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It had taken Lawlor three years, but he had managed to track down every single member of the radical group responsible for the pla
Several of the group’s members fled the country, foolishly thinking they would be beyond FBI’s grasp, but Lawlor still found them. Money and time were no object. Lawlor had made an impassioned plea to the government that it must be a priority to bring these people to justice and that he must be in charge of doing it. Scot knew Lawlor broke more than a few laws and trampled upon more than a few civil rights along the way, but he got the job done. It was precisely that feeling of responsibility that Scot was trying to evoke in Lawlor.
Gary snapped to, realizing he had been drawn into a place in his mind he didn’t want to be.
“That was a long time ago, and it has no bearing whatsoever on what is happening now,” he said.
“So, do as I say, not as I do? Jesus, Gary, it’s a shame you never had kids. You’ve got all the good parental lines down pat.”
“You don’t know when to quit, do you? The SAC of our Salt Lake office wants your ass bronzed and hanging above his desk for coldcocking one of his men.”
“The guy deserved it.”
“That doesn’t matter. You still assaulted a federal officer and it happened on my playing field in my investigation. Plus, there’s all the other crap you’ve pulled. Not only is your behavior way out of line, but according to the medical report I read on you, you shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed this morning.”
“Gary, come on. You know how important this is.”
“You bet I do. I’m the one who has to feed the hourly reports back to Washington so the director can brief the vice president. If nothing else, you should know the importance of being a team player.”
“Yeah, but I belong on the field, not on the bench. I was responsible for those men, and I am ultimately responsible for the president. You’ve lost guys before, Gary. You’ve gotta know how that feels…how I feel.”
Lawlor had had enough. “You know what? Trying to pull my chain is going to get you fucking nowhere, pal. Understand me? What happened at Scripps was a long time ago. How I cleaned it up was also a long time ago. I was operating under a federal directive that you don’t have the clearance or the need to know anything about. I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, and one of them was thinking I could talk some sense into you and help get your ass out of the fire, but you keep on pushing me.”
Scot was growing equally angry and fired right back at Lawlor, “Pushing you? So this is about you now? For as long as I’ve known you it’s all been about you.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“Where do you think my life and career are going to be when the dust finally settles on this? Have you given any thought to that?”
“At this point, that’s not my problem, but I can tell you that you’re not making things any easier on yourself with all of this fucking around.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing? ‘Fucking around?’ What’s ‘fucking around’ is sitting on our asses for hours, burning precious time waiting for you to get here so the investigation can be carried forward. That was a colossal fuck around.”
“You know what? You’ve just stepped on my very last nerve. You don’t know when someone is trying to give you a hand, do you? I’m going to spell it out for you, and you damn well better listen. We are effective because we are organized. I don’t care how many movies you watch. The rogue cowboy never helps get anything done. He screws up the entire works. It is through cooperation, specialization, and division of the investigative labors that any investigation succeeds. It is not the efforts of one man that count, but of hundreds, sometimes thousands. When you go off half-cocked because you don’t like how things are going, you not only screw things up, as in any evidence we might have been able to uncover on Squaw Peak, but you are turning your back on your team.
“When you turn your back on your team, you forgo the rights and associations thereto. Now, I can understand how you’re feeling, but that does not, for one single moment, excuse your behavior. You have broken the law, and, on top of your other problems, you might have to face the music on some serious charges. You think you were fucked before? Well, any compassion that might have been available to you because of your heroic efforts in saving the president’s daughter have been thrown right out the window, by none other than you yourself.
“I can see your mind working, and I’m going to tell you right now, Scot, to keep your big mouth shut. I’m telling you for your own good. You might still have a career that’s salvageable, but if you step out of line one more time, I guarantee you I will personally see that you get every single thing that’s coming to you. Do you get me? And don’t open your mouth to say yes. You just nod your head.”
Anger burned within every pore in his body like acid, but slowly, reluctantly, Harvath nodded his head.
“Good,” said Lawlor, who turned and walked out of the barn. Waving to get the attention of Deputy MacIntyre, he yelled, “I need one of your men to drive Agent Harvath back to the Secret Service command center at Snow Haven. I have had about all the investigative help from him that I can stand. And, while I’m thinking of it, absolutely no stopping for anything.”
Back in Deer Valley, FBI Agent Zuschnitt, feeling the vibration of his pager, looked at the display and then fished in his pocket for quarters. He could have used his cell phone, but this was yet another call he didn’t want traced back to him.
25
Scot fumed all the way back to the command center. The hypocritical bullshit Lawlor was shoveling was too much. He knew damn well that Lawlor probably bowed, bent, and broke every rule in the book during his search for the people responsible for killing his fellow FBI agents. Nobody blamed him at all, and knowing Lawlor, nobody probably even dared to stand in his way.
In all fairness to Gary, Scot understood that there was a chain of command and a way things needed to be done for the sake of effectiveness. He’d been in the Navy, after all. But, the unassailable fact here was that Scot had lost at least thirty men and the president was missing. No matter what Lawlor said, Scot’s career was in his own hands and the only thing that would turn the tide in his favor was if he stumbled upon something that broke the investigation wide open.
He’d assembled a few clues, but nothing earth-shattering. Lawlor wouldn’t listen to him at this point anyway, so he was back where he’d started-on his own.
Harvath hopped out of Deputy MacIntyre’s Suburban before it had even come to a stop and, flashing his credentials at the gate, was shown through. He made his way to the Wi
Glancing up from her laptop, she saw Scot coming down the narrow hallway. “Well, someone’s been a busy boy today.”
“Very fu
“Who’s being fu
“Yuk, yuk, yuk…Any news?”
“We got a couple of breaks.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Well, we got a confirmation back on the Middle Easterner. Name’s Hassan Useff. The Mossad ID’d him. He was a freelance sniper who worked for many of the pro-Palestinian-liberation groups, in particular some of the more radical splinter factions of the PLO. He had been tied to several high-profile assassinations in Israel.”
“Hmmm,” said Scot. “Well, that does and doesn’t make sense.”