At seven a.m., Robert was sitting in his car at a stoplight. Robert felt the heated seat gradually warming. He rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty and half open. Tracie had ignored him this morning. Not only had she skipped the goodbye at the door, she hadn’t even stretched her hand out from under the covers for him to kiss. Robert had no trouble conjuring up an image of Garaurd, based on the time they’d met, standing tall and dark in his military tuxedo. He’d looked like a Hollywood star. Black wavy hair framed his deep eyes, which never seemed to leave Tracie’s face. The uniform was dashing even amongst the many lavish Attaché uniforms. Robert wasn’t happy about the memory. It was a bad start to the day.
The light turned green, and he accelerated to the next red light. Robert’s thoughts moved between what he knew and what he guessed, at home and at the office. Each carried the same frustration of unanswered questions.
To flush Tracie from his mind, Robert turned on the radio and forced himself to think about Chris. Chris had said he needed Robert’s position, protection, and credibility to expose the information he had about OPOV. Robert wondered why Chris couldn’t go to his boss. Did Chris know who wanted to control the system? Was his supervisor at the NSA involved? Was the Director a suspect?
He pulled into his office parking area, the security bar lowering as the heavy steel and concrete barricade rose up from the ground behind him. Robert couldn’t help himself. He stared angrily at the reserved spot for the Deputy Attorney General one more time.
The elevator was again as cold as the parking garage. He could barely feel the warm air from the building when the doors opened upstairs.
Lorraine was early as usual. She handed him his messages as he passed her desk, his slamming of the office door still echoing behind him.
Placing his laptop into its docking station, he powered it up. The boot cycle connected with the external monitors, keyboard, and mouse. It requested his login and he pressed his thumb to the sensor. The remainder of the cycle connected the LAN, RSS feeds, e-mail, news wires, CNN, The Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, his online broker with real-time graphic ticker display, and his portfolio positions. The thumb scanner was a lifesaver for remembering his “favorites” and logins. While it worked, he twisted in his chair to face the desk. Leafing through the stack of messages Lorraine had left for him, he found invitations from several lobbyists. There was also the usual pile of questions about the Supreme Court docket. The red light on his phone “voice mail” glowed steadily, indicating more messages.
Robert liked computers and cell phones, but he hated voicemail, instant messaging, and texting. Thanks to them “time management” had become a fantasy. Robert missed the days before electronics had managed to make everyone feel as though they had Attention Deficit Disorder. He felt nostalgia for the old movie images of secretaries and receptionists handling communications and mundane tasks. Most of his career had been spent in the “technology age,” where he’d been lucky to have a single assistant.
In his desire to have “staff” running interference for him, Robert forgot how lucky he’d been to get Lorraine as his Administrative Assistant. He took for granted the many small duties she performed for him each day without complaint, only noticing those she did not handle. Other assistants refused to be associated with getting coffee, ordering lunch, or hanging up coats, and they didn’t like being treated as though they were receptionists. Those were the jobs interns were generally assigned. Lorraine had accepted his edict that she handle his communications and messages as much as possible. Robert’s only complaint had been that she didn’t deal with all of it.
Lorraine had experienced those “old days” of secretarial duties personally. She had her limits, and while Robert preferred to have a staff running interference, she had no desire to revert to the past, or to train and manage transient interns in lower-level duties. The pace of the office gave Lorraine neither time nor inclination to become Robert’s slavish “Girl Friday.” Senators and Congressmen juggled multiple assistants using Admins to manage them, but there was no budget in this office for additional paid assistants.
Lorraine walked into Robert’s office with his morning coffee, and put away his coat, scarf, and gloves. These were two concessions that didn’t bother her. She liked to keep everything as organized as possible, and getting coffee meant that Robert wasn’t making a mess of the machine.
“Did I get a call from Chris Stoker, or Colonel Barlow?” he asked.
“No, Sir. I gave you all the messages.” She responded.
“If they call, interrupt me no matter what I’m doing,” he told her.
She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
Where the hell was Chris? Robert wondered for the thirtieth time. And what about Grady? He was presumably looking into the nuts and bolts of how this could happen—if it could happen. Robert knew that once he had that information, the challenge of figuring out who could be behind it all should be a little easier. This wasn’t Robert’s biggest worry. If Chris’s fears turned out to be valid, the real problem became keeping it confined as an internal investigation. A public investigation could become a nightmare.
Would Chris’s evidence support an investigation? Robert shook his head. He was getting way ahead of himself in guessing that Chris had a smoking gun.
The day wore on. Still he had no call from Chris, or Grady. Robert crunched through his usual stack of calls and e-mail, only to watch the stack rise again. He went out for lunch, and came back to more messages. Only one interested him. It was a return call from Mr. Hunt. All it said was, “Urgent.”
He tried the number several times, only to get voice mail each time. Robert’s tension kept rising.
Something was bothering Robert about the sequence of events that had occurred in the last few days. The more he thought about it, the more Robert felt led around by the nose. Each step seemed to have been planned...or perhaps “anticipated” was a better word.
