Chapter 106

 

New York City, 1984

 

The storm that descended was like the coming of an Ice Age. Originating in Canada it swept across the north-east into the central and western States bombarding the country with rain turning into sleet and hail. By 5:00pm Eastern Time the vast majority of Americans conceded defeat to the freezing weather; consoling themselves with a flick of a TV switch and the pleasure of central heating.

The men nervously milling about the office of Senator John Connors were not concerned by the early cold. They were feeling chills not caused by the weather.

“Can’t turn my mind blank,” John Connors said to his confidants. He collapsed at his desk after some initial pacing and cursing as the information was shared. His normally stiff shoulders slumped, his bent elbows rested on the desk, and he held his forehead in the palms of his hands. “Do you think I can concentrate on the election? Do you think I can forget he’s my son and what they might be doing to him?”

“Damn it!” his cousin Brad Fitzgerald seemed at a loss with what to do with his fists, so he jammed them in his pockets.

Thomas Devlin spun from watching the hail pelting the window to face the small group dwarfed by the size of the room. “You do what they ask, John, and you’re finished in politics. You’ll go down in the history books all right, the first candidate to concede defeat before the voters got to the polls.”

Accepting a scotch from John Connors’ eldest son RJ, he stalked across the room and set it on the desk untasted. He laid his hand on Connors’ shoulder as he continued. “Do what they want and you gain nothing? Face it John, the boy is likely dead.”

“You’re that certain?”

Devlin’s expression mimicked the anger is the faces of the other men present. Then a touch of compassion softened his tone as he admitted. “You’re damned if you do or damned if you don’t. Sorry John, I can’t give you the answer on this one.”

“Really Tom.” Came as a nasty hiss from John’s younger brother William. “I thought you always had the answer?”

As if to ignore William, Devlin reclaimed his scotch and took a healthy swig.

Judge Bradley Fitzgerald brushed away the offer of a fresh drink as RJ continued serving. Drawing nervous fingers through his hair, he asked, “Tom? The British must have more than they’re giving us?”

“With their spy thriller mentality they put your niece and the O’Neill brat right in the hotel suite from where Jas and Sheppard supposedly vanished. Only problem with their evidence, Colleen was at a speaking engagement right here in Washington. Three hundred witnesses saw her on that podium. While a multitude of teens and service people couldn’t miss Dede laying on that sandy Florida beach.”

“So somebody used their identities to get to Sheppard.” William cut in. “And was that really Jas in London? If only they hadn’t killed the bodyguards. If they wanted to blackmail us, why did they take Stew with them? He’s probably dead too.”

Judge Fitzgerald said, “You can bet whoever grabbed Jas did it for big bucks. And they grabbed Jas from the academy—they can’t convince me my son is lying. They used this fresh ploy to throw us off balance. The demands for cash will come later.”

Devlin nodded his head. The others watched as if expecting him to discredit Fitzgerald’s claim. No one really believed Brian’s story or lack of. The boy had been drugged. But everyone in that room figured he’d taken it willingly and that Jason had left the academy on his own. Something he’d cooked up with the O’Neill girls. So there had been no panic in the beginning only a quiet investigation and search. Then today, two days before the election, this demand to withdraw had been made. Only today, had the English Government confidentially informed them Jason Connors was being sought in connection with the disappearance of Stewart Sheppard.

Devlin’s lack of comment brought a further declaration from Fitzgerald. “The boy was probable never in London; if they could fake my niece and the O’Neill girl’s presence don’t you think they could’ve used a ringer for Jason?”

A flung open door accompanied the demanded, “You got the answers Fitz? You tell me why in hell are they forcing John to withdraw?” This elderly man was rarely visible in the forefront of political campaigns. His power came through wealth that had not been acquired by physical labor and completely honest means so he played his role from behind the scenes. Raymond McCarthy Connors was an angry man.

While a bit taller than his sons, age hadn’t caused him to stoop and he carried himself as if he thought he was ten feet taller than God. His normally ruddy complexion was purple with rage while the light colored eyes sparkled like pinpoints of blue fire. “Who in Hell’s got some answers for me? John?”

