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

by J Russ Briley

  Karlovich reflected quietly for a moment, then said, “For that discussion, I think we should move into the secure facility, and I’ll show you what we’re working on there.” Bill stood and indicated they should leave the conference room. “I should warn you that your first time through the airlock will take several minutes while it analyzes you, and sets up a file. Try not to move, since that will slow down the process. You’ll have to leave wallets, keys, and anything magnetic or metallic here. Do you have any medical implants?”

  “No.” Robert shook his head.

  Upon returning to the lobby, Karlovich indicated that they should leave their belongings in the locker area, past the guard’s desk. Carey looked uncomfortable leaving his gun, but unloaded it, and placed the weapon in the gun box provided without comment. The lockers had user assignable locking codes, so Robert was not concerned leaving his wallet. They stepped up to the scanner. The Director placed his hand on top. It only took one pass to verify him. The door opened. “Don’t worry, it will recognize you as being new to the facility, and give you verbal instructions if needed.” He stepped inside and the door closed.

  In little more than a minute the indicator panel flashed, “Ready.” Robert placed his hand against the panel. It ran three scans before opening the door. He stepped in, and in about three minutes, he arrived in the operations area.

  “Not too bad, I hope?” Karlovich smiled.

  “I’d hate to go through there if I was claustrophobic.”

  “That would be a problem. I should have asked, but there’s not much choice. You can see that we are quite serious about security.”

  Agent Carey stepped from the airlock. Robert thought it had taken him significantly less time to be cleared.

  Karlovich gestured in a circle around the room. “This is the center of our OPOV software management operation. As you can see, we have a small team. They are extremely select individuals.” He began walking toward his office. “We work on the highly secret portions of code here, and we control how all of the code is implemented, placed on the system, and monitored. All the security changes occur here, and never leave the room. The computers themselves are behind that wall on your left, except of course for the third system, and second backup, which are in a different secure facility not near this location. ”

  They went into Karlovich’s office. With the door closed he proceeded to layout the elaborate software system with all its security bells and whistles. Robert glazed over quickly, and began to feel sleepy. He tried to keep alert, and realized that he was being given another explanation of why the system would work, not how it could be infiltrated. He began to wonder if by coming here as he had, he’d set himself up for a public relations tour. He began to feel that the trip had been a mistake.

  Chapter 35

  Terri hopped into Marty’s car. “Not bad! That double chili-cheese burger hit the spot.”

  “I can’t believe you ate that thing. How can you stay in such great shape eating like that? It gave me gas just looking at it.”

  “You get gas eating scrambled eggs.”

  “And what of it?” Marty snapped. “Eggs affect a lot of people that way.”

  “Hey, I was only kidding. And it was your idea to get a burger, anyway. You been getting much sleep lately?” Marty ignored Terri’s gibe, and instead focused on the fact that she had not put her seatbelt on. She never wore her seatbelt in his car, and it bugged the hell out of him.

  “That was a gut bomb you ate, not a burger, and you know, there is a seatbelt law here,” he reminded her for the hundredth time.

  “Yeah, yeah. I just don’t want to get trapped in your car after you wreck it. You like seatbelt cleavage, but not all of us are into it.” She grabbed the belt and snapped it in place. The shoulder harness snuggled nicely between her breasts. “Happy? Now tell me: sleep? Yes, or no?”

  “It’s not really a problem. I just can’t stand my cooking, that’s all.” Marty dodged.

  “Swanson, or Stouffers? I’m sure you’re a regular Chef Prudhomme. How’s Christen? Everything okay there?” Terri looked intently at Marty.

  “Of course! She’s fine. What made you ask that?” Marty was clearly agitated by the question.

  “Hey, just asking. Don’t bite my head off.” She pushed against the back of her seat, crossing her arms defiantly. “You need to cut back on the caffeine.”

