The Return of Elliott Eastman

by Ryan, Ignatius

  “If you only knew the whole story,” Elliott murmured as his phone rang.

  “Elliott here,” he said.

  “Elliott, Paul White.”

  “Good morning, Mr. President.”

  “Not really. My people on the hill are telling me that Bainer and Cobbings have been calling all the power seats in the Senate demanding they be placed on any joint conference committee dealing with the ‘War on the Deficit’ bill. And Bainer is suggesting none too subtly that the Senate’s Finance Committee, where he has close friends, should be the first to review it as well as Armed Services and the Appropriations Committees. He’s out for blood.”

  “We can deal with him,” Elliott said softly.

  “I would caution you not to be over confident. Bainer has been around. He’s an old junkyard dog and I suspect Cobbings, who is no slouch either, is behind all these maneuvers as well. I can’t recall a time when so much attention was being paid to a bill behind the scenes to ensure which committee investigates. Once the wheels start moving in the Senate they can crush almost any bill, no matter how deserving it is of passage.”

  “We’re going to pull out all the stops, Paul,” Elliott stated calmly.

  “We’ll have to,” the President said. “They’re lining up a veritable who’s who of bill killers up there.”

  “We’ve still got a few tricks up our sleeves. And Paul, I view this as the most important piece of legislation in our lifetime. I’ll not play their games this time around. If need be, heads will roll.”

  When the ‘War on the Deficit’ bill reached the senate it was given new life as Senate Bill 1190.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eddie Kelley’s sixth sense was telling him they needed more help. The test run was a success, but still they would need to bring some additional hands on board. He sent e-mails to former members of the Master Sergeant’s team from Iraq. There were a few dozen he knew he could trust completely. He outlined the multi-faceted plan in great detail to each of them and received unanimous agreement, with only Mike Murphy registering the slightest reluctance.

  “Mike, we can’t hack phones or computers. Remember Rupert Murdoch and News Corp a few years back? That’s how they were busted. They could identify the hackers. We’re operating under old school rules with old fashioned listening devices.”

  “Isn’t that kinda underhanded?”

  “And you think these guys in the Senate are playing the game by the rules? You and I know they were bought off by big money years ago,” Eddie stated firmly.

  Murphy laughed. “Okay, okay I get your point.”

  “We’ve executed a successful test run. We need to know how to bring extraordinary pressure on key senators, enough to counteract the influence of the corporations, lobbyists and the Super Pacs. As I said, we’ve already made a test run. James Lally, posing as a United Parcel deliveryman, has already dropped in on several senators’ offices and some big time lobbyists, I might add, and slipped listening devices under the desks so the wheels are in motion. Can we count on you, Mike?”

  “You bet.”

  Twenty-four hours later Mike Murphy was seated at a posh Washington watering hole. It was happy hour and he was monitoring several interesting conversations using a pencil sized recording/video device. Senator Wade Biggs, head of the Senate Finance Committee, was seated in a booth with one of his secretaries, a married and very attractive red head. Mike’s miniature camera and recorder could work wonders picking up single conversations in a crowded and very loud room.

  “Take my word for it. The bill will die a slow death,” Wade was saying as he caressed the woman’s leg. The video camera resting in Mike’s lap was recording every detail.

  Meanwhile, Eddie Kelley followed Ricky Funk from his office at the lobbying firm Breaux Lott Leadership Group to the swanky Four Seasons Hotel in Upper Manhattan. Ricky liked to think of himself as an up and comer. He dressed in stylish suits, drove a big black Mercedes and liked to be seen with pretty women. He’d started work as a congressional page and then found himself on Senator Graham’s staff, often running ‘special’ errands. It wasn’t long before he’d come to the attention of Doc Hastings. They called him ‘Doc’ because he had a knack for fixing problems. Soon Ricky found himself in the personal employ of Doc and enjoying a six-figure income.

  Once at the Four Seasons, Ricky took the express elevator to the penthouse. Eddie waited in the bar. Two hours passed before Ricky returned. He stepped out of the elevator, looked furtively both ways, and then made a beeline for the front doors. Eddie followed at a discreet distance. When Ricky opened the door to his Mercedes Eddie appeared beside him. Shoving a gun in the courier’s side Eddie said, “No quick moves. Get in and move over to the passenger side.”

  “Who are you?” Ricky began to protest.

  Eddie shoved the gun viciously into the smaller man’s side again and spat one word at him, “Move!”

  Ricky complied. As Eddie climbed in after him he hit the record button on the tape recorder inside his jacket.

  “You are Richard Funk from Breaux Lott Leadership and you just met with representatives of Senator Curt Graham. You delivered $50,000 in small bills in exchange for a vote against SB 1190. The money was provided by a consortium of big banking houses.”

  “Who are you? How do you know all this?”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am, but there is something you need to know. I am part of a grassroots effort to clean up our government. We’re targeting companies like yours. Now we’re going to turn in the facts regarding your little escapade tonight to the Justice Department. I can leave your name out of it. You’re just the bag boy, the little guy who usually gets 25 years to life while the bigwigs get a slap on the wrist. I want the name of your superiors who set this up.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Give me the name and I step out of your car and you never see me again. You don’t give me the name and we drive to a secluded location where a couple of my friends are waiting. They are not nice people and you give me the name anyway.”

