Going Nuclear - Stephen Hart

Скачать книгу

that. And our job is to support our government, no matter what our personal opinions are.”

      “That has never been an issue with me.”

      “Right. You have a daughter, don’t you?”

      “Yes, Denise. A good kid, nothing like the young people we’ve been talking about. She has her head on straight: in her sophomore year down at Champaign-Urbana. She’s going to be an English teacher.”

      Good Lord, Vic thought. It wasn’t enough that he had to present a professional, up-to-date image myself. Now his daughter and presumably his wife were going to have to pass muster as well. Vic gazed at the coffee cup on Bono’s desk and let his mind drift. His wife. What about his wife these days? For the last few months or so she had become distant, lashing out at him when he tried to talk with her, then retreating into their bedroom to read, preferably alone. Something was definitely wrong, but there was no time to think about that now. He had to sell the image, had to at least make it to retirement. “Yes, we’re just the typical American family you never hear about,” Vic said. He considered adding, “My wife just makes sure the life insurance policies are paid up,” but decided this was no time for bad jokes.

      “That’s good, very good. You’re right, of course. Your daughter is the kind of kid we never hear about in the news. So tell me, have you had a chance to look over the case that was assigned to you yesterday? I asked Jim to pass it on to you with the memo.”

      “Yes, I did.” Vic took a small notebook from his coat, opened it, and began reading: “Subject is Joshua Taylor. Black male, University of Illinois grad student, active in Students for a Democratic Society. Killed two days ago by a bullet wound to the head. No leads, no weapon. Nothing to go on at this point, other than Washington’s interest in a white girl that Taylor associated with named Billie Lee.” Vic looked up. “So do you think this may have had something to do with the Black Panthers?” he asked.

      “We don’t know yet, but we are looking for any connection we can find. As you said, this Joshua Taylor was very active in SDS. But he was also black. So he may have had some involvement with the Panthers as well, which could work to our advantage.”

      “How?”

      “Well, if we can show that his murder resulted from differences between the Panthers and student radicals, it could be a big plus.”

      “You mean, blame it on the Black Panthers?”

      “If there’s something there; if we can find some sort of connection. We’ll just have to see what you can come up with.”

      “Okay, I’ll see what I can learn.”

      “Fine, fine. You do that.”

      That afternoon, Vic called his wife at work from a pay phone. “Hello, Cathy?”

      “Hello, Vic. Is something wrong?”

      “No, no emergency or anything. Why do you ask?”

      “I don’t think you’ve ever called me at work before.”

      “Well, I was just wondering if you were going to be late this evening.”

      “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. Things always seem to come up at the last minute. Why, is something going on this evening? Do you have something planned?”

      “No. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all. I wasn’t planning anything special. I thought maybe we could talk.”

      “Oh, I see. What happened?”

      “It’s just . . . this new guy I have to report to now. And it’s my new assignment, too. It’s like everything is changing. I don’t know if things are going to work out all that well.”

      “You’re not thinking about quitting, are you? You have at least five years until you can retire. You’re going to make it, aren’t you?”

      “I guess. It’s just that I feel like I’m getting caught up in something dirty, and this new guy isn’t anything like John used to be. I mean, I could talk to John. This new guy is ambitious and sounds like he wants to make a reputation for himself at other people’s expense, and—”

      “Oh, hold on a second. Bob just handed me a note. Let me read it real quick here. Okay, I am going to have to stay late tonight. I’m sorry, but I just got this.”

      “That’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”

      “Well, it’s not like we were going to do anything, and this really is a good job.”

      “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you whenever.” Vic pulled down hard on the phone as he hung up.

      That same day, Arthur stopped by the campus newspaper rack on his way out of the chemistry building and picked up a copy of the latest edition. But as he made his way toward the exit, his eye caught the headline on the front page, and he came to an abrupt halt. Splashed across the top was a picture to Joshua with a story reporting that he had been found dead in his apartment. Arthur couldn’t believe it. He went outside to the front steps of the building and sat down. What the hell was going on? Did this have anything to do with Joshua’s activism in SDS? The recent demonstration? Had the campus police finally gone completely insane? According to the article, the police had no idea who killed Joshua or why. But the whole thing seemed extremely fishy to Arthur, and before he knew it, he found himself at the campus police station demanding to see someone.

      “We have a special investigator working on this case,” droned the uniformed police officer at the counter, sounding bored. “Mr. Ringham, FBI.”

      “Why the FBI?”

      “I think it has something to do with Joshua Taylor being from another state. The investigation is going to go beyond what we would normally do locally. Mr. Ringham will be here this afternoon. If you want to come back, I’m sure he’ll happy to see you. In the meantime, I can take your name and address.”

      “Fine. I’ll be here.”

      That afternoon, Arthur was ushered into a back office where Mr. Ringham, a thin man with short gray hair and wearing a gray flannel suit sat behind a desk. “Would you like something to drink?” Ringham asked. “We have coffee and water. I think there’s a Coke machine.”

      “No, thanks. I came here because this whole thing sounds suspicious as hell to me. Why would anyone murder a grad student for no reason?”

      “Suppose you tell me,” Ringham replied patiently. He leaned forward.

      “I have no idea. I didn’t know Joshua, except for seeing him around the chemistry department. The only thing I can think of is, it may be related somehow to what happened last Friday.”

      “What happened last Friday?”

      “Joshua and I were at an antiwar demonstration in front of the administration building, and the campus police tried to break it up. When they did, Joshua yelled something at them, and then one of the cops came after him and tried to hit him with a club. The cop ended up chasing us across campus.”

      “So you were participating in the demonstration as well?”

      “Yes, I was. It’s not against the law, you know.”

      “I know,” Ringham sighed. “And now you think the campus police killed him in retribution because he yelled something at one of them.”

      “Blacks have been killed for less in this country. Joshua was from a poor background, probably ghetto. He was used to seeing police brutality.”

      “Right. Of course, we are talking about the campus police at the University of Illinois.” Ringham let

Скачать книгу