The Iscariot Agenda

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Who stands to lose the most by our presence?” asked Jeff.

“After twenty years, who would care?” said Stan.

“Exactly.”

Kimball remained silent, obviously musing.

Jeff watched him with a keen eye, then, “Any ideas, Kimball? Any ideas at all?”

Kimball leaned forward, his eyes focusing to an imaginary point on the opposite wall. “Let’s begin with the obvious,” he started. “We know that it has to be somebody involved with the knowledge of the Pieces of Eight, right?”

“OK.”

“And those with knowledge of the Pieces of Eight were basically whom?”

Jeff nodded his head in agreement. “The highest political factions,” he answered.

“And the Joint Chiefs,” added Stan.

“True. But the role of the Joint Chiefs was strictly to inform us of our targets in foreign locales. Engagement was only approved by the political brass.”

Jeff added, “So it wouldn’t make sense for anybody from the JCOS to get involved in this. Their job was strictly to identify insurgent forces and assess whether or not such targets posed a threat to the sovereignty or safety of the United States.”

“And how to act was basically the decision of the Commander in Chief,” said Kimball.

“But why now?” asked Stan. “Why twenty years later?”

Kimball raised a finger for emphasis. “Now we get into the Who, What, Where, Why and How of things,” he said. “We all know that the Ford administration banned the CIA to commit assassinations against foreign targets abroad. But that didn’t stop ensuing presidents to engage in covert operations. Remember, people, espionage is espionage; it’s not child’s play. That’s why they created the Force Elite and groups such as the Pieces of Eight. Guy’s like us kept the world in check without the backlash from the court of public opinion, if things didn’t go well.”

“So what you’re saying,” began Jeff, “if I’m reading you correctly, is that you believe George Herbert is involved in this?”

“All I’m saying is that Bush was the main player who signed off on every mission we performed, all of them. I’m simply trying to look at this from a logical point of view. But logic doesn’t seem to be fitting in any of the scenarios I’m running through my head right now. But maybe if we come up with the ‘why’ of things, then maybe pieces will start to come together.”

Now Stan piped in. “Yeah, but why not do this ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? Why now?”

“Good question. So the new question would be: Why are we a threat now and not ten or fifteen years ago as Stan just stated? Why would George Herbert be afraid of us all of a sudden? What has he to lose, if anything, right now?”

“I think you’re reaching,” said Jeff. “George Herbert has nothing to fear from us.”

“That’s true,” he said. “But there was one event he signed off on with extreme reluctance, do you remember?”

Jeff nodded, slowly at first, the memory coming to the fore. “A close ally of the president informed him that Senator Cartwright was blackmailing others within the Senate to argue points of his support against the president, or he would ruin their careers by making public information regarding unscrupulous backgrounds. Cartwright became a pariah who promised to take down leading people in the Bush administration including Bush himself with the material he gathered against certain alliances. Cartwright was strong-arming decisions that shouldn’t have been made from those in the Senate due to his blackmailing techniques, and was about to be investigated for inappropriate activity.”

“But it would have opened up an entire can of worms, so to speak.”

“That’s right. And do you remember what happened next?”

Kimball nodded. It was all too clear. “Senator Shore proposed in closed quarters with the president that Senator Cartwright was too dangerous and needed to be taken out of the equation. You eliminate the source of the problem, and then the problem goes away. It has always been the solution since the beginning of time.”

“True. However, it was the first proposition made by rulers of our government to take out a political giant within our own ruling body. Senator Shore spearheaded the motion to get it done, remember? Bush was dead set against it. And it’s never been confirmed that he actually signed the paperwork to initiate the attack against Cartwright. He was CIA, so he had to weigh his options first until he could see no other way to rectify the situation. But he may not have had anything to do with it. If you remember, it was Senator Shore who sent us to rectify the situation. Not Bush. And nobody knows that better than you, Kimball, since you were the one to run the blade across Cartwright’s throat on Shore’s demand.”

Kimball had an instant flash of recall, the driving of the blade across the old man’s flesh, the way his lungs naturally coughed up the blood in gag reflex, and the way the senator slumped against his desk and died as the staccato flashes of lightning filled the room.

Yeah, I remember.

“Things like that happen in third-world countries, not in the United States,” Jeff added. “If something like that ever resurfaced—”

“It would be emphatically denied,” Kimball interrupted testily.

“Maybe not,” said Stan. “The killer was never found. It makes for good fodder.”

“You’ve forgotten one thing.”

“Yeah. And what’s that?”

“You brought it up yourself. Why now? Why not ten or fifteen years ago? Why not when it happened?”

Stan conceded.

“Because Bush has nothing to do with it,” said Jeff. “And you’re right, it would be great fodder. Bush has nothing to lose. But…” He let his words trail, the corners of his lips edging upward.

“OK?” Kimball said it in a way for Jeff to lead on.

“OK, but… Senator Shore has everything to lose. Think about it. I think those pieces are starting to come together, Kimball.”

And he was right. The Senator had recently won the primaries and was positioning himself for a run at the White House seat. In fact, his ratings held a double-digit lead above the incumbent.

“The only thing that stands in his way is his past, which we are a part of. If the nation knew he was directly responsible for sanctioning a hit on a US senator, his career, if not a lot more, is gone.”

“So now you think he’s cleaning up the mess, just in case?”

“Think about it: Only a handful of men outside the JCOS knew we existed. But only one man fought hard for the eradication of Senator John Cartwright. Senator Shore lobbied and conspired to have that man murdered, a leading senator no less.”

Kimball looked at a photo of the senator. Although Senator Shore had aged over the past twenty years he was still youthful in appearance, his once raven hair having gone silver gave him a distinguished appearance. But Jeff was right, the man conspired and led the charge for Cartwright’s dispatching from the senatorial ranks and won. It was the only time that a US government official was assassinated by the hand of his political constituency.

“But Shore thinks I’m dead,” said Kimball.

“Not anymore. Not if what you told me was true about the assassin having the chance to kill you at Ghost’s ranch, but didn’t. Don’t you think he alerted Shore by now?”

Kimball fell back in his chair, thinking. Sure, everything sounded plausible, but that was about it. Plausibility wasn’t actually palpability. It was simply theory.

“You know what I think,” said Stan. “I think we need to set the senator straight, see what’s on his mind.” His lips curled with impish amusement and Jeff followed like the second pea in the pod, his smile mirroring his brother’s.

“You know something, kin, you might just be right.”

Great! “You expect to walk right into a senator’s residence and have a chat, is that it?” asked Kimball.

Jeff steadied a hard glare. “I’m sorry, but would you rather we wait here for his goon to walk in and put a bullet in our heads?”

“We’re just speculating,” he returned.

“Whatever we come up with is just speculation. We need to act and find out.”

“I agree,” said Stanley.

Kimball hesitated. How he wished the Vatican Knights were here, he thought. Working with the Hardwick brothers was always spontaneous and chaotic. You never knew what was going to happen, no matter how much you planned for the perfect outcome.

“Well?” asked Jeff.

“You know where he resides?”

“The guy lives in a half-million dollar estate a few miles north of D.C.”

“He’ll most likely have security, you know.”

“Of course he will. That just makes it all that much more fun.”

“And no killing.”

Jeff clicked his tongue. “Jesus, Kimball, you take the fun out of everything, you know that? What’s the matter? That collar getting to you?”

“Or maybe you lost your nads or something?” Stanley added.

But Kimball remained adamant. “I said… no… killing.”

Jeff got up from his chair. “Yeah. Right. Whatever… Are you hitching with us or not?”

Kimball stood to his full height, towering over the Hardwick brothers. “Let’s move,” he said.