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Authors: Louis Charbonneau
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course. Whatever his motive, Lippert did not send copies to the Sacramento Field Office, so we received none.” Halbig paused. “Lippert was carrying out the investigation without approval.”
“There are no records at all?” Landers asked.
“We have some.” Halbig had been saving this information for the meeting. “Lippert did request some lab work. Henry was very helpful in running those reports down.” Halbig nodded toward Szymanski. “One of Lippert’s lab reports concerned the presence of gunpowder residue on an old, rusty residential window screen. The report was positive. Another report covered voiceprint analysis of two separate tape recordings. The first recording was identified as a conversation between an agent from the San Francisco Field Office and an informant named Walter Schumaker, dated June 10, 1980. The second tape was of an anonymous telephone call to the Sacramento office on August 27, 1981… the day before the PRC massacre in San Timoteo. Voiceprint analysis confirmed that Schumaker made both calls. In the second one he used the code name Brea for an FBI agent to whom he wanted to report.”
“Who was Brea?” the Director broke in sharply.
“We have no record of any agent using such a code name.”
“What about the agent who was running Schumaker earlier?”
“There were two of them. Special Agents Charles Reese and Victor Pryor. Reese is still in San Francisco, Pryor has left the Bureau. Both have been contacted. Neither man knows anything about the second phone call or the Brea code name.”
“You’ll check that.”
“Of course.”
There was a momentary silence. Caughey said, “It sounds like a private code between an agent and his informant.”
“That’s my assumption, too,” Halbig said.
“I want to hear those tapes,” Landers said. “Anything else? Your memo mentions a handwriting comparison.”
“I was coming to that. Lippert asked the Handwriting Analysis Unit for a comparison of two handwriting samples. The first was of Walter Schumaker’s known origin, a letter to the two agents who were using him in 1979 and 1980 in Berkeley. The second sample was on the rental deposit for the house where the PRC were hiding out in San Timoteo. They were identical.”
There was a stunned silence this time. It lasted a full ten seconds. The three Executive Assistant Directors grouped around the long mahogany table exchanged glances. Landers scowled at them. “What do we have?” he asked finally. “Szymanski?”
“It appears that Lippert was investigating something about the PRC disaster. And those reports indicate that an FBI informant was inside the group. That wasn’t known before.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Landers said tersely. He had been in command of the task force that had spent a whole summer of frustration trying to catch the elusive band of terrorists. The possibility that an FBI informant—and the agent to whom he was reporting—had known all along where the People’s Revolutionary Committee were hiding brought a dark flush of anger to his stolid features. “I’d damned well like to know why.”
He glanced at Caughey. “You see it the same way, Caughey?”
“Yes, Director.” Caughey was visibly disturbed by what he had heard. “What it means is, the agent who called himself Brea had inside knowledge he kept to himself. But it brings up another question: What happened to Schumaker?”
The four men exchanged glances. They were all remembering the massive explosion that brought an end to the PRC.
Landers’ expression was grim. Russ Halbig found that his pulse had quickened. Now Landers had no choice, he thought. The Director’s next words confirmed his judgment.
“I want that missing file found. I want Schumaker found—if he’s alive. I want Brea identified.” Landers’ brown eyes speared Halbig. “You’re assuming the man who stole the FBI vehicle also took the file?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?” Sharply.
“The nature of the
“There are no records at all?” Landers asked.
“We have some.” Halbig had been saving this information for the meeting. “Lippert did request some lab work. Henry was very helpful in running those reports down.” Halbig nodded toward Szymanski. “One of Lippert’s lab reports concerned the presence of gunpowder residue on an old, rusty residential window screen. The report was positive. Another report covered voiceprint analysis of two separate tape recordings. The first recording was identified as a conversation between an agent from the San Francisco Field Office and an informant named Walter Schumaker, dated June 10, 1980. The second tape was of an anonymous telephone call to the Sacramento office on August 27, 1981… the day before the PRC massacre in San Timoteo. Voiceprint analysis confirmed that Schumaker made both calls. In the second one he used the code name Brea for an FBI agent to whom he wanted to report.”
“Who was Brea?” the Director broke in sharply.
“We have no record of any agent using such a code name.”
“What about the agent who was running Schumaker earlier?”
“There were two of them. Special Agents Charles Reese and Victor Pryor. Reese is still in San Francisco, Pryor has left the Bureau. Both have been contacted. Neither man knows anything about the second phone call or the Brea code name.”
“You’ll check that.”
“Of course.”
There was a momentary silence. Caughey said, “It sounds like a private code between an agent and his informant.”
“That’s my assumption, too,” Halbig said.
“I want to hear those tapes,” Landers said. “Anything else? Your memo mentions a handwriting comparison.”
“I was coming to that. Lippert asked the Handwriting Analysis Unit for a comparison of two handwriting samples. The first was of Walter Schumaker’s known origin, a letter to the two agents who were using him in 1979 and 1980 in Berkeley. The second sample was on the rental deposit for the house where the PRC were hiding out in San Timoteo. They were identical.”
There was a stunned silence this time. It lasted a full ten seconds. The three Executive Assistant Directors grouped around the long mahogany table exchanged glances. Landers scowled at them. “What do we have?” he asked finally. “Szymanski?”
“It appears that Lippert was investigating something about the PRC disaster. And those reports indicate that an FBI informant was inside the group. That wasn’t known before.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Landers said tersely. He had been in command of the task force that had spent a whole summer of frustration trying to catch the elusive band of terrorists. The possibility that an FBI informant—and the agent to whom he was reporting—had known all along where the People’s Revolutionary Committee were hiding brought a dark flush of anger to his stolid features. “I’d damned well like to know why.”
He glanced at Caughey. “You see it the same way, Caughey?”
“Yes, Director.” Caughey was visibly disturbed by what he had heard. “What it means is, the agent who called himself Brea had inside knowledge he kept to himself. But it brings up another question: What happened to Schumaker?”
The four men exchanged glances. They were all remembering the massive explosion that brought an end to the PRC.
Landers’ expression was grim. Russ Halbig found that his pulse had quickened. Now Landers had no choice, he thought. The Director’s next words confirmed his judgment.
“I want that missing file found. I want Schumaker found—if he’s alive. I want Brea identified.” Landers’ brown eyes speared Halbig. “You’re assuming the man who stole the FBI vehicle also took the file?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?” Sharply.
“The nature of the
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