One Man Two Votes (The Robert Carlton Series Book 1)

by J Russ Briley

Robert was enjoying the Pittyvaich single malt scotch he was sipping. The waiter had recommended it for nose, tongue, and value, and it was living up to his endorsement. None of the Willard’s scotch offerings were inexpensive, but some had a little less impact on the wallet, with the same big results on the pallet.

  Robert navigated quickly through the e-mail on his smartphone, looking for noteworthy messages or names. He had finished half his glass, and completed several e-mails by the time the Senator came in and sat down in front of him.

  “Hello, Robert. Glad you could meet on such short notice.” He took off his scarf and gloves as he spoke.

  “My pleasure, Senator.” Robert answered. Robert was not a small man, but whenever he shook hands with the Senator he felt dwarfed. The Senator’s oversized form carried a full head of white hair, with forceful eyebrows framing and emphasizing dark, penetrating eyes.

  “Robert, we’ve known each other for some time. I think you can call me Dan when we meet like this.” The Senator winked as he spoke. Gregg’s deep voice was comfortable, but commanding. His broad smile was ingratiating.

  Robert was well aware that while the Senator could be intimidating and domineering, he preferred to lure in his victims with charm. He seldom spent time with anyone on the Hill unless there was something to gain. It occurred to Robert that the Senator’s agenda could encompass the entire lunch. He decided to dive in.

  “So...Dan,” Robert began, “what can Justice do for you?”

  “Straight to the point. I like that,” Gregg nodded. The waiter came by and the Senator ordered a drink. “Single malt, one of your finest...let’s say a Lagavulin 21. Do you have the sherry cask still? He’s buying,” he chuckled, motioning toward Robert.

  Robert felt a small twinge. That drink would cost him at least forty dollars. He had an expense account, but it wasn’t unlimited.

  “Of course, Senator; and you, Sir?” The waiter asked.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” Robert acknowledged his half-filled glass with a gesture.

  “What are you having?” the Senator inquired.

  “Pittyvaich.” Robert answered, glad that he’d taken the waiter’s advice, and not settled for the cheapest choice.

  “An excellent scotch for the price,” the Senator approved. “One of my favorites.”

  “The waiter recommended it highly.” Robert put his phone on vibrate and tucked it into his jacket breast pocket.

  “Let me ask you, Robert, what do you consider to be the greatest threat to Homeland Security today?” Gregg seemed to be watching Robert’s eyes to see his reaction.

  It was obviously a leading question, so Robert fed back the approved party line. “Terrorism, the Middle East unrest, China, Russia certainly, and the economy.” Robert waited for the inevitable rebuttal that would narrow the focus to Gregg’s concern of the day.

  “Dangerous, I’ll admit,” Gregg answered. “But, not the single biggest problem. The greatest threat is apathy.”

  Politicians were inevitably predictable, Robert reflected. Every question was designed to create a speaking platform. Now would come the pitch. Robert waited for the opening lines.

  “Robert, men of influence like you and me need to speak for the silent majority. Nixon was right about their existence, and they’re still out there. We need to wake them up, speak with one voice, and empower democracy. Drown out the narrow minded screamers with their small grasp of the world, and smaller minds.”

  Robert said nothing. Gregg paused as the waiter delivered his scotch. He took a healthy drink out of the glass before continuing.

  “We have a responsibility to the people,” Gregg resumed. “The public is busy caring for their families. They have entrusted us to protect them and their way of life. If we become complacent, apathetic...well, you see what I’m getting at.”

  “Yes, of course.” Robert wasn’t sure he did, but that was the correct response.

  The Senator sipped again before going on. “They need to be confident that we are in control; that they are safe.”

  “I can’t agree more,” Robert interjected. So far, this was political rhetoric. It seemed that it would be late into their lunch before Gregg got to the point. He decided that he’d move things along by getting some food ordered. “I put our reservation in for lunch, would you like to move to the table?”

