The Sentinel (38 page)

"He'll have taken precautions, the President said. "I have the feeling that if we do anything untoward, he might pull the ripcord. And once he goes under again, you might never find him. No, we're going to go through with this."

"As you wish, sir."

Wintergreen felt stimulated at the President's words. It had been the reaction he'd anticipated.

'*I wonder what he has to say," Pierpont said.

"Don't worry," Wintergreen said. "Whatever it is won't negate finding C-4 in his apartment."

The intercom buzzed.

"Walter Sebastian is here, Mr. President,” a secretary said over the speaker.

"Send him in."

The door opened. Sebastian walked into the room. He had a troubled expression.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?"

"Thanks for getting here so promptly, Walter. Please sit down."

Sebastian complied, sitting hesitantly at the table. The President nodded at Wintergreen.

"Walter, listen closely," Wintergreen said. "We don't have much time." He explained that a bomb believed planted by Pete Garrison brought down Marine One and that shortly after the bombing, Garrison killed a member of the Aryan Disciples who might have tried to silence him for his part in the assassination conspiracy. Further, while being questioned, Garrison escaped and killed Frank Hightower, a listed confidential informant who was working on the case. Finally, Wintergreen related the contents of Garrison's telephone call to the President.

"The President has agreed to meet privately with Garrison," Pierpont said. "Garrison balked at surrendering to Wintergreen or me."

"He has agreed to accept you as an intermediary," the President said. "I want you to go out and escort him here."

Sebastian looked pale. His eyes moved from the President to Wintergreen, then to Pierpont.

"Any questions?" Wintergreen asked.

"Just one. Are you shitting me?"

"We couldn't be more serious," Pierpont said.

"Garrison isn't a bomber," Sebastian said.

"That remains to be seen," the President said.

"I know him. He isn't a killer. Anyone who says he is is out of his goddamn gourd. Somebody must be framing him."

"That's what we'd like to think," the President said. "You're going meet Garrison and bring him safety here. Others are hunting for him as we speak, and it's not safe for him just to come strolling in."

"Does that mean that you have paper on him?"

"That doesn't matter at this point," Wintergreen said.

"The hell it doesn't," Sebastian said. "If you have people on the street trying to kill him, I have the right to know-"

"Of course it matters," the President said. "Walter, you can assume the worst. Garrison may be a target. You'll need to use precautions bringing him here. But I have confidence in you to handle it for me."

"Mr. President, with all due respect, if you're looking for someone to help you trap him, maybe you'd do better to find some other agent."

Wintergreen cringed.

The President cleared his throat.

"This isn't anything like that. I have given Garrison my word that he will not be arrested and that he will be allowed to speak with me alone when he arrives here. I'm telling you the same thing. You are to encourage him to come in. Encourage him. I'm ordering you to handle this for me."

"Yes, sir," Sebastian said reluctantly.

The President said he had to get to another meeting and departed.

"When you get back here with Garrison, search him thoroughly and run him through a magnetometer," Wintergreen said. "Enter using the Executive Office building entrance and bring him to the Situation Room. You will remain with him when he meets with the President."

Wintergreen followed Sebastian out of the office. Wintergreen had always felt uncomfortable around Sebastian, who he sensed didn't like him.

"The Man has the dogs after Garrison, doesn't he?" Sebastian said.

"I'm following orders just like you are."

Sebastian stopped. "Translation: Yes, Walter. Garrison has a price on his head."

"It wasn't my doing."

"Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Director. You and I both know Pete Garrison is not a damn murderer. You know him as well as I do. He's flat out not involved in any shit like that. Did you tell the Man that?"

"Walter, I like Garrison as much as you do," Wintergreen said focusing on Sebastian's eyebrows, a technique he'd developed over years of dealing with the rich and powerful. "All this makes me sick. But what am I supposed to do? The cards have been stacked against Garrison and there is nothing I can do. I say let Garrison convince the Man that he isn't involved. There is nothing I can do but let this play out."

"The way I read it, Pierpont is in there pulling the strings and no one could give a rat's ass about Garrison."

"Tell Garrison I'm on his side. Tell him that if he'll go through the hoops, I'm sure this whole thing can be washed. Put him at ease and let's resolve this."

"If you are using me as bait to bag Garrison, you and I are going to have a problem. Man-to-man, outside the House and off duty."

"Don't threaten me."

"I'm not bullshitting. I can always get myself another job."

"I've given you my word. There is nothing else I have to say."

Wintergreen stepped into the elevator. Sebastian stared at him, nodded, and then followed. Wintergreen felt uncomfortable.

****

CHAPTER 29

SITTING IN A Metro train car on the way to Woodley Park station, Garrison imagined what he was going to say to the President. Without the CD and the tape recording Breckinridge had obtained, he had no solid evidence to give the President. All he had was some supposition and the fact that Breckinridge had seen Flanagan run her off the road. It wasn't going to be easy. And that was if the President had been leveling with him, rather than drawing him into an arrest trap.