  “Sorry, I’m just on edge. You’re right; too much coffee. Christen is fine, but I don’t hear from her much.” It was easier for Marty to lie when it contained a little truth.

  They didn’t speak again until they reached the lockers, and then they only had the usual exchange with security.

  As they walked toward their cubicles, Robert, Carey, and the Director came out of Karlovich’s office and walked toward the airlock, heading straight at them. Terri smiled toward Robert. Robert smiled back automatically.

  “Hello.” Terri said as they passed directly in front of Chris Stoker’s cubicle. Marty nodded with a barely noticeable smile.

  “Hello.” Robert responded automatically. Suddenly struck with surprise, he had to resist commenting when he saw Chris’s name tag next to the cubicle entrance. He tried to keep the muscles in his face neutral as they passed.

  Carey made eye contact with Terri who coquettishly tipped her head to the side and looked up, saying slowly. “Hi…taking a tour?” Her smile was infectious, and captivating.

  “Yes, we did.” Carey smiled as he spoke. Robert was surprised at Carey’s response. She was very attractive, and clearly liked Carey’s appearance, but he would have thought Carey was too controlled to respond.

  Carey pointed toward the airlock. “Here we are, Sir.” His bodyguard demeanor returned instantly.

  Robert had walked past Chris’ name tag on the wall without mentioning it, concerned that he might reveal something. To say nothing might give him leverage. To ask anything about Chris might give away his interest, and wasn’t likely to further his knowledge. Still…

  “Oh, yes, thank you.” Robert moved to the airlock and began to place his palm on the hand scanner, but instead stopped, and turned to Karlovich.

  “I noticed a name back there. Chris Stoker. It’s very familiar.”

  “Oh? He is on vacation right now, or I would introduce you.” Bill responded.

  Carey added flatly. “A Chris Stoker was recently reported killed. Wife Anne. Is this the same Stoker?”

  Bill Karlovich was visibly stunned. His voice had a stilted, almost stuttering undercurrent as he answered. “I…I had no idea. Yes, Anne. Anne, that’s his wife’s name. What happened?”

  Robert was glaring at Carey. So much for the legendary stoicism of the Secret Service, he thought, clenching his teeth. Carey noticed his look, and attempted a recovery.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure it is a coincidence. We scan what is happening in the area, and I just happened to recall a news feed. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

  “I don’t think so.” Karlovich had recovered, stiffening with chilly composure. “I’ll have this checked out immediately.”

  There was an awkward pause before Robert spoke. “I think perhaps we can help each other out here, Bill. Agent Carey, since you mentioned it, could you do a little research on what you remember? Perhaps you could locate the source of the information, and discover the details? That might be of some assistance to Director Karlovich.”

  “Yes, of course.” Carey answered, returning to his robotic style of speaking.

  “I’d appreciate it.” Karlovich said rigidly.

  Marty’s eyes had not been on Robert as they passed. He was staring at Carey, who had looked directly at him with what seemed to be a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He had watched and listened as Carey spoke to Terri. Now he could hear clearly what was being said while the group stood next to the airlock.

  Terri came up behind Marty and spoke quietly into his ear. “Did you hear what I just heard?”

  “Yes.” Marty answered woodenly.

 
; “Chris is dead?” Terri waited for a response. She moved to Marty’s side, trying to get his attention, and stop him from staring. “That guy—the tall buff looking one—do you know him?”

  “Who?” Marty was standing very still.

  “The tall guy who looks like some kind of bodyguard, that’s who.” Terri replied indignantly.

  “No, never saw him before.” Marty went quickly back to his computer, and started typing.

  Terri came up behind him. “Try the Post. They must have something on it.”

  “What?” Marty asked, distractedly.

  “Chris! Whatever it was that happened to Chris.” Terri said.

  “Right. Yeah, I’m looking it up.” Marty responded, still typing.

  “I’ll check, too.” Terri looked slightly skeptical as she scooted over to her cube. “’Right’ my ass,” she said under her breath.

