BLAIR DEAD, SAYS GREENWELL.

ATF Chief Says Missing Agent "One of Our Finest", Calls for Public Support to Fight Domestic Terrorism "So the feds finally decided Wilson Blair isn't the person behind the killings," Cindy said as she read the article. "Dwight Greenwell held a press conference yesterday. I told you we should have turned on the news. We missed it."

"Yeah, but Allen didn't."

"You think he got the tape to CNN?"

"I know he did. I talked to him while you were asleep," Henry said. "From a pay phone down the street. Some real fireworks ought to start tomorrow."

"You sure they'll air it?"

"You don't think a tape of a missing agent that the feds all claim is dead is newsworthy?" "Well, of course, but what he says is so..."

"Trust me, they'll play it. They know if they don't, one of the other networks will," Henry assured her as he scanned the newspaper article. "Hey, here's a great quote: 'Wilson Blair exemplified the very best of dedicated government service. These terrorists will be found, arrested, and tried. The public is behind us 200%, but right now we need even more.'" Henry snorted. "What Greenwell really needs is a remedial math course." Henry set the paper aside and looked at the New York Times.

ATF Press Conference Director Lauds Supervisor, Agency "Damn!" Henry exclaimed as he scanned the article. "This is unbelievable."

"What?"

"They don't mention that Blair is dead until halfway down the column, and then it's as a quote only." He looked up at Cindy. "I think the goddamn New York Times is hedging its bets." He put the paper down, picked up the Washington Post, took note of the headline, and scanned the article below it.

ATF Director Speaks

Federal Agency Still Under Fire

"More of the same," he said as he tossed the paper aside and reached for his orange juice. "Tomorrow should be interesting."'

July 29 "Agent Neumann, I think you'd better come look at this," the man said in a loud voice. Alex stepped into the D.C. agent's office and stared at the television, which was tuned to the Cable News Network. Most people in the CIA or State Department had CNN permanently on in their offices, but the practice was not nearly so widespread in the FBI building.

"They claim they got some exclusive footage of Blair coming up," the agent explained. "This is from yesterday." Neumann stepped over to the corner of the man's desk. The man he had been talking with followed, and another agent joined them as well. The four FBI men stared at the screen, which showed a clip from Dwight Greenwell's press conference.

"...encourage the FBI in its efforts to find the persons responsible for Agent Blair's fate and see that these evil terrorists are brought to justice." The camera cut back to the news anchor.

"That was yesterday," the announcer said. "Today, CNN obtained exclusive footage of Agent Wilson Blair, who has been missing since June 7. Blair makes some shocking allegations both about Director Greenwell, who you just saw praising him, and the entire Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms." The image of the anchorman was replaced by that of a man sitting behind a desk or table covered with a white sheet, with a similar piece of fabric covering the wall or partition behind him.

"That's our boy," one of the agents said.

"What do you think the ransom will be, couple hundred bucks?" another joked.

"My name is Wilson Blair," the man onscreen said in a clear if reedy voice, and the agents became quiet. "I am a regional supervisor for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. The government of this country has been engaged in a systematic program of lies, evidence planting, and coercion. My agency has been at the forefront of this deception. Our actions have chilled the freedoms of this country's strongest defenders of individual rights."

"Somebody's got a gun on him," Neumann said as the man on the screen stopped to take a sip of water. "I'd bet money on it," another answered.

"In April of this year," Blair went on, "Dwight Greenwell, the Director of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, spoke with me at length. He explained the difficulties ATF was having trying to enforce more and more gun laws. He also told me that many legislators and former legislators who had voted for these laws were blaming their losses, or their declines in the polls, on ATF's bad image as a bunch of inept bunglers.

"Director Greenwell reminded me that the most vocal of ATF's critics were people licensed under the National Firearms Act of 1934. This was not news. For many years, and particularly since 1986, ATF has targeted NFA manufacturers and dealers, but many of our raids and legal battles have not gone well. Director Greenwell said we had to put every independent NFA manufacturer and dealer out of business if we were ever to accomplish anything. He said that our previous efforts had not gone nearly far enough. Then he explained that the first step we had to take was to select several well-to-do, successful, highvolume independent dealers and manufacturers, and crush them. He intended to see to it that these men and women would be prohibited from ever owning another firearm for the rest of their lives. The rest would then follow.

