died. Son, they sent your father and me on some very important and dangerous missions. He and I went into Cuba, East Germany, even the Soviet Union. A lot of people are safe today because of things your father accomplished. You really were better off having your aunt and uncle, and the country was better off having him.

Did my father kill people? Coles voice was calm as he asked a difficult question.

Intelligence can be a nasty occupation, Bennett said.

Cole had his answer and didnt want to dwell on it. My mother. How did she die? His aunt and uncle had known she was dead, but had no idea from what or how.

This would hurt, Bennett realized, but Cole had asked and he would get his answer. She and your father were living near Fort Dix, New Jersey, in 1970. Your father and I were away on a top secret mission. One night while we were gone, some hippies hopped up on drugs broke into the house to rob it. They must have thought the house was empty. Your mother surprised them and they killed her. Fortunately, they didnt harm you.

Cole closed his eyes and shook his head. Hed never get to know either of his parents.

They didnt inform your father of Andreas death until he arrived home a month later, Bennett continued. You were only a year old, and one of the army wives on the base took care of you until your father returned. When he did, he took you to your aunt and uncle. Bennett saw the bitterness on Coles face. You shouldnt blame your father for what happened to you, Cole. He was in a tough situation. They were difficult circumstances for both of you. His sister was the only option he had. He knew it wouldnt be like having your real parents, and he felt very guilty about that. He blamed himself enough for both of you.

I never blamed him, Cole said halfheartedly.

Im glad to hear that.

Cole glanced up at Bennett. You said taking me to my aunt and uncles was the only option my father had.

Uh-huh.

Why didnt he take me to my mothers parents?

Bennett bit his lower lip for a moment before answering. He told me that your mother and her father didnt get along very well. He never met the man, but he didnt like what Andrea had told him. On the other hand, he trusted his sister completely. He said she was a wonderful woman, so the choice was pretty easy for him. I think it seemed more natural for him to take you to his side of the family.

Cole nodded and glanced at the river rushing past. His aunt was a wonderful woman. Thanks for telling me all this, Bennett. And thanks for saving my life the other night, too. I should have said that before.

Bennett waved. I just wish I had gotten there sooner. Then youd still have your Dealey Tape. He smiled as if he was still amused that Cole named things the same way his father had.

Cole sighed. I guess that tape was my inheritance.

Yes, and a very valuable one.

Do you think so?

Does it really show a shooter behind the fence on the grassy knoll?

Absolutely. Its very clear. The picture bounces around a bit at first, as if my mother was running alongside the limousine as she was filming. But the picture becomes still well before the killing shot. Its obvious where the bullet comes from. You can see the rifle over the fence and the puff of smoke from the barrel. Then the presidents head explodes.

You have no doubt that the footage is authentic? Bennett asked.

None at all. Theres no way anyone could have recreated what was on that tape.

Then Id say its worth millions.

For a few moments they sat in silence, pondering what might have been. Finally Cole spoke up. Do you think my father ever told my mother he had the Dealey Tape?

Bennett wiped crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand. Thats a good question. I dont know. I doubt it, now that I think about it. He never told me, and I spent more time with him than anyone, including your mother. Of course, she probably always suspected.

I still dont understand why my father would marry Andrea Sage so quickly after she had accused him of confiscating the movie camera and lying about it. Bennett, he doesnt sound like a man who did things rashly.

He wasnt, Bennett agreed. And why would the DIA come looking for your father and me so specifically?

Cole looked up. He had heard an ominous tone in Bennetts voice. Are you saying

Im not saying anything. Bennett took another bite of his sandwich but kept talking. A little while ago you asked me who those other people in Manhattan were, the woman and the man who took the Dealey Tape from you, and I said I didnt know.

But you said you had an idea.

Yeah. Bennett gazed at Cole, as if trying to decide whether or not to provide any more information. After almost a minute he pushed a piece of bread from the gap between his lower teeth using his tongue, then began. There were rumors about an ultrasecret operation buried deep within the DIA. Supposedly members of the operation could be identified by a brand beneath the fingernail of their left index finger, but that was probably just a crock of shit. Anyway, the objective of the operation was to make absolutely certain no one ever proved that a conspiracy had existed in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

Coles eyes narrowed. So people in the operation knew that in fact a conspiracy had existed?

Bennett shook his head. No, listen carefully to what Im saying. They were to make certain no one ever proved a conspiracy existed.

How did you set out to prove something didnt exist if you didnt know whether it actually did? This was crazy.

You assume it did, then create so much noise around the events that in time all facts become bogged down or lost in a haze of half-truths and outright lies. Actively disseminate so much disinformation and propaganda that no one can make sense of anything. Its classic political strategy. Also make certain that anything that is absolute proof of a conspiracy and could pierce the haze of half-truths and lies you have created never makes it to the publics attention. Something like your Dealey Tape.

Cole saw where Bennetts explanation was leading. People in the operation concocted phony stories and fabricated evidence with respect to the assassination. Is that right?

That was the rumor. Bennetts eyes were burning. Think how easy it would have been to implicate the Mafia by paying a few people to swear they saw Lee Harvey Oswald with David Ferrie and other known associates of organized crime. Or implicate the FBI by claiming they saw Oswald take a package from an agent in a parked FBI car in New Orleans a few months before the assassination. Or throw suspicion on your own defense establishment by aggressively reminding everyone through the press that one of Lyndon Johnsons first official directives as president was to reverse JFKs order to bring the troops home from Vietnam. Bennett was becoming animated, waving his arms in the air as he talked. Their objective was supposedly to create so many conspiracy theories that no one could really put credence in any single theory, and to quietly make certain everyone understood the motivations of each of the entities implicated in the assassination. Why each one would want JFK dead.