The Path of Silence (21 page)

“He might surprise us,” he said. “This has to make an impact. He’s not made of steel.”

“Oh yes he is.”

“This is work.” Field said and dragged me along.

“Yes, yours.”

Ken turned and waved to us, heading for the elevators. Field brought his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “Reunions are always interesting and emotional. Don’t you think so?”

“So are the funerals,” I growled.

He laughed.

Chapter 26

“I
would have thought that the Baltimore Police Department had made some progress by now.” Those were the Chairman’s first words, spoken in place of a greeting. His tone of voice was well controlled and even. Then again, his words conveyed his irritation.

The panoramic window wall had built-in filters, not just shutters. The light oak paneled walls were stained whisper green. The restful background was not enough to hide the arrogance of the furnishings.

Police officers drank coffee in the middle of the night. I didn’t expect his three associates to do it too. The tray also contained a teapot—and a saucer with lemon wedges and honey containers. It made me wonder just how long he’d kept track of Fielding Weston—and why? He had initiated the FBI involvement. It was no coincidence as to whom the FBI had dispatched. I wondered whether Field had read anything into it and what he thought.

Refreshments did not improve the overall mood.

Field tersely sketched the nature of the situation—a widespread possibility of walking human bombs. He mentioned Hopkins. For a moment it looked as if the Chairman might give an order to execute all the doctors at the hospital. Such a sweeping solution would bring a swift closure to his problems and the banking robots would stop malfunctioning and continue doing productive work.

“We’re dealing with an organization,” I said. “What’s in Baltimore may be just a chapter. The technical genius is a key figure but he’s not working alone.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“He’s a facilitator, not a banker. His role is to make sure that the money routes in our banking system remain open. He would have one or two assistants. Whatever implants have been manufactured, have been planted in targets. Baltimore is set up. He’s ready to move on.”

“That’s the first good thing I’ve heard,” my father declared. A slight grimace crossed his face. It was like a shadow. He continued, “The team members are undergoing extensive medical check-ups as we speak. I will reassure them that this was the last such incident.”

“Murder,” I interrupted. “The team members are human beings. They need more than reassurance. They may be winding down the Baltimore operations but Tavistock banking interests are all over the country. You can’t reassure people that this incident will not occur somewhere else, at Tavistock or some other banking institution.”

“Would you like me to tell them that the Baltimore police are incapable of doing their job?” he asked. His eyes hardened into polished crystals.

I smiled. “You probably will, since blaming someone else makes you feel better. It’s a lot easier than agreeing to cooperate with the police and suspending work on the project, at least until we’re closer to discovering the identity of the techno-whiz behind these killings.”

“I will not be blackmailed,” he said with a deepening frown.

“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” I assured him, with all the sincerity of a grinning headhunter.

“I meant whoever is behind this.”

“Of course. They’re not blackmailing you. They’re threatening you. They’ll simply slash their way through bodies, until there’s no one left with the kind of expertise that’s needed to finish this system. I suggest you make a discreet announcement through secure channels, that you’re halting the project. Don’t say temporarily. Leave it at that.” I looked at Ken for concurrence.

“I’m not arguing tonight,” he murmured. “You’re doing fine.”

I glared at him and then at the FBI agent.

“Just what I’d have suggested,” he murmured, eyes downcast.

“Inspector.” The Chairman’s voice hardened. “How long would it take to get results that would reassure my colleagues that it’s safe to proceed with the system definition?”

“Give us a month,” Field replied. I wondered what he had based his estimate on—other than blind faith and luck.

“Hartill,” the Chairman said, turning to an executive standing nearby. “Contact Washington, New York, Miami and Los Angeles. Halt all work. Do not release the staff, merely reassign them to other duties. Make them understand that it’s temporary but utmost discretion is required.” He looked at me. I read him correctly.

“For now, that’s satisfactory,” I said and smiled.

Hartill was the one I had shocked in the hotel by asking him whether he was the hotel security. He was already on the phone, connecting to another banking stronghold.

