The Warren Omissions Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t exactly proud of what he did. No one ever really grows up with aspirations of becoming an assassin. But such labels disgusted Ivan. He prided himself on being part of a cause, something bigger than himself. And the cause needed him. More precisely, it needed his dedication.
    Ivan could count on two hands the number of people he killed while serving the cause. They were brutal murders too. He once killed a man by dragging him behind a truck on a dirt road for three miles, traveling 60 miles an hour. He cut the man loose and tossed his body into the woods for the animals to devour. Another one of his signature kills came when he choked a man to death by cutting off the man’s fingers and ramming them down his throat until he couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t how he killed his victims that earned him the nickname, Ivan the Terrible—a nickname he hated. No, it was how he tortured them. Sometimes he killed them. Sometimes they would kill themselves—anything to avoid a second of torture at his hands. But when you’re six-foot-four with a weightlifter physique, you have a presence that frightens most people with your mere appearance.
    As he watched the man across the street, he wondered if it would ever come to that point. He preferred to persuade and cajole people to do what he wanted them to do. His moral appeals often found acceptance in a society full of people who wanted to do right. However, what seemed right to him didn’t always seem right to others. That resistant attitude required a different type of persuasion, the kind of persuasion that earned him his nickname and made others fear him. He hoped his next victim would succumb to simple persuasion.
    He popped the collar up on his blue athletic warm-up jacket and followed his assignment. Being careful to stay far enough back to avoid being seen was an art he ’ d perfected. A Nationals baseball cap and large sunglasses helped Ivan blend into the Washington streets. Who wasn’t wearing a Nationals cap these days? He’d even seen a few senators sport them before yanking them off at the last minute and dashing into the Capitol. This is what he did—observe. He needed to gain every possible access point to his victims without being identified. He needed to be a ghost.
    As he meandered behind his target, he realized the guy was a pro. Very aware of his surroundings, the man kept looking over his shoulder in Ivan’s direction. Ivan grew uneasy with the constant checking and jumped in a cab. It was one thing to identify someone following you on foot. But it took a specially trained person to realize someone in a car was following you. Ivan doubted the man was   that   special.
    Ivan instructed the cab driver to follow the man on foot but not get too close. The driver let out an exasperated sigh but complied, staying far enough away that the man on foot never seemed to identify them as slowly following him along the streets of Washington. After ten minutes, Ivan realized his victim was headed into a hotel. He ordered the cab driver to stop so he could chase the man down. Throwing a $20 bill at the driver, Ivan dashed across the street in pursuit of the man.
    Without a second to spare, Ivan managed to catch the man just before he stepped onto an elevator in The Liaison hotel lobby. He tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Excuse me, Mr. Flynn,” Ivan said. “May I have a moment of your time?”
    ***
    FLYNN SPUN AROUND to see the same man he spotted the moment he came out of the police precinct nearly twenty minutes earlier. He certainly wasn’t a fan since the man was well skilled in tailing someone. Flynn suspected he might be after him, but couldn’t conceive why. Maybe he was CIA or FBI. Flynn couldn’t be sure. The only certainty was that the man standing in front of him now had tailed him to this point and had impeded Flynn from getting on an elevator.
    “What can I do for you?” Flynn asked, doing his best to act as if the man’s interruption was a