Chapter 17

Danielle answered on the second ring and was understandably horrified when she heard my news. She was so worked up about the incident that I had to forcibly interrupt her to tell her why I’d called. “Hey ... The feds want to talk to me about the pilot, who hired him and why, as well as other things that I can’t answer. How do I handle this all?”

The silence told me that Danielle was processing that instead of tying herself in knots about what had happened. That would move the ball ahead as far as getting Uncle off of my back. My pilot could have been a crossdressing, alcoholic, peeping Tom who suffered from psoriasis as far as I knew. I didn’t want to cause any problems for anyone, so I stayed in the restroom just off the pilots lounge and let things happen without me.

It had to be the stress and nervous energy petering out, because I felt exhausted all of a sudden. The only thing I really wanted to do was find a soft, quiet bed and go to sleep for eight hours. The federal government wanted much more and they were going to have to deal with Danielle, or whomever she designated to be their fount of information.

The quiet in the restroom was like a tonic for my jumbled nervous system, and just as I was about to slip off to sleep it hit me ... I could play the fourteen year old kid act and simply tell them to go find an adult and ask them whatever they wanted to know.

Danielle had a different idea. The pay phone I used to call Danielle rang, which meant she was calling back. When I answered it she was in high gear. “Carl, I have two attorneys headed to the airport right now. They will deal with the feds and any other agency that tries to get you in a room alone. Refuse to be questioned for any reason without your representative, and that will slow them down until Bradley Childers arrives with his partner, Linda Harrelson.”

She was still wound up as she finished and I tried to speak, but she ran right over me. “I called the ranch and left a message for Andrea. She’ll be in touch with me soon and I will give her this number. Stay by the phone or else deal with her on your own.” At least Danielle laughed.

Her advice was good. I could refrain from talking to anyone about the incident by staying by the pay phone and refusing to move until my ‘mother’ called. No law enforcement agent would dare step over that line, especially if I presented it as her strict orders. It worked like a charm, and I was still unmolested when Brad and Linda arrived and refused to speak with anyone until they spoke with me privately.

We met in the pilots lounge and they cut straight to the chase. “Carl, I’m Brad Childers and this is my partner, Linda Harrelson. We were hired to look after your interests while the National Transportation Safety Board and Federal Aviation Administration investigate the circumstances of this incident.”

We talked in very general terms and then very specific terms until Brad felt it was time to deal with the feds. His instructions were very clear. “Do not offer any information. Answer only the question asked. For instance, if you are asked why you were flying today, you wouldn’t volunteer that you wished to get home while it was still light, or early in the day, or anything except that you were flying home. They will try to ask open-ended questions that require long answers. Don’t give them more than the simplest answer possible, or turn to me and I will make them rephrase the question so you can answer simply.”

He and Linda smiled when he said, “From what I’ve heard about your mother, I bet you are accustomed to being careful about how you answer things.”

If he only knew...

The two investigators from the FBI were not at all interested in my itinerary. “Did you know your pilot was poisoned,” the tall one with a chip on his shoulder asked? He identified himself as George Carlson, Special Agent in Charge of the Miami office of the FBI. George was very tall, solid as a brick wall, serious as a heart attack, and not in the mood to spar.

When I looked at Brad for direction it made George mad and he spoke just below the level of a shout, “What is your problem? Do you have things to hide from the Federal Government?”

That set Brad off, and the battle of wills was off and running. It went on for hours and hours and would probably gone on for weeks had another FBI agent not shown up, declared the interview over and sent George and his sidekick back to Miami without a glance or a word of explanation.

When we were alone he turned to Brad and said, “Hi. I’m Don Chance, and I’m working another case that involved your client. Carl, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you were the intended victim today. It was only your quick thinking and ice water nerves that saved you. The attack you interrupted a few months ago is the reason you were targeted today.”

Don turned to Brad and said, “I have no doubt you need to talk to Mrs. Waters for direction, so why don’t we take a break and let you check in so we can get to the heart of this investigation?” He went on to explain that the people who arranged the attack on Jim Bell were anxious to keep me from testifying and they had enough information to charge them if they could find them before they killed everyone that was considered dangerous to their agenda.

Brad excused himself and left Linda to keep the federals from questioning me. Instead of interrogation we talked about the Super Bowl, Detroit Tigers World Series Championship, and the likelihood of a repeat. I could have given them the World Series winners for the next twenty years but wisely kept my mouth shut.

Brad finally returned and motioned for me to join him out in the hallway. He looked a little flustered. Talking to Andrea could do that to you. “I just got off the phone with Mrs. Waters, and she is apoplectic about the plot to kill you. She gave me explicit orders to get you on a private jet and out of Florida within the next sixty minutes, or I could, quote - ‘save her the trouble of having me killed and just commit suicide - unquote.’

“I think she broke a nail slamming down the phone and promised all sorts of mayhem on the people behind the attempt on your life.

“So ... We are going to pack up, ask the kind officers of the federal branch for an escort and get back on your jet that is being readied and staffed with two new pilots, to take you to Dallas as soon as we get out there.”

On the way to Dallas Brad oversaw Dan’s continued questioning about my activities, destinations and who might have known about my trip home from Key West. We talked about every possible interaction with every potential assassin and then did it all over again.

Before we entered Texas I felt the jet change course and looked a question at Dan. He went forward, took a radio call and came back to announce that we were heading farther west until certain ‘unknowns’ were cleared up related to the murder of my pilot. I could tell that something was really wrong but chose to remain silent and see what transpired. You never could tell what you might learn by keeping quiet.