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

by J Russ Briley

  Sitting in Robert’s chair, Hunt placed an envelope on the center of the desk. He casually pushed everything away to clear a large round space, making the bright envelope more obvious. He leaned back, studying the effect. This sort of operation felt good. Just like old times. A corner of his mouth rose in a half grin, as he slowly snuffed out his burning cigar in the leather of Robert’s chair arm.

  He decided it was time for breakfast. Hunt rose, leaving a curl of smoke wafting through the room. Passing a few people on his way out, he thought about the perfect place for steak, eggs, and a great cup of coffee.

  Robert’s phone lay silent. Friday had been quiet. Too quiet, Robert thought, but it had given him the time he needed to get thinking clearly again. With each tick of his watch, he knew the plans to compromise OPOV were moving forward. He was no closer to stopping them. Until he figured out how to put the brakes on all of this Grady would be on the run, and his life with Tracie and the boys would be unsettled. “Unsettled…that’s an understated way of putting it,” he thought.

  He wanted to make sense of things. He sat at the desk in his home study, trying to untangle his notes. He had to figure out some new angle, or a line of questioning that would lead to an answer. His jaw was cramped from clenching his teeth, his head hurt, and his neck was painfully stiff.

  He had spent most of Friday’s evening hours going over his files and notes, trying to see a connection or pattern that would lead to the answers he needed. Who would willingly commit murder to remove his former boss, Brady? Who would then have Chris killed, and try to get rid of Grady?

  Robert couldn’t fathom how any acquisition of power could make murder justifiable. Logic demanded there be more motivation, and yet the same facts and conclusions existed when he reviewed his notes.

  Robert forced himself to think outside his comfort zone. He knew that people would often commit heinous acts based on three criteria: first, the belief that they needed something; second, having opportunity present itself; and third, their belief that the odds of getting caught were negligible. Desire, greed, and envy were strong, but often uncontrollable human emotions. The idea of “need” was sometimes based on a skewed or sociopathic impression. If “need” existed, opportunity could be created, but it generally took an impression of power to be sure that an individual wouldn’t be caught.

  He slapped his pen down on the desk in disgust. This analysis wasn’t getting him anywhere. He wanted to slam his fist down on the hard wood, but that would only give him sore knuckles to add to his list of frustrations.

  Reining in his irritation, Robert tried to think. He had to think. The vote was scheduled for Tuesday. He kept telling himself that if something went wrong, the resulting vote wouldn’t create a crisis. He was still convinced that the infiltration was either to discredit the President and his Administration, or that the first use was simply a test, in preparation for distorting the outcome of a bigger voting issue. The first vote was unimportant, but any failure would undermine public confidence in OPOV—if the failure became public information. If it didn’t reach the public’s ears, then the whole operation would be kept running in secret. It would be ready to use for some other purpose. That was a much bigger concern.

  Robert had too many problems. He had no direct evidence of an infiltration, he had no evidentiary link between the murders and Grady’s attack, and he had too many people expecting quick results for what still was labeled an “unofficial” investigation. The President and his father were his biggest problems. He had to deliver if he didn’t want to see his career go down the drain.

  Tracie called at six that evening. The kids were fine. She had no intention of coming back, and she didn’t want to talk about it to Robert. The call was short. Robert had expected her to be nurturing anger all day. He figured she’d be ready to unload on him, but she hadn’t, which left him even more annoyed. She had gone into deep-freeze mode. He knew her cold demeanor could last for months.

  Robert’s empty frozen food boxes were stacking up in the garbage three at a time. The agents had offered to bring in food, but defrosting frozen was the easiest option. He suddenly felt suffocated at home. He thought about going in to the office, but there was nothing productive he could accomplish there—especially on the weekend. He paced back and forth by his desk, in the hall, and on the back patio, but it was too cold for his thoughts to process. He soon returned to the study.

  Agent Carey stood nearby. He had shown up for the day shift, commenting that Peter wasn’t feeling well. Robert kept glancing toward Carey, wondering what his role was in all of this, and why he was covering for Hunt.

