Destination Dealey: Countdown to the Kennedy Conspiracy Read online

  “Yes, sir. If they are hiding in this facility, they will be captured.” Sutherland doubted it, but wanted to placate the man in charge. “Perhaps one of our civilian workers helped them to flee. I will conduct a full investigation of the surveillance tapes and interrogate the employees.” He saluted and turned to the door.

  “Find them, Captain, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

  As Sutherland exited, his broad shoulders sagged.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013

  6:05 PM – EDT

  Jay Harding paced beside his blue Subaru station wagon on Paterson Plank Road in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Again he squinted at his watch through his round wireframes, and gazed skyward as the western sun descended toward twilight. He knew he stood at the correct coordinates, across the waterway separating Hudson County from Bergen.

  Hearing a rustle behind him, Jay jumped and turned. Ah. No need to be so high-strung. Stray trash skittered across the street in the cool, gusty breeze. He wiped his damp palms on his Levi’s and ran his fingers through his unkempt brown hair. By acting as an accomplice to the convicts, he was literally risking his neck. If discovered, a lifetime sentence would be the minimum punishment, the death penalty more likely.

  After resisting the urge to check once more, Jay succumbed to temptation and glanced up. He was rewarded by the sight of two figures under white parachutes floating down over the fetid swamp. Finally. Relief flowed through the twenty-six-year-old industrial engineer.

  Employment as a project manager at the Secaucus Research Installation had allowed Jay to witness Sera and Iggy’s imposed labor for the past twelve months. He shook his head. How naive he’d been in the beginning—spouting rhetoric and prattling on about patriotism while barely listening to the scientists. But over time, the job had proven to be a catalyst for change to his entire belief system. He learned first-hand how the government had betrayed his charges and manipulated their lives. Iggy’s colorful stories about an early childhood spent in a free nation inspired him to think about the kind of existence citizens deserved. A life of choices and fair treatment. The way it was before the war.

  Fifty yards distant, Sera tumbled to the marshy ground, followed a minute later by Iggy. They ditched their parachutes in the tall weeds and labored to the station wagon, feet suctioning soggy earth with every step.

  “Did you, you know . . .” Jay hesitated “. . . purge the data files we talked about?”

  “Yes.” Sera sighed. She grabbed the rear passenger door handle. “Come on. Let’s go!”

  Iggy’s eyes widened, and she lifted her fingers toward Sera in a concealed gesture. “Jay, we couldn’t have done this without you. Please accept our deepest gratitude.”

  “I wanted to help. The world, well, the world isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.” He straightened his spine. “Both of you were wrongfully imprisoned in that lab. The hearings for your alleged crimes were crooked and the juries rigged. No one deserves to be locked up for advocating what is right.”

  Sera nodded and opened the car door.

  “I mean, the military runs the Oval Office and Congress is for sale to defense contractors like Locklier and MacDowell-Douggan. My parents raised me to believe that this society is equitable and honorable, but that’s a lie. They work at Locklier for crying out loud, one of the biggest weapons manufacturers in the US. I believed them when they said that nothing matters in this country but a strong offense to intimidate the enemy into surrender. They swore their efforts would bring peace.”

  “Understandable.” Iggy yanked open the front passenger door and climbed in.

  Jay observed them. “Oh, right, yes.” He got in and started the ignition, then rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “I know what the consequences would be if we were captured. But this could be the most significant endeavor in the history of humankind.”

  Sera rolled her eyes. “Since it’s that important, maybe we should leave the scene of the crime.”

  “Um, of course. I was just saying.” Jay pressed the accelerator and they sped away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013

  8:00 PM – EDT

  The Soviet operative aimed his binoculars at the Secaucus Research Installation. Chaos reigned over the compound as Military Police combed the grounds with firearms drawn. Powerful searchlights swept through the dark night over the lawn, while guards shouted and rushed about. He chuckled. Typical American ineptitude. The scene hadn’t changed for the past couple of hours, except that the sirens had ceased—a welcome reprieve. Evidently, an inmate had broken out of their allegedly secure empire.

