King and Maxwell

CHAPTER 61

“HIS FATHER-IN-LAW?” SAID SEAN.

He and Michelle were sitting across from Edgar Roy at his farmhouse west of D.C. The place looked asymmetrical in that the interior and furnishings were rustic, but there was gleaming computer equipment everywhere.

Edgar had texted them on their way back from the hospital that he had news to share. They had immediately headed to his farmhouse.

Edgar sat at his desk, which was actually a large rectangular section of sanded and painted three-inch-thick plywood painted black that rested on four sawhorses. Sitting on it were three giant computer screens set next to one another.

Edgar nodded but looked oddly chagrined. “Yes, Dan Marshall is Alan Grant’s father-in-law.”

“His father-in-law?” exclaimed Sean again.

“Yes. Alan Grant married Leslie Marshall nine years ago. They have three children. Dan Marshall is a widower. His wife, Maggie, died of cancer two years ago.” He paused. “I’m sorry that I didn’t find this connection earlier. I can’t believe I missed it.”

“It’s okay,” said Michelle in a soothing tone. “It just shows you’re human like the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sean. “Only you have four times the brain power of the rest of us.”

This seemed to perk up Edgar’s spirits and he continued in a firmer voice. “Alan Grant served in the Army and was honorably discharged. He heads up Vista Trading Group. I could find no connection between Vista and Heron Air Service.”

Sean said, “And Grant’s parents? You said you’d found something there?”

“A suicide pact. They killed themselves back in 1988 when Grant was thirteen.”

Michelle said, “Suicide pact? What was the reason?”

“Franklin Grant served as an assistant to the NSC[41] back in the 1980s. He became embroiled in the Iran-Contra affair and I guess he couldn’t live with it and neither could his wife. All very, very sad.”

Michelle looked at Sean. “Okay, is that significant?”

“Maybe.”

Sean looked at Edgar. “What else can you tell us about Franklin Grant’s duties at the National Security Council?”

“Most of it, Sean, is still classified. But from what I could gather Franklin Grant might have been in the loop on the scheme but wasn’t in favor of it. I dug a bit deeper than just the papers and other media reports at the time. It seems that Grant tried to speak out against his superiors but they used him as a scapegoat.” Edgar looked down for a moment and said, “I know what that feels like.”

“We know you do, Edgar,” said Michelle. “So a scapegoat and leaving behind a young and suddenly orphaned Alan Grant.”

Sean looked thoughtful. “I remember reading about Iran-Contra in the papers, of course, although I came to Washington after it was over. I don’t remember the name Franklin Grant.”

Edgar glanced at his screen. “There wasn’t much to find. There were juicier parts out there. Reagan and all his high-ranking administration officials. Oliver North. North’s secretary. Manuel Noriega. Franklin Grant seems to have simply gotten lost in the history shuffle.”

“But he was the only one who paid the ultimate price, right?” Michelle asked.

Sean added, “From what I remember, even though a ton of documents ended up somehow being lost or withheld during the course of the investigation, quite a few administration officials were indicted and/or convicted, including the then-secretary of defense. But a bunch of the convictions were either overturned on appeal or vacated. And those that weren’t were pardoned by the next administration. I think North got jail time but he was pardoned too, or something like that.”

Edgar said, “He actually received a suspended sentence and probation and did some community service. But his conviction was later vacated and all charges were later dropped.”

“So Franklin Grant was really the only one who bit the bullet,” said Sean.

“Maybe despite trying to be a whistleblower he had a guilty conscience,” reasoned Michelle.

“Or more integrity than some of the others involved,” replied Sean. “But the bottom line is, this gives Alan Grant a great motive to have planned what is happening now.”

“I’ll confess I was too young to really follow Iran-Contra. What exactly happened?” asked Michelle.

Sean looked at Edgar. “I wasn’t too young. But you’ve just done the research. You can probably explain it better than I can, Edgar. The details are a little fuzzy for me.”

Edgar looked at him sadly. “Your massive brain cell loss.”

Michelle coughed to cover her laugh.

Sean looked indignant. “Okay, listen up, I have a normal brain cell loss for someone… for someone of my age.”

“There are medications that can help,” offered Edgar sincerely. “And I know some specialists in the field.”

Michelle had to stifle another laugh.

“Iran-Contra, okay? Can we get to it?” said Sean expectantly. “Because we’re wasting time focusing on my brain shrinkage.”

