Capital Offense

“Have I heard from the office? Are you kidding? They’ve been ringing my phone off the hook for the last three days. Pat is convinced you’re in Missouri. I keep telling him I have no idea where you are and that you haven’t called. He doesn’t believe me, though.”

“Did he say what was so urgent?”

“No, but he sounded very stressed.” Maureen’s voice took on a worrisome tone. “And the last phone call was rather unpleasant.”

“What do you mean, ‘unpleasant’?” Jack asked.

Maureen hesitated a moment before speaking. “He said you were… fired.”

“Son of a bitch.” Jack muttered. “Are they going to let me out of my contract?”

Maureen paused, then said. “I’m sorry. Jack. You know I don’t know much about these things, but he did say that if you so much as tried to publish an article in a high school newspaper, they’d sue the shit out of you. Forgive my language, but that’s what he said.”

“Don’t worry about it. Maureen. It’ll all come out okay. And don’t worry about your job. I’ll cover you financially.”

“I’m not worried about my job. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine. Just hang tight and I’ll stay in touch.” He replaced the receiver and stared out the window. The sun cast bright rays of light through the glass and warmed the room. He was definitely beginning to feel the heat, but it wasn’t the kind of heat that came from the sun. He slammed his fist against the desk. He’d be damned, he decided, before he’d stop his search for the truth about his father’s death.

Throughout history, Jack realized, politicians had tried to influence the press. The Kennedy administration had been very accomplished at manipulating the media, successfully keeping JFK’s affairs far from the public eye. But this was different, he reflected. This situation brought to mind the Nixon White House and the intense pressure The Washington Post suffered during Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s pursuit of Watergate. The difference here, Jack thought as he laughed bitterly, was that The Post had stood behind Woodward and Bernstein.

Was he so far off base that the magazine was determined to sabotage him? No, Jack decided, the pressure was coming from higher sources than the magazine. His employers, or former employers, were just succumbing to pressure. The magazine had no idea of what he was really onto. In fact, even he wasn’t sure about the true scope of this story. But somebody out there knew the stakes, and that somebody, or group of somebodies, was doing a hell of a job of trying to stop his investigation. The opposition alone was proof enough that he was onto a major scoop. Given the radical reaction he’d already evoked. Jack knew he must have been cutting too close to the truth.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but the words of an old mentor reverberated in his mind-“Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean that they’re not out to get you.” It was his old friend’s way of saying, watch your back.

Well, Jack thought, I’m watching my back, and it looks to me like someone has successfully stuck a knife in it. Knife or no knife, he didn’t care. He’d never backed off before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

FIFTY-EIGHT

First thing in the morning. Jack drove over to the Cole County Courthouse. With Mark Dailey’s White House position just recently confirmed, Jack knew that Dailey was probably in Washington, but he hoped to talk to someone about Mort Fields’s death and the missing files.

Jack sat for over an hour on an uncomfortable. straight-backed chair in the lobby. When he had shifted his weight for the fifth time and finished thoroughly perusing the local newspaper, he rose and walked over to the receptionist’s desk. “Could you please check to see when I might be able to speak to someone?”

The receptionist held up her index finger, signaling him to wait as she listened to her telephone headset. Then she dashed off a note in her message book before looking up at Jack.

“Well, sweetie, if you want to make an appointment you won’t have to wait. But if you want to see Mr. Dailey, you’re just going to have to be patient. He’s only in town for a few hours today before flying out tonight, and with the amount of work he has to tie up before moving permanently to Washington, you’ll just have to stand in line.”

Jack looked at her in surprise. “Mark Dailey is here?”

Her brow furrowed. “Of course. That is who you’re waiting for, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I just wasn’t sure that he’d be here.” Jack sat back down with renewed enthusiasm. He’d wait all day to see Dailey. Jack couldn’t help but smile. His luck seemed to be turning around.