"Acting on Director Greenwell's specific orders, my office began planning a three-part raid on the homes of three U.S. citizens. These three men hold federal licenses to deal in and manufacture firearms, issued by the Secretary of the Treasury pursuant to the National Firearms Act of 1934, as amended by the Gun Control Act of 1968. They have never in their lives committed any crime more serious than traffic violations.

"In order to plan this raid, my office employed a number of illegal wiretaps, and I had three blank search warrants signed in advance by a federal judge, Ellett Stevens, who has signed many blank warrants for us in the past." Blair pulled three pieces of paper from his jacket and held them up in front of his chest. The camera zoomed in on the documents.

"Jesus," Neumann breathed.

"Blank warrants, all right," one of the agents in the room said. "You can even read the signature." The camera panned out, and Blair resumed speaking.

"ATF scheduled the three raids so that they would take place when the dealers were thousands of miles away. And we intended to plant evidence in all three houses, to be 'found' by our agents during the searches."

"Put-up job, no question," one of the agents commented.

"ATF has planted evidence on prior occasions, but it was always firearms-related. An auto-sear, a barrel we had cut off to a length below the legal minimum, muffler tubing and fender washers we could say were illegal silencer parts, dummy grenades a paid informant could testify were being illegally reactivated, or metal dies and stamps we could claim a citizen had been using to re-number firearms." The man on the screen paused again to take a drink of water.

"He's got a script," one of the men in the room said quickly. "Those warrants are no big deal. Everybody knows that shit goes on. Nobody'll believe the stuff about Greenwell." He's trying to convince himself Neumann thought as he glanced at the other man. This does not look good.

"We always get our indictments," Blair said as he put down the water glass, "but in too many cases, the accused dealers hire top lawyers and private detectives to get proof of what we've done. We bankrupt them eventually, and after they've gone through all their assets paying legal fees, they plead to charges of conspiracy and go to prison.

"This, however, takes time and uses up government resources. The men we were going after have a total net worth of over ten million dollars, and we fully expected them to use it all to prove their innocence. Dwight Greenwell said that because of this, all three of the men had to be jailed without bond. That would make it much harder and more expensive for the three men to work with their lawyers. Jailing the men without bond was going to require very serious charges, and therefore some very serious planted evidence. That was no problem after Director Greenwell obtained the cooperation of the DBA and Secret Service."

"Now what?" one of the FBI men asked as he watched the man on the television screen pop the latches on the briefcase. "He looks a little nervous," another answered as Blair lifted out several stacks of bills and two brick-shaped blocks of white powder wrapped in white plastic. Alex Neumann clenched his teeth as his guts turned over. By this time tomorrow, a hundred million Americans will have seen this tape he thought grimly.

"DBA provided six pounds of pharmaceutical-grade cocaine," Blair said, lifting up the two bricks. "Of course, there's no way to prove on film that this isn't powdered chalk. The authorities can check out my story if they want to, though. This coke came from a raid last February in Titusville, Florida, where the principals escaped before they could be captured. DBA Agent Herbert Salvest was in charge of the property seized that day. Salvest claimed he destroyed the cocaine, but in reality sold most of it back to the original owners, and kept the rest for future use. He used the proceeds to buy a house on Halifax Avenue in Fort Lauderdale titled in the name of the Paris Corporation. Agent Salvest is the sole shareholder of that company. Paris is the middle name of his current primary mistress, Jennifer Fannon, who also lives in that city." Blair laid the two bundles down on the sheet-covered table and reached once again into the briefcase.

"These stacks of counterfeit hundred-dollar bills came from Agent Kenneth Lenstrom of the Secret Service. Agent Lenstrom was in charge of the detail which arrested a counterfeiter in Los Angeles in December of last year. I have forgotten the man's name, but that should be easy to check. Lenstrom said the counterfeiter made some crack to the newspapers that since the government wanted to increase the money supply, he thought he'd help." The FBI agents watched the screen raptly as Blair broke a stack of bills and selected several from it.