  Robert wanted to interrogate Carey, but instead he watched and waited for Carey to show his hand. Carey remained enigmatic. He was distant, even disinterested.

  When the night shift came on, Carey left without a word. Robert spent the night in and out of sleep, tossing in bed.

  With the Saturday morning shift change, Carey was back. When Robert asked about Agent Karelonski, Carey said he assumed that Peter was still sick. Robert watched as Carey and the other agent, John, walked through the house checking every nook and cranny. That action was repeated with every shift change.

  When the phone rang Carey was standing just outside Robert’s study. Robert read the cell phone display. The caller ID showed “Blocked.” Robert hesitated; normally he would avoid unidentified callers. Then he remembered Grady and grabbed the receiver.

  “Yes?” He said quickly.

  “Mr. Carlton, I’m glad I caught you.” Senator Farrell’s somewhat strained sounding voice answered. “I need to talk with you. I’d like you to meet me for lunch today, instead of Monday.”

  Robert was a little stunned. Farrell? Calling him on a Saturday to meet for lunch? Whatever the Senator wanted couldn’t be good. “Senator, I’ve got a full schedule right now with OPOV debuting Tuesday,” he parried. “Could we stay with Monday?”

  Farrell cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Robert,” the Senator said, dropping the formality and sounding firm. “I know it’s the weekend, but this can’t wait, and I can’t discuss it over the phone. We must meet today. Believe me, you will be glad we got together.” Farrell had started off solidly, but began to sound rushed, and anxious. “Can you suggest somewhere off the beaten track, so that we won’t be disturbed?”

  Robert was surprised again. This wasn’t the Senator’s reputed style of operation. What about this meeting could be so important? Robert considered refusing. It was always risky meeting with a Senator when unprepared. They rarely brought “gifts.” More often than not they brought trouble. Robert had to balance an appearance of control with his lack of knowledge. It was a challenge anytime, but right now it felt like a stroll along a cliff edge.

  Robert decided to roll the dice. Farrell and Gregg tended to run together in political arenas, but Farrell sometimes talked a little too much. It was possible that Robert could get information about this OPOV issue from Farrell that Gregg wouldn’t provide.

  “How about the Key Bridge Marriott on sixty-six?” Robert had been thinking about Grady, so the place popped easily into his mind.

  “The Marriott?” Farrell looked toward the corner of the room. The man standing in the shadows shook his head. Looking down at a list on the table, Farrell countered with, “How about Carl’s? It’s that barbecue place near The Marriott?” The man nodded his approval.

  “Yes, I’ve seen it.” Robert responded. “I can be there at 11:30. Does that work for you?”

  “That’s fine, Robert.” Farrell said, and hung up.

  From the corner shadow of Farrell’s room a deep voice spoke. “That was excellent work, Senator. Continue as I’ve instructed, and everything will be taken care of.” Blair stepped from the shadow. “You’ll leave at 11.”

  Robert thought Farrell had sounded odd. The abrupt hang up seemed out of character for the suave Senator. Robert wondered if Gregg had told him to find out what Robert had come up with on the investigation. Was he so much under
Gregg’s thumb? Robert always considered Farrell to be equally as powerful as Gregg, but perhaps he’d been misled. Robert’s heart began to beat a little faster as he considered another possibility. Was Farrell directly involved with the OPOV problem?

  “Carey, get the car ready. We’ll leave just before 11.” Robert went back to his study to gather up his work.

  Carey had driven, while John texted an update to their command. Robert sat in the back of the nondescript Secret Service vehicle. They encountered normal weekend traffic on the way to Carl’s. Arriving ten minutes early, they had to wait for the restaurant to open. Carey had been quiet on the drive, and was now standing silently inside the restaurant’s front door. Robert had followed the hostess to a table. John was still going through the kitchen, and looking around every corner. Carey stood watching the parking lot through the door’s sidelight.