  “Excellent idea.” The Senator raised his glass toward the bartender, silently ordering a second scotch. Draining the remaining contents he stood up. Robert tried not to wince. How Gregg could possibly taste the expensive libation drinking at that speed was beyond Robert’s comprehension.

  As they walked toward the dining room, a waiter delivered Gregg’s fresh drink into his hand. “Outstanding service here.” Gregg approved.

  Taking their seats in the sumptuously decorated dining room, Gregg waived away the menu offered by the waiter, and ordered his “usual.” Robert followed suit by ignoring the menu and ordering the special: a grilled salmon with dill béarnaise and mango chutney. Since this was one of the city’s best restaurants, walking distance from the White House, and catering to a prestigious clientele, Robert was sure any choice he made would live up to expectation. Robert waited patiently as Gregg finished off his drink and ordered another round. After the waiter left, the Senator leaned his forearms against the edge of the table, looking directly at Robert.

  Here it comes, thought Robert. He was about to find out why he had suddenly become the focus of Gregg’s afternoon.

  “I wanted to talk to you, Robert, because the Senate Rules Committee is concerned about next week’s referendum vote. We want to insure that the public remains aware of the return of their voting power, and that they understand we are the ones returning it to them. It’s important that your office reassures the country of the effectiveness, safety, and importance of the system. We want a high rate of voter turnout.”

  Robert nodded as if he understood Gregg’s concern, his mind moving quickly. He knew that this couldn’t be the reason that Gregg had requested a meeting. The voting issue surrounded a binding nationwide referendum to redistribute funds earmarked for underground nuclear testing to individual states. The money had been left in the budget year after year since testing had stopped, and was being used as a slush fund. The problem was that there were no more categories in research or spending that legally were connected to the use of that money.

  When Robert’s office had been consulted about the matter, he’d immediately recognized the issue as an opportunity to test OPOV. The government had to close the fund anyway, why not let the population vote on it. Politically, it was always popular to return tax dollars to the taxpayers. Robert had recognized this as the perfect marketing tool for the system. A referendum could allow each state an equal share of the money, based on population, in effect returning taxes to the people through use in their states. As part of the One Person, One Vote reform, the President had agreed. He’d declared that this was exactly the type of Congressional vote that should be returned to the people.

  The issue was neither groundbreaking nor controversial. If anything about the referendum was significant, it was that it would be the first nationwide vote using the OPOV system. There was some concern that since it was a popular referendum, and sure to pass, voter turnout might be low—but surveys had shown that most people were eager to try the new system. Younger voters were expected to vote in droves, since they couldn’t understand why the system hadn’t been in place earlier. Older voters were torn between a desire to experiment with the technology, and an interest in denouncing it, but either way they said they were going to vote.

  So, Robert wondered, where was Gregg going with this?

  The Senator leaned back as the salads arrived. “We don’t want the system itself to be seen as a problem.”

  “Pepper, gentlemen?” The waiter asked

  They both accepted, delaying the conversation while the multicolored peppercorns were ground over the garden greens and vinaigrette.

  “What
are you asking my department to do?” Robert was a little too direct. It was a slight faux pas, but he figured this lunch was already costing him a couple weeks of his expense account budget.

  Taken aback by this abrupt breach of protocol, the Senator frowned, and took a slow sip of his drink.

  “Again, you come right to the point, Robert.” He crunched a mouthful of salad and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Robert waited for the next sentence.

  “We’d like you to scrutinize the voting system during the upcoming pilot. Monitor it, verify the results, and erase all doubt as to its accuracy and effectiveness. This test vote has to go off without a hitch.”

  It took effort on Robert’s part to control his facial features and maintain a bland expression. Certainly it was a bit coincidental that Gregg was discussing monitoring OPOV, he thought. What was going on here? “Of course, Dan,” he responded, “but aren’t plenty of agencies monitoring it now?”

