Call to Treason

FIFTY-SEVEN

The Apache landed at Pendleton, where Link was handed over to the military police. They, in turn, made arrangements to have him transferred to the San Diego police. The charge, for now, was fraudulent claim of kidnapping. It was based entirely on Rodgers’s report that Link had maintained the deception for roughly one minute after he had been rescued. It was a very minor charge, but it was all they had for now. More would follow after Eric Stone had seen an attorney and made his own statement. He and Kendra were also in custody of the SDPD.

After the admiral’s arrest, Rodgers returned to Senator Orr’s suite. Kat and the senator were still there. The senator had recovered somewhat and was lucid enough to thank Rodgers for his quick action.

“I hope you don’t believe any of Eric’s ranting,” Kat said.

“Yes,” Orr added. “I understand he was quite out of his head.”

Rodgers said no, of course not. This was obviously a plot created by Admiral Link, who had a long-standing grudge against the senator. They agreed that Senator Orr would not attempt to speak to the convention until the next day. Kat went down and, from the podium, told the attendees that the situation was still being investigated but that Link had been recovered and Senator Orr would speak to them the next day. Rodgers went with her to make sure she did what she said she was going to do. While Orr rested, Kat went back to her suite to write Orr a speech. Hotel security was stationed outside their door to protect them against further attacks.

And to make sure they stayed in their rooms.

Meanwhile, Rodgers called Darrell McCaskey. Rodgers brought him up to speed and told him what he needed to tie this one up.

The following morning, at Rodgers’s suggestion, he met Kat and Orr for breakfast in the senator’s suite. There was a knock on the door, and Kat went to answer.

“I’m starving,” she said with a big smile.

The smile crashed when she opened the door. Detective Robert Howell was standing there with a detective and six officers from the San Diego Police Department. He was holding two manila envelopes. The local detective stepped forward. She was a young woman with steely eyes and a gentle but insistent voice. She was also holding a pair of envelopes.

“Ms. Kat Lockley?”

“Yes.”

“I am Detective Lynn Mastio. We have a warrant issued by Judge Andrew Zucker this morning in the county of San Diego ordering your detention on the suspicion of planning and abetting two acts of homicide.”

Senator Orr stepped forward. He looked from Detective Mastio to Detective Howell. “Bob, does this young lady know who I am?”

“I do, sir,” Detective Mastio replied. “You are Senator Donald Orr. I have a warrant for your detention as well, Senator.”

“Detention?” Orr snapped. “Are you saying we are under arrest?”

“No, Senator. Formal charges will not be filed until we have had a chance to further review the evidence that has been presented, Senator,” Mastio replied.

“We have a convention to run!” Kat said. “You have no right to walk in with accusations based on hearsay and interfere with our work.”

“I’m sorry,” Mastio told her. “We do have that right.”

Orr turned back to Howell. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I have extradition papers,” Howell said. He raised the envelopes. “If you are arrested for crimes that may have been committed in our jurisdiction, we will be bringing you to D.C. for arraignment.”

“This is the most outlandish and offensive thing I have ever heard!” the senator barked. “I am the one who was assaulted here! Link and his accomplices are the ones you should be talking to!”

Orr seemed anxious to turn away, to throw his position and reputation against the problem and make it go away. Howell seemed equally determined to prevent that. When Rodgers had called McCaskey to suggest the detective fly out, Op-Center’s top law officer seemed eager to make that happen.

“I find it odd that neither of you asked who was murdered,” Rodgers said, stepping forward.

“I assume this has to do with that idiot Englishman,” Orr said.

“What this has to do with are the rights of a murder victim,” Rodgers said.

“How dare you lecture this man about rights!” Kat yelled. “He defended his nation in Vietnam and has spent a lifetime legislating on behalf of citizens like us, improving the standard of living for all Americans and for women in particular.”

“The senator’s patriotism is not at issue,” Rodgers said. “Robert Lawless was an American,” Rodgers remarked. “What happened to his rights? Lucy O’Connor is an American woman. Did she have any idea what she was getting into?”

Kat turned on Rodgers. “You are the worst of them all. We took you in when you had nothing. I was responsible for Lawless and for Lucy. The senator had nothing to do with this.”

“Admiral Link tells a different version of the story,” Rodgers said.

“Ms. Lockley,” Mastio said, “would you please turn around?”

