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

by J Russ Briley

  Hunt tried not to show any surprise in his voice when he said, “So, we’ve switched horses?”

  “Yes, we got a better offer.” Blair told him.

  “Carlton may not be satisfied with only getting Gregg.”

  “He’ll still get the NSA. We’re running out of time, and so is he. Gregg will have to be enough. You know what to do with Carlton.”

  “I do.” Hunt felt a little of the old excitement of his job stir. This was more like it. He preferred action. “What about Karlovich?”

  “He’s still going down. He just doesn’t know it, yet.” Blair responded. “Pick up your favorite sandwich for lunch tomorrow. The envelope for Farrell will come with it.”

  “What do you want me to do with Gregg’s original packet?” Hunt asked.

  “Destroy it.” Blair ended the call.

  Blair sent a text to Carey. “Not needed for delivery. Take next Peter K. shift.”

  Tracking Grady had been little trouble for Carey. Grady had made too many mistakes, as most amateurs did. Grady thought he had outsmarted any tracking by setting up a separate answering service. He’d been right to assume he could be traced when he called Robert’s office, but he hadn’t understood how prepared they were to locate him. Carey had connected into Robert’s line the day Robert had called for security—his call had provided the justification. The trace revealed the answering service. The service’s records didn’t track the number of an incoming phone, but all Carey had to do was request a report from cell carriers that listed every cell phone calling the answering service in the last 48 hours. For the Secret Service it was all too easy.

  Grady’s cell was not identified specifically on the lists, but four pay-as-you-go phones were displayed. A call to two of the cell companies found that only one of these types of phones had been bought and activated within the last 48 hours. That information led Carey to cell site location maps, showing the location of each call made from the phone. The Homeland Security laws made it simple; no search warrants were needed, and thanks to counter-terrorist laws, he was able to tap the number. Carey had chuckled to himself, thinking that Herbert Hoover would have loved this new world of access to anyone’s information under the guise of being a potential “threat.”

  Carey had pulled the last two years’ worth of Grady’s credit card bills, matching zip code of charges to the GPS locations of Grady’s current calls. There were a couple of restaurants, a ski resort, and one B&B on the list that coordinated with the direction Grady seemed to be heading. The odds were good that Carey had found Grady’s hideaway for the night.

  Blair, too, was thinking about Grady. He dialed a number on his phone. The woman who answered was annoyed with the short notice, but the money offer guaranteed her acquiescence. Her commitment was expected, as both of them knew, but Blair enjoyed the process of her capitulation.

  Blair hoped Grady planned to dig in for several nights. His hunch was that Grady would be vulnerable in his current situation, and most of his hunches were dead right.

  Chapter 57

  At the NSA building Marty had fidgeted around his cube all morning. Terri had noticed how he avoided walking past her that morning. She also noticed that he couldn’t sit still during a half-hour department meeting. Something was up. When Terri asked Marty to lunch he responded positively, and quickly got ready to go—which was definitely not his normal behavior.

  When it came their turn to go in the airlock, Terri joked, “You go first. After all, I’m a women’s libber.”

  “Age before beauty, I guess.” Marty replied.

  “Thanks! And you can get the stuff out of the lockers.” She smiled back.

  Terri waited until Marty had entered the airlock and the door was closing behind him. Suddenly she spoke aloud to no one in particular, “Damn, I forgot to sign off!”

  Moving quickly, Terri went past the opening to her cubical and directly into Marty’s. She punched in Marty’s access code and password. The network confirmed the password and crosschecked the computer’s location. Scanning through Marty’s files she located the most recent backup of the file Marty had changed. She verified the date and the correct bite count. Locating the file on the system, she deleted it. She then changed the date and time on Marty’s computer. Next she took the backup file and got ready to copy it over. Holding her watch up where she could see it, she waited for the second hand to come full circle then hit the save button. Pulling up the file listing she confirmed that the file date, time, and size matched with the way it was yesterday, but still added the 8 minutes. The only way Marty would notice her change was if he checked his own editing, the checksum, or the network time log.