  “Yes, but the Justice Department carries legal validity, and we want maximum confidence on this every step of the way. I'd ask the Attorney General, but...” Dan looked intently at Robert, waiting for agreement.

  Robert decided that what Gregg meant was that they were looking for maximum CYA. Robert wondered if the rumor of infiltration into OPOV had somehow reached Gregg’s ears. Had Chris mentioned it to someone else in the government? If something, or someone really was compromising the system then Gregg, as chairman of the Senate Rules and Administration Committee, had just handed the responsibility, blame, and problem to Robert. In his position, he was too powerful for Robert to refuse. Robert had to accept. He seemed to have played right into the Senator’s hands.

  Trying for a lesser commitment, Robert was about to say, “Absolutely. We’d be glad to assist the NSA in overseeing the operation,” when Gregg jumped in with, “And you don’t need to worry about authorization, or protocol. Naturally I got Jack to agree to let you help us before I called you.” Gregg smiled as he stabbed more salad with his chilled fork.

  Robert thought bitterly that he should have known that Gregg would be two steps ahead of him. Robert hadn’t seen his boss in days, but Gregg apparently had. Jack Crain, the current Deputy Attorney General had been so busy since Bradley’s death that Robert literally had only received a handful of messages from him—and no personal meetings. The confirmation hearings for Jack’s promotion had him completely tied up. Even as the presumptive successor, his examination at those hearings was intense. Robert had no doubt that he would find a voice mail confirming the agreement between Jack and Gregg waiting for him when he got back to the office.

  “You should head the effort, personally.” Gregg smoothly added, making the command sound as though it was a tribute, rather than a way to hold Robert accountable.

  Robert swore silently. A step ahead again, the Senator had pre-empted any attempt Robert might have made to delegate the job. So, he wants me trapped, Robert surmised. He had no choice other than to agree, and to sound positive about doing so.

  “I’m happy to do so, Dan. Of course, you realize that my calendar is extremely full—if I’m going to add this monitoring to the schedule, I’ll have to keep you apprised of my activities through voice messaging, memos, or e-mails,” he tried. He knew that the Senator would try and tie him into regular meetings to update the committee. Reporting that information would be the final step in making him the fall guy for any problems that occurred in OPOV.

  “Yes, we’re all overloaded these days. Considering the importance of this program though, Jack and I agreed that you could clear your calendar, if need be.” Gregg chuckled, “Of course you know Jack, he also said he was sure you would find a way to fit the time into your schedule.”

  That was typical of Jack, thought Robert bitterly. He always expected the impossible without any consideration for anyone’s overburdened schedule. “Just squeeze it in” was his standard answer to everything. “Yes, that sounds like Jack.” Robert shared the Senator’s smile, but not the humor in it.

  “The country is depending on us, so consider me your partner. Keep me informed at every step. My staff is at your disposal. You tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you get it.” Gregg’s attention was drawn away by the arrival of food.

  They ate their opulent lunches with only occasional comments, appearing to concentrate on the excellent meal. Robert’s enjoyment of the food was limited. Although he paid a few compliments to the luncheon, and to the Senator’s good taste, Robert was busy reviewing what had happened in his mind.

  The Senator had committed everything, even himself, to getting Robert involved in the examination of the OPOV system. Committing others to projects was commonplace, but allowing Robert direct access to his staff was rare. Gregg wanted Robert to be openly culpable for OPOV; he wanted him exposed, and reporting personally. Robert had to assume that somehow the Senator had found out he was already looking into the system. Robert’s encounter with Hunt at the White House through Gregg’s introduction was becoming increasingly suspicious, but the purpose behind it was, as yet, unknown. Robert decided to explore that a little.

  “Dan, I got a call from Alex Hunt, but he left no message.” Robert paused, wondering how much he could fish for information without sounding suspicious. “I thought he was an interesting fellow, but I can’t imagine why he’d be calling me. Can you tell me more about him?”

  “Good man.” Gregg was quick to respond. “Good at finding things out; handy in a pinch. You know, he’s been a consultant and researcher for the bar in almost every state. He could be a great resource.”