  Robert hadn’t been waiting long when the senator arrived. Robert recognized his tall, lanky form immediately. Carey remained standing near the door, and pointed Farrell toward the table. Robert was seated in the back corner at John’s suggestion. John now stood nearby. The place wasn’t busy. They had the room almost to themselves. The few patrons paid no attention to Robert. Farrell came over and sat down.

  Carey stayed by the entrance. From his vantage point he could watch the doors and still see the table. The entrance was a typical cold-weather entry, with two sets of doors and a foyer between them. There was one sidelight window by each door, showing a narrow portion of the parking lot. It wasn’t an ideal situation for a secure meeting, but the parking lot was relatively quiet.

  Farrell seemed uncomfortable. He greeted Robert with some of his usual aplomb, but appeared distracted. Robert decided to take control of the meeting. He leaned forward, his hands interlaced.

  “Senator, you called this meeting. Would you like to get to the point and tell me what we’re doing here?” Robert narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the Senator’s face. He intentionally lowered his voice tone to sound authoritative, and slowed his speech to make himself sound calm. In his chest, his heart was pounding, pulse high and palms sweaty. The trip over, riding with the silent Carey, had heightened his anxiety. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d decided that Farrell might have some connection to the plan to undermine OPOV. Farrell was known to have some dubious connections. He’d managed to keep his public image clean, but Washington insiders muttered that he was in the pockets of certain lobbyists, and had underworld connections. Robert kept worrying that he was going to be thrown another curve ball. That was one thing this investigation didn’t need.

  Farrell was struggling. Perspiration beaded lightly near his hairline. He pressed his left hand down on his shaking leg to make it stop moving. Farrell hadn’t realized how much he needed a fix. He had to cross his ankles to keep his knee from bouncing up and down. It was freezing outside, and chilly in the restaurant, but his shirt was soaked under his arms. Sweat began to bead lower on his forehead as he pulled out the envelope, and set it on the table. He looked around nervously.

  Farrell decided to get this over with. He pushed the envelope toward Robert. “The information in there implicates Gregg in your investigation of the OPOV penetration.”

  Robert was stunned. Placing his hand on it, he said unbelievingly, “Senator Gregg?” Robert had not expected anything like this. Questions were racing through his mind. Robert took a breath to regain his composure before continuing. He decided he’d had enough of the subterfuge. Farrell was going to give him some answers.

  “Senator, I don’t understand.” Robert said directly. “Out of the blue you contact me, and now you’re dropping Gregg’s name, implicating him in a possible crime? How is this evidence relevant, and why are you giving it to me? Why would the Senator perpetrate an offense against OPOV? Senator Gregg actually helped begin the investigation into how OPOV might be compromised. Why would he initiate an action that would uncover his own involvement?”

  Farrell was looking sick, dark-reddish blotches lay under his eyes. “He’s been keeping tabs on you the whole time, hasn’t he? Been a step ahead at every turn?” He questioned, sounding harried. “Did it ever cross your mind that Gregg might have an agenda? That he might be the puppet master in this thing?” Farrell watched Robert’s reactions. He could see the questions running through Robert’s head. He suddenly felt more comfortable. This was going to be easier than he’d thought. “You missed that one, didn’t you? Everybody’s got an agenda, Robert. If Gregg wanted to keep control, then he’d have to control the investigation. You’ve been in Washington long enough to know that. Hell, look at your own father! Nobody follows the legal version of right and wrong. We work the gray areas every day, and when we head into questionable territory, we divert the attention away from ourselves. That’s politics. It’s not easy to cross the line, it’s inevitable, and the only way to get anything done.” Farrell’s voice was still agitated, but now became quieter. In almost a whisper he said, “Look, Gregg is behind compromising the OPOV system. It’s as simple as that.”

  Robert began opening the envelope.

  “Not here.” Farrell hissed. His hand and his insistence stopped Robert.

  “What’s in here?” Robert wanted to yank out the contents and look.

  “There’s enough in there to finish Gregg. He’d have to step down if it became public. It’s not a direct link to OPOV, but you can use it as leverage. It’s not the kind of thing you can use in court, and you’ll have to handle it alone. I can’t be involved.”

