Chapter 23
We traveled in a veritable caravan of black SUVs.
Kinda cliché except it’s actually how government types actually move important people.
Our vehicle was armored. I spotted the sticker for the armor company on the inside edge of the rear passenger door.
I had seen the same company logo on Humvees at Fort Benning.
“Just be yourself, Cassie,” Director Brown said in a manner I was certain he meant to be reassuring.
“Is that wise sir,” I asked. “Myself can be…”
“A lot?” Rose Carmine threw out.
“Yeah, that.”
“Well, be polite, which you always seem to be, but tell the truth,” the director advised.
The trip was uneventful in that no one tried to shoot us, stop us, or otherwise commit any acts of violence in our direction.
I did notice a few people watching our convoy, people whose faces I had seen last at Fort Benning.
The clothing these people wore was not military issue but rather standard, unassuming civilian attire.
I didn’t mention any of this to my FBI minders.
Security screening was easy because I had literally nothing on me but my borrowed suit and my Michigan driver’s license—my real one.
“He wants you an hour ago,” a White House staffer said to the director, who just smiled back.
“Par for the course, Kevin. Cassie, this is Kevin Burke, assistant to the White House Chief of Staff.”
“Mr. Burke,” I said with a nod.
He was slim, white, bespectacled, and condescending.
He sniffed, waved a hand dismissively, and led us at a fast pace through the labyrinth of the West Wing.
We went up a long set of stairs to the second floor and then another twisting path before we ended in a hallway with elegant chairs at strategic points along the wall.
And Secret Service agents—like six, which seemed excessive.
Burke pointed to two chairs and nodded at Rose and me, then led the director and Agent Steele through the door.
I glanced at all the agents who were all staring straight ahead, then turned to Rose with my brows up. She frowned, one brow up. “Something has spooked them.”
“Ah,” I said. “Something… or someone? What’s AD Shire up to these days?”
“Hmm. Interesting thought. Why?”
“She works for Cramer—clearly. Character assassination seems in her interest. Perhaps I lose my protection? Become easy to grab.”
“Why? Why does he want you so bad?” she asked.
I pointed at my head. “He wants this to duplicate for his program.”
“Why not just employ you then?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not me. He wants my brain… not the rest of me.”
She was puzzled for a second, then my full meaning hit her and her eyes got really wide.
“You cannot be serious?”
“You said it… why not offer me a job? Why all this kidnapping crap?”
She thought about that but before she came to any conclusions, the office door opened and Agent Steele beckoned us inside.
I scanned the room and locked on President Wallace Stormer, who stood with a smile.
“Mr. President, this is Cassandra Blake,” the director said.
“President Stormer,” I said, my hands folded in front of my solar plexus.
“Ah, you have your father’s eyes,” he said, holding out a hand. I shook it with a firm grip, as Dad had taught me long ago.
“You met my father, sir?”
“His service to this nation was beyond reproach. I believe you might have an inkling of what I refer to?” he said, nodding to his right.
Major General Octavian Argyle sat on the couch next to Director Brown.
“Hello General,” I said, almost at attention.
“At ease, Cassie; you’re not a soldier… yet,” the general said.
“Yet,” I agreed. The other man in the room besides the general, the president, Steele, and Brown, was someone I hadn’t met. But I knew his face. “Chief of Staff Mueller,” I said with a nod.
He was the only one without a smile. “You are the young lady that dropped this mess at our feet?” he asked.
“Yes sir, I am,” I said without a smile.
“Hmmpf,” he scoffed, but made no answer.
“Would you rather have found out when your prescription for blood pressure split your heart open, Charlie?” President Stormer laughed. “John told us that the Penrods were planning to come through Washington next fall.”
The Chief of Staff frowned but said nothing.
“We didn’t have a chance to tell you, Cassie, but the Penrods confessed,” Director Brown said to me. “They’re actually proud of their murders.”
“That tracks, sir,” I said, sitting as the president waved me into a love seat next to Rose.
“Cassie, I wanted to meet you because William Cramer is a friend of mine,” Stormer said.
“Yes sir, I was aware of that,” I said.
“You’ve made terrible allegations against him,” he said.
