Pa'an
Emerging Orders

Saxton Hornsby wanted desperately to meet with Dr. Hapgood at the Department of Energy, but that would make them both marked men. Their last meeting was difficult enough to arrange. Even Maxine was out of tricks. So he was surprised to get a personal visit from Dr. Hapgood, and dismayed to find Haverford Decker with him.

“Maxine, hold my calls. Strict privacy, please. Decker, Hapgood, what brings you to my lair?”

“Senator, I’ve been instructed to tell you that you are under investigation for violation of the Official Secrets Act. Dr. Hapgood, here, has been telling me he does not believe you could be guilty of such a thing. He calls you a true patriot.”

Sax was dumbfounded. Had Hapgood been coerced in some way? Was there a spy in Hapgood’s organization? “I only act in accordance with my responsibilities as Vice Chair of the NRC. You know I have clearances for everything we do.”

“Perhaps. Do you recognize this item?” Decker held up a picture of a sliver of glass-coated metal about the size of a pencil.

“Some sort of a fuel rod?”

Decker looked at Hapgood, Hapgood looked down at the floor. “You’re damn well NOT supposed to know what this is! Unfortunately for you, we have evidence that you illegally coerced information about this, er, item from a person who was sworn not to talk about it! We got you fair and square, Senator. You have anything relevant to say about this?”

“My friend Doctor Hapgood, what the hell is going on here? You know me better than this. Why is this, ahem, esteemed colleague trying to eat my shorts?” Sax spit out the “Doctor” as if it were an epithet.

“Sax, please, just fess up and go on with your life. Please.” Hapgood looked down and studied his shoe.

“Assistant Director Decker, Doctor, you know, as an elected official, I took an oath of office. No undue pressure from either of you is going to change that. I have a duty to perform.”

“Very well, Hornsby. It’s too late for you anyway. You are hereby officially terminated as a member of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and disqualified for further security appointments. Your present clearance is revoked. Your replacement has already been nominated and Howson is now Vice Chair.” He slapped a document on Sax’s desk and walked to the door. “Come along, Hapgood.”

Sax stood and paced for a while, sighed, and tried to think of the proper thing to do. Problem was, the Order was still hidden. They were not going to come right out and announce themselves in a fair fight. They were scurrilous, backstabbing, undercover, secret conspiracy types. He muttered and shook his head.

Maxine knocked on the office door. Maxine never knocked. He took a few deep breaths, went to the door and opened it to find another unscheduled delegation on his doorstep. “Who the hell are you?”

They didn’t even bother to step inside his office. They just handed him another official notice. “We’re from the Inspector General’s office. You apparently have applied funds appropriated to your office for personal items, especially foreign travel, without notice to the Department of State. We have frozen your office bank accounts and you are hereby given notice of our investigation. Have a good day, Senator.”

Perfect. The damned Order had passed out their orders and they thought they had him boxed in. He looked out the window. It was a gray, rainy day in D.C. Very appropriate. He shrugged, got his raincoat and hat, and walked out of his office.

He took a cab down to a local bank where he kept a safe deposit box. He signed the safe deposit register with a false name and opened the box. It contained some cash and a cheap cell phone. He found he still had a decent cell phone signal in the external vault area where he accessed his box. He took out another plain white card identical to the one he had passed to Jag and dialed the mysterious Derek Gleaver.

A voice on the other end of the phone answered after the 6th ring. “No names, please. Pick a time.”

“Seven PM.”

“Make it six. See you then.”

He put the phone back in the safe deposit box and took another taxi back to his office. Maxine was still there, worried but working. He wrote on a scrap of paper, “Jag, Gleaver, 6 PM.”

Maxine nodded and left the office. Sax crumpled up the paper and burned it in his big Senate ashtray. At 4 PM he called for a Congressional limo and took it to the Mazza Galleria. He walked in through the main entrance and down a long flight of stairs to a private club in the basement. A tall elegant gentleman greeted him in the foyer with a smile. “Hello and welcome. Are you a member?”

“Gleaver.”

The smile faded. The gentlemen pushed a series of buttons and an ornate door opened. Sax walked down the hall. It was just six o’clock. At the end of the hall was a small sitting room with high back-to-back armchairs, a Persian rug, bookcases, a lit fireplace, and a side table with coffee, tea and a bottle of good single-malt Scotch whisky with cut crystal tumblers. No ice. Sax chuckled, poured himself two fingers of the fragrant liquid, and settled into an armchair in the middle of the room.

It was not long until Jag came in and did the same thing. They raised their glasses to each other and waited.

“I’m here, gentlemen. I hope I was right about the Scotch.” The quiet, commanding voice spoke from the highback chair behind Sax’s. Neither man could see the occupant.

“Please don’t get up. It would be better if you didn’t see my face. You can call me Derek or Gleaver, but you understand that is not my name. In fact, I have several reliable witnesses who can claim I was never here tonight.” Gleaver laughed and sucked in a breath. “I used to enjoy this theatrical stuff, but now I’m a bit sick of it. Well, let’s see what I can do for you. I already know who you are. And you should know I don’t work for a fee. This is my contribution to humanity and I cannot be bought or coerced. I do what I think is right. Your turn.”

