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

by J Russ Briley

  Carey noted this on his pad.

  Phil’s hand lifted slightly as if asking to speak.

  “Phil, I need to you catch up here, and you don’t have to ask my permission to speak.” Robert said impatiently.

  “No, no. I’m with you now.” Phil answered. “You know that the Secret Service and Treasury Department have very specific rules, and their jurisdiction is almost non-existent outside those guidelines.” Phil glanced at Agent Carey as he spoke.

  “Yes, I know.” Robert decided to establish some turf of his own. “I also know that computer fraud and falsified identity crimes are in your jurisdiction.”

  “Clearly. We’ve discussed that before, and you know I feel the Secret Service should be...” Phil began.

  “Exactly.” Robert cut off Phil’s approaching oratory. “That’s why I’ve asked you both here.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I have reason to believe these two incidents and these three people are directly related to an attempt to compromise the OPOV system. This is, of course, for your ears only at this time.”

  Carey and Davidson both frowned, and looked slightly perplexed. They waited for Robert to explain. He didn’t.

  “Has an investigation been opened?” Carey finally asked, breaking the silence of the room.

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose that at this time,” Robert parried. He was hoping that response would shut down any more questions.

  “Officially unofficial. Check. But who...” Phil began asking, then cut himself off. After a short pause, he questioned, “All right; any suggestions about where we should begin?”

  “Phil, I don’t know who you need to contact,” responded Robert, “but I need to know everything about Stoker, Barlow and Hunt. I’m betting your team and connections can move faster than I can, using the public channels. I assume the police departments would be the place to start. I don’t really care how you do it; I just need everything you can get. I’m sure agent Carey has already learned something about Hunt. Can you two coordinate with each other and handle this?”

  Agent Carey had regained his stoic composure. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We should be able to access all information related to the incidents, public or otherwise. We’ll investigate any avenues that haven’t been covered, and stay as much under everyone’s radar as possible. The President authorized any such discretionary decisions when he assigned us to your offices.”

  “Wait a minute,” Robert stopped him, wondering if he’d heard that correctly. He leaned forward. “What do you mean, ‘the President assigned you to my offices?’ Aren’t you assigned to the building?”

  Carey’s face was unwavering. “Beyond the President, Vice President and their families, the Secret Service’s mission includes security at The White House, The Treasury Building, The Treasury Annex, counterfeit currency, financial systems, buildings which house presidential offices, the Vice President's residence, a few foreign diplomatic missions in Washington, former Presidents, and other areas as designated by the President. He specified The Office of the Attorney General, Deputy Attorney General, and the Associate Attorney General, following Attorney General Bradley’s accident.”

  “Your offices would only be covered at The President’s request.” Phil acknowledged to Robert. “Normally no security outside the JPSO would be associated with your offices. I didn’t think about that until now. Why would extra security be assigned?” Phil asked the question out loud, but more to himself than to anyone.

  Robert was also wondering about the implications of what had just been said. Regrouping, he ignored Phil’s question, and commented, “Then I can expect significant assistance.”

  “Yes, as it relates to your protection,” Carey answered.

  Robert looked directly at Phil, sending him the message that he needed to take the lead.

  Phil looked at Carey. “I need all the details on your assignment.” Then he looked back at Robert. “I can keep the team small by using the same agents that manned the listening post when you had your meeting on The Mall.”

  “We’ll debrief after I talk to my section leader.” Carey was going by the book.

  Robert rose from his chair. “I want to be clear about this: I think there is a definite connection between OPOV, Stoker’s, and Barlow’s deaths, and this man ‘Hunt,’ also. We don’t have time to wait around for the answers to become evident. This thing has become urgent.”

  Davidson and Carey got ready to leave. “If that’s all you needed, we have some work to do.” Phil said.

  Robert nodded, and watched as the two men left.

  “So...” Robert thought to himself, “The President assigned Secret Service to me, but didn’t mention it. Why didn’t he say something?”

  Robert thought about that. “Good God,” he realized. “Chris was right. Bradley’s death wasn’t a fishing accident, and the President knows it.”

  Chapter 33

  Blair gripped the armrest of his car. His fingertips sunk into the stiff leather, while his jaw muscles flexed with a slight clicking of the tendons.

  “So…they haven’t checked in. Barlow’s home was burned to the ground last night. Barlow contacts Carlton, and then blows up in his car when he tries to leave. That’s what you are telling me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The man on the phone answered.

  “You waited to tell me this until now? You’re telling me NOW? Could you have possibly screwed up any worse than this?” Blair was furious.

  “Sir, I…”

  “Shut UP!” Blair’s fingernails threatened to penetrate the leather and tear the cover off. “I need to think.”

  “But, they…” The man began saying.

  “Don’t speak! It’s not ‘they;’ it’s you!” His voice carried a noticeable growl. “They are dead. And if not, ‘they’ are dead to me. Understand? And that leaves you. Got it? You.”

  Silence came from the other end. Updating Blair on bad news was the last thing the man had wanted to do. The fewer words spoken about this, the better, he decided. In the history of botched jobs, the Barlow FUBAR was one of the biggest messes possible.

