Veil of Civility

Chapter Twenty

As his children slept in the luxurious bedroom suites below, David Kemiss sat at the desk in his third floor study. The television in the walnut armoire along the opposite wall flickered with images of the plane carrying Abaddon Kafni's body leaving the Lynchburg Regional Airport. The talking heads of the major media networks were aglow with speculation as to what could have happened to the outspoken professor and author who had frequently appeared on their shows defending Israel and America's war on terrorism, as well as analyzing dozens of other events, from the Arab Spring to the mass casualties in Syria at the hands of that nation's own government.

Their experts, many of them Kafni's colleagues, seemed sure of only one thing: the Islamic extremists who had been trying for years to kill Kafni without success had finally achieved their goal. But who were the extremists? Had it been the act of a lone wolf? Was it a sign of a larger attack to come? The news media seemed barely able to contain itself at the thought of the possibilities. Peppered with bits and pieces of Kafni's life story, this event would give them something to report on for at least a week, maybe longer. But there was only one thing about the entire situation that Kemiss wanted to know as he leaned back in his red leather chair: had the witness to Kafni's death been neutralized? Nervously, he flipped his cell phone around in his hand. Suddenly the phone vibrated and he switched off the television, tossing the remote back onto the desk as he flipped open the phone. Looking at the display, he recognized Castellano's number.

"Have you heard anything?" he asked as he heard a car door slam on the other end of the line.

"Not a thing."

Kemiss sighed loudly. "It's been over an hour since they were supposed to report. Something's gone wrong."

"We don't know that yet. Maybe they had to take him somewhere else. These guys know what they're doing. They handled the situation last night, didn't they?"

"Yes, but I'm not waiting to find out. Every minute that goes by, this guy could be contacting the press or someone else. I don't want anything left to chance."

"He doesn't have anything to go to the press with, David. He can't even make a one hundred percent positive identification."

"That won't stop them from spreading his story all over the airwaves and turning this thing into more of a three ring circus than it already is. All we need is one tabloid journalist to wave some money under this guy's nose and he'll be on the front page in every grocery aisle in America."

"Okay… okay. I'll call them and find out what's going on, but it needs to be kept short and to the point. We have got to maintain as much silence on this as possible. These throw-away phones are only so secure."

"I don't like forcing your hand," Kemiss said, "but you're not the only one with contacts that might be able to help if need be. Use the three-way calling feature. I'll wait."

He listened as Castellano tabbed through the calls received to the only other number that had ever called the phone, the number belonging to the throw-away phone of the man who should at that very moment be trying to wash Declan McIver's blood off his hands. He tensed as the phone rang, followed by the sound of someone picking up the call, a rustling sound perhaps caused by the mouthpiece brushing against facial hair as the phone was raised into the proper position.

"Hello? Who's there?" an accented voice asked.

"Who is this?" Castellano asked severely. But as the words left the agent's mouth Kemiss knew who it was. Declan McIver was alive and had just answered the phone of the man who was supposed to have killed him. He terminated the call by closing the phone and slowly placed the device on his desk, his mind racing as he sat forward in his chair. The owner of the phone not answering could only mean one thing: he was dead. What did they do now?

The phone vibrated again on the desk.

"Yeah," Kemiss said as he picked it up.

"They're dead," Castellano said. "We have to get rid of these phones. Take out the battery and the SIM card and keep them separate from the phone. I'll take care of destroying them, but don't turn it back on or try to use it for any reason."

"Then what?"

"I'll call the state police and monitor any traffic reports. We need to find out what happened and where. You said you had contacts that can help? Now would be the time to call them. This guy knows there's someone after him now and if he's smart he's going to run. We need someone that can catch him."

"I know just the person to handle that."

Kemiss closed the phone and pressed down on the back of it, removing the battery covering. Taking the battery and the tiny black SIM card out, he placed all three items in a neat line on the side of his desk. Castellano could take care of the rest.

Picking up the land line phone on his desk, he dialed a number and waited for an answer.

"Yeah, Allan? It's David Kemiss."