  Robert was angry now. He wanted evidence he could use. He needed it, in fact, to protect himself, and to make this an official investigation. “Then, Senator, this stuff’s no good to me.” He shoved the envelope back toward Farrell. “I need legally obtained evidence that’s admissible in court.”

  “What I’m giving you will help you get it. Listen to what I’m telling you.” Farrell looked at Robert with a sudden harshness. “You can stop these people in their tracks, and give the President what he needs. That’s what you want, isn’t it? This won’t get you your headlines, but it will lead you to what you need to solve your problem.”

  Robert suddenly realized that he wanted more. He was feeling an emotion that he hadn’t felt since law school. This wasn’t about being recognized for his work, or about getting his promotion; he wanted to know everything. He wanted to hold these men accountable because they were corrupting the people’s right to choose. In fact, they were corrupting the core principles of democracy that had created the U.S. republic. He wanted to know why Chris had died. He wanted to prosecute the perpetrators, and he wanted Grady’s attackers brought down. He wanted justice.

  Farrell interrupted his thoughts, sounding nervous again. “This is all you’re getting from me, Robert. No public statement; no witness for the prosecution. My name stays out of this. Period. I’m doing you a favor, but I’m not putting my neck on the line.” Farrell was looking paler, as if he might collapse, but he was firm.

  Robert was thinking quickly. Farrell knew as well as he did that it was commonplace to use inadmissible, but damaging information to get answers, and to manipulate, so the envelope probably contained something useful. If he accepted the envelope, would there be enough inside to either lead him to evidence, or to push the perpetrators out of their spheres of influence? If Gregg was leading the infiltration, could he be brought down? Would there be enough to satisfy the President?

  Robert knew that if OPOV was compromised, a public conviction might be useful in deflecting the problem away from The President. Played well, the President could be the hero, along with everyone in the Justice Department. He was sure that was what his father had been thinking with the mention of indictments.

  The President didn’t want to undermine public confidence in OPOV with a scandal, however; any issue that became public might reflect badly on his administration.

  Robert tried to stall. “You’re talking corruption and extortion. Call it political pressure if you lik
e, but you’re apparently not providing anything I can use, legally. I still need admissible evidence, or the situation could still be in play.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Robert! This is how it’s done. This gets you what you need. You can use it to get your proof, but you may not need the proof to get what you want.” Farrell responded, sliding the envelope across the table again.

  Robert put on his best poker face, and pushed the envelope back. “That’s not what Justice does, Senator. You’ll have to handle this yourself. Otherwise you’ll open yourself up to being investigated.”

  Farrell’s eyes filled with panic. He tried hard to regain his normally commanding tone, but ended up with a harsh whisper. “You have to do this! He’s got to be stopped, and you’re letting him go if you don’t take action. What about the citizens’ right to be heard? What about keeping the vote in the hands of the people?”

  Robert shook his head mockingly. “Nice sound bite, Senator, but I don’t believe for a minute that you are worried about Joe Blow’s right to vote. What’s your motivation in all of this? What do you get? And just how is Gregg involved? Have you got some score you’re trying to settle with him?” Robert hoped to make Farrell talk more.

  “Look, you don’t need to know why, or how, and you don’t need a courtroom to do what’s right. You want to wrap up your investigation? You want your promotion? Use this.” He pushed the envelope back at Robert and stood up abruptly. “Sometimes you have to do what’s right for yourself. Screw the rest.” His lanky stride pushed him quickly toward the door.

  “Like you’re doing now?” Robert called after him.

  Farrell halted for a second, looking back. “Yes. Exactly like I’m doing right now.” He turned and was out the door.

  Robert had the impression that the envelope held a live rattlesnake. He was torn between ethics, politics, and getting the job done. Farrell’s rhetoric aside, he had a problem to solve. Whatever was in the envelope might help get answers, or it might create more problems. He didn’t like the idea of exerting pressure on a powerful Senator. A move like that could backfire more easily than it might succeed.