  The spy had planned to wait until the evening shift change, but a better opportunity could not be manufactured. He deposited his field glasses into his nondescript Ford and grabbed a backpack from the passenger seat. Glancing down, he inspected his standard citizen work garb with satisfaction. In his home country, even civilian employees were required to wear uniforms. Here, his street clothes would blend in. He confidently began the short hike.

  The Russian had earned the right to his self-assuredness. When recruited to serve his motherland, he had felt honored. The Kremlin handpicked only the strongest, smartest, and bravest from among the faithful. After years of tenure, his unblemished record ranked him among the upper echelon of his comrades. At first, the privileges for himself, his wife, and his son seemed to outweigh the risks. They enjoyed fast cars, designer clothes, and a palatial home. His son attended an exclusive academy reserved for children of the elite. But being the best meant that each time he proved himself, the ante increased.

  However, through happenstance, this particular job had downgraded to one simpler than usual. With all personnel searching for escapees, they were focusing on anyone leaving the base rather than anyone entering. The infiltrator waved a fake badge at the gate and sauntered in, unquestioned.

  8:05 PM – EDT

  Jay drove due west on Bridge Street through Lambertville, New Jersey, toward the Delaware River, the geographical dividing line between the Garden State and the neighboring Keystone State. He acknowledged his companions with a brief glance. “I’ve chosen this specific crossing into Pennsylvania because of its relatively short width and span, allowing only two lanes of traffic covering three-hundred yards of waterway. Therefore, as you know, that means fewer border patrols and you should easily be able to traverse underneath.”

  In the backseat, Sera stiffened. Now what?

  Before Jay reached the New Hope Bridge, he turned right up North Union and parked in a side alley alongside a series of dilapidated houses. The depressed economy must have hit this town with malice. “I’ve brought the apparatus to suspend each of you beneath the bridge so you can scoot across.” He turned off the car’s headlamps and switched on the interior dome light.

  Sera and Iggy stared at each other.

  “Well, I adapted mountain climbing harnesses and ropes to end in clamps rather than grappling hooks so you can merely attach and re-attach to the steel girders to work your way across.” He turned his head to one side and looked up. “Although in theory, you could probably just walk along the riverbed. The Delaware isn’t deep in this region, and the recent drought conditions mean the water level couldn’t be more than a few feet. Yes, yes, you could do that. But then, in the unlikely event there are scouts on the banks, you would be too visible. So this way is probably preferable. No, no, definitely preferable.”

  “If you’re done second-guessing, Jay”—Sera envisioned smacking him upside the head—“let’s get this over with. Iggy, you ready?”

  She nodded, wondering why this challenge suddenly seemed more daunting than their prison break.

  8:10 PM – EDT

  In the handicapped restroom stall at the Secaucus facility, the Russian disrobed an unconscious MP of a similar build and propped his underwear-clad body on the commode. As he dressed in the guard’s uniform, the intruder tucked the inert man’s key card into h
is breast pocket. He stuffed his own clothing into the knapsack and set out into the hallway.

  Using the stolen card, he entered the restricted area and scanned the perimeter offices, some ransacked, some intact. He furtively read each nameplate, looking for the man in charge. When intermittent army units marched past, the foreigner saluted in acknowledgement, face immobile. He finally zeroed in on the office of Colonel William Zimmerman. At first it appeared to be a ransacked room, but a second look revealed an inherent pigsty.

  The spy slipped into the vacant seat of command, unnoticed.

  8:15 PM – EDT

  Sera goggled at the New Hope Bridge rising proudly on seven supports cemented with river stone—five in the water and one at each end on land. A series of six latticework canopies made of green steel covered its length, connecting each section one after the next like boxcars on a train. She observed a sentry parading back and forth perpendicular to the lanes at the nearest end, a machine gun slung on his back. What the hell was Jay thinking?

  As soon as the guard reached the far edge, Iggy crouched low. “This is it.”

  The pair sneaked down to the shoreline wearing their cumbersome gear. To the requisite waist cinch and attached leg loops, Jay had added heavy straps. They crisscrossed over the shoulders and joined at the midriff to evenly distribute the climber’s weight.