  That answered why Hunt was not on a state bar. He probably never needed to be, as a consultant in multiple states. But why would Robert need him? That was unanswered, but it would be awkward to press Gregg further about Hunt. ‘Good man’ was commonly used in DC to avoid committing to any particular character judgment. “He’s a great guy,” would have meant even less commitment. Robert racked his brain for a way to pursue the line of questioning, but couldn’t develop a path that wouldn’t send up the Senator’s radar.

  Cappuccinos were served, which Robert appreciated after the orders of Scotch and food. They threatened to make the afternoon one in which he’d have trouble staying awake. The Senator was looking even more relaxed. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel with you on the team, Robert. This is a turning point in our history. Indeed, in the history of all democracies. We need our best on the job.”

  Oh, yeah, fluff my pillow. Make me glad to be set up, Robert thought cynically. He tried to figure out how he could squeeze just a little elbowroom into this situation.

  “I’m sure you realize the importance of needing to maintain tight control on our communications,” Gregg added.

  There it was, the confidentiality clause. Robert knew he should have seen that one coming. That little remark was supposed to keep Robert from involving other departments. He’d have to control the press, and report only to Gregg. That’s my opening, thought Robert.

  “I’d like to work with a couple of the cabinet members. Their resources would be important.” That should give me a little room to flex, Robert thought, mentally congratulating himself on a crafty maneuver.

  “Definitely. I agree. I’m sure the President would like to hear of our efforts, also. We want to present a united front. Just don’t incite undue public concern, or alarm the press. After all, nothing is going to go wrong.” Gregg smiled.

  Robert almost choked on his espresso. This was a shocking turn of events. Senator Gregg on the same side with the President? Why? They had been at each other’s throats since the President had taken the oath of office. Now, suddenly, it’s bipartisanship? Robert always thought of that term as a nice phrase to indicate a legal conspiracy. Obviously, Robert had just been made a co-conspirator, but of what?

  This new angle gave Robert a chip in the big game. If he played it right, this was his chance to make a big move up. Robert turned the question of how to play it over in his mind, and came to the c
onclusion he’d have to cooperate Gregg’s way. The Senator had been ahead of him in every phase of their conversation, so he really had no choice in the matter. If Gregg and the President were on the same page, then Robert had better be, too.

  As he paid the enormous tab, Robert wondered how much this lunch was really going to cost him.

  Chapter 17

  It had been a pretty typical day, Marty reflected, walking into his modest ranch-style home. He’d worked on software code all morning, lunched with Terri, and lost any chance of getting additional headcount in the department. Yep, all in all, it was another typical damn day.

  He liked coming home, and leaving the NSA behind. He liked the solitude of his place. He could get away from everything here, especially stress. The house sat on a nicely wooded three acres, with almost no grass to mow, and very little formal landscaping to maintain. There was a path that meandered through the trees with a couple of tall stumps, a bench or two, and a large gazebo. He always thought he would spend time there, or invite friends to play cards on a warm summer night, but he never did. In the winter, when snow was on the ground, his daughter wanted him to put up little white Christmas lights on the path and structure. “Like fairies in the woods,” she said. He thought maybe he’d get around to that someday.

  The neighbors’ houses were far away behind the trees, and he was lucky that they had quiet dogs. Marty had no pets, and no hassles. He lived a bachelor’s life, and he liked it. He didn’t have many friends since the divorce. His ex had taken most of them, along with the good furniture. He tended to fill his nights by watching movies, web surfing, or playing the occasional online shooter game.

  Marty’s kitchen was utilitarian. A microwave, an over-under freezer/refrigerator, and a small chest freezer nearby suited his needs. Pulling a package of frozen lasagna out of the freezer, he peeled off the box and popped the food tray into the microwave. He switched on the TV, drank the last of his water bottle, and poured himself a glass of Chianti Classico from the plain bottle on the counter.