  Resetting the date and time, she signed him off and went back to the airlock.

  “Hey, where did you go?” Marty asked her as she came out of the airlock; his arms outstretched with their locker items separated into each hand.

  “Sorry, I forgot to sign off. You know how touchy Karlovich can be.” Terri responded. “Then I got stuck in line...”

  “Tell me about it. Let’s go for pizza. I could use a beer.” Marty’s hangover was threatening to come back, but the feeling of taking action against his blackmailers was a relief.

  Chapter 58

  Mulling over the day’s events as he sat at home, Robert was frustrated. He had been hoping to fit a few more pieces into the puzzle. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he might not be able to prove anything in his investigation. Those trying to compromise OPOV might very well succeed.

  Robert continued to list possible motives and perpetrators in his head. Terrorists, anarchists, and lobbyist groups clicked through his brain. His mental gymnastics ground down to the three most likely reasons to target the system: one, to gain money or power from the effort; two, to break down confidence in the OPOV program; or three, to make the President look inept.

  But this plot also required opportunity, and long-term strategy. Infiltrating the NSA, and destroying a program like OPOV was a subtle infiltration. Foreign interests usually targeted economic factors, and terrorists were prone to bold acts that created panic. Lobbyists’ strategies played out in different arenas.

  This type of manipulation surrounding OPOV was a combination of expensive technical cyber warfare, and old-fashioned Mafia-type techniques. Deep pockets were behind it all.

  What about the money angle, Robert thought? If this was all about money, it would have to be a very big financial issue. It would have to be something that could bring down a large corporation or industry. Something that was significant enough to damage the country’s economy. Robert couldn’t see how manipulating the vote would change an economic disaster, or a company’s specific earnings. Even changing the outcome of who’d been elected President couldn’t have changed the rolling momentum of the Great Recession, or the years that followed.

  OPOV had been the President’s campaign promise, and a failure of the system would make his promises look empty. Oddly enough, this seemed the most likely answer among the motives. The act of crippling the President’s pet program would result in a decline in public support for his administration. If the President looked weak, it would transfer power to his opponents.

  Robert wondered whether his conclusion was valid. Undermining OPOV was a risky political play. A scandal would be cheaper, and easier by far to create; real or not.

  And assuming that he’d hit on the answer, he still didn’t know who would be behind this effort. Robert shook his head. The numbers were overwhelming. Undermining the President’s plans was the full time job of at least half of Congress, plenty of political groups and lobbyists, many large companies, and at least two major news networks. And those were just the groups from within the United States. Throw in foreign interests, and the list exploded in size.

  Robert had come full circle in his analysis. While the motivation might be to undermine the President, or even confidence in the government, this was about controlling the outcome of many votes. Controlling the software in OPOV wou
ld mean political influence over many voting issues, over a period of years. It was about long-term control of the country from within, invisible and untraceable.

  Robert knew one thing was undeniable: the upcoming vote was only a rehearsal for bigger issues.

  The Carey/Hunt connection continued to bother Robert. Why was Carey editing his reports to Robert? Was Hunt still associated with some classified operation in the Secret Service? Was Hunt, or Carey for that matter, acting outside his position in the Service, or was he acting in accordance with instructions from a superior?

  Robert’s mind hashed and re-hashed the question until he got a headache. Finally he left the study in search of Ibuprofen to release his stiffening neck.

  Chapter 59

  Sitting in her cubicle at the NSA, Terri had been listening to Marty’s movements since lunch. He had done nothing unusual. He’d been very quiet; exactly what she expected. She’d regularly pulled up the activity listing to see if the computer file had been modified again, or if Marty’s name showed on the activity list. Since he had changed the bite count last time, she hoped he would make the same mistake if he tried to change the program again. It would make any changes easier to catch.

