Chapter 52
A Failed Attempt to Extricate Jane
Tuesday, December 20, was a day of intense anxiety in Philadelphia – no developments.
Up in Westport, at the ‘21st Century Big Pink House,’ Huck got a call from Steve and heard the plan: “Skip’s doing the right thing. At whatever point he has all the evidence he thinks he can get, he’s going to the D.A. – even if he doesn’t have all the evidence he hopes to have, even if he doesn’t get Ken’s sign-off to come forward. So tell everybody up there to relax, practice your strumming. Any ladies in the band up there? I’m thinking of bringing Phyllis to the party.”
Patty and Sally were also apprised of developments. “You forgot one thing, Steve,” Patty interjected, “I got a call from Rocky, they want us to start planning our next performance of the Rumpkins Theatre Troupe – have us all crashing whatever press conference announces the busts. Plus, Jesse and Pirate Jack have been alerted to be ready for a gazillion hits once we make international headlines.”
Patty spent most that Tuesday sketching out the important points to be made when we crashed the press conference – if there was to be a press conference.
——————————————————————————————————————-
Meanwhile, back on the west coast, Gordy (our erstwhile SLA member turned double-agent) had driven all night and half the next day, Sacramento to Vancouver, to rescue Jane, telling her he had a hide-away place all set. Arriving in Vancouver, he called to set the rendezvous spot, but Jane told him, “Sorry Gordy, but I can’t split just yet. I’m in on the final planning – they have even assigned a role for me in New York. That’s where I’m going next. I’ll call you back as soon as I know the final plans. Stay in town – go check out Stanley Park, it’s a great place.”
Oh shit! Gordy thought.
But at five o’clock Vancouver time, Jane called back: “I can get away for a while. We need some groceries. Meet me by the ATM machine at the West End Farmers Market in twenty minutes.”
It had been three years since he’d last seen her. He wondered if she looked the same or had taken up some disguise in her new role as a jihadi wannabe. He planned to tell her the jig was up, that the cops were about to be clued in – maybe had been already – and that it was time to split, right now.
“Hey Gordo,” she said, surprising him, sneaking up behind him, “It’s me, your old sweetheart. Give me a hug.” She hadn’t changed a bit, Gordy thought. Still confident. Still a flirt. Still reddish hair and a freckled face. Still preferring skirts to jeans. The dark glasses were new though. “Listen,” she said, “I’ve only got a cuppla minutes. Let’s walk down by the seawall.”
“How ‘bout we go for a ride in my car instead?” Gordy suggested, even though he knew he could never force her to leave against her wishes.
“No, I’ve gotta make this fast. Listen to me carefully: I’ve lost the battle to do no harm, just strike terror. The group doesn’t think the baseball bombing got enough attention, or struck enough fear in the hearts of Americans. This time they’re insisting the bomb go off with maximum carnage. They want people dead. The latest thinking is to switch to Christmas Eve for the bombing, the midnight mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, or the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center a little earlier in the evening. There’s a warehouse in Brooklyn where the bomb’s being assembled, but I don’t have the address and it’s still undecided who will be carrying the bomb or who will be the driver. As soon as I know final details, I’ll let you know. Gotta run. Gotta grab some groceries. Gotta get back before I’m gone too long.”
After a dozen quick steps, she turned and said, “By the way lover-boy, I am looking forward to seeing you again. I appreciate you driving all the way up to get me, but I’ve got a plan to break away on my own.”
Heading back to California, Gordy debated just driving all the way to Mexico where he had a hide-away planned for him and Jane, and let the chips fall where they may as to whether the planned bombing pulled off, whether Jane would make it away – or, on the other hand – calling Ken with the latest developments. They still think it’s planned for New Year’s Eve,” he thought. They might not go to the cops just yet – there’s still time for Jane to pull off whatever she has in mind. I should let Jane do this her own way.”
Fifty miles later, traveling down Interstate 5, thinking about Camilla Hall, another one of his SLA friends – who was pretty much innocent of everything, but ended up being killed – he made up his mind to call Ken, thinking I’ll never be able to live with myself knowing some innocent people are dead because I kept my mouth shut.
It was ten p.m. east coast time when Ken called Phyllis’ house. Steve had once again rocked Phyllis to sleep, and joined Skip, Rocky and Max who were still up, bemoaning the lack of developments. “You’re not going to believe this,” Ken started, “but the day for the bombing has changed. It’s been switched to Christmas Eve! Less than 100 hours from now! Gordy just called me. He’d driven all the way to Vancouver to get Jane out of Rafferty’s clutches, but she wouldn’t leave, she’s going to keep playing along so she can continue to get the inside skivvy – says as soon as she knows final details, she’ll let Gordy know. They’re making the damn bomb right now – in Brooklyn!”
“Oh fuck!” we all said in unison. “Give us what else you know, and then it’s off to the cops,” Rocky said.
“Hang on a second,” Max said. “Let me get Lisa in on this call.”
After Lisa got on the line, Ken continued giving us the latest: “Well, Gordy says the timing on this is still important. When – and what – we tell the cops might make the difference as to whether Jane gets away or not. Plus, she’s still planning to get more details for Gordy. Of course she can’t have Rafferty or anyone up there suspect she’s turned. She’s planning on leaving for Mexico immediately before the bombing, somewhere no one will find her. She did say she’d appreciate any negotiation with the D.A. that they won’t try to catch her.
“Oh, one more thing for now,” Ken finished his alarming update with: “Gordy says he doesn’t much care if they give him immunity or not. He’ll take his lumps if he has to. He’s just happy he decided to stay with us on this, wants us to do whatever we have to – to stop the bombing. And if we’re successful, he figures he’ll wear the hero’s mantle whether he’s in prison or not, and he’d love to tell a jury the whole story.”
“Okay, good enough,” Skip said. “At least I’ve got something to work with, to go to the D.A. with. If Jane doesn’t get anything more, she’s got to be willing to tell Gordy where everybody can get rounded up sometime on the 24th. Steve, get hold of the D.A. Let’s meet with him as soon as possible. We have to start the negotiation.”
“Good,” Ken said.
“Whew,” we all said.
After the call, Lisa and Max stayed on the line a little longer. “Hey Rocky and Skip,” Max yelled over to us, “Lisa’s really worried: What if their plans change again, the bomb goes off even earlier than what we’ve been told, or somewhere else, and because we waited, people are killed. Don’t hold out for every one of our demands. Don’t wait any longer. Give them everything at the first sit-down. Get the FBI working on this ASAP!”
“Yeah, I’ve thought about that,” Skip said, “but without Jane’s continued cooperation, we don’t really have much of anything to go on except to cast a whole friggin’ dragnet from Vancouver to Brooklyn looking for Dougherty/Rafferty and anybody who looks suspicious. Or maybe the plan would be evacuating the entire Boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn. No, we’ve got to wait it out at least one more day.”