Oak Ridge, TN – Tuesday, May 31th, 1983 – 5:15 AM
Gordon put his head in his hands. “Frank didn’t mention this to you? Because he sure as hell didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t get the idea we were expected,” Vic replied. “Either some lines got crossed when Frank talked to the boys at Tennessee, or the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing down here.”
Gordon sighed. “Well, if it’s good enough for us up here in DC . . . Look, I’ll call Louis Parker myself, if I have to. Did you get anything out of them? Any idea why they were there?”
“Pretty tight-lipped,” VanCleef replied. “Not happy that we were there. They didn’t exactly say it was none of our business, but it was implied. When we explained that this case was assigned by you—”
“Out of earshot of the reporter, right?” Gordon asked, rubbing his temples. “Please tell me that.”
“I’m not an idiot, boss. All our discussions with the Tennessee boys took place at our cars. Not as secure as I would like, but nowhere near any civilians. And they didn’t say much, and we didn’t say much, so if anybody was eavesdropping I expect they were disappointed. Point being, we talked a little, and I read between the lines.”
Gordon nodded. “Can I guess what you read? Theresa McNaney.”
“Or whoever is pulling her strings. Something was off. They were unusually interested in the kid. Couldn’t say why. But it clearly had just come up. And—well, I can’t be 100% sure, but I don’t think they knew the kid was gone when they showed up. They didn’t say that, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t know. Hell, we wouldn’t have known, except Frank called because apparently he knows a guy in the Oakridge Police Department—you know Frank, he knows somebody everywhere—and someone had just tried to call in a missing persons on the kid before we left the hotel. But I’m pretty sure the guys from the Tennessee Bureau weren’t there because the kid was missing. But they were looking for him. Because something set them off, and—again, I’m reading between the lines—”
“Yeah, that’s fine, Vic. You’re never far off the mark. You think it was McNaney?”
“Yeah, I do. One of them was talking on their radio—mentioned a ‘she’. As in, ‘she’s not going to be happy,’ I think. But it was just everything. How they didn’t want to talk about what they were doing there. How they weren’t all that interested about what we were doing there. It just smelled wrong.”
Gordon shook his head. “How many guys’ balls does this bitch carry around in her briefcase?” he asked.
Vic chuckled. “Too many,” he replied.“Yeah. Okay. Look, try and find out where the kid has gone too. Use your common sense. Talk to the parents, search the houses. Try to get the Tennessee Bureau and State Police to cooperate. If they won’t—well, don’t take ‘’no’ for an answer. Don’t let that stop you. And let me know the minute you hear anything from or about McNaney. And—keep a record. Of everything. But especially any contact with McNaney. I don’t want her to steamroll us at the end of this thing.”
“Gotcha,” VanCleef agreed.
“But find those kids. Before someone gets hurt.”
“On it,” VanCleef said. “I’ll touch base this afternoon.”
“The good news,” Vic VanCleef started. “Is that Frank was right. It was a lead, and a good one. The bad news—”
“Of course,” Gordon said. “There has to be bad news. It can’t just be good news. Do I even want to know? Does it have something to do with McNaney?”
“Uh, no boss, I don’t think so. Well, maybe, but the worst news. Worst news is—well, Frank is following up, but it looks like the kids flew the coop.”
Gordon looked suspiciously at the phone.
“Boss?” Vic VanCleef asked. “The kid has run away. And there was another one—he had a girlfriend. They may have been doing something with this Bernhard guy—at least that’s what the police are saying—and were afraid they were going to get in trouble, and they ran.”
Gordon just stood, looking at the phone.
“Or they may have had the thing. You know, the thing we’re supposed to be looking for. And now they’ve gone running with it.”
“No,” Gordon said. “Oh, no no no no NO!”
“Sorry, boss,” Vic VanCleef said. “But, yeah, they ran away, and they left note, and the kid left his mom with three thousand dollars. Lot of money for a paper route. Or doing odd jobs.”
“Oh, shit, oh, shit,” Gordon swore. “Oh hell. We’ve got to find them. Now. For their safety, we’ve got to find them. And keep a lid on it. Who else knows? You said the police, right?”
“Parents called them,” Vic said. “So, yeah. Chelsea and Andrews and me and the State Police, at least.”
“Shit!” Gordon spat. “We’re not waiting any forty-eight hours. I want an APB out on them now. In Tennessee. Mississippi. Arkansas. Kentucky. North Carolina. Any place they could have gotten to. Get a warrant for their houses. I want them searched. Everywhere. Never mind that last one; I’ll make sure you get the warrant. I’ll come down there myself if I have to. See if you can get permission to search, first—”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Vic said. “We talked to the parents, and they are really worried about their kids. They’ll let us in to look around.”