  At quarter ‘til five, Karlovich emerged from his office to do his bed-check rounds through the cubicles. As always, he talked only to those who made eye contact with him. Marty had been an exception to this last time, but Karlovich only gave Marty a visual once over today, and continued on. Arriving at Terri’s cube, their eyes met.

  “Terri, life still treating you well?” He asked jovially.

  Terri turned around the rest of the way in her chair, both legs exposed right up to mid-thigh. “My life is still in turmoil. My neighbor is a peeping Tom.” Her skirt slid up a little farther as she moved in her chair. “I think he’s peeking into my bathroom at night, but it’s okay.” She added, sounding as though she was discussing the weather.

  “That sounds great. If you need something, I’m always available to help.” Karlovich answered in his usual manner, seemingly oblivious to her commentary. His eyes never left her thighs and the edge of her skirt.

  Terri smiled and turned back to her computer screen.

  Karlovich broke off his stare and finished his rounds, heading back to his office. Terri sprinted over to Marty’s cube. “He’s such a sleaze. I could get him out on a sexual harassment charge in a heartbeat. What do you think?”

  Marty grunted a little, but that was the extent of his reaction.

  “So, what are you working on?” She leaned over his shoulder toward the computer screen.

  “Nothing, just some stats.” The screen was full of keystroke counts and access figures. It was a chart that would bore or confuse most people. Marty was working it into a nice-looking graph that Karlovich would use to justify the department budgets.

  “Close it out, and let’s get out of here.” Terri coaxed.

  “You go on ahead, I’ll finish up here in a little bit.” Marty sounded distracted, but he was feeling emotionally exhausted. The stress, pressure, relief and anxiety were taking a huge toll.

  Terri had to make this work. She couldn’t afford to be subtle, but Marty wouldn’t know how to handle it if she came on too strong.

  “I’m bored, and I’ll bet you are, too. Let’s go to dinner. I know this new restaurant that’s opened up. It’s supposed to be the best Italian you’ve ever tasted. I’ve heard they have a linguini in clam sauce to die for.”

  She knew that would get him. Rich, creamy sauces were his weakness, and he loved Italian. His head moved back from the monitor slightly. She had gotten his attention.

  “They also have a special frozen drink made with amaretto, peach schnapps and something else that everyone is raving about. Oh, and the cheesecake sounds fabulous...”

  “All right, but I’ll pass on the frozen whatever it is.” Marty acquiesced.

  Terri was visibly pleased. “Great, let’s go. We can hang out in the bar ‘til we get hungry.”

  “I’m kind of hungry now.” Marty said dolefully. He was starting to worry about the change he’d made. He had spent the entire afternoon wrestling with his anxieties. When the kidnappers tried to access the file he was told to modify, would his change be discovered? His only hope was that Karlovich, or someone in the office would spot it first, and take it out on him publicly enough that Christen’s kidnappers would know that he’d tried, but had been discovered. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t take it out on Christen. He was silently begging them to let her go.

  He knew that his odds of making this work were worse than they’d be for winning the lottery twice in a row, but it was all he had. He had to take the risk in order to delay them. If for some reason they didn’t test the change before the vote next Tuesday, Marty would have more time to think of some way out of this mess. They still needed him, since he was the senior programmer on that section of code. That meant he could make changes without getting approvals. He was the only one who could. He hoped that would be enough to protect his and Christen’s lives.

  Marty needed an escape. Dinner with Terri sounded better than obsessing over this mess.

  “Hello!” Terri stood behind Marty’s chair with her coat on. “Anybody home?”

  Marty snapped out of his self-absorption. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Think while you put your coat on. I need a drink.”

  They didn’t talk until they reached the parking lot.

  “Let’s take your car.” Terri suggested.

  “Sure. Where is this place?” Marty was so mentally overwhelmed with his problem that he had to ask directions twice. He felt like his head was in a fog.