The train slowed as it pulled into Woodley station. He walked off the car and mixed into the crowd on the platform. He knew that if they were trying to trap him, the area could be flooded with agents. As he scanned faces, looking for Secret Service agents and telltale gun bulges, he considered what he would do if he were in charge of the Garrison case. He would allow the suspect to take the escalator up to the street before making the arrest, eliminating the danger of a shoot-out in a crowded subway station and the opportunity for him to jump back on a train and escape.

A young man standing near the wall glanced at him. Garrison knew that agents who'd been assigned to surveil and arrest him would be from outlying Secret Service field offices - agents who'd never met him. The young man opened a newspaper as if to read. A newspaper was the sign of an inexperienced surveillant. A six-year-old moved to the man, and he tousled the boy's hair in a familiar manner. They were probably father and son. Garrison felt relieved. Agents didn't bring their kids on surveillance duty.

Garrison strolled to the other end of the station, casing the other passengers. A woman in her thirties sat alone on a bench. She looked trim and fit like most female agents. She wore a business suit under which, he imagined, she might be carrying a gun. He kept an eye on her for a while. A minute later, a train roared into the station. She boarded it.

Moving through the crowd, he reached the escalator. Riding it to the first level, he stopped and looked back, allowing passengers to pass him. He spotted no one paying any attention to him.

He emerged from the escalator onto Connecticut Avenue. The multilevel Marriott Hotel next door was built on a corner lot overlooking the fashionable Adams-Timmons suburb. To his right, Connecticut Avenue followed a moderate downgrade through Rock Creek Park toward D.C. proper. Garrison stood at the curb for a few minutes, trying to spot signs of surveillance. There were people sitting at outdoor restaurant tables across the street, the perfect cover for agents on stakeout. After studying faces, people and cars, looking for anything untoward, any signs of people using two-way radios, Garrison walked across the street.

Ambling along the sidewalk, he passed funky shops and hip cafes. No one seemed to pay any attention to him.

At the corner, he looked across the street at the Marriott, focusing his attention on the edge of the roof. If he'd been setting up surveillance there, he would have used an agent on the roof with binoculars. He saw none. But for all he knew, there could be a dozen agents staring at him from rooms inside the hotel. He might be the subject of remote-operated cameras installed in car headlights and hollowed-out trunk locks.

He went across the street to the hotel. Rather than going directly to the service entrance where he was to meet Sebastian, he walked around the corner and entered the side door. Inside, he crossed a breezeway, opened a door near the bellman's station, and moved down a stairway to the basement. Hurrying down a hallway, he made his way to a door at the end. He tried the handle. It was locked. He took a credit card from his wallet and, after a few tries, managed to shim the bolt back into the frame. Shoving the door open, he moved into a darkened utility room. Closing the door, he hurried past furnaces and air-conditioning equipment to the window. Garrison leaned close. There were no signs of agents on surveillance in the service alley. A truck and a delivery van were parked at the hotel's loading dock. He glanced at his wristwatch. If Sebastian didn't arrive in a minute or two, he wasn't going to wait. He would assume the proposed meeting was nothing but a trap and would make a run back to the Metro station.

A black Mercury sedan entered the driveway and cruised slowly up the service road from the street. Walter Sebastian was behind the wheel. He parked his car next to a commercial trash container and got out. Standing by the driver's door, Sebastian nervously straightened his necktie. He looked troubled. Garrison trusted Walter Sebastian. He would never agree to participate in a scheme to trap him. Garrison went upstairs.

Crossing the lobby, he walked outside to the alley, his eyes darting back and forth, seeking out anything that looked unusual. He was ready to run for his life.

"Walter, is this a trap?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"All I can tell you is it comes from the President's lips. As far as I know, there is no one else around. And I've been looking."

"I assume they filled you in on the details," Garrison said keeping his eyes on the alley leading to the street.

"If you could call it that. My orders are to convince you that everything is cool and escort you to the House."

Garrison met his eyes. "Someone's trying to frame me, Walter. The reason I have to see the Man in person is that there is a mole in the Service. I couldn't trust anyone else."

"Could Wintergreen be involved?"

"Why?"

"I think he's playing some kind of a game."

"Walter, don't hold back on me. If you know something, spit it out for God's sake."

"There have been some funny things going on.

"Such as?"

"To start with, Wintergreen didn't take the lie-detector test - him or Flanagan."

"Are you sure?"

"One of the polygraph operators told me that Wintergreen and Flanagan were the only agents on the detail who weren't tested. Wintergreen discontinued the tests. After the operators headed back to Fort McNair, I checked the lie-detector schedule. Someone had penciled in their names to make it look like they had been tested and had shown no deception. And there is something else. Wintergreen and Flanagan have been like two peas in a pod since all this started. And yesterday, Steve Paulk, who works the day shift, told me that he was having lunch in Smokey's coffee shop on G Street and saw Wintergreen walk in and use the pay phone. Paulk just happened to be leaving and he saw Wintergreen walk straight back to the White House. Tell me that doesn't mean Wintergreen is up to no good."