“The whole scenario doesn’t play right.” Devlin sat down on the edge of John Connors’ desk. Connors paid no attention as Devlin took on the challenge of facing his father. “Raymond, we have no answers.” Devlin admitted. “We can replay this all night. Nothing is going to change the fact Jason is likely dead. If John withdraws you’ll be playing someone’s game for nothing.”

“Nothing?” Raymond Connors tone was iron strong. “You listen up good Tom Devlin. You find John a way out of this. Jason should have been safe in that school, he wasn’t happy but he was safe. That damn O’Neill girl helped him runaway. I’d stake a bet on that.” He waved off his oldest grandson’s offer of a drink. “The kidnapping came later, somebody taking advantage of the opportunity. I’ve lost me two daughters. Not just writing off a grandson for nothing on your word.”

Devlin struggled with a nasty retort. He realized the old man had just taken credit for a dead Andrea that he’d never taken for the live girl. Raymond had finally placed Andrea alongside Shelia as his child. But still he completely neglected to remember Andrea had a son and Gavin called another man grandpa.

None of this showed in Devlin’s face or voice as he said. “Raymond, if you think Jason may be still alive then take away their hold. Bring their demands out in the open and they will have no reason except anger to kill the kid. And unlikely, if they are after money, they’ll get that angry. Let’s tell the world the truth.”

“Tom that could be a death sentence for my son?”

“We don’t know that, John. I admit it is a possibility. But if we can tie-up the news and talk shows for the next two days, we will control how much publicity they can garner.”

“Tom’s right.” Raymond Connors took command of the game. “Let’s play hardball with these bastards. John doesn’t withdraw. Only tells the voters he believes the boy is dead and he will not be held-up by a bunch of criminals who don’t trust the judgment of the American voters. I want you boys on the horn—Tom, you get O’Neill’s ass down here pronto. Find out everything that girl of his knows. The rest of you start calling all them other lads that owe. I want a show of solidarity that’s impregnable and in place before morning and I want it done before the other side gets a hint of this.

“Fitz.” He motioned towards the judge. “You get them law boys out in full force if you think the kid is still in the country. Turn every stone but keep it quiet. John you do your suffering now.” He walked to his son and firmly squeezed his shoulder. “Then you pull yourself together when Tom tells you and you face those TV cameras with all the strength I know you’ve got. Tom will lay out the words, but you have to make them count.” Then he said to his younger son, “Will, you got a private car?”

“Sure, Pop.”

“You’ll drive me home. Now that it’s going to be on the news we will have to tell your mother. A terrible year for her, she’s going to take the boy’s missing hard.” A frown settled on his face. “Got some other things on my mind been bothering me.”

~~~

 

They stood outside the office building and waited in the cold for the attendant to bring William’s car from the heated garage. It was 4:51pm, as Raymond slipped into the passenger side of the Corvette. The interior light shown on his son’s face and gave him an eerie feeling. Overshadowed by a handsome, personable, older brother William could never compete with, Raymond knew his wife had tried to compensate by being too lenient with the boy.

The father realized early on William was a sneaky little bastard. No matter what trouble he got into, he would lie and slither his way out. So by the time he became an adult, Raymond found himself more concerned by what William would do to others than what they could do to him. “Will, all this business lately, makes me edgy. It makes me think about your perchance for causing trouble. We’ve bailed you out of a lot of messes. That dead boy at Baylor—”

“Good heavens, Dad! You’re not going to chastise me now for school boy pranks.” William was a careful driver and the car eased into the traffic. “You can’t possibly think I would do anything to hurt my family?”

“I don’t want to even imagine such a thing. Still, you are clever and manipulative, Will. And so damn cool about John’s missing boy.”

“Would it make you feel better, if I ranted and raved because my nephew is missing? Johnnie is doing enough of that for all of us. And no doubt Mom will do the real crying. If I recall, you slapped my face and told me to act like a man when I was carrying on over Shelia’s death.”

“Murder—Shelia’s murder.” Raymond said his face hardening in anger.

“Not according to your high-priced investigators. They’ve set up a perfect scenario of accidental death. You better decide. You can’t have things both ways. Like you always told us when you start in a game, you do whatever it takes to win.”