[Lady Justice 25] - Lady Justice and the Spy Page 7
“Sounds like you’re in after all. Got any ideas?”
She thought for a moment. “I just might. What we need is someone with credibility, and with so much clout the government would never dare to interfere.”
“Do you have someone in mind?”
“I do. I have a contact at WikiLeaks. They’re the one agency that has been able to reveal the government’s dirty secrets without reprisal. I’ll get in touch with my contact and see if they’re interested.”
“Mind if I ask the name of your contact?”
“Actually, I do. I would no more tell you their name than I would tell them yours. It’s for everyone’s safety. If anything goes wrong on either end, my contact couldn’t finger you and vice versa. I’ll be the middle man, the go-between, the person transferring information back and forth.”
“But doesn’t that put you right in the crosshairs? If you’re caught, you could finger us both.”
“Yes, there is that, but I’m prepared to do what neither of you could do,” she said, producing a small capsule. “Cyanide. I’ve been carrying it for years. I hope I’ll never have to use it, but I’d do it in a minute before I’ll be captured and tortured.”
“You’re right,” I replied, wincing. “Guess I’m not cut out to be a spy.”
“Few people are,” she replied, wistfully. “Anyway, if we’re going to do this, I need to give both of you code names so if anyone happens to be listening to our conversations, they won’t have a clue who’s who.”
“Great! What’s my name?”
She thought for a moment. “Fearless Fosdick. That’s who you remind me of, Fearless Fosdick!”
Sarah was really showing her age. Fosdick was a character in Al Capp’s Li’l Abner cartoons.
“Oh really, and why is that?”
“Because I remember reading that Fosdick, in addition to being fearless, was pure, underpaid and purposeful. Al Capp also said he was the world’s most idiotic detective. I’ll reserve judgement on that until I see how all this works out. Besides, he lived in a dilapidated boarding house run by his dour, pitiless landlady, Mrs. Flintnose. Sounds a lot like the Three Trails and Mary Murphy, don’t you think?”
I sighed, “Fearless Fosdick it is. How about your contact at WikiLeaks? What’s his handle?”
“I don’t remember saying it was a guy.”
“Guess you didn’t.”
She thought for a moment. “Pandora! It fits. If my contact agrees to all of this, we’ll certainly be opening the proverbial box.”
“And a big ole can of worms,” I added.
“That, too!”
“Look, now that you’re going to be sticking around for a while, I think we could find you better living accommodations.”
“No,” she replied, “I’m actually quite comfortable here. It’s clean and I don’t have to worry about my compadres from the agency finding me. The only drawback is Mr. Feeney. Everyone on the floor knows when nature gives him a call. Honestly, I’ve been in some pretty putrid places, the open sewers in India, mass graves in Mexico, but I’ve never encountered anything quite as bad. That helps,” she said, pointing to an Air Wick plugged into the wall. “Lavender.”
“Yes, Mr. Feeney has quite a reputation. He’s a World War II vet. Navy. Served in the South Pacific.”
“Guess I can cut him some slack. Those men were real heroes. Anyway, back to our situation. I’ll get in touch with Pandora, and if there’s some interest, I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call.”
I vowed I would never tell a soul about the damning evidence I had hidden in my safe, but I had to believe it had been given to me for a reason.
Sarah Savage, a runaway spy and the mother of my brother-in-law’s wife had suddenly appeared in our lives just in time to save us from being blown to pieces at the class reunion.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Maybe there was another reason she had come into our lives.
Maybe Lady Justice was showing me a way to use what had been left in my care.
As I left the Three Trails, I hoped I had done the right thing.
CHAPTER 14
I returned to my apartment, and thankfully, Maggie was not home. Nary a single soul, including my wife, knew I kept a copy of everything Jack Carson collected on the chemtrail conspiracy, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I opened my safe and spread the contents of the manila envelope on my desk. What lay before me had taken the lives of five good people.
It was my hope that WikiLeaks would be able to use the material to tell the world what was going on right under their noses, but I was enough of a realist to know that things sometimes go awry. I decided to make a copy to keep just in case this one disappeared into some bureaucratic black hole.
It took several hours to copy all the documents and thumb drives. Now there were two manila envelopes in my safe, one for WikiLeaks and one for the future, just in case.
I had heard of WikiLeaks. Most everyone has unless they’ve been living in a cave somewhere. They had been around ten years, and had been involved in some pretty sticky stuff.
On the political front, they had helped Edward Snowden in his escape after he leaked the NSA’s dirty little secrets, and more recently, had leaked emails from Hillary Clinton and the Democratic National Committee prior to the 2016 presidential election.
I figured if they could get away with that stuff, the revelation of the chemtrail conspiracy should be a piece of cake.
Since I was going to be a co-conspirator with them, I figured I should know as much about them as possible. I fired up the old Toshiba and did the Google search.