“I understand that you were going to appoint a liaison who would represent your interests and pass on your instructions,” Field said. He looked down the length of the table.

“I prefer to stay close to the issue while in Baltimore.” The Chairman’s mouth twisted in a peculiar smile. “I assumed that the FBI would enjoy working with me. There’s less chance of misunderstanding, misinterpretation of directives.”

“The FBI does,” Field nodded solemnly.

I looked at Ken. He hurriedly assured the Chairman that the Baltimore police were honored to work with him in such difficult circumstances.

“To have a liaison is still a good idea,” I said. “We need details that are far removed from the top operating levels.”

“So you think that I don’t know enough about what’s going on at my own financial institutions?” he said, challenging me. His eyes were no longer frozen in crystal.

“You certainly didn’t know that one of the experts on that team was wired with a bomb, sir.”

“Neither did you.”

“He was your employee.”

“He was your citizen,” he shot back quickly.

“Don’t bother saying that I failed to protect, sir.”

“Don’t bother saying that I failed to change, officer.” He was in good form tonight.

I laughed.

“One moment.” He raised his hand. Hartill was trying to get his attention. Our conversation was a quick tattoo, polite and rich in what the French called “éclair sarcasm”.

“You certainly don’t stand in danger of drowning in diplomacy,” Field whispered with heavy resignation.

I was trying to come up with a crack when I heard Hartill’s report. Something caught my attention.

“Blank concurs that we should halt the project but he thinks the reasons and the intimidation method should be publicized, not kept quiet. He thinks for now the project members could be reassigned to studies and issues that deal with tax havens and harmful tax practices.” Hartill shrugged apologetically, as if to show that he was only a messenger. He was still holding the phone. He had covered the mouthpiece with his hand, waiting for instructions.

The Chairman turned to us. “What would we gain from publicizing what’s been going on?”

“The media has already stirred the public with their detailed reports of these executions,” Field replied. “The police have been flooded with calls from anxious citizens who think they may have a bomb planted in their chests. Hopkins will be empty if such news continues. Other medical institutions may find themselves under similar scrutiny and beleaguered with demands from ex-patients, for explanations, medical exams—removal of life-saving devices.”

“Which means the FBI and the Baltimore Police Department would come under fire. Their competency would be questioned in terms of what they’re doing to apprehend these evil masterminds who appear to have such a powerful weapon that they can execute any citizen, any time, without the authorities knowing how to stop them.”

“That’s already happening.” Field’s voice hardened. “We’re following all available leads. The arrow is pointing at the financial sector—Tavistock.”

“I’ve pledged my cooperation,” the Chairman said and his face split in a cynical smile. “I’m halting the project. It’s not a mere face-saving gesture. There’s an upcoming summit meeting in Copenhagen where all the attendees will have an opportunity to discuss a range of measures to fight money laundering. I will be expected to defend my decision to halt what promised to be a very powerful answer—aimed not just for national but global acceptance and implementation. If I keep it a secret that I have suspended the project and announce it at the summit, don’t you think it would cause me a great deal of discomfort and embarrassment?”

“One month is not going to inconvenience or embarrass you that much, sir.”

“One month, Inspector, is a large setback for a project that has a tight schedule.”

“You won’t have a schedule to keep if you run out of experts willing to work on it under these conditions. Publicizing what’s happening is not the answer. It’s free publicity—for the villains, endorsing their skill and craftiness. They’re moving their operations. The Baltimore mission is accomplished. After that, we may have an avalanche, one major banking and political center after another.”

My father clenched his jaw and turned to Hartill. “Ask Blank what he thinks that publicizing will get us.”

Hartill obeyed. He listened, with a tightening expression.

I reached over and plucked two sheets of paper from Field’s notepad. I hurriedly scribbled a few words and passed it to Ken. I waited until he read it. His eyes widened and he nodded. I scribbled on the other sheet and swished it down the table to land in front of the Chairman. I motioned for him to read it. When he did, he leaned back, frowning, then said to Hartill. “Tell Blank that I’ll call him back with my final decision.” He waited until Hartill hung up and turned to me.