  The two operatives had royally screwed this job. If they weren’t dead already, they were going to wish they were. Barlow was to have been visited for the sole purpose of getting him and Carlton worked up over the OPOV infiltration. That was it. The orders had been to make them paranoid, tense—call it what you like, but the idea was to get them moving faster. That had been the job. Rough Barlow up, ask questions, make a threat that he should drop the investigation, then bail. It had been a simple assignment that had gotten totally out of control.

  “Burned to the ground. That’s the last resort in covering up mistakes.” Blair stated.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t interrupt. So, now a scorched crater marks the spot. What could be worse? Oh, wait! Barlow gets loose, and then is blown up in fire and smoke in broad daylight on a freeway.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Shut up! Fire and smoke. Sound familiar? Can I assume our guys did both firebombs? Did they seriously kill him in broad daylight, with a hundred or so witnesses?”

  Silence issued from the phone.

  “Well?” Blair insisted.

  “I don’t know, Sir.”

  “Of course you don’t know.” Blair wasn’t letting go of his anger. “How could I expect anyone so remiss in their supervisory duties to know what the hell happened with two of his operatives? Find them! I want answers, and I want them now. I want their asses in a sling. I want them locked in a room with no doors or windows until I decide what to do. Got that? Then I want you to find out what the authorities, any authorities, know about both fires. Bodies. I need to know how many they found, and what names they’ve put with them. I’ll get more people in.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The man repeated, “Find them. Lock them up. Find out how many bodies they found, and their names.”

  “Update me on each step. If you stop to shit, I want a detailed report of it.” Blair
ended the call and immediately dialed another number. A woman answered.

  “Yes?” She answered promptly.

  “Are you available?” Blair questioned.

  “Yes.” She answered.

  “D.C. location 3.” He told her.

  “5 PM.” She responded.

  “Good.” Blair hit the end button again. “Idiots.” Firing up the engine of his faded grey sedan, Blair headed back toward Washington.

  Chapter 34

  “Hey, are you alive?” Terri’s sprightly voice popped up over the cubicle wall toward Marty. She stood up on her tiptoes, and looked as far over the fabric-covered panel as she could. “I’ve been waiting all morning for you to ask me to lunch, and nothing. Not a word. Well it’s almost twelve-thirty, and I’m not waiting anymore. So, are you hungry, or what?”

  “What?” Marty seemed not to have heard a word Terri had just said.

  Terri sighed in exasperation. “I said, ‘Are you hungry?’ Boy, you’re such a grouch today!”

  “I’m not. You’re just a pest.” Marty shoved his chair back as he logged off from his computer. “Let’s go.”

  “Well, that’s certainly decisive. I should have asked earlier.” Terri answered, ignoring his gibe. She grabbed her coat and catching up to Marty, headed for the airlock. It was late for the lunch rush, so there was no line. Terri pressed her hand to the scanner and stepped into the airlock. When Marty emerged on the other side, she was waiting with his wallet and keys from the locker.

  “So, where are you taking us today?” she inquired.

  “I’d like a burger.” Marty answered.

  “Whoa, you are aggressive today! I like it. Predictable, Mr. Burger, but I like it.” She put on a cute grin. “I admire that in a man. It’s almost as fun as being scanned all over by the airlock.” She turned and they headed out the door. The guard was setting out the welcome sign.

  “I wonder which VIP is coming.” She didn’t bother to read the name.

  Marty shrugged. He couldn’t care less, unable to think about anything except what he had been doing. They headed off to the car in silence.

  Robert arrived shortly after Marty and Terri left the parking lot. Robert walked up to the security desk with Agent Carey on his right, and Agent Long on his left.

  Agent Carey spoke. “Associate Attorney General Carlton to see Director Karlovich.” Carey nodded his head toward Robert.

  “Yes, Gentlemen. You are expected,” the guard responded. “The Director is in security now. May I see your identification?”

  They handed the guard their IDs. While the guard closely examined the cards, Robert scanned the lobby. He was unhappily surprised to see his name on the welcome board right by the doorway. It said, “Deputy Attorney General Carlton.” The only thing good about that was the promotion it gave him.

  “Here are your IDs and badges. The Director will be here shortly.” The guard did not smile.

  “Could you take down the sign, please?” Robert pointed to the welcome sign.

  “Yes, Sir. Not a problem.” The guard immediately moved from behind the desk and placed the sign back behind it, facing the wall.

  Karlovich stepped out of the airlock and came briskly over to introduce himself.

  “Bill Karlovich, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He shook hands with Robert. He acknowledged Carey with a nod of his head. “Agent Carey. Well, shall we go to the conference room and get started?” He moved past them to lead the way. Agent Long planted himself in the lobby, near the desk.

  Karlovich looked at the sign behind the desk as he passed by, and then at the guard who shrugged slightly while nodding toward Robert.

  Karlovich led the way to a conference room off the lobby, where they all settled into seats around a table. Although Robert had declined a formal presentation, Karlovich seemed to feel it was essential. Two of Karlovich’s assistants took over, using formal slides on a large flat panel HDTV display mounted to the wall.