  Robert and Carey left through the airlock. Karlovich had disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 36

  Walking to the car, Robert and the two agents were silent. No words were exchanged until Long asked “Where to?”

  “The office.” Robert’s stoic voice was colder than the parking lot. “So what was that all about?” His teeth ground together.

  “Sir?” Long answered, seeming bewildered.

  “Agent Carey.” Robert redirected his gaze. “Why did you blurt out the information about Stoker?”

  There was almost no delay in Carey’s response. “I thought since you brought it up, you wished to explore the subject. The Director appeared unaware of the situation.”

  “I asked you and Phil to keep this investigation internal, but you decided to share information with the NSA. The fact he was unaware is interesting, but…” Robert stopped lecturing for a moment. “Never mind.” He paused again. “Let’s keep this quiet, going forward.” Robert resolved to have Carey and Long outside of his meetings.

  “Yes, Sir.” Both responded.

  Robert added this odd Secret Service behavior to the list of data milling around his head. He went back to reviewing the meeting with Karlovich. Despite being extraordinarily cautious, had the Director really been unaware that a key security level employee had been shot? “That makes no sense,” he thought. “There’s no way Karlovich didn’t know. So, if he knew, he lied.”

  Had Karlovich known of Stoker’s connection to Robert? If he hadn’t before, Robert would bet that he did now. Did anyone else at the NSA know Chris was dead? Was there any way to prove that Karlovich had known?

  “Turn around.” Robert suddenly said forcefully. “We’re going back.”

  “Pull up by the front entrance. I’ll only be a minute.” Robert told the Agents. “You can wait here.” Hopping out of the car, he left Long and Carey behind and went in directly to the guard.

  “May I help you?” the guard asked as Robert approached.

  “Yes, I can’t seem to find my sunglasses. Can you check the lockers to see if I left them there?” He asked the guard.

  “Certainly.” The guard turned off his video monitors, tapped the off-station button and went to check the various unlocked spaces and visitor lockers. He came back empty-handed.

  “I’m sorry Sir, I don’t see them here.” He sat again, simultaneously reactivating his surveillance gear, and entering data in his log.

  “Thanks, they must be in the car somewhere. I’ll look again.” Robert turned as if to leave, then turned back. “Oh, I forgot to pass on my condolences for Chris Stoker’s murder to Bill. Could you give him that message?” Robert knew they had not discussed Chris outside the secure area. He waited for the guard’s reaction.

  “Yes, Sir,” came the response. The guard didn’t miss a beat in his typing.

  “Thank you.” Robert turned and took a step. “Hang on—can I scribble a note for Bill to give Chris’ wife? In fact, I’ll just write a quick condolence to Bill, too, if I can use a pen and paper.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The guard was expressionless as he handed over the materials.

  “Not even a blink or pause at the word ‘murder.’” Robert thought as he wrote two short notes, and handed them back to the guard. “Do you know if there’s a memorial fund set up, or donations are being taken for the wife?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Sir. I can ask the Director. Mrs. Stoker was here this morning to collect a few things left in Mr. Stoker’s outside locker.”

  “Thanks—don’t worry about it. I’ll call Bill later.” Robert turned and headed out the door.

  “Did you get what you needed, Sir?” Carey asked from the front seat.

  “Yes, I did.” Robert had indeed learned something. He had his first solid lead. Karlovich had lied to him. “My first suspect,” Robert thought, as he sat back in the seat.

  Chapter 37

  Sitting on the exercise bike Christen had just peddled past the one hundred-mile mark. Riding the bike was already getting old. The TV wasn’t much help. No cable; just an antenna. The selection was extremely limited. The nights were slow and lonely, but the days were like living in hell.

  Mary had been right about everything. They were in the middle of nowhere. Without TV, the silence was deafening. A vacationer might have found it restful, but as a captive it was depressing and terrifying. Christen was cut off from everything that was familiar to her. The digital world she’d attached herself to had been amputated from her body and mind. She found herself constantly fighting back tears of depression and fear.