"Unlike the coke, I can easily show this stuff is counterfeit." He gripped the short stack between his thumbs and forefingers and held it taut with the bottom edges of the bills against the white cloth of the table. The camera zoomed in until a blurred image of the front bill more than filled the entire screen. Then the focus adjusted and the image became sharply defined.

"Notice the serial number," Blair's voice continued. "H10273160A. Every single one of these hundreds has this number." The hands slid the first bill off the stack and laid it aside, paused, and did the same with the next bill. The process went on until all the bills were discarded. Each one clearly had the same serial number. "This next stack is all H33724233A." He demonstrated once more. "Director Greenwell instructed us to make sure the bills were found in stacks of like serial numbers to strengthen our claim that the men could not have received them from a bank." The voice on the television cleared its throat.

"Notice also the series, 1993. Look closely at the border around the image of Franklin, however, and you will see there is no third line surrounding it, which, under magnification, would show the words The United States of America' over and over. Check the bills in your pocket-the third line is present on all currency series 1990 and later, five dollars and larger. Also present on 1990 and later bills over $5 is a vertical magnetic strip inside the paper for tracking the movement of currency. This coded vertical strip is an inch from the left side. Shine a light through the bill and you will see it." Alex Neumann and his companions watched in fascination as the bill on the screen moved and went out of focus, then became sharp again. Now the left half of it was being held taut against the illuminated face of a powerful flashlight. No strip was visible. "Here's what it should look like," the voice said. "This is a bill out of my pocket." The hundred was replaced by a ten, and everyone in the room saw the thin vertical stripe in the paper. Then the camera panned back out.

"In addition to the drugs and counterfeit money, I have here news clippings of an upcoming speaking engagement planned by the former Attorney General, and photographs of several federal buildings in three states. The photos have strategic areas circled in ink." Blair held up the photos and clippings for the viewers.

"This planted evidence was designed to paint the picture of licensed dealers and manufacturers heading a terrorist organization funded by drugs and counterfeiting. This would get all federal law enforcement agencies involved, cause the suspects to be held without bail, and encourage the public to support greater government authority, particularly for ATF.

"I was the 'cut-out' for this operation. Dwight Greenwell will claim I and my people were acting alone. If that were true, why would I now confess? A guilty conscience?

"This is a warning to the American public. The problem is not that a bad man occupies a position of authority in a government agency. The evil is much greater, for it has become institutionalized. On October 18, 1995, the former head of the NFA Branch lectured at an ATF training seminar. He admitted ATF's own registration records are grossly inaccurate. Then he told the agents that in any trial, they were to perjure themselves and always testify under oath that the registry was 100% error-free. This lecture was videotaped and a former federal prosecutor obtained a transcript under the Freedom of Information Act. These transcripts are now in wide circulation among NFA dealers.

"Parts of our government now operate without regard to the rights of citizens, and this philosophy of unlimited authority is taken for granted by everyone involved. Federal agents have put citizens in prison, gassed them, shot them to death, and burned them alive over tax issues involving trivial amounts of money. Not one government employee has spent one night in jail or paid one dollar in fines. Instead, they are given paid leave, get promoted, and garner even more authority to do as they please.

"Worst of all is that the men and women who commit these atrocities are not acting out of deep moral purpose. It is only a job to them, a paycheck, a way to make the next VISA payment. That makes these people even more despicable, but it also makes the strategy for stopping them very simple." All four FBI agents stared at the screen, waiting for Wilson Blair to say the words they knew were coming.

"Kill them," he said simply. "Individually, without risk to anyone else. Take it from someone who knows - government employees have a strong instinct for self-preservation. Kill fifty or a hundred of them around the country, and many more will resign and look for less hazardous work. But kill them one at a time, when others are not around. The blood of innocents helps the wrong side.

"One at a time," he repeated. "Pick your spot, use a piece of pipe, walk away, and keep your mouth shut. It's ridiculously easy when the Constitution is on your side and you outnumber the enemy over five thousand to one. Good luck." Blair smiled, and was then suddenly replaced by the Cable News anchorman.