I was surprised to learn that the founder of the organization, Julian Assange, was from Australia, and that its origin was in Iceland. I was also surprised to learn that there were only a handful of people who were known to be directly associated with its governing board. The rest were volunteers from all over the globe, including dissidents, journalists, mathematicians, and start-up company technologists, among others.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Sarah’s contact was on the board or one of the many volunteers.
The report said, “Its goal is to bring important news and information to the public. One of our most important activities is to publish original source material alongside our news stories so readers and historians alike can see evidence of the truth. Another of the organization's goals is to ensure that journalists and whistleblowers are not prosecuted for emailing sensitive or classified documents.”
If all of these things were true, maybe we would have a chance after all.
Bright and early the next morning, I received a call from Sarah.
“Pandora is in. He said he had been concerned about the chemtrails for years, but was never able to come up with enough evidence to break a story.”
“Ahhh,” I replied. “So Pandora is a ‘he.’”
“You got me. Anyway, bring the material to the hotel and I’ll get it to my contact.”
“Give me a half hour.”
When I arrived, Sarah spread the contents of the manila envelope onto the bed.
After glancing through the notes and photos, and listening to a few of the interviews, she remarked, “Good Lord, Walt. There’s enough here to blow the lid off this chemtrail thing. Are you sure no one else knows you have all this?”
“Positive! I’ve never told anyone but you.”
“I hope you’re right. If information about this fell into the wrong hands, you’d be dead in a day. That’s why we have to take precautions.”
She handed me a cell phone. “Burner. I have one like it and my number’s programmed into yours. Pandora has one too. From now on, we’ll only communicate on these phones. I’ll get this material off to Pandora today. Oh, one more thing. You’ve talked about the five people who have died. Could y
ou put together a paper with their names, their connection to the story, the circumstances surrounding their deaths, and why you believe they were assassinated to keep them quiet?”
“Sure, but why?”
“If this thing blows like I think it will, and there’s evidence to prove the government murdered citizens to cover up a clandestine operation --- well --- it’ll be a bigger stink than NSA’s snooping on our emails. Someone needs to be accountable, and heads will roll.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“Good! As soon as I hear something from Pandora, I’ll get in touch on the burner.”
“Sarah, one more question before I go. Now that you’re going to be around for a few more days, I’m sure Veronica would love to spend some time with you. May I pass the word along?”
“I’d like nothing more than to get to know my daughter better, but I’m pushing the envelope staying around at all. The agency could track me down at any time. Here’s how we’ll proceed. I’ll wait to hear from WikiLeaks. If it’s a go, then we’ll tell Veronica. If it’s a no, then I’m out of here as fast as I can go. No sense in getting her hopes up and then I disappear.”
“Makes sense to me.”
Back home, I remembered Jack Carson telling me he had looked for chemtrail activists on social media. He found sixteen websites with over 63,000 members dedicated to spreading the word about the poisoning of our skies.
I dug through his notes and found a list of the sites. I was curious to see what was currently being posted. I discovered the members were as active as ever.
There were articles on everything from weather control to geo-engineering, from the effects of the fallout of the heavy metals to questions about the HAARP installation in Alaska.
One interesting item was that the postings were not just from folks in the U.S.A., they were from around the globe, with photos of the chemtrails on every continent.
Some were sarcastic, with the caption under the photo saying, “They expect us to believe these are ordinary flight paths?”
Others were more serious.
Still others were calls to action.
I couldn’t help wondering why there was no public outrage.
A few months ago, social media was on fire after photos were posted showing the owner of the Jimmy John’s franchise with the carcasses of endangered animals he had shot. People were incensed at the brutal slayings, yet there is never a mention of the poison being sprayed across our country every single day of the year.
It will be interesting to see the reaction of the public when the WikiLeaks story breaks.
I put the manila envelope back in my safe, and happened to glance out the window. Three distinct trails crossed the sky from east to west, dispersing their toxic load, greying the sky and blotting out the sun’s rays.
I was just putting together the paper outlining the five deaths Sarah requested when the burner cell rang.
“Walt, good news! I just talked with Pandora and he can’t wait to get his hands on your material. I’m getting it to him today. So, it looks like I’ll be around for at least a few more days. Could you get in touch with Veronica and maybe set something up at your house tomorrow evening? That’s as safe a place as I can think of right now.”
“Absolutely. I’ll give her a call, then let you know the details.”
“Thanks, Walt. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“Hey, I should be thanking you. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t iced the Killer Clown.”
I hung up and dialed Kevin. “Walt here, and I have a nice surprise for your wife. Sarah is going to be around for a few more days and would like to get together with Veronica. Can the two of you come to my place tomorrow evening, say five-thirty? I’ll whip up some tuna casserole and unscrew a couple of bottles of Arbor Mist.”