  Taking her freedom and social world hadn’t been enough. They had taken her dignity, too. She had no bathroom door to close for privacy. It had been removed, so when she sat on the toilet she could be seen from anywhere in the living room. Christen tried hiding behind a towel or resting it across her lap. That helped a little, but even the semi-public dorm life hadn’t prepared her for this feeling of violation. She hadn’t showered. She couldn’t imagine it. The curtain was clear plastic. She was terrified at the thought of being more vulnerable than she already was, and being naked seemed the ultimate in susceptibility. She was losing trust in her own thoughts. Her own conscious and subconscious were teaming up to drive her mad.

  Her only solace was the way Mary totally ignored her. The only time she even noticed her was when she brought the food. That happened three times a day, like clockwork. The food was always vacuum-sealed, microwaved, and came with a glass of water. Tough, flavorless pancakes and water at eight, Salisbury steak and water at eleven-thirty, and turkey dinner with water at six. Then, without a word, Mary would turn off the TV and lights at ten.

  Christen had listened longingly to the sound of a soda can popping open with its characteristic fizzing from the other room. She hadn’t been offered any, and she was afraid to ask. Mary stayed in the other half of the cabin. There was no radio or TV over there, at least as far as Christen could tell. Mary must have been reading a book, or maybe she had headphones for music or TV, Christen thought. Maybe Mary didn’t need distractions, instead just sitting inhumanly silent all day. Occasionally Mary would go into the other bathroom, leaving the door cracked enough so that she could hear sounds. When she came out she would go back into the kitchen, out of sight again. It was driving Christen insane.

  She heard the microwave door snap open and then close loudly. A few beeps and the smell of Salisbury steak crept into the room. Christen knew the drill and quickly slid the coffee table over so she could set up the TV tray. She worked quickly to straighten the room. Mary would notice if anything was out of place, and would stand there silently with the food. She would remain expressionless, waiting for Christen to fix the problem before she would leave the meal. Taking her place on the sofa, Christen placed her hands on her lap, sat up straight, and waited behind the empty tray.

  The moment the eleven-thirty commercials came on Christen’s TV, Mary marched into the room with the heated plastic food dish in her gloved left hand. Her right held a fast food packet containing a napkin and a plastic fork, and a plastic glass of water. She wore black sweat
s and grey running shoes. Her closely cropped jet-black hair looked oily and matted, her pale skin made her dark eyes and thick eyebrows more glaring. She said nothing, just placed the food onto the TV tray, set down the water, and turned to leave.

  “May I have a soda?” Christen’s pathetic sounding words quivered with fear. Christen cringed slightly at the sound of her own voice. She wanted to take the request back the second she heard it move past her lips. Mary stood silently, her back to Christen. She didn’t move. Christen began to shrink back as the soundless moment seemed to stretch on.

  Finally, Mary walked away into the kitchen. Christen felt herself breath again, but she was afraid to think. She just stared at the dull brown gravy, half covering the dead, brown-grey colored meat steaming in the dish. Christen was stunned to see Mary return with a Coke in her hand.

  Christen broke into a half-smile, and tried to appear grateful. “Thank you,” she said.

  Mary’s face had no expression, which on her, looked like a frown as she turned and walked away.

  Christen picked up the remote and turned up the TV volume a little. It was a rerun of “Friends” and at that moment one of the young female actresses giggled.

  Mary burst around the corner. Her face was stretched across her head with anger. In three strides she covered the room and grabbed the Coke can, her face low to the tray and glaring at Christen.

  “You think this is funny?” Mary raised the can.

  Christen turned quickly, jerking up her arms to protect her face. The handcuff on her wrist yanked at the chain. The heavy links caught the tray and spun it toward Mary’s leg. It fell short of hitting Mary, glancing off the coffee table and crashing to the floor.