"CNN obtained that footage from an anonymous source this morning. Director Greenwell was unavailable for comment. We'll have more as the story unfolds, but at the moment it appears that Agent Wilson Blair may indeed be alive and well at this time.

"In Los Angeles today, city administrators met once again to discuss-" The image vanished and the screen went black as Alex Neumann reached over and punched the button on front of the set.

"How'd you like to be in Greenwell's shoes about now?" one of the men asked. "Or that Secret Service, or DBA guy, hmm?"

"Guys are fucked."

"Yeah, but we'll probably have to run the investigation on them." The others grunted. They hated having to go after their own.

Alex Neumann was not listening. His mind was elsewhere. This time tomorrow, every person in the country will have seen that clip. Several times he mentally amended. Blair didn't mention FBI he reminded himself. Thank God. The Bureau was very proud that its agents had never stooped to planting evidence on those they investigated. Like that's a real reason for us to hold our heads high after what we did in Idaho and Texas he reminded himself grimly.

The doorbell chimed just as Orville Cracker finished setting out the last of his pistols. He had spent the whole morning moving his inventory from the vault and arranging his paperwork so that the annual inspection would go as quickly as possible. He had to leave for the Cheyenne airport that afternoon to pick up Curt Behnke, who was flying in from St. Louis. Crocker had not turned on a television set or radio since the previous day. He knew absolutely nothing of the Wilson Blair tape.

"Good morning," the ATF compliance inspector said as Crocker opened his front door. "Vonetta Ecks, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms," she continued, extending her right arm. A look of slight surprise and disgust briefly flashed on Orville Cracker's face as he shook the young woman's hand. His reaction was due to the zircon-studded, two-inch synthetic nails the woman wore on all ten of her fingertips. Vonetta Ecks misinterpreted the fleeting expression, and her attitude towards Crocker changed abruptly. He did not realize this.

"Orville Crocker. Come on in," he said. "I've got everything laid out. Would you like some coffee?" "No, thank you."

"Everything's in here," he said, ushering her into his dining room. The large table was covered with a white sheet, and twenty-seven submachine guns were laid out on top. Eleven of them were Thompsons, mostly 1921 models. Near the end, next to a Swedish Suomi, was a Mauser 712 select-fire machine pistol. It looked out of place among the shoulder-fired weapons. Two card tables were set up a few feet away where thirty-nine handguns were neatly laid out, and a pair of rimfire rifles lay across one of the chairs. The 20mm Lahti sat on the floor against the far wall. Crocker picked up his bound book which documented all the acquisitions and dispositions of firearms since his Federal Firearms License had first been issued eleven years before.

"You've got twenty-three NFA weapons, according to our records," Ecks said briskly. Her back was turned and she did not notice Cracker's reaction. "Let's start with them. Is this your book?"

"Uh, yeah, but I've got more machine guns than that." He looked at the table and began rapidly counting in his head. "Thirty," he said after a few seconds, "Not twenty-three. And the 20mm Lahti makes thirty-one, but it's not in my bound book, since I had to buy that on a Form 4." Crocker paid $500 per year for Class 3 status, but that did not entitle him to buy Destructive Devices on a tax-exempt basis. He had purchased the Lahti as a private individual with fingerprint cards, photographs, police signature, a five-month wait, and a $200 tax stamp.

Vonetta Ecks scowled. "You have the transfer forms for all of them?" she asked.

"Right here," Crocker said, holding out a sheaf of papers. The woman took them and began cross-checking the serial numbers with her own list. After a minute or so she began making corrections to the sheet she had received from Washington. It was obvious that Cracker's records were correct, for in each case he had both the gun in his physical possession as well as the individual transfer form bearing ATF's date stamp and a hand-stamp of Dwight Greenwell's signature.

"Damn computer," she muttered quietly.

The discrepancy between the two sets of records was not, strictly speaking, computer-related. Turnover at NFA in Washington was high, and disgruntled soon-to-be ex-employees often deleted, altered, or "lost" machine gun registration records. In other businesses this would be a colossal nuisance. With NFA weapons, the problem was much more serious.