Cobra Clearance by Richard Craig Anderson Page A

them.” He tapped the American flag pin in his lapel. “We’re all on the same team.” After a brief walk through hallways overflowing with fast moving personnel, he ushered them into a tiny office containing a desk, two chairs and a computer. A fortyish woman appeared as if on cue and George said, “This is Ms. Collins, my chief analyst. She conducted the initial review and will get you started. Now if you don’t mind, I’m due in a meeting.”
    Collins pointed to the computer. “I’ve already set it up for you. It’s from a single surveillance camera view of vehicles as they approach the parking garage cashier. I cataloged all of them for a periodtwo days pre- and two days post-assassination, then ran the plates through NCIC. I got a hit on a gray Toyota minivan.” She pointed at the screen. “It’s indexed on the tape as Suspect One. The van left minutes after the attack and it came back as stolen. Go figure, right? Still hasn’t been found.” She pushed a stray hair from her forehead. “It’s our sole item of interest, at least so far.” Ms. Collins provided a brief tutorial of the program, an abstract of her findings, and her phone extension. “I’m two doors down. Call me when you’re done or if you need anything.” She left them alone.
    Levi said, “Proceed.” Michael tapped the keyboard and the monitor came to life. They began with the indexed Suspect One, then settled in to review a steady stream of cars, pickups, minivans and SUVs arriving at the cashier’s booth before and after the attack. Four hours later they concluded a cursory first round and rubbed tired eyes. Then they began an intensive and much more exhaustive second round. Levi leaned back afterward and stretched his arms. “Ten minute break, then we start over.”
    Fueled by coffee brought to them by a gracious staffer, they began the third round. They were fifteen minutes into their task when Levi leaned close to the monitor. “Hold it. Back up a few frames.” Michael entered the commands, wrapped his fingers around the mouse and waited. “There,” Levi said. Michael left-clicked. The image of a mature black woman in a uniform appeared in a blur at the camera’s outermost limit. “Parking attendant? Hmm. Do a slow-mo.” Michael keyed-in the command. Her uniform did resemble that of the white-haired man in the booth. “Stop,” Levi whispered. He unfolded a floor plan of the garage. “Let’s see where she’s situated.”
    Michael placed a finger on the floor plan. “She could’ve been coming from that door along this wall here. It opens onto the street, see?” He traced a diagonal path that nicked the camera’souter range and stopped at a symbol. “Rest room.” He glanced at the video’s time stamp. “This is nearly two hours before the assassination.” He punched in a command and when the woman’s image appeared again he froze it and zoomed in.
    Levi got out the abstract. “The only witnesses interviewed were the male cashier and the manager. And the manager wasn’t even on the premises at the time.” He squinted at the screen. “Who is she, why is she there, and why wasn’t she interviewed?”
    â€œSlip up? Or maybe she was on a list to be interviewed, but was ill.”
    â€œOr she’s an accomplice.” Levi edged closer. “Roll tape.”
    They watched her blurred image disappear again, only to reappear thirty minutes after the suspect minivan departed. When the camera showed her changing places with the male cashier in the booth, Michael said, “She seems to have been…”
    â€œWaiting. But for who?”
    Michael touched a finger to the time stamp. “Not who. What.”
    â€œHmm. I see where you’re going with this. It was four o’clock when she swapped places with the guy. Shift