He shook his head. Maybe he was being paranoid. He got back to thinking about the problems of motive and opportunity. He hoped those were the keys that would lead him to who could benefit, and where this was all going. With Chris’ information, and with some help from Grady, it should all become evident.
The telephone rang. Hitting the speaker button, he said, “Yes?”
Lorraine’s voice announced the incoming caller, “Colonel Barlow calling.”
“Put him through.” At last, Robert thought.
“Grady?” Robert found himself feeling uncharacteristically anxious, waiting for Grady’s response.
“Robert, I’ve had some success. I went downstairs...” Grady began.
Robert cut him off. “Let’s get together.” If this was going to be an unofficial investigation, he decided, there should be minimal opportunity for leaks.
Grady was taken aback. Slowly he answered. “Okay...where?”
Robert thought quickly. “Remember where we had lunch? The football game?”
Grady thought for a minute. “Yes...the playoffs, I remember. It was at the Marriott.”
“Yes. Can you be there in an hour?” Robert asked.
“Sure, less actually,” answered Grady.
“Good, see you there.” Robert hung up.
Getting up, Robert glanced quickly at his new e-mails. Nothing caught his attention. His cell phone would get any new ones that popped up. He put his computer to sleep, and released it from the cradle. He then buzzed Lorraine. “I’m going to a meeting. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”
“I have a call for you, Sir.” She paused slightly before continuing, “It’s Mr. Carlton.”
“Thank you.” Robert answered mechanically, frowning.
The red LED flashed, marking the line where his father was holding. What did he want? His father rarely called him, and never just to chat. Robert wished he’d told Lorraine to say he was out. He finally snatched up the phone.
“Robert Carlton.” Robert said, as neutrally as possible, as though Lorraine had not announce
d the call.
“Robbie! Glad I caught you in the office. Is your day going well?” His father asked, sounding upbeat.
“Busy as always.” Robert hated to be called Robbie, and instantly adopted a hurried tone. He wanted to get this call over with as quickly as possible.
“Glad to hear it.” His father said easily. He clearly hadn’t noticed, or wasn’t going to acknowledge Robert’s tone and implication. His father had something on his mind. He probably hadn’t even heard Robert’s response. Robert figured his father would have said the same thing if he’d said he’d had a car accident that morning.
“I’ve heard that your department is looking into security around OPOV.” The senior Mr. Carlton continued, “I just want you to know that, at some point, an indictment could be useful. Even better, arrests would be very beneficial.”
Robert sat down hard into his chair. His head reeled. How had his father found out about the OPOV issue? He gave himself a moment to breathe. What the hell was going on? Okay, he reasoned, the truth was that his father always seemed to be a little too well informed. So, the better question was: how was it that this information had reached him so quickly, and why was he making these statements about indictments and arrests? As yet there was no criminal action, and in fact, Robert was still hoping to pre-empt any action.
Robert was thinking fast. The simplest explanation was that the President must have mentioned the matter. His father and the President lunched fairly regularly. Gregg had mentioned his apparent bi-partisan discussion with the President, so that had to be the answer. His father must have misinterpreted the situation in mentioning arrests.
“Father, I can’t talk about any official activities. You know that.” Robert tried his best to shut down where this was going.
“Absolutely,” his father agreed. “I understand this is still unofficial. Now, here’s the way I see it...” he was continuing.
Robert couldn’t believe it. Here he was, the Associate Attorney General of the United States of America, and his father was still telling him what to do.
“I can’t talk about unofficial possibilities, either.” Robert cut in. He wanted to get off this call fast.
“Of course.” His father continued, undeterred. “Now, Son, you’ve got a perfect opportunity here to get good visibility with the public, the press, and the President all at once. The press likes nothing better than espionage; spies and drama—that’s their bread and butter. The public loves to hear that their government is keeping them safe, and as Tom says, ‘Any press...’”
“…’Is good press.’ Yes, I’m familiar with President Baxter’s maxims on publicity, Father.” Robert said sarcastically. Did his father ever think about whom he was speaking to, or did he just love the sound of his own thoughts too much to care?
“That’s right, Son.” Once again his father recognized the interruption only as an acknowledgement of his own point. “If you could find a way to get this wrapped up quickly, and publicize it properly before the test vote, it would be a big boost to your career. And of course, the timing couldn’t be better with Jack being confirmed.”
“I understand that. You know that this is all confidential, and that I can’t...” Robert rushed back into the conversation, and then paused and repeated incredulously, “Jack is being confirmed?”
“Yes, yes,” his father said impatiently, but sounding pleased that, once again, he’d trumped his son’s knowledge base. “I know you haven’t heard, yet, but the confirmation will be in shortly. Jack will be announced as the Attorney General. This is excellent timing for you. It’s a real opportunity to shine. Just keep after it, Son. Tom would like to see you get this one, but keep the whole situation very quiet. If you can’t pin down those responsible outright, don’t let it get out that you missed. You got that?”
Robert’s brain was seething with frustration. His father had known about Jack Crain’s confirmation before the information became public; possibly before the committee had made the decision. It was also clear that Robert’s promotion wasn’t as probable as it was merely possible. No pressure there. He noticed also that his father didn’t skip a beat when giving him more advice, along with managing to get in a little dig.