Edgar sat back. “It sounds complicated, but it’s actually very simple. It started out as a way to free American hostages held by a radical group with ties to Iran. The original scheme was for Israel to ship weapons to Iran and then the U.S. would resupply Israel and receive payment from them. Then it devolved into a straight arms-for-hostages scheme in which weapons would be sold to Iran, something that was banned under U.S. law, and the hostages would be released in return for those sales. Then the plan was later modified so that an intermediary in Iran was used to sell the weapons and a portion of the resulting proceeds was used to funnel money to the Contras in Nicaragua. This was done so that Manuel Noriega and his Panamanian Defense Forces could help overthrow the Sandinista leadership, which was no friend of ours. But additional support to the Contras by American intelligence agencies had been prohibited by an act of Congress. Thus, the reason for the clandestine plan to get around that prohibition while at the same time trying to gain release of the hostages from the Iranian forces through the parallel arms sales.”

“And you call that simple?” exclaimed Michelle.

“Well, yes,” said Edgar matter-of-factly.

“As simple as politicians seem to be able to make anything,” noted Sean. “And Noriega later turned out not to be such a good friend.”

Edgar nodded. “Not unusual. After all, we liked Saddam Hussein until we didn’t like Saddam Hussein.”

“Remind me never to run for public office,” said Michelle.

“Or become a dictator,” amended Sean.

Sean leaned back in his chair and looked at Michelle. “Iran-Contra back in the 1980s. And now George Carlton’s blogger source has alleged that the U.S. has attempted to funnel money through sales of Afghan poppies to anti-Iranian forces to buy weapons in an effort to overthrow the government there. It’s not an exact parallel.”

“But maybe the best he could do under the circumstances,” said Michelle. “He didn’t initiate the scheme, Sean. Maybe he just found out about it and that was the catalyst for him to do what he’s doing.”

“Are we talking about Alan Grant?” asked Edgar.

Sean nodded. “He’s in cahoots with someone with connections to Heron Air Service. Sam Wingo was following that guy. He might have led him to Grant for all we know.”

Edgar said, “But I could find no connection between Vista and Heron.”

“There might be no discoverable connection. Or they might have covered their tracks really well. They might even have been the air service that was used to get the cash out of Afghanistan. Wingo said men flashing CIA creds took the shipment from him.”

Michelle said, “But then the cash probably didn’t end up in Iran.”

“No. I think it might have ended up back here.”

Michelle said, “Look, maybe this is just a very complicated robbery. Grant is Marshall’s son-in-law. Marshall knew about the euros. Maybe he let it slip to Grant and Grant plans the heist and nabs the cash.”

Sean shook his head. “I would’ve thought that but for the history of the parents. Pretty strong revenge motive there. I don’t think it’s as simple as a billion euros. If it was a simple robbery, why give George Carlton all that ammo for his blog? No, he’s discrediting Cole and his administration. And Grant doesn’t need the money, does he, Edgar?”

“His business appears to be very successful with several significant clients in the government sector. His home is worth nearly a million dollars, and the mortgage was paid off three years ago. His credit history is excellent and he has no outstanding judgments or pending lawsuits against him. I even hacked into his tax returns; his income places him in the top tier of earners.”

“You hacked into his tax records?” said Michelle. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Not really. I have pretty much carte blanche to go where I need to go. National security is a very large hall pass. And I just sort of extended that privilege to the work I was doing for you,” he added, a bit lamely.

Sean slipped the flash drive from his pocket. “And now we have this.”

“What’s on it?” asked Edgar eagerly as he took it from Sean and popped it into his computer’s USB slot.

“The blogger’s source’s emails. There’s the usual IP trail on there. We’re hoping you can tell us where it came from. I doubt the sender made it easy, but if at all possible we need for you to track it back.”

Edgar pounded his keys at speed as his eyes darted over the screen. “Usual protocols didn’t work.”

“How do you know that?” asked Michelle.

“Because I just employed them.”

Sean and Michelle stared at each other. In a low voice Sean said, “I think he’s actually growing more brain cells every day, not losing them. Maybe he’s taking some of mine by like osmosis or something.”

“Do you even know what osmosis is?” she hissed back.

“I did back in high school.” In a louder voice he said, “If you figure it out, let us know ASAP.”

Sean and Michelle got up and left.

“Why do I feel so stupid every time I’m around him?” said Sean.

“Because by comparison, we are.”

She stopped walking and Sean bumped into her.

“What the hell? he exclaimed. “Michelle, are you…”

He stopped talking when he saw what she was looking at.

Sam Wingo stared back at them.