Katchi concluded as he rose to leave, “You are never going to reach retirement, my friend, if you keep up your drinking…”
“In our business, retirement is never guaranteed. Isn’t that right, Hamad?”
Just before exiting the café’s back room, Katchi added almost offhandedly, “For exclusive possession of the RTS design, you will have to pay double.”
Levko didn’t flinch. Russia’s oil reserves were at an all-time high. And the Federation had successfully taken control of all private oil production. Another billion dollars was no big deal.
“Be safe, my friend,” Vlad Levko muttered to Katchi as he made his way through the dim café and out onto the street. “The world can be a dangerous place.”
TWENTY-NINE
Telling the truth had become a risky business.
For years, America’s digital-based news belonged to the white-knuckled grip of a handful of corporate moguls, and they were not going to let go easily. Everyone in the Roundtable knew that. All the more reason, they figured, for their revolution to be launched immediately.
On the last day of the Roundtable, the pace picked up considerably. The big coffeepot in the window-lined conference room had already been filled up once, and now it had been drained down to empty again. The group was trying to fine-tune the AmeriNews project, but as much as they thought the concept was turnkey ready, more and more final details kept arising. Phil Rankowitz had spent the better part of the day going back and forth on the phone with the lawyers, ironing out last contract terms with the World Teleco, the huge telecommunications company whose satellite would carry the news service.
Funding the whole thing was not the biggest problem. Phil had been working with Beverly Rose Cortez to secure the financing. In addition to outside investors, several of the Roundtable members had either personally committed capital to the venture or backed loans from institutions with their own guarantees. The project would be structured through a shell corporation called Mountain News Enterprise, MNE Inc., which had already been set up for that purpose.
The challenge was to avoid tipping off the telecom company that this news network would be radically different. After all, World Teleco was a Corland administration supporter and was in tight with the existing news services. By contrast, AmeriNews would be a new breed of reporting, one that was willing to stand toe-to-toe with the existing news giants and would challenge the current political status quo. AmeriNews would cover hard-hitting issues that the mainstream Internet-driven TV and radio networks refused to cover. And it would be delivered right to the Allfone cell phones used by half of America’s citizens. If all went well, within ten months the plan would expand and provide AmeriNews to nearly every American with a cell phone.
But Senator Leander was still hammering the group. He had serious doubts whether the news delivery concept was sound, and he also wondered if a successful deal could really be struck with the telecom company at all. So Rankowitz had to run through the basics again.
“The idea isn’t complicated,” Rankowitz explained to the group. “We cover the national news with no holds barred. I’ve got unemployed news directors and reporters laid off their jobs from failed print newspapers and magazines lined up to do the investigative reporting and to write national news copy. At the same time, local newspapers in key geographical areas are given free space for their local news. When someone with an Allfone equipped with our AmeriNews service comes within fifty miles of a city or county covered by a local digital newspaper that has signed up with us, then bang, that local news automatically shows up on their Allfone. Along with local advertisers. We do that through existing social-location systems that are already embedded in every Allfone. No hardware adjustments necessary. Each cell phone has an integrated GPS sensor and an electronic compass so it can figure out where it is. Now we just use that data to connect an Allfone user to the closest member of our local newspaper alliance. But remember that the biggest advantage of all of this is that every Allfone user ultimately gets not just the local news where they are at that moment, but our own coverage of national issues right at their fingertips. Readership via Allfone gives us entrée to the whole country from the ground up. We break through the media monopoly of silence on our issues. For the first time in years, the American people will start getting the real facts.”
But Leander was still worried about leaks. “What if the Allfone telecom company, World Teleco, suddenly gets cold feet? Finds out that your news is going to challenge the big mainstream media that they already have as customers? That you’re planning to bust up the news monopoly? I’m old enough to remember how the Fox network shook up the media establishment for a while and how the folks in the Senate with me had to be looking over their shoulders. It was healthy. Back when controversial radio talk-show hosts could actually challenge the White House. Then, finally, even the other news networks seemed to be getting off the dime too, started getting a little more edgy, more honest, more independent. But all that’s over now. Phil, we’re about to poke these almighty telecoms right in the eye.”
Rankowitz wasn’t fazed. “I’m okay with that, aren’t you? Besides, we also want to give the news organizations in this country a black eye. They’ve sold out to the telecoms who control their access to the Internet. But now we’re about to break the logjam.”
Leander kept after the media chairman. “You’re not hearing me. What if World Teleco gets wise on this? That they are about to invite a Trojan Horse into their wireless system. Maybe they’ll pull out before signing the contract.”
Judge Rice raised a finger. All the eyes went to him. “I’ve looked over Phil’s contract structure,” Rice said. “I don’t think there is any way that World Teleco is going to know that this group or any of you people are involved. They’ll think this is just one more news service. Phil very smartly has hired former general-market newspeople to be the front men in the contracts. What World Teleco doesn’t know is that these people are media folks who quietly believe the way we do. Folks, I think we’re okay.”