  Arriving at the first bridge support, they hoisted themselves up onto the ledge and paused, listening for activity above. A car passed overhead on the grated metal roadway, rumbling and shaking the bridge like an earthquake. Taking advantage of the noise, Sera donned work gloves, reached up and fastened first one, then the other clamp to the girder underneath. The mechanisms were tethered to a free-spinning ball joint on the belt, granting unfettered movement. Suspended, she began the monumental affair of crawling backward a few feet at a time by releasing one clamp and positioning it as far as possible past the other.

  On the Jersey side, Jay had reparked the Subaru in the lot at the Lambertville Inn, behind the former Pennsylvania Railroad station. With an unobstructed view, he watched their silhouettes make sluggish progress. The longer they spent exposed, the greater the danger. He perspired in spite of the chilly night air. To divert his attention, Jay mentally listed the names of the fifty states, in alphabetical order, with their capitals. He sighed. Too easy.

  Thirty minutes into the expedition, the restraints were digging into Sera’s limbs. Her muscles ached from exertion and her legs began losing circulation. Fearing for her older companion, she hissed, “Great plan. Jay will pay for this one.”

  Iggy balled her hand in a fist, demanding silence.

  Sera took this as a sign that Iggy was okay. When she finally reached the end, she pulled a laser pointer out of a zippered pocket and directed the beam across the river to Jay’s car. She flashed it several times and witnessed his lights wink in confirmation. He would motor across and occupy the guards at the checkpoint as a diversion while they disengaged. Sera boldly swung the pointer to stick it back in her pocket, fumbled, and felt the device slip from her fingers. Splash! Both women froze as footsteps thudded across the bridge to investigate.

  8:45 PM – EDT

  The Soviet spy tapped at Zimmerman’s computer, completing the download of the Anti-Matter weapon information. The task had taken longer than anticipated. He’d had to hack through the elementary encryption and weed through innumerable files. Now finished, he ejected the compact data storage device, stashed it in his bag, and strode back through the passageway. The exercise had unfolded as fairly effortless, but it still constituted a risk. And for what purpose?

  The unending conflict between the world’s two superpowers lacked logic. The crazy Americans instituted a strategy of Security through Supremacy. The Soviets matched their firepower and then exceeded it. Espionage blossomed into a huge enterprise, with each side needing to know what the enemy was constructing. The US built a bomb; the USSR stole the plans and built a bigger one. They sank a ship, we sank a ship. They destroyed a city, we destroyed a city. Where would it end? The operative felt increasingly impotent in this game of one-upmanship.

  Still wearing the pilfered uniform, he exited the complex. His son shouldn’t have to grow up in the violent world that existed today.

  8:50 PM – EDT

  Iggy held her breath as the patrolman shone his flashlight over the railing, sweeping it back and forth. Too agitated to even contemplate her emotions regarding Sera’s carelessness, she simply waited. After a cursory and fruitless search, he switched the light off. She heard him mutter, “Stupid shad.” He was referring to the seawater herring species that swam upstream in freshwater to spawn, similar to salmon. Of course, he was incorrect. As the fish mated in early spring, they were long gone by now.

  Dangling from the underbelly of the bridge, Iggy couldn’t yet relax from relief. What a ridiculous scenario she portrayed. She wouldn’t be in this predicament if the government allowed citizens to move freely between states. How had the situation deteriorated? When she was a child in the early 1960s, her family had taken a cross-country road trip. They cruised across the nation, sightseeing the mountains and farms of rural areas, as well as the skyscrapers and industries of the urban centers. No barriers had impeded their travels. Instead of checkpoints, each border boasted welcome signs. If only it could be so again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013

  9:15 PM – EDT

  Sitting in a booth at the antiquated Logan Inn bar, Jay slurped a beer, willing the tension in his body to subside. Thank goodness his plan had succeeded. Granted, the excursion had proven more taxing and time-consuming than anticipated, but at least Iggy and Sera were safe. After navigating the border checkpoint on the bridge, he had proceeded to this tavern and lodge located on Main Street, a road running parallel to the Delaware River in New Hope. Fortunate to reserve two of the scant sixteen guest rooms, Jay had enjoyed an education on local lore from the proprietor.