Robert reflected that this was just like getting “advice” from Senator Gregg. He was supposed to listen and keep quiet. Typical politics, he thought. Publicize victories; bury mistakes. Remember that there’s always someone who is closer to the inner circle than you are, he thought bitterly.
Robert decided to wrap this up. “Good to hear from you, Father. I have to get going.”
“Certainly.” His father answered jovially. “I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, so we’ll have to finish this up. I’ll talk to you later, and check on how things are going.” He hung up.
Robert replaced the phone thinking how typical his father’s calls were. He always had to have the last word, while looking busier and more important than whomever he was speaking with into the bargain.
Once again, Robert was left feeling a little stunned about his father’s connections to everything and everyone. Yes, he was connected at the highest levels, but did he really have to know everything before Robert did? He felt like a puppet, with his father pulling the strings. Robert had understood the connection of government and big business since early childhood, but he was still amazed at how closely tied his father was to politics.
“Only the public is foolish enough to think puny public servant salaries can keep the power of big business under control, Son. Big government is all about big business,” his father always told him. He should know, Robert thought; his father was big in both.
Robert was feeling pretty angry about the call. He punched the intercom button hard. “Lorraine, I’m leaving now.”
“Yes, Sir.” She responded blandly.
“If either Chris Stoker or Colonel Barlow calls, forward them to my cell phone.” He ordered.
“Yes, Sir.” Lorraine’s calm seemed impenetrable.
Picking up his computer, Robert stuffed it in its case and headed back to the car. He didn’t say another word to Lorraine as he passed her on his way out.
Pulling out of the parking area, he tried to block his father from his mind by replaying his lunch meeting with Gregg, and by turning up the radio. His father’s words nagged at him. He’d indicated that there were specific individuals to find—perhaps a specific person pulling the strings? Wait…his father hadn’t actually said that. He’d indicated, “arrests would be beneficial.” Putting that together with Gregg and Jack giving Robert the “fall guy” position, did his father mean that Robert better find evidence and someone to pin this situation on, quickly?
Either way, Robert suddenly realized with a shock, his father had indirectly verified what Chris had been trying to tell him. Chris Stoker wasn’t paranoid. He was onto something. This was no longer a “what if” study. The President and his father had clearly been discussing the situation as an infiltration of OPOV. Now it was an investigation.
As such, it should seem straightforward, but it seemed that he’d been manipulated into a very visible corner. Gregg had attached him to the committee, which, in effect, put him on a leash. He’d be fed only the information Gregg wanted him to have. Plus, Gregg had cut off any outside agency connections by telling Robert to make it all “unofficial.” Gregg was hiding some agenda. No surprise there, Robert thought. Gregg always had an agenda. But what was on it now?
This time, as Robert pulled away from the office, he noticed the plain brown sedan pull out behind him.
He didn’t think much about the car; he just noted it. But soon casual observation became concern. He tried to glance in the mirror through the side of his eye, careful to avoid moving his head as he realized the car was staying close to his. He was only a few blocks down Constitution Avenue when he pulled over to the far right lane and turned. “I’ll make four right turns. Odds are he won’t be following me after that,” Robert thought.
He completed the first
turn and watched as the brown car went by. It didn’t slow down as it continued down the road.
“See? It was nothing. Calm down,” Robert told himself. “You’re becoming paranoid like the rest of these guys.” He made the next three turns cursing the delay he’d caused himself, then came back onto Constitution heading back toward the George Washington Parkway. He kept checking the mirror.
Making it across the Roosevelt Bridge, he felt more at ease. He watched the Potomac disappear in the rear view mirror as he left DC behind. He relaxed. He didn’t spot the brown sedan pull onto Constitution from 22nd street and fall in five cars behind him.
Chapter 20
The Key Bridge Marriott on sixty-six had a good beer and ale selection. It was a quiet bar designed for businessmen. With an upscale atmosphere and a flat screen behind the bar, it wasn’t much of a sports bar, but more of a business traveler hangout. Being on the far side of the bridge it tended to be half-empty. There was always a seat available, even during big games. Robert pulled into the hotel parking lot. The brown sedan stayed back, going around the building before entering, and parking well away from Robert’s car. It was still close enough for the driver to watch Robert go inside.
Robert saw that Grady wasn’t there yet, so he chose a stool at the bar across from the entrance. From there he could face the door without being seen from the lobby area. He smiled at the cute waitress as he ordered a draft. She would be hard not to notice in that tight black dress. Robert wasn’t the type to hang out at bars regularly, but he could see that this place had its attractions. Grady arrived a couple of minutes later, and made straight for Robert.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Grady laughed. He seemed pleased with how the day was going.
“Let’s switch to a table.” Robert spoke in a restrained tone. He walked to the back of the bar where several small, secluded tables stood. “I think this is more serious than I realized.”
“Really? Why?” Grady’s interest perked up. He still looked like someone ready to enjoy himself, but he definitely was paying closer attention to Robert’s careful attitude.
One Man Two Votes (The Robert Carlton Series Book 1) Page 14
