Black Market

“I hated it when you were out there after them,” Caitlin whispered as she lay beside Carroll. Her breath was like feathers on his cheekbone. “I've never felt so afraid. I don't want to feel that way ever again.”

Carroll brushed her hair from her face. She was so unbelievably precious to him. “I told Walter Trentkamp that I pla

Caitlin stared deeply into his eyes. “There's a catch, though.”

“Yes, there's one catch. Green Band isn't over yet.”

There was so much terrifying evidence to be considered and studied. There were classified files from the FBI and Pentagon; there were also taped statements from Birnbaum's highly placed contacts in Washington and Europe…

They just had to get to the right people with what they knew, with the truth.

Who were the right people, though? Whom could they trust? The newspapers? Television stations? The New York police? The CIA?

The Committee of Twelve seemed to be everywhere. Were they co

It was all so unbelievably shitty.

During the first agonizing hours in the hotel, Carroll and Caitlin read every major newspaper report. Twice that afternoon Carroll took cabs to the large stand in Times Square that carried out-of-town newspapers. He and Caitlin read and reread everything written about Green Band. They searched desperately for a faint shadow of what they knew to be the truth.

There was none that they could find. Nothing had been reported about secret intragovernmental groups. Nothing had been reported about a terror plan called “Red Tuesday.” Or about Walter Trentkamp. Had the body been spirited away by the Twelve?… Nothing was said about Colonel David Hudson's Special Forces training at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. In the news, Colonel Hudson was described as a “Jackal-like provocateur,” the renegade mastermind of Green Band. Hudson was depicted as an obsessed man still looking for some justice, some personal meaning, years after Vietnam…

It all sounded so plausible, if you didn't know any better.

Manhattan

Early on the morning of December 22, Caitlin and Carroll had some visitors at the hotel. The visitors were Anton Birnbaum and Samantha Hawes.

The best and worst part of the Green Band investigation had begun. The tension and pressure were even more relentless than before. For the past twenty-four hours Carroll's stomach had been doing an uncomfortable dance.

A picture of Green Band was finally emerging. If not a complete portait, it was at least an outline, a foreshadowing of the truth. The story was certainly different from anything reported in the newspapers or on TV.

“The Twelve, the American Wise Men, are descended from our own OSS, America's intelligence team during the Second World War,” Anton Birnbaum said in a voice that seemed to grow weaker each day. “The route is serpentine, but it can be followed… The existence of the Twelve goes back to the younger Dulles, his reluctance to surrender his wartime intelligence machine to the politicians. When the OSS was transformed into the CIA, the Twelve began to meet outside official circles. They were still probably the most powerful men in Washington. At first they gave counsel, then they took things into their own able hands… The original OSS was probably the best American intelligence unit ever.

“The Twelve still smugly believe they are the elite.

They're convinced they are doing the country a grand service, guiding us through the Cuban missile threat, the time of the assassinations, Watergate, now Green Band. Every year, each decade, they become more and more powerful.”

Birnbaum was looking pale and brittle. At the outset of the morning, he'd told Caitlin that he was fearful of a heart attack or stroke if he continued at this pace. “The Red Tuesday plan could have incited another market crash, the worst since 1929. Green Band worked to stop that, at least. The Committee members also managed to profit from the results. The companies they control have already made hundreds of millions of dollars.”

Samantha Hawes had more information about Colonel Hudson. She'd managed to retrieve some of the missing Vets files during the past few days.

“David Hudson was approached by at least one Committee member when he was still in the army, while he was at Fort Bragg after Vietnam. General Lucas Thompson, his old commander, approached Hudson first. General Thompson knew everything about Hudson's POW experiences. He knew about Hudson's training at Fort Bragg, too. Army intelligence had prepared Hudson to be their Juan Carlos. They backed off when Hudson lost his arm. Well, the Committee had plenty of uses for Colonel Hudson and his special skills… Another interesting note-Philip Berger of the CIA ran Hudson's original commando training at Fort Bragg. Several Committee members have spoken at veterans affairs over the past few years. The co

Carroll had read the missing FBI and Pentagon files that Samantha Hawes had brought with her. “Hudson was given a lot of help with Green Band, probably more than he needed. The help came in the form of Wall Street information, and precise tips about what we were doing inside number Thirteen. That's why he was able to play so many cat-and-mouse games. He also had Pentagon files on all potential candidates for Vets. As it turned out, Hudson chose men who'd served with him in Vietnam. The Committee promised him millions as a reward once the Green Band mission was completed.”

“Yes, only half the Vets are dead now,” Birnbaum said. “The rest are missing. Colonel Hudson is missing. Where is David Hudson now, I wonder?”

Caitlin had been unusually quiet for most of the session. She had retrieved the necessary financial backup information. She was still angry. She felt used by this grandiose Committee that believed it was above the government, above laws.

“We're begi

There was silence in the room. They were all begi

The cover-up was almost as clever and masterful as the Green Band plot itself. The cover-up was brilliantly executed.

For another twenty-four hours the Carrolls managed to live in cramped quarters in the West Side hotel. So far, they had no other choice. Whom could they trust?

Late at night, Carroll and Caitlin stayed in the smaller of the two bedrooms. They lay in each other's arms, passing the long, eerie hours exploring each other's bodies. They were realistic enough to know that something nightmarish might still happen-that they might never be together like this again.

“Hudson said something up on that rooftop,” Carroll whispered as he stroked Caitlin's hair. “He said that he loved his country. You know, I still feel that way myself. I almost feel close to Hudson in a strange way.”

Caitlin and Carroll made love again that night, and it was more tender than it had ever been. They fell asleep holding each other, like children during a storm.

At six o'clock on the morning of December 24, Caitlin found that she couldn't sleep anymore. She finally got up.

When she switched on the tiny portable radio, she heard the news that finally broke her heart.

“Anton Birnbaum, advisor to several U.S. presidents, was killed on Riverside Drive near his home early today. The elderly, still-active financier was struck by an unidentified hit-and-run driver… Birnbaum was eighty-three years old at the time of his death.”