  The oldest inn in town, the Logan was named after a Lenni-Lenape Indian chief regarded for his unusual camaraderie with Caucasian settlers. During his lifetime, the benevolent Native American developed a close kinship with James Logan, secretary to William Penn. The Quaker convert Penn had, of course, founded the Pennsylvania colony as a haven for those seeking religious freedom. According to legend, Chief Wingohocking abandoned his tribal name and adopted Secretary Logan’s as a sign of admiration and respect. To pay him homage, the townspeople commissioned a metal cutout sculpture in his likeness. The ten-foot, painted sheet iron figure depicted a man in feathered headdress, nobly aiming an arrow. Displayed on a pole outside of the inn, the masterpiece had been a landmark and guardian of the township since 1828. Jay made a mental note to point it out to his companions when they arrived.

  He gazed around the dim interior—the authentic original structure of the dinky saloon—wondering about its appearance in its heyday. Suddenly, Iggy and Sera materialized through the smoky haze. They slid their disheveled forms into the booth.

  “How’d it go?” Jay avoided direct eye contact, feeling guilty about their ordeal.

  Sera glowered at him. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  He declined comment and instead shoved a couple of menus at them.

  After a server took their order, Iggy cast about the room, seeking a diversion from the stilted silence. She indicated a grainy television behind Jay. “Look. They’re reporting on the summit.”

  Jay followed her line of sight behind him to the set he hadn’t noticed previously. A perky blonde newscaster with a vapid smile spoke animatedly while gesturing to an inset map of the Russian capital. However, the volume was muted. He appealed to the barkeep, “Sir, can you please turn that up?” The scene switched to footage from earlier in the day showing the premier of the Soviet Union greeting Republican Vice President Jeb Bush for their historic summit in Minsk. The anchor gaily announced that the meeting had been planned for months as a first step in working towards an end to
the Stale War between the dominant world powers.

  Iggy’s mouth dropped in amazement. Did the young woman think it would actually happen?

  “They’re talking about striking a peace accord while manufacturing Anti-Matter weapons back in Secaucus?” Sera shook her head. “The whole charade is ludicrous.”

  “Every fledgling administration makes these same overtures. They do it as a public relations campaign to convince the voters that they aren’t warmongers. But nothing ever changes.” Iggy sighed. “Ever since the ’64 Nuke War.”

  Their meals were plunked down in front of them, and Jay wolfed down a few bites of his burger. “Well, I suppose it’s really hard to get along with a country after they wipe out your major cities. Kind of makes you not want to play with them. I mean, where’s the incentive?”

  “Yeah, well it’s mutual. We destroyed their cities, too. And they never would have hit DC if we hadn’t taken out Moscow first.” Sera shrugged as she dug into her meal.

  “I was lucky enough to visit Washington DC as a child.” Iggy’s voice turned somber. “Before it was leveled. I remember a bustling metropolis with gleaming monuments and classic architecture. I stood on the Lincoln Memorial, looking up at the massive statue and marveling at how they carved it. Incredible.” She focused on the far wall, reliving a scene from the distant past. “We toured all the important sites—the huge spike of the Washington Monument and its reflecting pool, the Capitol Building with its majestic dome and a million steps, the White House’s towering columns and lush gardens. Even the Smithsonian museum resembled a fairytale castle. Now, it’s just a wasteland of radioactive rubble. Tragic.” Her vision alighted on her associates. “WB has none of the same character or charm. Frankly, it’s seedy.”

  “Well, that’s precisely the point, isn’t it?” Jay hit his stride on familiar ground. When the government had rebuilt the capital in Wilkes-Barre, they disallowed a viable target. Bunkers of steel-reinforced concrete were constructed and situated a distance apart. “The buildings are virtually indestructible. And why bother with memorials and monuments? You may as well paint a bulls-eye on them. Like the White House. The presidential residence is purported to be far underground, but it could be in another state entirely. Who knows?”