There was a six-hour wait in Frankfurt for their red-eye flight to Pittsburgh and Hannah had voted for shopping. Neeley had been shocked. She'd wanted to unwrap the package Jean-Philippe had given them and read the copies, but Hannah had disagreed. "Wait until we get the tape and have it all," had been her advice. “Or at least when you’re on the plane and have nothing else to do. Here’s one of my rules—there’s a time for everything and right now is not the time to be dealing with any more shit.”
She had finally persuaded Neeley that spending a few hours grooming was a necessity. "It's not normal to wear the same clothes every day or have dirty hair. That's what civilization is all about, Neeley. Being clean."
They bought some new clothes of Hannah's choosing and were able to discard the tight, black ninja look. As Neeley modeled a navy blazer over the white t-shirt and soft linen slacks, Hannah nodded in approval. "You can wear it forever. The style is perfect."
Neeley put her hand on her hip. "So you think it makes sense to begin my wardrobe collection the day before my probable death?"
Hannah gave her a look that said 'don't start.' "It is never too late for a woman to begin collecting a classic wardrobe."
Neeley had to admit the clothes were comfortable and efficient. She decided that if she survived she would buy more of the designer clothes. Their next stop was at a salon where Hannah arranged for them to have the complete spa treatment. Neeley decided, after a few tense moments of trying to relax while someone else handled her body, that maybe this was just the right way to spend your last hours. Hannah was right, she had a lot to teach her about living that was just as important as everything Gant had taught her about surviving.
Her mind wandered to Gant as she sat basking in the attention of a pedicurist, manicurist and hair colorist. She tried to imagine Gant seeing her with foil wadded in her hair and cotton balls between her toes. He would have dismissed this as unimportant just as Hannah hadn’t at first realized the significance of the Eldorado Canyon climb. Neeley decided that they were both important to her now.
Neeley shifted her mind to more immediate concerns. Gant’s tape had been so critical that someone had been willing to blow up an entire airliner of civilians, which was rather an extreme step to put it mildly. And since they had failed in that attempt, why had they not tried again? And how did that connect with Jean-Philippe acting as messenger boy for Collins so many years previously? She suspected that Collins’ involvement explained the extreme reaction of the Cellar to this entire affair but beyond that, little was clear.
Neeley pondered all this while she formulated their next step. It was clear to her where they had to go. Gant had sent her to Jean-Philippe to finish old business just as he had sent her up the cliff wall. She even remembered the rule: there's no such thing as unfinished business. It had been important to him that she learn that before she went to West Virginia.
That had been his destination the day they met in Templehoff Airport. He had been going to his wife with knowledge and something that others wanted. Now it was time for Neeley to go to the woman whom Gant had once loved. Only then would she go for the nearby tape.
West Virginia was her final connection to Gant. He had given her Jean-Philippe. Neeley knew that it would have mattered little to Gant whether she killed her betrayer or not. What mattered is that she let go of the past and move into her own world. A world where she was no longer molded by men. Whether the molding was for her benefit or detriment mattered little compared to the losing of herself. This she was learning from Hannah or rather they were learning it together.
And with the tape, John’s contracts and the papers, Neeley knew that she could strike a deal with the Cellar and Nero. But only if she got the tape in her hands before they got to her.
When the women left the salon hours later Neeley was surprised at the attention they received. She was used to frank looks from men but had never experienced the silent compliment from both sexes that were directed to her entire person and not just certain parts of it. Neeley realized people were responding to her attitude about herself. It was almost more powerful than holding a weapon. It was simply being.
Neeley was totally relaxed as she looked out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. Hannah’s eyes were drooping when she ruined Neeley’s mood. She too had obviously used the last few hours to do some thinking. “Nero’s not behind what happened in the past.”
“What?” Neeley spit the word out.
“Some of it, but not all of it. We know now that Senator Collins and Racine were
behind the bomb that Jean-Philippe gave you.”
“But Racine works for Nero.”
“I think he was working only for Collins when he did that,” Hannah said.
“What do you mean?”
Hannah closed her eyes. “There’s something else going on. You have the papers. You might want to read them.”
Neeley stared at Hannah for a few seconds then was startled to realize the other woman was already asleep so she settled into her own thoughts of the next day. Her plan would have to be a good one because Neeley knew all the players were finally coming together and the end of the game was in sight.
She pulled the papers Jean-Philippe had given them out of her pack and began reading.
Nero didn't lift his head for Bailey. He was simply too tired. He was glad he didn't have to worry about budgets and expenditures. In any other agency they would have had to justify the seat on the Concorde that had gotten Bailey back to the States while Gant's woman and Hannah were having their legs waxed.
Nero's voice was so low that Bailey had to lean across the desk to hear his words. "Do we know where the women are going?"
Bailey cleared his throat. "I would assume Neeley is going to see Jesse. They're flying to Pittsburgh and they have a rental car waiting. Morgantown is close by."
Nero smiled, a most rare occasion. "Ah, yes, Jesse."
"And the boy."
“A man now.”
