The Face of Freedom. Benjamin Vance
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don’t see any local police. I wonder why they’re not here yet. The local cops are usually pretty quick.”
“I was wondering about that too. My partner has talked to them telephonically and perhaps they had to call up some officers from their beds or they may have some other major issues at present. How else can I help you Ms. Matly?”
“Well, you can give me your name and your partner’s name if you want.”
“I don’t want,” was the reply.
Not to be put off, Martha tried his pride side. “Well, I was looking for some names so you guys can see your names in print tomorrow, or today really. You’ll make the evening news. Or maybe you’d be on TV, rather than in an old newspaper.”
He just said he had no comment and excused himself from her presence and pulled out his cell phone. She began to get an eerie feeling at the base of her spine. She walked into the road, almost to the other side of the street where neighbors were standing. She looked beyond the bend in the road and saw flashing red and blue lights on a patrol car. It was blocking the road.
She murmured, “What the hell”, and started toward the onlookers. She introduced herself and asked if anyone was hurt. No one seemed to be, but they had plenty of damage to their homes, and were justifiably worried. One gentleman asked if she’d gotten anything out of the …“FBI or whatever guys.” She said no, and suggested it was a natural gas explosion. The man said, “Bullshit, there’s no natural gas in this area. They won’t put it in. Maybe old Ike Larson had some propane in the basement that went off.” She didn’t think so.
She questioned the folks until a local police car arrived on the scene. The cop walked straight to the little gaggle of concerned onlookers and singled her out. He asked if she was Ms. Matly from the Press. She affirmed that she was, and the officer asked her to call her boss. She did as requested. Her boss, Joanna Pinks, told her to leave the area and come to her office immediately. She agreed to do so and was at the office in twenty minutes. By the time she arrived she had a thousand questions to ask Joanna Pinks.
Joanna had a strange look on her face when Martha walked in. Joanna asked, “What did you find out? I want to hear every single bit. Don’t spare anything. You were the only reporter in the area, and probably because you practically live there. The Department of Homeland Security or the FBI or something strange has put a damper on the place. The word I hear is that it was a natural gas explosion. What’s your take? The local FBI agent in charge told me to get you the hell out of there. Can you believe it?”
Martha said, “A bunch of bullshit I’d say. The folks across the road from the demolished home say there is no natural gas in the area. The place looks like a bomb hit it. There’s no fire at all. Usually, in a gas explosion there’s still a fire somewhere. Also, there was apparently an FBI agent, or some government agent in the house. Did you run a check on the address yet?”
“I don’t know which house it was, remember. I wasn’t there. I’ve already got the county tax search on line though. What was the address?”
Martha told her, they looked it up and found Ike’s name. They Googled and found he was a USMC veteran of Vietnam and Iraq. They wondered if he was young enough to make both wars; did the math and decided he was. He was highly decorated and had been a member of Defense Security Agency for a while.
They wondered who the other person had been. Was it a girlfriend, a buddy from the FBI? Probably not a wife, since she died about a year earlier, was in their obits and they’d been married forty years. They hashed it over while brainstorming possible causes for the explosion. Martha thought it was a bomb. They discussed the possibility the Marine was a terrorist, looked at each other, shook their heads and went on. They also thought maybe the other body or bodies were a relative or friends from the FBI, staying over, or just a working girl or another retired Marine ... .
Martha finally said, “The guy with the DHS windbreaker said there was possibly an FBI agent in there. That means there had to be some kind of agent in there. Why would an FBI agent be in there? You think Quantico? Ike Larson was probably at Quantico ... he was an ex-marine. The FBI trains there too. Did Ike Larson and his wife have any kids? You think we can find a file?”
“If not, we’ll die trying. We‘re gonna get to the bottom of this stinking fish.”
Meanwhile, the walker found his way to the seedier part of town. He found an all-night convenience store and purchased some bottled water and lip balm. He made sure to look directly at the security camera before he left. It was just starting to get light outside and he stopped in a small restaurant; just opened. He sat at a table with his back to the wall and ordered five scrambled eggs, four slices of whole-wheat toast with butter and preserves and ten strips of bacon. He could see no security camera in the restaurant.He drank three glasses of whole milk and enjoyed the conversation with the waitress who was in awe of his eating prowess. He simply had to put away some carbs for the fifty mile walk to Spokane. If he made it, he had a plane to catch.
17.
Roland Franks called Steven Northfield on a scrambled line. The DHS director was not available. He talked to Northfield’s deputy, Angelica Allen, “Angie, hi, do you know what the hell went down in Coeur d’Alene last night?”
Allen said, “I know nothing of anything that went down last night except in Pakistan and I heard that on CNN. What are you talking about?”
“Well, I think I lost one of my own in an explosion last night at a private residence in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I get the word it was a suspicious explosion.”
“Roland, I haven’t been briefed on that one. I can’t believe … well yes I can believe I didn’t get briefed. What the hell am I talking about? I seldom get briefed about anything around here unless I’m wearing a short skirt and my blouse is open. Let me see what I can find out, okay?”
“Okay, fine. I’ll try to get to the bottom of this my way as well. Thanks for your help. I think I may have lost Jenetta Denzine last night in that explosion.”
“Oh shit … I’m so sorry. I truly hope you didn’t. I’m acquainted with her. I met her at one of your gatherings last June; nice lady. Take care. We‘ll talk soon I hope.”
Angelica Allen hung her head. She knew something was going down, since she’d seen an unusually high volume of message traffic routed from the Director’s office over the last 48 hours. She also noticed Steven Northfield’s private vehicle in the parking garage. That almost never occurred. He seemed to love the limo, and she could understand why, but … . She tapped into Top Secret-NOFORN just to see what she could scare up.
18.
After going over the immediate details of the explosion in the Press offices, both ladies needed major sleep. They developed a feasible story line for the evening edition and sent it to press. Joanna decided to call in another reporter to cover the continuing story of the explosion. She felt bad that the TV stations would get the scoop, but they didn’t have her tenacity. She smelled one hell of a story that only newspapers can uncover. She sent Martha home and decided to make some personal calls.
Joanna Pinks had plenty of contacts and old friends in her town and she had a lot of favors waiting to be called in. She started with Rod Springer, chief of police.
Chief Springer was not available, so she left him a message and called Arthur Simms, Fire district Chief and old boyfriend. Arthur Simms was definitely in and had been waiting for her call.
“I wondered when you’d be calling,” he said.
“Hi, lovie. If you were waiting, then you probably know why I’m calling. It’s about that explosion last night or early this morning. What do you know about it?”
“Officially, I don’t know squat.