“Why did I just dismiss my Chief Economist and Financial Officer in Washington after having roused him from bed at this hour?”

“Probably because you want to start up the project again and live through it,” I said.

He just stared at me. For once, he seemed to have nothing to say.

“Who is Blank?” I asked.

“Socially, politically or businesswise?” he responded with a tight smile.

“Yes. Go on.”

“Socially, R. Bishop Blank may be included in a foursome when our President wants to play a round of golf. He’s a godfather to his eldest daughter and an old, valued family friend—mine and his.”

“Do I know him?” I could still recall most of his valued old friends. I didn’t remember anyone named R. Bishop Blank. Then again, it was always my brothers who were involved in the financial and political aspects of Tavistock business. I was kicked out of two posh private schools and escaped being saddled with a criminal record in Europe and North America only because Tavistock lawyers knew how to bribe the right officials.

“From 1980 to 1984, he was an Economic Attaché, an advisor, posted in Caracas, Venezuela, through the Inter-American Development Bank, though it was called something else back then. From 1985 to 1989, he was a member of the task force for the Business Council for International Understanding, training and enhancing trade literacy of the US Foreign Service. That job placed him in five Latin American countries and made him a lot of friends in the State Department. From 1990 to 1995, he served as our Ambassador to Colombia. He’s a distinguished member of the Council of American Ambassadors. In 1996, he returned to his roots and until 1999, he was with the State Department, Senior Assistant to the Under Secretary for Economic, Business and Agricultural Affairs. When the Under Secretary retired, for medical reasons, he stepped into his position and ran the business until 2006 when he decided to leave the political scene and enter the private sector. He spent five years on the West Coast in corporate finance then came over to Tavistock. He has been my Chief Economic and Financial Officer for more than ten years. If I had to pick my successor tomorrow, he would be my choice. He is certainly someone you wouldn’t want to annoy without a good reason.”

I looked at Ken.

“Maybe you’re wrong,” he murmured.

“Anything’s possible but I don’t think so,” I said quietly. I returned to the interrogation. “Sir, does your officer attend the economic summits?”

“Of course. He’s one of the two Vice-Chairmen of the Advisory Committee on International Economic Policy. Six months ago, he presented a paper on Corporate Ethics and Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises at the Advisory meeting. These are open to the public.”

“Mr. Hartill,” I turned to the executive. “What was Mr. Blank’s explanation, regarding the publicizing of what’s been happening at Tavistock?”

Hartill looked at his boss. He received a nod and replied. “We would project confidence that we have uncovered the root of the threats and thus will be vigilant from now on. Releasing details would also stave off embarrassment and explanations that would have to be made later on at the summit. This way, all the stakeholders would have been alerted to the threat and prepared with suggestions as to how to prevent similar occurrence in the future, elsewhere.”

“In other words, Mr. Blank thinks it would be ideal if we warned those who are behind the murders that we know the motive, where it’s leading and that we can’t do anything about it. He thinks it’s an advantage to release details and advertise concerns,” I summarized. I knew that Hartill would feel that I had taken liberties with what he’d said.

“I don’t believe those would have been his intentions,” he objected huffily.

“Mr. Hartill, silence can be revealing. However, silence can also be interpreted or misinterpreted. Either way, there’s no disclosure, only uncertainty. What Mr. Blank proposed, would eliminate uncertainty. Revealing details is a message to them. We have surrendered. We have no clue. You’re free to close the Baltimore episode, stamp it successful and move on to the next target. That target is almost assured to be equally successful. A precedent has been set. As a police officer, I would never make it that easy for any criminal,” I finished crisply.

Hartill looked at his boss who sat rigid, like a statue.

Finally, my father leaned forward. “You would have made a good lawyer,” he murmured. When I made no comment, he continued, “Should I abstain from public functions for a while?”