“Shit!” Gordon spat again. “What do the parents know? Do they know why they ran away? Did they say anything about—anything?”
Vic chuckled a little. Great, he thought it was funny. Gordon resisted the temptation to strangle the phone. “No, sir. Nothing about little green men, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank God for small favors. And I do mean small. Make sure it stays that way. Don’t even ask any questions that might sound like your asking about something mysterious thing the kid could have taken. Or been doing with the guy. Make sure Andrews and Chelsea know.”
“Well, uh,” Vic started uncomfortably. “There is some more bad news.”
Gordon sighed. “What is it?”
“The kid—Jon Edmonds. There’s a reporter from—Capitol Brief, I think it was. He was talking to us. Asking us questions. Apparently he knows the boy’s mother—”
“Get that APB out. Get those kids found. Whatever you have to do. Keep the ‘why’ as quiet as you can, and don’t talk to that fucking reporter—”
“All I said was that I couldn’t comment on a pending investigation. That all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t talk to him. Shit, shit, shit. Reporters, that’s all I need.” It didn’t take much to picture they, in a dapper gray suit, big fat press card sticking out of the hatband of his fedora, writing in his big legal pad with a fat black marker. Writing the headlines. Gordon Swan: Aliens Among Us? Gordon Swan: Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind? Gordon Swan: Bill Webster Asks for Alien-Obsessed Conspiracy Freak’s Resignation. Theresa McNaney Appointed Deputy Director and Given Gordon Swan’s Retirement Pension.
“Of course,” Gordon said. “There has to be bad news. It can’t just be good news. Do I even want to know? Does it have something to do with McNaney?”
“Uh, no boss, I don’t think so. Well, maybe, but the worst news. Worst news is—well, Frank is following up, but it looks like the kids flew the coop.”
Gordon looked suspiciously at the phone.
“Boss?” Vic VanCleef asked. “The kid has run away. And there was another one—he had a girlfriend. They may have been doing something with this Bernhard guy—at least that’s what the police are saying—and were afraid they were going to get in trouble, and they ran.”
Gordon just stood, looking at the phone.
“Or they may have had the thing. You know, the thing we’re supposed to be looking for. And now they’ve gone running with it.”
“No,” Gordon said. “Oh, no no no no NO!”
“Sorry, boss,” Vic VanCleef said. “But, yeah, they ran away, and they left note, and the kid left his mom with three thousand dollars. Lot of money for a paper route. Or doing odd jobs.”
“Oh, shit, oh, shit,” Gordon swore. “Oh hell. We’ve got to find them. Now. For their safety, we’ve got to find them. And keep a lid on it. Who else knows? You said the police, right?”
“Parents called them,” Vic said. “So, yeah. Chelsea and Andrews and me and the State Police, at least.”
“Shit!” Gordon spat. “We’re not waiting any forty-eight hours. I want an APB out on them now. In Tennessee. Mississippi. Arkansas. Kentucky. North Carolina. Any place they could have gotten to. Get a warrant for their houses. I want them searched. Everywhere. Never mind that last one; I’ll make sure you get the warrant. I’ll come down there myself if I have to. See if you can get permission to search, first—”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Vic said. “We talked to the parents, and they are really worried about their kids. They’ll let us in to look around.”
“Shit!” Gordon spat again. “What do the parents know? Do they know why they ran away? Did they say anything about—anything?”
Vic chuckled a little. Great, he thought it was funny. Gordon resisted the temptation to strangle the phone. “No, sir. Nothing about little green men, if that’s what you mean.”
“Thank God for small favors. And I do mean small. Make sure it stays that way. Don’t even ask any questions that might sound like your asking about something mysterious thing the kid could have taken. Or been doing with the guy. Make sure Andrews and Chelsea know.”
“Well, uh,” Vic started uncomfortably. “There is some more bad news.”
Gordon sighed. “What is it?”
“The kid—Jon Edmonds. There’s a reporter from—Capitol Brief, I think it was. He was talking to us. Asking us questions. Apparently he knows the boy’s mother—”
“Get that APB out. Get those kids found. Whatever you have to do. Keep the ‘why’ as quiet as you can, and don’t talk to that fucking reporter—”
“All I said was that I couldn’t comment on a pending investigation. That all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t talk to him. Shit, shit, shit. Reporters, that’s all I need.” It didn’t take much to picture they, in a dapper gray suit, big fat press card sticking out of the hatband of his fedora, writing in his big legal pad with a fat black marker. Writing the headlines. Gordon Swan: Aliens Among Us? Gordon Swan: Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind? Gordon Swan: Bill Webster Asks for Alien-Obsessed Conspiracy Freak’s Resignation. Theresa McNaney Appointed Deputy Director and Given Gordon Swan’s Retirement Pension.
