When the Dead Speak

Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Carl walked over to the window and gazed out at the night skies. Lights on the break wall could be seen in the distance. Turning away from the window, Carl said, "You look tired."

Jake leaned back against the couch. "Didn't sleep much." Jake had stopped by Carl's suite on the way home. A lot had happened since he talked to him last. He handed Carl the list of Cain's flights Tim Meisner had obtained.

"Cain Valenzio may look big and dumb but he knows how to cover his tracks. We're keeping an eye on him." Carl placed his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it.

"What I'm about to tell you has to be kept in the strictest of confidence." Carl smiled a sincere smile. "But I don't have to tell you that." He took a seat across from Jake. "I had to get clearance first."

"From?"

"Jackson Whittier."

"The President?" Jake took a long swallow of beer.

"He was chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee in 1977. I called him to brief him on what we've discussed. I thought he might be able to shed a little light on the case." Carl placed his horn-rimmed glasses on his nose, pressing them tightly to the bridge. "When he was chairman, a reporter contacted him with information about some alleged murders that took place in Korea."

"That reporter didn't happen to be Samuel Casey, did it?" Jake watched Carl intently.

Carl nodded yes. "Those were volatile times back then. We had Minister Elijah mounting a march on D.C. for more jobs for blacks, better housing. He was promising blood in the streets if all his black brothers he felt were incarcerated in our prisons on trumped up charges weren't released."

"What does that have to do with a reporter reporting the news?"

"Timing, Jake. We would have had all-out race riots if the story leaked that white soldiers shot and killed black soldiers in Korea. It happened in a war that was already twenty-five years old at the time," Carl explained. "It wouldn't have served any purpose to dredge it up."

Jake's brow furrowed. "Except clear the name of a man accused of being a deserter."

"You have to believe me when I say Jackson wasn't proud of what he had to do," Carl said. "The President and I have always been close. We went to college together. Samuel Casey was well-known in the media. When he asked to speak confidentially with the chairman, Jackson made time for him. They arranged a meeting time and place. All Casey told him was that he had a source who would confirm that blacks were murdered in Korea by white soldiers. He was going to bring the witness with him to Washington."

Carl pulled several sheets of paper from his briefcase and passed them across the table to Jake. "These are the names of the other three men in Hap's unit."

"You knew their names all along?"

"No, Jackson knew their names. I can understand Jackson's reasoning. He's a fair man, Jake. He's very concerned about all this surfacing."

Jake studied the names on the list. "What about lightning strike?"

"It was a play on the term the North Koreans used. According to what little Samuel Casey would tell Jackson over the phone, a soldier made a strike if he shot a black man."

"And the Armed Services Committee chairman didn't launch a full-scale investigation?" Jake tossed the pages back across the table. "Sonafabitch. He could have proved it." Jake stalked over to the bar and popped open another beer.

"What would that have accomplished?" Carl snapped his briefcase shut. "Samuel Casey died and his witness disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Wasn't the chairman curious about Casey's untimely death?" Jake moved to the arm chair, tapped his fingers on the beer can, the tapping increasing as his anger increased.

"Samuel Casey had been working on a number of stories, one of which was the sale of arms to Middle East terrorists and the Sanchez drug cartel. The police didn't rule it a homicide, but if it had been, there were a lot of people who might have had reason to silence Casey."

"Casey never mentioned Preston Hilliard's name?"

"Never. He only said it was a high-ranking state official. With the death of Casey, the story, the leads, everything died."

"I'm sure Jackson Whittier was thrilled." Suddenly, the beer didn't taste that good. Jake carried the half-empty can to the bar sink and poured out the remaining contents.

"Thrilled to avert a race riot? Absolutely."

"And what is he trying to avert this time?"