Murder in Foggy Bottom - Margaret Truman [18]
“There was an explosion?” Lazzara asked.
“Yes, sir, right where the wing fits into the fuselage.”
“How large an explosion?”
“Pretty big. Well, not so big, maybe, but pretty big, big enough to knock the wing off.”
“What color was the explosion?” Mullin asked.
“Red, yellow. I told the troopers about the missile I saw.”
Lazzara and Mullin looked at each other.
“I know,” said Lester, “I probably sound like some nut who doesn’t know what he saw. Well, I don’t see things, and my eyesight is pretty damn good. It was a missile or something like a missile that went up and hit the plane.”
“Did you see where it came from?” Lazzara asked.
“Not really; from the woods somewhere.”
“You’re absolutely positive that you saw a missile come from the woods and hit the plane?” Mullin said.
“Yes, sir. That’s what I saw.”
Lazzara said, “Mr. Lester, who else have you told about this?”
“Nobody, not even my wife. I was going to call her but I saw the troopers after I came up from the water and told them. They brought me right here.”
“So you told the troopers about the missile?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And no one else.”
“No, just you two gentlemen.”
Lazzara glanced at Mullin before saying, “Mr. Lester, I’m going to arrange for you to be taken to a… to a command post where we can discuss this further.” To Mullin he said, “Has a command post been established?”
“The airport, a vacant hangar.”
“We’ll take you there, Mr. Lester. We can talk better. That okay with you?”
“I’d better call Nancy.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“You can do that, but you can’t tell her what you saw this morning.”
“Why not?”
“Just procedure, sir. You can tell her tonight after we’ve gotten your official statement.”
“I suppose I don’t have any choice.”
Lazzara didn’t reply.
They escorted Lester to where two of Lazzara’s colleagues stood. Lazzara instructed them to take the witness to the airport and stay with him in the hangar that was being used as a command post. Before they left, he said, “Mr. Lester will want to call his wife. That’s fine, but he knows he’s not to tell her anything about what he saw.” He turned to Lester. “Why not just tell your wife that you witnessed the plane accident, are giving a statement to the police, and that you’ll be home later in the day?” The agents nodded; they understood that what Lazzara said was, in fact, an order.
Mullin and Lazzara watched them leave.
“Two eyewitnesses, in two different accidents, claim missiles brought down the planes,” Lazzara said.
“Doesn’t mean it’s true,” Mullin said. “We had hundreds of witnesses who claimed they saw a missile hit TWA 800. They were all wrong.”
“That was one plane. This involves two, on two coasts. You aren’t ruling out the criminal element, are you?”
“It’s on the table along with every other probable cause, but until there’s some confirmation, I’d prefer it not be bandied about in the press.”
“No argument from me, but that’s wishful thinking. How do you want to handle the interview with our fisherman friend?”
“Do it jointly, get it down officially.”
“Okay. Ready?”
“No. Hold him for a few hours. I can’t leave here yet.”
Lazzara walked away. Mullin started back to where his team was examining wreckage, and where EMS was removing the first of the bodies. His expert on metals was on his knees looking closely at a shaft of metal three feet in length and a few inches wide.
“What’s that?” Mullin asked.
“Not sure, Pete, but it’s not part of the plane. There’s a smaller, similar piece over there.”
“No idea what it is, where it came from?”
“Could be a piece of a weapon of some sort.”
“Weapon?”
“Yeah.”
“A missile?”
The metals expert looked up at Mullin and winced. “I’m no missile expert, Pete. But I’d say it’s a possibility.”
Chapter 7
Early That Afternoon
The White House
Mike McQuaid, special assistant to the president of the United States—on terrorism—prepared to leave the Situation Room on the first floor of the White House. He hadn’t wasted time changing into more