Joshua had been pensive. Now he decided to put a capstone on the discussion. “People, this gets down to trust. Several of you are backing this with your own money and your own credit. But everybody here agrees on one thing: until we get the truth to the American people, this country will continue to unravel.”
Phil Rankowitz was tapping his pen on the table with nervous energy, and his face was lit up with the kind of grin that a boy takes with him to the circus. Gesturing toward Joshua he said with an electricity to his voice, “We want to launch this new cell-phone-based news network with a headline series on your RTS story. Get the true facts out on why you won’t turn your design over to Congress. And how Congress and the news media has been falsely painting you as some kind of traitor. Also, one more thing on that subject. We want to expose the White House’s cover-up about what really happened inside the Oval Office the day those North Korean missiles were heading our way. Something stinks to high heaven about the president’s explanation. The Pentagon brass that Rocky Bridger has been talking to privately have given a different story. They say that the White House knew full well that our military was going to use the RTS system to turn those missiles around and never objected. The Corland administration saying otherwise is just plain bull…”
For a few seconds there was a hushed silence. As if it had finally dawned on them how big this really was. In one bold stroke they would be challenging Congress, the White House, and the American news monopoly.
Rocky Bridger called for a vote. “We need to formally approve this so we can start implementation. Now. The waiting is over. Remember, this one needs to be unanimous.”
It was immediately seconded. The AmeriNews project was put to a vote.
“All in favor?” Joshua said.
Everyone except Senator Leander raised a hand in favor. He was sitting back with a stone-cold look on his face.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, his hand slowly went up too. Joshua anno
unced what was now apparent to everyone.
“It’s finished. AmeriNews is a go. How long, Phil?”
“I’m pushing this as fast as I can. We expect to go live in a week or two. Maybe a little longer.”
After some final matters, including setting follow-up dates for the members, the group disbanded. That was when Rocky Bridger strolled over to Joshua.
“So, we’re on the first tee time tomorrow?”
Joshua rolled his eyes and chuckled a little when he said, “Yeah, six-thirty in the a.m. But that way I’ll still have time to go horseback riding with Abby and Deb.”
“Got any plans after that?”
Joshua bowed his head with a patient smile and added, “We’re flying back to New York the following day. With enough time for me to join Abby for a lecture at the church she attends. How about you?”
“Oh, I think I’ll take an early flight out after our golf outing. I’ve got to attend a retired officers meeting out in San Diego. I’ll be there for a couple days. Then I’m off to Pennsylvania. I’m really looking forward to that. See my daughter, Peg, and my son-in-law, Roger.”
Joshua was trying to place the name. “Roger…Roger French?”
“That’s it. He’s a commercial insurance broker in Philly. A good man. Ever since Dolly died and I’ve been on my own, family has really become precious to me. Can’t wait to see them both—and my granddaughter as well.”
Joshua told him he’d see Rocky for an early breakfast in the lodge at 5:30 the next morning; then he’d drive the two of them over to the golf club.
After General Bridger left, Joshua looked over at the judge. Rice, ordinarily an emotionless man, looked pensive, troubled.
He patted Rice on the shoulder and said, “You look like something’s on your mind. You’re okay with the media project, right?”
“Sure. I’ve been with you on this from the beginning.”
“Great. Just checking…”
“Something is on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Fortis Rice gave a little grunt and nodded in a way that struck Joshua as particularly unguarded and open, especially for the judge.
Rice said, “Darley told me last night that she had something she needed to talk with me about. But said it could wait until after our meeting. Just got me thinking…”
Fortis Rice’s voice trailed off. But then Rice quickly changed the subject. He said, “Also, I was thinking about that lawyer, Allen Fulsin, that I was going to recommend bringing into the Roundtable to replace Fred Myster, to work in the legal subgroup. Fred’s cancer treatments are progressing well, by the way. I’m hoping they got it in time. But the point is that I need to follow up with Allen Fulsin. I’ve already broached the subject with him personally, about our group. I tried to be as discreet as I could, of course.”
“Tell me something about him.”
“Super competent. Clerked for a Supreme Court justice. Did a stint in the solicitor general’s office before he went into the private sector. That’s not the issue. It’s more the things I don’t know personally about him. Like his character and his political philosophy. I’ve just had secondhand information. Though it all sounds good. And then I had that one conversation with him…”
Joshua keyed into Rice’s concern, so he asked him pointblank: “Did you say anything to him that you regret? About the Roundtable I mean?”
“No. I didn’t give him anything specific. I didn’t give him the name or the particulars of our members. Just a little about what we do. You know, to feel him out. I think I may have mentioned that we were working on a media project. I did mention World Teleco to see if he had ever represented them. He said he hadn’t.”
“You think he’s shooting straight?”
“I got that impression.”
“And his politics?”
“Very gung-ho about our position on things. Says he’s been wanting to do something for the future of America.”
“So, any concerns?”
“Not really. Though last night I glanced over the CV he’d given me. I noticed that he had omitted something. Maybe just an innocent oversight. But he didn’t list his work for a D.C. law firm the year before he joined Cobrin, Cabrezze & Lincoln, where he is working now.”