“Wow! That is a surprise. I thought she’d be half a continent away by now.”
There was no way I could tell Kevin what she was really doing. No one outside of Sarah and myself even knew about Jack’s material.
“Uhhh, there were a few things she had to clear up before she left. She really wants some face time with her daughter.”
“Great! We’ll be there. Veronica will be ecstatic.”
I figured the fewer people who knew Sarah was still in town, the better, so I limited our little get-together to just Kevin, Veronica, Maggie, Sarah and me.
Everyone was on time, and by five-forty-five, after many hugs and not a few tears, we were seated around the table.
I knew the four of us loved my tuna concoction. I hoped Sarah would, and I was not disappointed.
“Scrumptious!” she exclaimed, after taking the first bite. Then she picked up her glass of Arbor Mist and took a sip. “I’ve been all over the world and tasted wines from some of the finest vineyards, but never anything like this!”
Then I saw the smile and the twinkle in her eye. “You must tell me the vintage.”
“Tuesday,” I replied.
That brought laughs from everyone.
During dinner, the conversation was centered mostly around Veronica’s life. There was very little about Sarah’s life she could share because it was classified. Finally, Veronica asked the question I had been wondering about myself.
“The other night, things happened so fast. I wanted to ask, but there just wasn’t time. Who was my father?”
Sarah sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but again, because he was a covert operative, it’s classified. I can tell you this, he was a very brave man, and the year after you were born, he gave his life in the service of his country. You can be proud that you are his daughter, and I know for sure, if he were here today, he would be proud of you.”
All in all, it was a beautiful evening. The mother-daughter bond grew stronger as the evening progressed. They parted with more hugs and tears, and a promise from Sarah she would say good bye before she left the city.
As I watched her leave, I was struck by the idea that the rest of our little group had no idea that in the next few days, Veronica’s mother would be the central figure in a story that could rock the very foundation of our country.
CHAPTER 15
Two black SUVs pulled up to the curb.
“This looks like the place.”
“Yeah, crappy boarding house on Linwood. There’s a sign over the front porch, Three Trails. This is it.”
The four men got out of the cars.
“So how shall we play this?”
“Sid can cover the back. We’ll take the front. Looks like some kind of manager’s apartment on the first floor. We’ll go there first. Be careful! Savage is armed, dangerous, and she’s been doing this for forty years. One mistake and you’re dead.”
One of the men knocked and an elderly woman came to the door.
“Sorry, no vacancies. We’re full.”
“We’re not looking for a room, Ma’am. We’re Federal agents,” he said, holding up his badge.
“Good for you,” she replied. “Whadda you want?”
“We have reason to believe Sarah Savage is renting a room here. Please tell us which one.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Very well then, if that’s the way you want to play it. Please step aside. We’ll need to search your apartment.”
“The hell you will. You got a warrant?”
“Don’t need one. This is a matter of national security. Now step aside.”
“Sure, just give me a moment,” she replied, retreating inside.
“Jesus, Marty! Look out! She’s got a bat!”
The old woman swung, Marty ducked, and the bat shattered the glass in the storm door.
Marty tackled the woman and put her in cuffs.
“Lou, keep an eye on the old broad while we search her apartment.”
He returned a few moments later. “Nothing. You stay with her. Max and I will take the second floor.”
Sarah was about to call Walt to thank him for the lovely evening, when she h
eard a ‘crash.’ She looked out the window and spotted the two SUVs.
Damn! They found me! But how?
She ran down the hall and looked out the back window. A man was standing at the base of the stairs. No way out. The front and back were both covered. In a moment they’d be clearing her floor!
As she passed by the #4 bathroom, she recognized the signature aroma of Mr. Feeney. She quickly formulated a plan. Returning to her room, she threw a few possessions into a travel bag and headed back to the bathroom.
She tapped softly. “Mr. Feeney, are you in there?”
“Shore am. Who’s askin’?”
“It’s Sarah. May I come in?”
A hesitation. “We’ll I recon so. It’s unlocked. Ain’t nobody ever wanted to come in whilst I was here.”
Stifling a gag reflex, she took a deep breath and slipped inside.
“Mr. Feeney, I need your help.”
“Not sure what I can do right now. I’m sorta busy.”
“There are some very bad men coming for me. All you have to do is keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Well I can shore do that. Them burritos is passin’ right on through.”
“Great! I’m going to get into the tub. When the men come, you haven’t seen me. Got it?”
“Haven’t seen a thing.”
She stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.
A moment later, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“You there!” a man said. “The woman. Which room is hers?”
She recognized the voice of Joey Burger. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“Federal agents. Now which room?”
“D – D – Down the hall that way, number 8, but I wouldn’t mess with her if I was you. If you do though, watch out for your nuts.”
Sarah had to stifle a smile.
“Go to your room and stay inside,” the man ordered.