Margaret’s body had been flown back to Oakland, California, her parents’ hometown, for a closed-casket funeral.
The Post and the Times had run their boilerplate, fill-in-the-blank crime stories about the assault, which had competed for space against stories of the five other murders that had taken place in D.C. and Prince George’s County on the same night. These had been followed the next day by boilerplate analysis of how the incredibly high murder rate on the east side of the District rarely leaked over into the west side, and when it did, people were always more shocked than they should be. Police were still on the lookout for a pair of Hispanic males who had been seen tampering with a nearby streetlight shortly before the attack.
After that the assault on Betsy’s brother’s life, and the death of Margaret Park-O’Neil, had been forgotten entirely by the news media, which seemed to be preoccupied with events in Kuwait, and with newer and fresher murders.
The executive summary of Betsy’s fifty-page report was clear and to the point, and even Hennessey read it:
? Baghdad has for years been coordinating a high-tech, high-science effort among like-minded Arab states using the resources and expertise of the American academic community.
? During the last two years major land-grant universities across the United States have been targeted by Baghdad for major research efforts to perfect a bacteriological-warfare agent that is simple, effective, and transportable.
? There have been substantial movements within the scientific faculties of Iraq, the gaps filled by adjunct professors brought in at short notice, and high pay, from across the Arab world.
? USIA student/research visas show a three-hundred-percent increase in the number of students coming from the region to study at eight major land-grant universities in the United States. We have reason to believe that many of these students are traveling under cover.
? The Iraqis are carrying out substantial bacteriological-warfare investigation using U.S. facilities and personnel in order to assure that even if there were preemptive strikes on their known installations, their efforts could continue.
In comparison with the other reports, the thoroughness of Betsy’s report was overwhelming, so much so that there was a respectful silence across the room. As had become the norm, everyone turned to look at Hennessey, who made an “I’m impressed” face and paged slowly through the document.
Dellinger didn’t even read it. He closed the meeting by saying, “The National Security Council has seen all of these reports and recommends going full speed ahead on all inquiries, except Ms. Vandeventer’s.” With quiet scorn in his voice he said, “You evidently did not see the special-committee report—the Universities’ Report of March 1988—that concluded that there was absolutely no threat to the national security of the United States in the full and open exchange of scientific and technical work.”
Hennessey caught Betsy’s eye and shook his head, telling her to keep quiet. But she did not. The thought of bullets whizzing past her brother’s head had made her feel somehow reckless. “Yes, I know that report. It was written by a bunch of self-interested university presidents who needed foreign-student funding and brains to keep their own research efforts going. It was supported by a number of international research organizations that needed USG funds to carry their work now that their capital has dwindled. It was written by a bunch of ivory-tower researchers to whom the entire world is as interchangeable as airports. I know that report.”
Dellinger listened to this with a brittle and condescending smile, then turned to Spector and said, “I’m sure that Mr. Spector can continue to supply Agency input into this process. Ms. Vandeventer’s contributions have been duly noted, and her participation will no longer be needed. This meeting is concluded. I’ll see the rest of you next week, same time, same place.”
After the meeting in March with the agricultural attaché, in which Betsy had spilled the beans about her extracurricular research, Howard King had grabbed Betsy’s breast and then shoved her into a filing cabinet. She had, by dint of a tremendous effort of will, made it through that entire experience without crying.
Now it was Millikan’s turn to punish her for the same infraction. He had tried to do it in the meeting at Langley back in April and been stymied by the tactic that Spector had suggested. But he hadn’t forgotten. He’d been watching and waiting for the opportunity to shove in the knife. And now he had done it.
A year ago she might have burst out crying on the spot. A week ago she would have gone home and done her crying in her bedroom, which was private except insofar as it was bugged.