Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [28]
“But why would Clegg lie?”
“Why else?” Tony rubbed his thumb back and forth across his fingertips.
“You think somebody paid him off?”
“Makes sense to me. According to my friend, the Constitutional Defense Brigade is just a bunch of middle-aged tax dodgers sitting around bitching about the new world order. The only thing they’ve ever organized is a Saturday-night beer party.”
“What about the C4 and the weapons?”
“My buddy says the guns are all legal and you and I both know the C4 could have been planted. And get this: William Clegg didn’t try to join the CDB until two days after the bombing.”
Jack immediately understood. “Someone manufactured a witness.”
“That would be my guess. Nobody in the CDB can stand the guy. What does that tell you?”
“The CDBers get angry just hearing his name,” Jack said. “On camera, it plays like they’re angry about something else.”
“Like having their ring busted up,” Tony said.
“So why would anyone fall for this nonsense?”
Tony shrugged. “Same reason they always do. Everybody wants to believe. You’ve had some experience with that.”
Jack nodded glumly, then took another sip of espresso. “I made a few phone calls, myself. Tried to get hold of Officer Beckman. Turns out he’s on medical leave in Florida.”
“That’s convenient.”
“No kidding. I saw his injury. Maxine took a bigger hit than he did and she’s already back to running ten miles a day.”
“So who else did you call?”
“Some of my old contacts at the FBI, but nobody seems to want to talk to me.”
Tony gave him an amused look.
“No, not just because it’s me.” Jack grinned.
“The wall’s gone up,” Tony said, once again serious. “All because some punk said he thought the car belonged to an Arab.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Tony thought for a moment. “He had to tell them more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Tony leaned closer. The restaurant wasn’t very crowded and he didn’t want his voice to carry. “The carjack victim could have been Egyptian, Druze, Bahraini, and no one would give a damn. Or flip that around. What kind of Arab would the government care about?”
“Off the top, Saudi, Iranian—”
“Stop right there,” Tony said. “That’s the entire list. One a supposed ally, one an enemy. No one else could put a scare into Washington. Suppose the guy is GIP.” Tony was referring to the General Intelligence Presidency, the Saudi spy network. “He goes rogue, plans an attack. The Saudis won’t want that to become public knowledge. Spoils their image as being oh-so-damned-concerned about our security.”
“Well, they are,” Jack said. “Who’s gonna bail them out when Iran goes nuclear.”
“Exactly. My point is, that’s one reason to hush things up. It would make the Saudis look bad. But that’s not what happened.”
“How do you know?”
“I made some calls. There has been no uptick in GIP activity here. Zero.”
“So the Saudis are not looking for this mysterious Arab,” Jack said.
“Right. And they would be—looking hard. Now, suppose the guy is Iranian. That would mean those bad boys aren’t just shuttling weapons into Iraq anymore. They’re active here and trying to blow a hole in one of our cities.”
Jack sat back. “Interesting theory. But the Arab could also be an independent operator, a radicalized student, any number of things.”
“Agreed, but that’s not the point. Americans go right to the worst possible scenario, and a bunch of mini-Ahmadinejads running loose on our shores is one of those.”
“I buy that. But what could this Leon kid have said that tipped them off?”
“Have you ever read any of the government white papers on Iran?”
“Not since I was stationed in the Gulf and they were part of the eyes-only press packets.”
“Profiling has gotten a lot better since then. You know—the kind of stuff we’re not supposed to be doing but are.”
Jack laughed.
“I won’t get into the psychology of it, but here’s the shout-out for the young Iranian male,” Tony said. “Neatly pressed button-down white shirt, long sleeved.