“Yes. Physically at least,” Bailey amended.
“Yes. That was—is—a terrible shame,” Nero said. He was reflective for a few moments. "You need to talk to Jesse," Nero finally said.
"I will. I might have to slow Hannah and Neeley down a little."
"Do whatever is necessary."
“And Jack Gant?” Bailey said.
“What about him?”
“I’ve gotten a call,” Bailey said. “Jack’s heard rumors his brother is dead. He’s asking questions.”
Nero nodded weakly. “Neeley must have called the Uncle in New York for the connection with Suggs. I didn’t think of that. Jack’s on his island, right?”
“Yes.”
“But he hasn’t been contacted yet and I would prefer it stay that way until this problem is resolved.” Nero paused. "Where is Mister Racine?"
Bailey shifted his feet uncomfortably. "We don’t know."
"You don’t know?" Nero repeated.
Bailey shrugged. "Racine is good at certain things. I will take care of Mister Racine later. He won't stay hidden long."
Nero's head shook very slightly. "Racine won't go away. Perhaps you should have finished him in Europe when he was there against my wishes."
"I had other priorities and I wasn’t aware of the entire situation until I interrogated the doctor," Bailey said simply. The two men had worked together for so many years that they wasted no time on recrimination, but rather focused on reality.
“Racine will show up,” Nero said.
“I know. How would you like me to handle it?”
“Racine has run out of chances. The women bested him enough. He might get lucky, so I would appreciate it if you could even the odds a little. Jack Gant might help in that matter. There was never any love lost between the Gant brothers and Racine, even though the love between the two of them was greatly strained by Mogadishu and even more so by Jesse. However,” Nero added as he considered it, “hold off on Jack unless absolutely necessary.”
“So Racine is a Sanction?”
“Yes.”
Bailey nodded. Then he tossed a folder on the table. "There's what Jean-Philippe had to say and his precious papers and photographs."
Nero didn’t pick it up. “The gist?”
Bailey sank down into one of the hard seats, an indication of the seriousness of the situation. “Racine has been working for Collins for a long time. Since 1991 at least.”
Nero had already guessed that much. “He was the one who arranged the bomb with Jean-Philippe?”
“Yes.” Bailey looked at his old companion. “But there’s more to it than that.”
Nero waited.
“Racine was ordered by Collins to insure that the snatch mission failed. Not just failed, but was an embarrassment. A disaster to cover things up.”
Nero rubbed his forehead. “Racine shot down one of the choppers?”
Bailey nodded. “To kill al-Turabi, Gant and Masterson. And destroy the tape and papers. Except Gant and Masterson, along with the tape and papers, weren’t on the chopper.”
“So Racine initiated the disaster in Mogadishu,” Nero said simply. “And Collins didn’t trust I would do my part to cover his ass,” Nero added, almost to himself.
“He had his own agenda,” Bailey said.
"Neeley are Hannah are getting closer to the truth even as I get closer," Nero murmured. “And they have copies of Jean-Philippe’s papers.”
Bailey nodded. “I think Jean-Philippe double-crossed Racine and Collins though. I think he told them that Neeley gave Gant the papers and pictures and was going to go public on Collins.”
“Interesting,” Nero said.
Bailey waited as Nero sat in a cloud of smoke after lighting a cigarette. Finally the old man spoke again. "When you have the videotape, give me a call. Do you understand?"
Bailey nodded. "You can count on me Mister Nero."
Nero sagged back onto his chair. "I always have, Mister Bailey. I always have."
Bailey paused. "What about Senator Collins? And the papers?"
"That will depend on what exactly Neeley has," Nero said. "This has gotten out of hand. There are others besides Collins involved and they are not pleased. I think the events of the past week and this new information clearly show that my judgment-- not Collins-- should be trusted."
Nero leaned his head back. “Parallels. That is what is important about studying history. To see the parallels between current events and past events and thus be able to project forward and anticipate the future. Do you know why the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor?”
Bailey had been through many history lessons in this office. “No, sir, I don’t exactly.”
“Most people don’t remember,” Nero said. “It’s the same reason most of the wars in this century have been fought. One word. Quite simple. Oil.” Nero paused as he caught his breath, the air wheezing through his tracheotomy. “Oil is power. And wars have always been fought over power. On 25 July 1940 the United States government decided to limit its export of oil to Japan—curious isn’t it, that we were actually once in a position to export oil?
“This put the Japanese in an untenable position. Their economy was just beginning to recover from the Great Depression. But without US oil, and no source of their own, they would have to look overseas. They cast their eyes upon the Dutch East Indies and Malaysia. Thus setting themselves on a collision course with the European powers who controlled those lands, and, because those powers were embroiled in fighting Hitler, the United States, which was trying to pick up the slack in the Pacific.
“Yamamoto knew it was mistake to attack Pearl Harbor. He’d lived in America and he knew the true character of the American people. While those around him who only knew the United States second hand saw the Americans as weak and cowardly he felt differently.
