Chapter IX. A Waiting Game

Nancy Barakat Vaughan waited for what seemed like hours alone in a tiny room until finally Special Agent Keith Mularski walked into the room. "It's about time someone told me what's going on here," Mayor Vaughan demanded.

"I'm only going to tell you this once," Agent Mularski replied sternly, "you and your husband as well as several other very prominent people are charged with withholding evidence in a Federal terrorism investigation. I will be the only one making demands. Any questions?"

"You've got Donald too?" Nancy asked.

"Our agents observed Donald and your daughter boarding an airplane piloted by Paul Mengurt a few days ago," Mularski answered. "Believing they were leaving the country we contacted Homeland Security who provided two Air Force F-16s to intercept them and force them to land in New Orleans."

"Is my daughter okay,?" Nancy asked.

"She's fine," Mularski answered.

"Can I see her?" Nancy asked.

"I'm afraid not," Agent Mularski insisted, "Currently your daughter is in protective custody and not on her way to some brothel in Costa Rica."

"Is this about the letter?" Nancy mumbled looking down at the floor. She was starting to cry.

"It is," Mularski replied.

"How did you find out about it?" Nancy asked.

"The bomber blind copied the FBI,"Mularski explained. "Presumably we got copies of every letter sent which brings up lots of questions as to some of the things that lead up to these terrorist events. Things we intend to find out about."

"Shouldn't you be looking for the bomber?" Mayor Vaughan asked.

"This is just another way to do it," Mularski replied, "and should we happen to discover a few crooks, con men and crooked politicians in the process that's all the better, don't you think?"


Rocky Scarfone was furious. "What do you mean you want to search my computers? I'm the victim, remember?"

"We're looking for anything that might help us in the investigation," Detective Steed replied. Sometimes the simplest little things can turn up clues. We'd appreciate your cooperation, Mr Scarfone."

"That'll be a cold day in Hell," Rocky shouted. "You'll have to come back with a warrant to search my computers."

"I'll see you and raise you," Detective Steed smiled. "These officers and I will just hang around until the warrant gets here. As a matter of fact, Judge Beaty said he'd be happy to bring it here personally."


Things were getting under way at the Sedgefield Country Club as the start of the annual Wyndham Golf Tournament was set to begin. The attacks had been reduced to only the occasional molotov cocktail and people were beginning to get back out and enjoy life again,

Tournament director Mark Brazil was looking over the course when he noticed a truck parked near the concessions area that had been sitting there with a flat tire for a couple of days. Thinking he should probably see about getting it moved he walked closer with the intention of writing down its tag number.

Mr Brazil was almost to the truck when he heard the explosion come from the Grandover Resort and Conference Center where most of the PGA golf pros and wealthiest guests were staying. He turned to see huge clouds of black smoke rising into the air then ran to his car and drove to Grandover as fast as he could.

Please continue reading  Chapter X. Picking Up The Pieces