“The Order is after me, hot and heavy. I just got kicked off the NRC and served with an investigation by the Inspector General. My office funds are frozen.”

“Ah, the Keepers of the Dark Covenant. May they inherit the lower depths of hell. Who are we dealing with?”

“Decker, Hapgood, Howson on the NRC. Someone above Pellorini at Defense.”

“Hapgood and Howson are not principals. Decker has his own game going. I think I know who owns Pellorini.” Gleaver sighed. “These bastards are everywhere. Jag, if I may call you that, what contribution is a criminal mastermind like you going to make here?”

“Eh? Criminal mastermind? Is that my reputation now?”

“You don’t find that flattering? Then I retract it. Got any ideas?”

“Well, we found about a three hundred tons of fissionable plutonium and maybe twice that of uranium 235. Someone has to be responsible for a lot of missing fissionables. Wouldn’t that fall under the Department of Defense?”

“Mmm. Probably.”

“The NRC is the oversight agency for fissionables. But all the material movements are classified. How do we make a case?”

“Leave that to me. And… I think I can take care of Pellorini for you.”

Sax was more than a bit dubious. “Can one man actually do all that, Gleaver?”

“Did I say anything about one man? People like Pellorini and Decker have skeletons in their closets. They seek power hoping to rise to a position where those skeletons remain hidden. My people collect old bones.”

The quiet voice from the chair went on. “Conspiracies, counter conspiracies, conspiracies within conspiracies. The corpse flower that spawns from the evil seed. Most of them self destruct, thank God.”

“Yeah,” said Sax, “but every so often one succeeds and it isn’t always evil, although some may have thought so at the time. I remember a document from one.”

“Really? What document?”

“The Declaration of Independence.”

“Hear, hear!” from the back of the chair.

Jag raised his drink for a toast. Sax started to tell a Vermont farm story. But Gleaver was gone. After a while, Jag said, “He has good taste in Scotch.” They left one at a time.

*****

Maxine opened the door to Sax’s office, crossed her legs and leaned against the door frame. That got Sax’s attention.

“If you’re trying to get my attention, you’ve got it. Good news or bad?”

Maxine gave him a little lopsided grin. “You remember that delegation from Inspector General’s office last week?”

“As if I could forget. We gave them all the records they asked for.”

“They sent them back with a note of apology. They never apologize. Should I ask why?”

“If I told you all my secrets…”

“I wouldn’t want your job. Treasury Secretary, maybe. Senator from Vermont? Never.”

“Because I don’t get much respect?”

Maxine just grinned and ushered in a very unhappy Mr. Decker. Without asking she put down a plain plastic cup of water for him. No coffee, no tea, no nice glass. Decker understood the insult.

“Decker, I could say it’s a pleasure. Is my old friend Dr. Hapgood hanging around in the outer office somewhere?”

“Hapgood is taking some time off to deal with family issues.”

“Those family issues have anything to do with a few hundred missing tons of fissionables? I’m not a physicist, but I understand plutonium is not an appropriate family keepsake.”

“Look, Senator, we used to get along pretty well. I came here to make amends. Can we just let bygones be bygones and get back to business as usual?”

“You’ve been, left dangling, Decker? Is that the case? Now you want business as usual?” Sax got up from his desk and stood over Decker. “What do you have to offer?”

Decker took some time to respond. Sax just stood there, looming over him. Finally Decker took a document out of his pocket and handed it to Sax. Sax unfolded it. It was a materials movement voucher issued by General Robert Messner, in charge of the Joint Nuclear Weapons Repository, and assigned to one Manuel Pellorini, and was stamped by the office of Homeland Security.

“This is only two tons of plutonium. I think you can do better than that Mr. Decker. Let me rephrase that. I’m sure you can do better than that Mister Decker.”

“Sax, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

Sax raised his voice, “Maxine, be a dear and fetch Lenny Hapgood, please. Send the military police for him. General Messner will authorize it.”

Maxine yelled back, “I’m on it, sir.” She picked up the phone and dialed a random number. Smart girl.

Decker was sweating. “That will be the end of… of my…”

“Career? Life? How many lives do you think that much plutonium would take? Got any relatives in Dallas, Mister Decker?”

“They hide. You can’t touch them.”

“But I can touch you, Mister Decker, and I will.”

“Tomorrow, please, uh, Senator, can we find some other place to meet?”

“I’ll call you. Goodbye, Decker.” Decker left.

There is a man without principles, thought Sax. All he ever had was influence, and when that’s gone he’s an empty shell. I better get in touch with Aura and set up this exposé.

*****

Next morning he met Decker on the Washington Mall. Jag took one flank, Sax took the other. Joyce and Janey were casually strolling behind them, as obvious as elephants in a flea circus. When Decker spilled, Aura heard everything. He gave three names, one on the White House staff, Howson on the NRC and another name Sax did not recognize. All three were apprehended within minutes. Joyce and Janey took over Decker. Sax did not want to know where they were going.

*****

When he got back there was a short note on his desk from the Chairman of the NRC. “Would you be available to resume your previous position on the Committee to fill the vacancy left by the Vice Chair, who has resigned suddenly?”

Damn. Yes, he would.

Who was that fellow, Gleaver?

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