Stephen Cannell - The Plan

They stood next to a noisy fountain in the park off Third Street near Little Italy.

"I think he's dead," Silvio said, speaking of the Ghost. "How can you be sure?"

"He told me if he fails to check in every noon, then he is gone. He has already missed one call." Silvio's shoulders were sagging. "I think he was in that explosion."

"He got Kazorowski."

"The others are alive; they got away." He looked at Mickey and wanted to get away from him. When he had set up the contract, he didn't know that Mickey Alo had ordered the death of his own sister. He couldn't conceive of the evil that would allow for that act.

They met in the Rhode Island governor's mansion. Mickey had been told to park in the back, that a state trooper would meet him there. He was instructed to say that he was John Harrington. The trooper would ask no questions once he heard that name. Mickey would be escorted up a back elevator to the den in the governor's suite on the second floor. Haze had been assigned a Secret Service team as the Democratic nominee, but he could still shrug them off since he was being accorded that protection as a courtesy. His Secret Service contingent would be left at the airfield and his old troop of state police officers, who had covered him for two terms in the Rhode Island state house, would take care of the escort to the governor's mansion. It was all done without notifying the press and they swept into the underground garage four hours after Mickey had requested a meeting. Haze stepped out of the limo with A. J. Both men had circles under their eyes, but Haze, just back from Europe, managed to look presidential. His suit fit him perfectly. It was a deep blue with maroon tie and a perfectly folded pocket square. He shook hands with several of the troopers who had been friends over the years, and then used the "governor's lift" up to the family quarters. Once A. J. and Haze were alone in the elevator, Haze looked over at him.

`This flicking guy. . You know what we had to go through to pull this off?"

"Haze, don't. Mickey's a killer. Don't fuck around with Mickey."

Haze looked at A. J. coldly, but said nothing. The door opened and they stepped into the governor's quarters. They found Mickey in the den. He turned as they walked into the room.

"I don't have much time," Haze said. The little mobster reminded him of the low road that had brought him to this place of power. "I can only give you ten minutes."

"Really? Only ten?"

Haze missed the ominous sarcasm in the remark. "I have a schedule, I'm on thirty-minute intervals until Elec-

tion Day. I've allotted two intervals for this meeting." "Then let me get right to it. You remember Ryan Bolt?"

"Vaguely. He was doing that documentary that never happened."

"He and a guy named Solomon Kazorowski, an ex-fed, and Cole Harris and, of all people, my own sister are trying to prove that I put you in this game and used the United Broadcasting Company to fuel your candidacy."

"So. .?"

"So, if they can prove that, it's gonna go down hard. The public is gonna rise up and you ain't gonna be President, chickie."

"How do you know that's what they're trying to do?"

"Forget how I know it. Kaz is dead, but they were messing around in Israel looking for something that could hurt us. I need to find out what exactly they're looking for and what they already have. I need you to call around in the Justice\Department and find out what a man named Gavriel Bach could have had that could hurt us. There's gotta be a file down there someplace. I don't know where else to start."

"We're getting our national security briefings from a guy named Gideon Black," A. J. said. "We could call him, see what he's got."

Haze made the call but couldn't keep the impatience out of his voice. He resented Mickey's hold over him. He promised himself that once he was elected, he would find a way to break it.

Gideon Black was at his desk, working late when he got the call. 'The head of the Middle Eastern section is a career diplomat named Abel McNair," he said. "I can hunt him up and have him call you, sir."

"If that wouldn't be too much trouble," Haze said, knowing the man would kill himself to get the job done.

Within five minutes, the phone rang and Abel McNair was on the line with the man he was pretty sure would be the next President of the United States. After Haze told him what he wanted, Abel McNair remembered the conversation he'd had with Kazorowski. He had just heard on CNN that Kaz had been murdered in Israel. He knew "the flag was up."

"I think I can help you, sir," Abel said. "Kazorowski called me about two months ago trying to find out about a deal that was cut between the Justice Department and Gavriel Bach to keep Mr. Lansky out of Israel. Apparently, the department gave Bach some unspecified material. Wiretaps, I think, proving that Meyer had criminal connections. Kaz was looking for that material. I don't know what it could be, but I could try to find out."

"That won't be necessary. Thank you." Haze hung up and reported to A. J. and Mickey what McNair had told him.

"Wiretaps?" Mickey repeated, his heart beginning to sink. "Kaz was looking for something to tie Meyer to my father. Ryan was looking for a way to prove this election was rigged by our control of UBC. Meyer was in the plan from the beginning. He and my father hatched the plot in the early seventies. God knows how many times he and my dad might have talked about it. If the foils had any of that on tape, it could be explosive."

"Was there anything else or can I get back to the airport?" Haze said, as if he really wasn't affected by any of this.

"Yeah, there is … I need to force Ryan and Cole Harris underground so if they have anything dangerous, they can't use ill need to discredit them so people won't believe them."

"Howie we gonna do that?" Haze asked.

"You're the Democratic nominee for the presidency of the United States. Ryan Bolt used to work for your campaign. He was hired to do a documentary, but he was a little nuts. A. J. had to fire him. Ryan promised that he was going to get even. Tonight, he and this outta work newsman, Cole Harris, called you up here in the governor's m ansion. They threatened your life. A. J. was on the extension and heard it all."

"You gotta be kidding," Haze said.

"If they threatened your life on top of being involved in that car bomb explosion in Israel, the Secret Service is gonna go ballistic. . It'll drive them underground."

"It's a pretty good plan," A. J. said. "With a nationwide manhunt on, whatever they got is gonna be a lot harder to unload."

By the time the Reuters jet touched down in New Jersey, their pictures were already on the ten o'clock news.

If they had landed at New York's Kennedy airport, it would have been over, but they touched down at Levit Field in New Jersey, where the customs contingent consisted of two old men in a shed waiting out their retirement. Nobody had been into the fax room for hours t o l ook at recent transmittals. The customs officials boarde d t he private jet, steaming coffee mugs in hand, looked a t t he passports, asked a few routine questions, and stampe d e verybody's reentry forms. In ten minutes, the four of the m w ere in a taxicab, heading into Trenton.

They pulled up at a Days Inn, and while Ryan held the cab, Cole went inside to make sure there was a vacancy. The big television in the lobby was on CNN. As Cole moved to the desk and told the clerk he needed two rooms, he heard Wolf Blitzer mention his name.

". . fired news correspondent Cole Harris."

Cole turned and saw an old UBC employee photograph of himself filling the screen. In the picture, he needed a shave and looked like an ax murderer.

The clerk was trying not to register shock that the man being called a violent terrorist on TV was standing right in front of him.