“Bin Laden made the same mistake as those around Yamamoto. Bin Laden watched what happened in Mogadishu, how quickly we pulled out after a handful of our soldiers were killed and he thought us weak and vulnerable. So he attacked us. But he might also have known we shot our own helicopter down and figured we were so screwed up we were vulnerable in our greed.
“But behind it all was the power of oil.” Nero fell silent, lost in thought.
Bailey had seen his boss do this before, think out loud to a certain point and then go inside his head, sorting through all that had been learned. He stood to leave and cleared his throat. He knew he should just leave, but he too had spent many years preparing for this. “The women?”
“Yes?” Nero was distracted.
“Are they—“ he left the rest of the question unsaid.
Nero nodded ever so slightly. “They just might be, Mister Bailey. They just might. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Pittsburgh was windy and chilly and raining. Morgantown, West Virginia was an hour and a half from the airport. Neeley had spotted their trailers before they got to the rental car counter. Pretty incompetent Neeley decided. As the women loaded the compact sedan the men kept well out of sight. Neeley decided to forget about them for the moment. She had not yet told Hannah what she had read in the papers.
Hannah pulled the small bag of cookies she had saved from the flight from her tote. She offered one to Neeley who refused. "So where exactly are we going?"
"To Morgantown, West Virginia. It's near the Pennsylvania state line. It's Gant's hometown."
"And the videotape is cached there?"
Neeley tried not to look exasperated. She had not slept the entire flight like Hannah had. "Yes, near there. It's also where Gant's wife and son live."
"Have you ever been there before? Do you think we could stop and get some coffee?"
Hannah was eating one cookie after another.
"Yes and no. Gant and I visited Morgantown every year. On the sly of course. We came at different times and surveilled the place. Gant wanted to make sure Jesse and his son, Bobbie, were safe."
"Why can't we get some coffee?"
Neeley shook her head in wonder. "Has anybody ever told you that you are an odd duck?"
Hannah stopped chewing, her eyes widening with surprise. "No, why?"
Neeley smiled. "You know, I believe you."
They drove for a few miles in silence before Neeley spoke again. “I’ve read the papers Jean-Philippe gave us.”
“And?” Hannah asked.
“The bomb Jean-Philippe gave me was made by Racine on orders from Collins in order to kill Gant and destroy the video and the papers which were supposed to be in the package also.”
“We knew that,” Hannah said. “We probably should have killed Racine in Kansas City.” She said it flatly, as if discussing the weather. Neeley realized Hannah had a very quick learning curve.
“Racine also used an RPG to shoot down one of the helicopters in Mogadishu thinking he was getting Gant’s chopper, along with Masterson, the video and the papers. He made a mistake.”
“That’s a good chunk of the iceberg,” Hannah murmured. “How many men got killed because of that?”
“Eighteen all together,” Neeley said.
“So what else were in those papers?” Hannah pressed. “There was more than just a note about Racine.”
Neeley nodded. “There were copies of money transfers. Stuff I used to do for Jean-Philippe. Collins was helping Cintgo negotiate for rights for two oil pipelines from Turkmenistan across Afghanistan. One would terminate in Pakistan and one on the Arabian Sea. The problem wasn’t so much the pipelines, but rather security for them. It would make no sense to invest billions of dollars in building them if they got blown up every other day as the Taliban had done to the Russian pipeline.”
“So?” Hannah said. “That’s all out there in the open. I even remember talking about some of that with my husband. The pipelines were never built.”
“True,” Neeley said. “But to get a guarantee of security from the Taliban—“
Hannah sat up straight. “They paid them off.”
Neeley nodded. “Three hundred million dollars. Fifty million of which was the good Senator’s own money, illegally redirected from campaign funds and pay-offs.”
“Geez,” Hannah whispered. “No wonder he wants this squashed. He paid that money to the people who blew up the Trade Center and Pentagon. He helped finance the 9-11 attacks.”
“Right. And we’ve been caught in the middle over a decade later.”
Hannah tapped a finger on her lip. “Nero didn’t know about the money transfer or Racine shooting the helicopter down.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because Collins and Racine wouldn’t be around if he did,” Hannah said simply. Her finger continued to tap as she thought. “But—“ she drew the word out.
“But what?” Neeley pressed, glancing at the rear view mirror and catching a glimpse of the car that had been trailing them since the airport.
“There’s still more to this,” Hannah said.
“What more?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
“That’s helpful,” Neeley said, but without an edge of sarcasm.
“I will never again trust that what I see in front of me is the truth,” Hannah said. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Amen, sister,” Neeley said. She spotted the car once more. Neeley kept one hand on the wheel and put the other in her jacket pocket. She handed Hannah the small cassette recorder.
"What's this for?"
"The guys trailing us."
Hannah's head whipped around. "Where?"
"For God's sakes, they're not in the back seat. Let's just say they know where we are. I need to get rid of them. We need to get to Jesse alone. I have to talk to her."
Hannah was playing with the buttons on the recorder. "OK, what's the plan?"
She started to nod as Neeley told her. “You’re learning,” she said when Neeley was done. “We have to use our strengths and their weaknesses.”