  For a moment Ricky hesitated and he cast a quick glance at the door handle. Eddie pressed the button on his side locking all the doors. Ricky sighed.

  Ashen faced he whispered. “It was Doc Hastings.”

  “Doc?”

  “Arnold, Arnold ‘Doc’ Hastings arranged the drop, but I don’t know what companies gave him the dough.”

  “Thank you. Have a nice evening,” Eddie said and disappeared into the night.

  When he was a block away Eddie ducked into a bar and called Elliott.

  “It worked like a charm. Got the name and recorded his admission of what went down at the Four Seasons,” Eddie said.

  “Good. Nice work. So merely sticking a listening device under a desk we can snag their plans and throw a wrench in them.”

  “I’ll say. It was like clockwork. And remember that was just an old garden-variety bug. I’ve got the DARPA stuff coming and I’ve been told those bugs will pick up the voice on the other end of the line as well. We’ll get both sides of the conversation,” Eddie added.

  “What’s the world coming too?” Elliott asked.

  “You said you wanted to go after them. The DARPA stuff is not even available on the commercial markets. It’s the stuff of legends.”

  “I know, I know. I’ll send you an e-mail with the letter we’re going to deliver to our bag boy’s boss. Can you make copies of the tape?”

  “No problem.”

  “Can you contact James and tell him we need his skills as a United Parcel Delivery man again?”

  “Sure thing, I’ll have him meet me tomorrow morning at the safe house in Alexandria,” Eddie replied and then added, “Say, are you feeling okay? Your voice sounds a little different.”

  “I’m just tired. Thanks for asking.”

  “Okay. Talk with you soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following morning Eddie downloaded and printed Elliott’s letter.


  Dear Senator Graham,

  Please listen to the conversation on the enclosed disk. Once you have listened to it, please be aware that we have an identical copy. We know it was Arnold ‘Doc’ Hastings who set up the meeting at the behest of a number of banks. Please understand it is not our intention to do anything with the disk. We will be expecting you to vote with an affirmative on Senate Bill 1190. If you do not vote accordingly our copy will be hand-delivered to the Justice Department.

  Thank you.

  A similar letter was attached in a second e-mail, but with the names Doc Hastings and Senator Graham reversed.

  Elliott sent a third e-mail asking Eddie to make copies of the letters and the tapes; one set to be delivered to Graham and the other to Hastings as soon as possible. Eddie smiled. “You’re one smart chap, Mr. Eastman.”

  Elliott wasn’t going to send the information to the Justice Department and have Graham removed from office just so another money grubber could take his place. No, he was going to leave Graham in place, but require his vote. Elliott was also going to put Hastings on notice thereby drying up a major source of funding for the good senator. It was blackmail pure and simple and yet could it truly be considered a crime if it prevented a crime, prevented a vote from being bought by the big buck banking companies? Eddie knew the way he felt about it. Right is right. The courts might rule differently, but that didn’t faze Eddie. He was seeing this through to the end. He was going to see a change in the way of life for the better for every American. He looked up to see James Lally standing in front of him dressed to the nines in his light brown United Parcel outfit.

  “Special delivery today?”

  “Very special,” James replied with a smile.

  James arrived at Senator Graham’s office and dropped the package with the secretary. Half an hour later he appeared at the offices of Beaux Lott Group and asked for Doc Hastings.

  “He’s busy at the moment,” his secretary explained.

  “I’m sorry, but I must have my receipt book signed by him.”

  “I’ll sign for him.”

  “I’m sorry. This form indicates personal delivery, only he can sign for it.”

  “Hummpf. That’s odd. I’ve signed for him before.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Let me see if I can interrupt him.”

  The secretary left for a moment and then returned saying, “You may go in. It’s the fourth door down the hall on your right.”

  “Thank you.”

  James knocked softly and then entered. Doc Hastings was a heavy-set man with a ruddy complexion and almost pure white hair and an expression that reflected the fact that he did not like being interrupted.

  “I’m sorry sir, but I must have you sign for this package.”

  “Sure, sure bring it here.”

  As Doc scrawled his name across the ledger James looked around at the mahogany walls, the glass and mirror bar in the corner and the plush décor.

  “Nice digs you got here,” James stated.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Hastings responded in a dismissive tone as he handed the pen and ledger back to the United Parcel delivery boy.

  James dutifully handed him the receipt adding, “I suggest you open it and listen to what’s on the disk right away.”

  Hastings looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “Huh, you know what’s in here?”

  “No,” James said innocently, “but I don’t get many packages that require a face to face meeting with someone like you. Have a nice day.”

  James strolled at a leisurely pace back towards the front door, briefly made small talk with the secretary again and as his hand touched the front door knob he heard Hastings’ voice as he screamed, “Ricky!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At first Elliott was reluctant to draw more people into the inner circle, but Eddie felt it was necessary and with what was at stake the smart move to make.