“What was the other law firm?”
“Morgan & Whitaker.”
“I don’t follow. Why’s that important?”
“Morgan, the senior partner in Allen’s prior firm, was White House legal counsel to President Corland during the first year of his administration. We’re using the Roundtable to attack the reckless policies of the Corland administration head-on. So I’m wondering if Fulsin deliberately omitted from his biography the fact that he’d worked with a pro-Corland law firm. Just need to make sure Allen doesn’t have divided loyalties.”
Joshua thought about the remote connection between Allen Fulsin working for a Washington lobby firm and that firm’s lead partner having worked for President Corland. It sounded like Judge Rice was being nitpicky, but then, that’s what lawyers and judges do.
Rice said unprompted, “Anyway, Josh, I’ll do some more digging. Just to make sure that Allen’s past association with Corland’s lawyers won’t color his judgment in his work with us.”
Joshua thanked him for his diligence. Then Joshua added, “And I hope everything works out with Darley’s conversation with you.”
Rice smiled with a look that said he appreciated Joshua’s kindness. But typical of him, he didn’t put any words to that thought. Instead he snatched up his briefcase and turned and left the room.
THIRTY
The phone was ringing in the office of Consolidated Insurance Brokers in the downtown section of Philadelphia. It was bad timing. Everyone had left except for Roger French. He was now hesitating, torn between the guilt of leaving early and the benefit of avoiding rush hour traffic. He’d already been visualizing the route—over to JFK Boulevard and then from there onto the expressway. That would be the fastest way to make it to his daughter’s basketball game on time.
Roger’s hand reached down, hovering over the network panel button for the office phone system. Murphy’s Law told him he ought to let it go to voicemail. But a strong work ethic urged him to pick it up.
As he reached for his briefcase he punched the button on the panel that read Roger—Earpiece.
The man on the other end spoke in a crisp British accent. “Oh, so glad to hear someone is still there. I urgently need to acquire commercial insurance for an international company I represent.”
I knew I shouldn’t have answered the call. Roger tried to put off the pushy client. “I’d be glad to meet tomorrow. As early as you’d like. But I have a commitment tonight…”
“Yes. I’m sorry. But you see I only have limited time in the U.S. to set this up. My travel plans have been moved up, you see. I have to return to London tomorrow morning, so I have to discuss this with an insurance broker tonight.”
Roger’s voice was polite as he explained, “Actually, I am supposed to be at a my daughter’s basketball game in a little over an hour—”
“No problem, really,” the man said in a voice that had the smooth tone of accommodation to it. “I am just minutes from your office right now. I’m sure we can handle the preliminaries in thirty, forty minutes. I can pay you the fee for the initial binder. Then we can finish the details over the phone. That way you can still make your daughter’s basketball event. Would that suffice? It really is very important that I get this started before I leave the country tomorrow.”
Roger took a few moments to mull it over. “Sure…as long as it doesn’t take any longer than that…Mr., uh…I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”
“Toby Arthur. I have a London-based business. And getting a certificate of insurance is the last hair on the dog so to speak, the one detail we still need for our financing so we can wrap up our expansion into the American market.”
“Okay. Then, five minutes?”
> “Brilliant. I’ll be there.”
Roger hung up and hit his wife’s speed dial. After three or four rings, he was directed to her voicemail.
“Peg, this is Roger. I may be about ten or fifteen minutes late for the game. But don’t worry, I’ll be there. I promised Terri I’d make it this time. Love you.”
Atta Zimler, hair dyed red, wearing an expensive pinstriped suit, and carrying a briefcase, walked toward the offices of Consolidated Insurance Brokers five minutes after finishing his call to Roger. Zimler considered this an irritating side trip. But necessary. The dossier that Dr. Banica had furnished him was superficial at best. The Russian agents who had compiled it had only skimmed the surface of the RTS system. And there was zero personal information about Joshua Jordan that would enable Zimler to track him down to his most vulnerable point. Not that he couldn’t do it. He would. And Roger the insurance man was going to help him.
After Zimler entered the building’s main lobby, skillfully moving his face away from the video surveillance cameras, he went up to the fifth floor. He rang the buzzer for Consolidated Insurance. Roger opened the door, looking a little distracted, but flashed a quick smile to his customer. Zimler took his hand and shook it firmly. While he greeted Roger, he sized him up.
When Roger turned his back to gather a large manila file, Zimler swung his arm around with lightning speed and delivered a karate blow to the back of Roger’s neck.
Roger crumpled, hitting a small table in the lobby and scattering magazines as he collapsed to the floor.
When he regained consciousness, he was in a nightmare.
Disoriented, he tried to remember what had happened. Something covered the bottom of his face. Duct tape. But he couldn’t reach over to pull it off. He was tied to one of the office desk chairs, his arms pulled tight behind him and fastened at the wrists—more duct tape.
But there was something else. Wires had been taped to several places on his body including his chest, thighs, and ear lobes. Roger’s eyes followed the wires, trying to trace them. They led from his body down to the floor and over to some kind of box that had been plugged into a wall socket.