Part 13 (1/2)
”Those are difficult, maybe impossible, things to disguise or hide. Lots of loose ends, lots of people involved, lots of moving parts that could spring a leak.”
”But if it worked, n.o.body would be the wiser. Our hostages would be saved, and the Contras would kill more commies. What's not to like?”
”It was breaking the law.”
”A slight technicality.”
”I believe it's called theft of government property and criminal conspiracy. That's a ten-to-twenty technicality.”
”Very good.” I explained, ”And yes, it did leak, and yes, the scandal nearly brought down Reagan's house.”
”I'm sorry, does this have something to do with Daniels, Hirschfield, or Tigerman?”
”Bear with me.”
”I'm trying.” She added, ”But you're very trying.”
Indeed, I am. I explained, ”Ollie and Bud were both very ambitious types, but in their hearts, and in their minds I think, the ends were n.o.ble and the means were justified. When they were caught, they were forced to resign. They're still testifying at congressional investigating committees.”
”Am I now seeing the connection to Daniels?”
”If you're paying attention . . .”
”Well . . . spell it out for me.”
”Bud and Ollie were two fairly average guys, over their heads in very important jobs, in a very complicated and treacherous world.”
”I see.”
”A lot of other senior officials were implicated, including the Secretaries of Defense and State. Several senior officials were forced to resign. A few were led off in handcuffs.”
She s.h.i.+fted around in her seat. ”You're implying that perhaps that scandal is a parable or a parallel for this case?”
I said nothing.
”You think this case goes that high? Spreads that wide?”
”I have no idea--yet.”
”Then what are you saying?”
”Consider what we just heard from Theresa Daniels about what Cliff has been doing over the past decade, and whom he has been doing it with.” I continued, ”He may have been operating with permission, or even with orders, from his bosses--and from their bosses--including people in the White House. These things always begin small--like that Watergate security guard performing his nightly rounds and finding a piece of burglar's tape stuck on a door lock. At that moment in time, he had no idea he had the President of the United States by the b.a.l.l.s.” I looked her in the eye. ”We know that Clifford was a subject in an espionage investigation, and we now know that, for many years, he was connected at the hip to two senior Defense officials. My instincts are telling me this is much bigger than just Clifford, and probably much wider.”
She replied, ”We don't know that he broke any law.”
”He did.”
”How do you know that?”
I looked at her. ”I want to be sure you know what we're getting into.”
”I do know.”
”Do you? Because, should there be other people with their hands in the same cookie jar, once we walk into Hirschfield's or Tigerman's office, the s.h.i.+t could hit the fan. After that, there's no turning back.”
”Well . . . how far are you from retirement?”
”Your problem's bigger than mine. I at least have a boss who might run a little interference for me.” Or might not.
”I'm an Asian-American woman with a military academy degree, and fluency in three languages. Corporate quota hunters have sticky dreams about people like me. You, on the other hand, are an average white male with a law degree.” She smiled. ”Worry about yourself.”
”I love America.”
We lapsed back into thoughtful silence. I pulled into North Parking at the Pentagon. It was 6:15, well into happy hour, and I had no trouble finding a parking s.p.a.ce close to the building. I turned off the ignition, and we got out and began our trek up the long walkway.
”As a matter of interest,” Bian asked as we walked, ”Ollie and Bud? What happened to them?”
”Ollie was slick and managed to spin it to become a hero to conservatives. He was canonized, the good Marine doing his best for the nation he adores. It helped that it was heartfelt, I think. So he got the usual raw deal accorded to disgraced officials: a radio show and a fortune from books and the speech circuit.”
”And Bud?”
”Yes, Bud. He went home one night and ate a bottle of pills.” I allowed her a moment to think about that, then said, ”Happy ending. He was discovered before it was too late. The point is, in Was.h.i.+ngton even well-intended people can do bad things.”
”But there's a larger moral here, isn't there?”
I nodded.
”You're using this story as a parable. Cliff is one of those two guys.”
Right again.
She said, ”You're telling me he was swept up in something, something bigger than him, something more complicated than he could fathom.”
”Eight points. Go for the full ten.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes. Eventually Bian understood the real significance, and she asked, ”But how did Cliff respond--like Ollie, or like Bud? That's the question, isn't it?”
”Good. There's a big prize for the extra credit.”
”From what we now know about Cliff, he was not like Bud. His life suggests Cliff was durable, resilient, a survivor. More Ollie than Bud. Right?”
I nodded.
”So you believe he was murdered.”
I asked, ”Do you have a firearm?”