Kat glared at her. “What? Why?”

Mastio removed handcuffs from her belt.

“You’re handcuffing us?” Kat screamed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Detective, I am not going anywhere without my personal attorney,” Orr said. “I will call him and wait here until he arrives.”

“I’m sorry, Senator, but that is not how it works,” Mastio told him. “You will have to come with us. All of you.”

“This is ridiculous!” Orr huffed.

“No,” Rodgers said. “This is the system you took a vow to uphold.”

“You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer any questions,” Mastio said to them. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law—”

“Please don’t do this to the senator,” Kat implored. “His office demands some measure of respect.”

“It’s like a bank account, Kat,” Rodgers said. “The more you invest, the more you earn.”

As Mastio finished reciting the Miranda warning, Kat turned again and glared at Rodgers, then at the others. Fierce, angry glances from the senator and his aide were met with resolute looks from the others. It was only a moment, but it was like nothing Rodgers had ever experienced. This was not like political views or tactical opinions clashing in an office or command center. Those were about ideas, and they were expressed in words. This had become a primal, unspoken confrontation, something closer to the apes than to the stars.

The young San Diego detective broke the tension. She provided an edge of humanity, a touch of the dignity Kat had requested.

“Senator, Ms. Lockley, if you agree to come peaceably, I will remove restraints,” Mastio said. “My officers will gather your things and bring them to the stationhouse.”

She agreed. “The press is downstairs,” Orr said. “Will I be allowed to speak with them?”

“Actually, Senator, we will be leaving through the underground delivery level,” Mastio said.

“The basement?” Kat declared.

“Yes,” the detective replied. “We do not wish to upset the senator’s supporters and risk a riot.”

“You deserve one,” Kat said.

“They don’t,” Mastio replied, impatience flashing for the first time. “Innocent individuals might be hurt.”

There was no further discussion. The senator went to put on a necktie. Kat stepped into the hallway. She grabbed a banana from the room service cart. It had arrived during the debate and was left behind. One of the police officers made sure she took only the fruit and not a knife or juice glass.

While they waited for the senator, Detective Howell took Rodgers aside. The men stood beside the foyer closet.

“General, I want to thank you for asking me to come out,” Howell said.

“It seemed the place you should be.”

“You know I screwed up on this,” Howell said.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Rodgers said. He smiled. “Just rumors.”

“Thanks. I want you to know I’ll make it right with the department,” Howell said. “I’ll resign or take a bust-down or whatever disciplinary action they want.”

“Detective, I have a feeling your testimony is going to be important in this case,” Rodgers told him. “You’re going to take heat for what you did, and there’s going to be exposure on aspects of your personal life. Whatever dues you need to pay will get paid. I would be surprised if the Metro Police asked for more than that.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“People are pretty compassionate, when you get down to it. They’ll understand the kind of crap you were under from the start. If you hang tough, you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.” Howell smiled. “Just having Darrell make the call meant a lot.”

“He’s tough but fair,” Rodgers said.

The senator arrived, and the group left, save for three police officers. Hotel security was called, and under the eyes of two house detectives, the trio of officers packed up Senator Orr’s belongings and had them taken downstairs. Then they went to the rooms of Kat Lockley, Kenneth Link, Eric Stone, and Kendra Peterson and did the same. The suitcases were placed in a police van and driven to the station.

Mike Rodgers did not join them as they closed up the suites. He had a job to do. Ironically, with everyone else gone, General Rodgers was in fact if not in name the ranking official of the USF. He decided to go down to the convention hall and address the attendees. Though he was not one for public speaking, he was remarkably calm as he stood at the podium and said simply that the events of the past day had forced the USF to reevaluate its launch plans. He suspected the senator would have a statement to make within the next day or two but had no additional information or insights to share at present. He did not answer questions shouted from those near the stage.

“As of now,” he said in closing, “the party is over.”

The double meaning did not appear to be lost on anyone. Slowly, thousands of people made their way to the street. Some went to their hotels to change flights, others waited for the downtown bars to open, and still others picked up discounted souvenirs from vendors.

By early afternoon, as word of the arrest and extradition of Senator Orr spread through the city, the USF banners were already coming down. Soon, all that was left of the USF were discarded state placards and crumpled flyers tumbling from overstuffed trash cans and blowing down the Pacific Coast Highway.