“Yes sir, backed up by a very large number of conspicuous connections. He had connections to my mother; the daughter of the president of the Rifle Springs Casino has heard him talking about both his errant CATMAP program and me in the same conversation; the New York terrorists are connected to him through Oscar Wymer; and the attack on the Triple Threat Task Force building included at least one former employee of his. Also, his CATMAP failed to alert authorities to any of the attacks.”
He raised an eyebrow. “These are circumstantial incidents,” he said.
“I believe they are what the FBI calls connections and what I call patterns, sir.”
“This child is full of herself,” Mueller grumped.
I felt my head tilt as I regarded him. Beside me, I heard Rose suck in a little breath.
“Charles Oswald Mueller, former tax lawyer with Pontiff, Cashius, and Greene, two-term congressman from the state of Oklahoma and special envoy to oil-rich Kazakhstan. Wife Eleanor and two grown children, both in the Oklahoma oil business. Switched parties in the first year of your second term after voting with the opposition to grant tax breaks to multinational energy corporations. You faced censure from your constituents, and that fits the profile of our serial killers. Or their copycats.”
“Now wait one minute,” Mueller started, but the president interrupted.
“What do you mean?” he asked me.
“Some serial killers can inspire copycats. A case this large could easily do so. Wouldn’t have to be pharmacists; could be pharmacy technicians, nurses, hospital staff. Who knows.”
President Stormer turned to Director Brown. “What is the likelihood that she is right?”
“Well, Cassie is correct that high-profile mass murders can elicit other would-be killers to step into the game, as it were,” Brown said.
“Have you noticed anything?” the president asked me.
“Not yet, sir,” I said.
“You made a childish attempt at scaring me,” Mueller said.
“Actually, I wanted you to pay attention to what I have done already, not my age or sex. All my life, people have doubted me until I prove myself—over and over. Ignoring me because I do not fit your worldview is a mistake. Agent Steele may have had doubts, but he kept an open mind. You know who doesn’t doubt me?
William Cramer. Hence the attack on the task force. ”
Mueller opened his mouth, but the president lifted one hand for silence.
“You are very young and rather outspoken, Miss Blake,” Stormer said.
“On page six of the director’s report to you, Mr. President, there is a profile of me by Dr. Chen.
I quote: ‘Cassandra Blake is highly intelligent, and I believe possessed of the only true eidetic memory ever tested. She has truly outstanding cognitive reflection abilities in addition to extreme data analysis capabilities. She is extremely patriotic but does exhibit some characteristics of anti-authoritarianism. I say some, as she clearly is capable of following a chain of command, but only if she respects the abilities and judgement of those above her. The term does not suffer fools applies here.”
Mueller immediately flipped to the page in question, but I was warmed to notice that the general, Director Brown, Agent Steele, and the President of the United States did not.
“Our own psychologists have noted the same characteristic on Cassie’s evaluations,” General Argyle said. “It is our primary concern regarding using her in a standard chain of command.”
“I thought you wanted this young lady no matter what?” Stormer asked, frowning.
“Oh, I do. It’s just we need to find the right structure for her. Anyone who discounts her loses her respect instantly. Her productive value drops accordingly. As you can see, the chain of command has issues with that.”
“If they don’t agree with you, that’s a problem?” Stormer asked me.
“No sir. If they don’t believe me out of hand, then that’s a problem.
If they take in my observations and decide against what I might recommend, that’s okay.
That’s just leadership. But if I tell them the sky is blue and they argue or disregard me, then that’s a waste of my abilities.
I do not like feeling that my input is ignored or wasted. ”
“Chen says you have an obsessive need to be useful,” Mueller said, tapping the report.
“The actual quote is ‘Cassie is driven to apply all of her skills and abilities in aid to those she deems deserving. It is a very powerful behavioral force in her psyche.”
“That’s what I said,” Mueller snarled.
“Debatable, Chief of Staff Mueller.”
“Charles should not be in her chain of command,” General Argyle chuckled.
“So she found the pharmacists,” Mueller said. “Bravo. One attaboy does not a career make.”
“Actually, she first noted that the terrorists were not foreign nationals, then predicted their attempt to attack Washington, then found the pharmacists, and in an off minute solved a cold case,” Agent Steele said. “And the week’s not over.”
“Sounds like the Triple Threat Task Force metrics are gonna look good this quarter,” President Stormer said. “I like it. Let’s see what else she can help with. Long as that’s okay with you, Cassie?”
“I do like to be useful, Mr. President,” I said with a wink at Mueller.