  They arrived at the restaurant about fifteen minutes later. The bar was already getting busy with happy-hour patrons. Everything was two for one, and Terri had two of the popular frozen Bellinis. Marty had two, very tall beer steins filled with honey brown ale.

  “Isn’t this great?” Terri seemed pleased with her surroundings. The quietly elegant décor was understated. The bar and chairs were finished in fine mahogany, and oil paintings hung from the expansive walls, but the environment felt open and spacious. It was upscale yuppie heaven.

  “Very nice.” Marty answered reflexively.

  “It talks!” Terri smiled at Marty. “And they said it couldn’t be done.”

  Marty broke a small smile back. “Sorry, I’m just wrapped up in something.”

  “Well, get over it! Relax a little. You might enjoy it. Here try these.” She slid the appetizer of fried calamari toward him. “They’re delicious.”

  Marty wrinkled his nose at the golden rings.

  Terri was clearly enjoying herself. “It’s great. You’ll like it,” she insisted.

  “I’ve had it before. It was tough, tasteless, and fishy.” Marty protested.

  “This is different. Try it.” Terri nudged them a little closer.

  Marty slowly picked up a piece as if it was radioactive, and dipped it in the eye-catching, flamingo-colored sauce. Paprika, mayonnaise, and mustard filled his mouth along with crispy squid. He slowly chewed the tidbit, and was surprised at how much he liked it. Before long, he and Terri were racing each other to the last one.

  The bar was packed now, and they realized the tables were filling up. The second set of double happy-hour drinks arrived just when the hostess told them their dinner table was available. With a drink in each hand, they followed her to their table.

  Terri had been right. The food was excellent. Marty was thoroughly enjoying himself. Her carefree laughter and the drinks were drawing him in, and warming him up. Marty was happily ignoring his problems, and slurring his words just a little.

  They skipped the cheesecake. They were both too full, and the after dinner drinks sounded better. They ordered two Keoki coffees. They were smooth and warm, just perfect for facing the winter weather outside. Terri insisted on picking up the check.

  “You can get it next time,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll make
it more expensive.” The bill was well over a hundred dollars. Marty didn’t even notice. He was definitely not in any condition to drive. As they walked out, Terri glibly told the hostess. “Don’t worry, I’m driving.”

  Marty’s car was nearby. He didn’t protest when Terri held out her hand for the keys. She adjusted the seat and mirror, then off they went. Terri drove Marty’s car with as much reckless abandon as she drove her own. She had been drinking just as much as he had, but in the glow of alcohol and conversation Marty didn’t notice. When the car stopped, he realized they’d arrived at Terri’s house.

  Chapter 60

  Arcing across the Northeast, clouds muted the landscape into a deep grey. The wind below them was relatively calm. Snowflakes fell silently, coming to rest in light, fluffy mounds.

  Grady woke in time for the last breakfast seating in Sue’s dining room. Sue’s breakfasts alone were worth the trip to her B&B. He threw on some clothes, ran his hands over his hair, then used the toothbrush and toothpaste he’d purchased. He’d forgotten to buy a razor, but fortunately Sue had stashed a throw-away razor in with some courtesy supplies by the sink. That was lucky, he thought. The last time he tried to grow a beard it had looked horrible. He left the cottage for the main house.

  As promised there were Lingonberry stuffed waffles, plus Canadian bacon, fresh squeezed orange juice, and beautiful pastries in a dainty lace-lined basket. Scrambled cheese egg blintzes rounded out the meal. Grady dug in, ignoring the calorie count.

  The only drawback to breakfast was the chitchat that came with staying in a B&B. Everyone seemed to want to talk to everyone else around the breakfast table. It was the only thing Grady didn’t like about the place, but he felt pleasantly sociable today. A few curious stares reminded him that his face was still looking bruised, so he casually mentioned a recent car accident in conversation. He mentioned resting up at the B&B, and soon escaped to the solitude of his cottage.