  “You never go to war knowing you’re outnumbered,” he insisted.

  Finally Elliott agreed. However, he was feeling weak and traveling back to Washington once more didn’t sound appealing at all. He suggested the meeting be held at the Colorado ranch. He brought in a chef, slaughtered a corn fed beef cow, ordered several cases of wine, kegs of beer, the finest scotch and Cuban cigars. Dinner was an amiable affair with the men making small talk and enjoying the fine repast. Afterwards, with cigars, scotch and Cognac, they retired from the dining hall to the great room and Eddie opened the meeting. All of the original members of Operation Anvil were there as well as a half dozen new faces. They were all former soldiers, some Navy Seals and some Special Operations personnel. All had worked with Elliott in some capacity over the years.

  Eddie stood on the hearth dressed in army fatigues, his hair close cropped, broad shouldered and ready to take on whatever was sent his way. He exuded an air of confidence, but a confidence tempered by wisdom in the ways of war and a wariness of the strange twists of fate that war could introduce.

  “We all know why we are here and have proven ourselves to be of one mind. It is time to take our government back. It is time to take matters into our own hands. Throw out the rules and make our representatives do the right thing. If I am mistaken in this assessment then please correct me now or forever hold your peace. If you are not in agreement with the foregoing statement then I would ask you to leave at this time.”

  No one spoke and no one left the great hall.

  “Good. You all know the Master Sergeant and the sacrifices he is making in this cause. He will address you now.”

  Elliott rose from his chair, strode to where Eddie stood, shook hands and thanked him and then turned to the forty or so faces in the room.

  “As you know we have opened what may be considered a war on the status quo, but is being termed the ‘War on the Deficit.’ I believe this is a desperate measure, but long overdue. We have a once in a lifetime opportunity where the President, the Secretary of Defense, the Army Chief of Staff, the Chairman of the SEC, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, the Treasury Secretary and many others all stand united in this effort. However, I doubt even these esteemed men know the array of forces against us. What we are up against has been going on for some time. In short it is the financial, military and congressional cartel with a stranglehold on the economy, siphoning off massive profits for themselves at the expense of our nation. Their agenda is not in the national interest, but if they can hold on for another twenty years they will have made their fortunes and the country be damned. We don’t have twenty years. We may not have five with our debt soaring so uncontrollably.”

  Elliott paused and looked around the room.

  “I hold in my hand an article from the New York Times, April 25th, 1896 and this is a quote, ‘Senator Barney Martin of New York has been the subject of congratulations this evening for the part he took in summarily ridding the Senate floor of a lobbyist at this afternoon’s session. He literally chased him out of the room.’

  “I won’t read the whole article, but the point is that the date was 1896. Over one hundred years ago, lobbyists were stalking the floor of the Senate and a senator threw the bum out. I don’t think that would happen today.

  “You can bet a bill requiring change of the magnitude that is currently being discussed will bring out the lobbyists in full force. Lobbyists will literally throw millions of dollars at the Senate in an effort to defeat SB 1190. They will attempt to filibuster the bill, tie it up forever in committee. This means that our efforts thus far, although quite successful, must be redoubled. Eddie has approached me with a number of ideas. The single most effective idea in my eyes is information. We need to know the most intimate facts of everyday life for every senator; we need to know their every weakness. We need to apply pressure on them as it has never been placed before. We are up against a system of graft the likes of which the world has never seen before. It reminds me of a quote from the French economist Frederic Bastiat, ‘When plunder becomes a way of life for a group of men liv
ing together in a society, they create for themselves in the course of time a legal system that authorizes it and a moral code that glorifies it.’

  “This, my friends, is what we are up against. I will turn the meeting back over to Eddie and he will explain how we intend to proceed from here.”

  Eddie took his turn at the hearth.

  “Gentlemen, I think what the Master Sergeant is trying to say is it’s time to kick some greedy ass!”

  This comment drew cheers, whistles and ‘huzzahs’ from the men. After a moment Eddie held up his hands. The room slowly quieted down.

  “We intend to fight fire with fire. I know that’s a dreadful cliché, but we intend to do just that. We’ve completed a test run, thanks to the efforts of James Lally.”

  James was standing off to one side of the room and doffed his green beret in deference to those assembled and the mention of his name.

  “James and I happened upon information regarding a cash drop by Doc Hastings of the Beaux Lott group, a lobbying firm, to Senator Graham Brown. We intercepted the courier and recorded the conversation where he admitted to the pay off and named names. We then delivered a copy of the tape to Senator Graham’s office. James was able to gain access to the senator because he posed as a United Parcel delivery person; an innocuous bystander if there ever was one, but it proved it could be done.”

  Eddie paused and took a sip of Cognac.

  “Does anyone here know what DARPA stands for?”

  A dark haired young man in the back with a deep tan and a build like Arnie Schwarzenegger in his heyday raised his hand. “The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. I worked with them briefly at Notre Dame.”