“His name is—uh, hang on, I’ve got it here. Richard Mathers.”
“Okay, whatever, shit,” Swan said. “Thanks, just stay the hell away from him. Tell everybody else to stay the hell away from him.”
“Yeah, well, I will. We did. I can’t vouch for what the Tennessee Bureau guys said, or what they know—”
“Tennessee Bureau? What about the Tennessee Bureau? Did you talk to Louis Parker?”
“Uh, Frank was talking to Tennessee. And I was getting to that. That’s the other bad—well, maybe not bad, let’s just say odd. That’s the other odd news. All I know is that when we showed up, there were four agents from the Tennessee Bureau already there, and one of them—um, Agent David Winston, I wrote that down—looked like he was ready to rocket his way to national stardom by pistol-whipping himself a DC reporter—”
“Okay, whatever, shit,” Swan said. “Thanks, just stay the hell away from him. Tell everybody else to stay the hell away from him.”
“Yeah, well, I will. We did. I can’t vouch for what the Tennessee Bureau guys said, or what they know—”
“Tennessee Bureau? What about the Tennessee Bureau? Did you talk to Louis Parker?”
“Uh, Frank was talking to Tennessee. And I was getting to that. That’s the other bad—well, maybe not bad, let’s just say odd. That’s the other odd news. All I know is that when we showed up, there were four agents from the Tennessee Bureau already there, and one of them—um, Agent David Winston, I wrote that down—looked like he was ready to rocket his way to national stardom by pistol-whipping himself a DC reporter—”
Gordon put his head in his hands. “Frank didn’t mention this to you? Because he sure as hell didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t get the idea we were expected,” Vic replied. “Either some lines got crossed when Frank talked to the boys at Tennessee, or the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing down here.”
Gordon sighed. “Well, if it’s good enough for us up here in DC . . . Look, I’ll call Louis Parker myself, if I have to. Did you get anything out of them? Any idea why they were there?”
“Pretty tight-lipped,” VanCleef replied. “Not happy that we were there. They didn’t exactly say it was none of our business, but it was implied. When we explained that this case was assigned by you—”
“Out of earshot of the reporter, right?” Gordon asked, rubbing his temples. “Please tell me that.”
“I’m not an idiot, boss. All our discussions with the Tennessee boys took place at our cars. Not as secure as I would like, but nowhere near any civilians. And they didn’t say much, and we didn’t say much, so if anybody was eavesdropping I expect they were disappointed. Point being, we talked a little, and I read between the lines.”
Gordon nodded. “Can I guess what you read? Theresa McNaney.”
“Or whoever is pulling her strings. Something was off. They were unusually interested in the kid. Couldn’t say why. But it clearly had just come up. And—well, I can’t be 100% sure, but I don’t think they knew the kid was gone when they showed up. They didn’t say that, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t know. Hell, we wouldn’t have known, except Frank called because apparently he knows a guy in the Oakridge Police Department—you know Frank, he knows somebody everywhere—and someone had just tried to call in a missing persons on the kid before we left the hotel. But I’m pretty sure the guys from the Tennessee Bureau weren’t there because the kid was missing. But they were looking for him. Because something set them off, and—again, I’m reading between the lines—”
“Yeah, that’s fine, Vic. You’re never far off the mark. You think it was McNaney?”
“Yeah, I do. One of them was talking on their radio—mentioned a ‘she’. As in, ‘she’s not going to be happy,’ I think. But it was just everything. How they didn’t want to talk about what they were doing there. How they weren’t all that interested about what we were doing there. It just smelled wrong.”
Gordon shook his head. “How many guys’ balls does this bitch carry around in her briefcase?” he asked.
Vic chuckled. “Too many,” he replied.“Yeah. Okay. Look, try and find out where the kid has gone too. Use your common sense. Talk to the parents, search the houses. Try to get the Tennessee Bureau and State Police to cooperate. If they won’t—well, don’t take ‘’no’ for an answer. Don’t let that stop you. And let me know the minute you hear anything from or about McNaney. And—keep a record. Of everything. But especially any contact with McNaney. I don’t want her to steamroll us at the end of this thing.”
“Gotcha,” VanCleef agreed.
“But find those kids. Before someone gets hurt.”
“On it,” VanCleef said. “I’ll touch base this afternoon.”
Gordon sighed. “Yes, please do.”
“Don’t have a heart attack,” VanCleef advised, and then the line went dead. Gordon slowly put the phone back in it’s cradle.
Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
“Don’t have a heart attack,” VanCleef advised, and then the line went dead. Gordon slowly put the phone back in it’s cradle.
Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
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