  Even though Robert had been in on the program since its inception, he couldn’t help feeling that OPOV was an impressive system. The security had definitely been crafted by some of the most brilliant minds in the field. A full staff of Internet experts handled interfacing and server issues, and a group of cryptologists handled security.

  The technology was complex, driven by a simple and elegant concept. Within the NSA building was a master server. This computer maintained all the software and incoming vote totals. It had several layers of protection and firewalls, and both hardware and software were positioned between it and the outside world where it connected to the external government controlled Internet. Three massive, secure broadband connections held the capability of handling more phone lines than a large city would need. Two server farms, filled with computers running beside the master server mirrored the main system, creating massive redundancy. The first mirroring computer stayed ten commands behind the master computer, halting both systems at the first sign of trouble. This would give the operators a chance to see what had gone wrong, and make corrections while another computer buffered the system. If the problem could be corrected, the system could resume from the buffer with no lost data. If not, the system would drop the master computer, and restart from the point at which the first mirroring computer had encountered the trouble spot.

  The second mirror system ran one thousand operations behind the first, providing a fallback position if an error was catastrophic, or if it affected the first mirror. Neither of the mirrors attached directly to the Internet, and each had safety buffers between them for added security. Multiple equipment manufacturers provided the equipment, and multiple operating systems ran autonomously. All of this was designed to thwart any combination of virus, worm, malware, embedded code or whatever creative terrorist attack could be attempted. It was a startling array of technology.

  The next step was to put protection into the communications that ran back and forth on the Internet. Here they were using an advanced ‘certificate’ system, a full generation beyond VPN styled systems. The technical process surpassed Robert’s knowledge base, but he got the gist of it as the slides were presented. Essentially, each person in the United States was assigned a certificate number that identified him or her uniquely. The numbers came from retina scans, or thumbprints if a voter didn’t agree to retinal scanning. The thumbprint approach required additional photo ID. Next, an algorithm was generated using the certificate number combined with a Social Security Number, and a randomly generated numeric code. The end result was a certificate that each voter was assigned and issued, in the form of an RFID tag embedded in their driver’s license, or government issued identification. It contained an individual algorithm that the voter would use, either on his or her own computer, or on a voting center computer. A corresponding set sat on the main system at the NSA. The algorithms and codes changed based on date and time, leaving information available for no more than a few seconds at any time.

  Robert found his head swimming, since this was only the beginning. A brief history of cryptography followed. The team of cryptanalysts had all been spawned from the days of William Friedman and Yardley, studying systems like the Japanese “Purple” and “The Black Room.” If it had been a British presentation names like Tommy Flowers and Alan Turing would have been named. The discussion moved quickly to examples of what they were now doing to protect the system. Their resulting convoluted contortions of letters and numbers were dazzling. Although Robert had been briefed on all this before, the explanations were as confusing as the cryptography. These discussions were presented only in metaphors, not as current solution techniques to protect secrecy. Robert tried to appear as though he understood everything to keep the presentation moving, but he felt dazed.

  Robert tuned back into the conversation as one of the assistants related that the algorithm would change every time it was used, and only the sending and receiving ends would know what change was requested. A machine “listening in” on the Internet would have to see every transa
ction, without error, for thousands of exchanges before it could possibly spot the algorithmic root. This made it practically impossible to break. Banks, brokerages, and information services had been using similar, but less elaborate certificate systems since “The Great Recession,” and its following “Lost Decade,” with exceptional security performance results. This system was much more extreme.

  Using several techniques developed for military installations, OPOV’s security continued with special modulate/demodulate systems installed between all the subtotal stations. These were the decentralized computers where votes were tallied, usually in large cities and heavily populated counties, and then for each state. From there, only the subtotal was passed on. Each of these machines was on a protected secure line. The modems monitored any fluctuation in modulation. Even electro-magnetic changes could be detected, since they would cause tiny delays, or phase shifts. Of course this was for copper transmission. It was slightly different for optical fiber.

  All of this modulation monitoring was overkill, the presenters explained, since the data could be read, but not modified. The new IDs would effectively obsolete social security numbers, they added, since the new ID could be verified by the person’s physiology with ninety-nine percent accuracy every time it was scanned, a side benefit that would end ID theft. The implications were staggering. Robert wondered again whether this introduction would make personal lives more private, and safer, or more public, and increasingly controlled by outsiders.

  One of the presenters was wrapping up the lecture. He told Robert that the concepts were founded on established principles of Quantum Cryptography with Coherent States. “So,” he continued, “without going into excruciating detail, that is our system. Any questions, Sir?”

  “Very impressive.” Robert acknowledged. “But for this layman, you’re a little late on leaving out the excruciating detail.”

  Turning toward Karlovich, he said, “Bill, I have an understanding of why you think the system will work. I’m comfortable with that. What I’m looking for is where it might fail. There have been flaws in every technological breakthrough of every era, and they have been successfully exploited. Plus, there is the human element.” Robert stopped, allowing silence to fill the room. Karlovich didn’t seem to be picking up the ball. “Don’t hold back,” he urged. “You’re not the only agency on this project. There’s always a weak spot, and I need to know what you think we’re up against.”