The Lance

CHAPTER SIXTY

Lamont and Selena parked down the street from Greenwood's house. The street was wide, pleasant and shady. The houses in the development were in the two million dollar plus range. Landscaped lots of ten acres, with mature trees and plenty of privacy. The American Dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

A long blacktop drive led to Greenwood's house. It circled under a covered entryway in front of the house and around a large Italianesque fountain before it rejoined itself. The fountain featured four smiling cherubim relieving themselves. They sat in the van, watching. A bird sang somewhere. The engine made a ticking noise.

Selena said, "In the blue BMW, reading the paper. He hasn't turned a page since we got here."

"Yeah, I see him. There's another pretending to walk his dog, over there." Lamont lowered his binoculars. He pointed at a man some distance away leading a muzzled German shepherd on a tight leash.

"I guess we've got our proof."

"Proof enough for us. Not enough to bring him down. Plan B, we don't go in. Ready?"

Selena nodded. Lamont started the van and drove to Greenwood's driveway and up to the front of the house. He parked and they got out. Lamont walked up to the front door and rang the bell, just as any telephone repairman might do. They waited. No one came to the door. Selena kept her hand on the Glock concealed under her shirt.

Lamont opened the back of the truck. He buckled on a tool belt. He went around to the side of the house where the phone box was located. Selena followed a few steps behind. There was no one in sight.

Lamont opened the box. He took his time pretending to check the connections. He installed the bug, tightened everything up and closed the box. He didn't think the bug was going to be there for long. They got back in the van and drove away. Now they'd wait to see what would happen.

Across town, Senator Greenwood set his phone down. He looked out the window of his office on the Hill. Things were not going according to plan. He was annoyed. More than annoyed, he was angry. Why hadn't those meddlers gone inside? If they had, they would not have come out again.

The Visitor had failed. Always, his assignments had ceased to exist, ceased to create problems. Now he was dead. At least that damned woman was out of the picture. Greenwood hoped she suffered. He hoped she died.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. There was no point in over-reacting. The meeting was still set for tonight. The last element would soon be in place. It had been botched yesterday, but that final detail would be taken care of today.

Tomorrow would bring the dawn of the Fourth Reich. Of course, it wouldn't be called that. This wasn't 1933. There wouldn't be parades of jackbooted soldiers or gigantic squares filled with troops. Modern times demanded modern techniques. The appearance of democracy was everything. By the time America realized what had happened, it would be too late.

The bomb would detonate in Israel. Rice's assassination would create panic. In the confusion, no one would see what was happening. Earlston would step into the Presidency and let Israel and the Muslim states destroy one another. He would intervene only to protect the oil in the region. The war drums would beat against Iran. When the dust settled, the Jewish state would be only a bad memory. Control of the resources of the Middle East would rest in the hands of the Council. His hands. The New Leader.

It was all coming together, just as he'd planned.