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

by J Russ Briley

  “Feeling better, Honey?” The woman asked with a grin.

  “I’ll show you just how good in a few minutes.” Morgan told her, recovering enough to wink at her. He rolled up on his elbow. “Now for the champagne,” he said, stretching out his arm toward the bottle. “Interested in a little romp on…?” The sentence faded as his eyes suddenly widened and he coughed violently.

  The pure, uncut drug had invaded every organ in his body. His bloodstream pulsed violently as his heart seized and released with built up pressure. He convulsed, hitting the coffee table with his leg, knocking some small decorative art onto the carpet. The woman stood and moved away from his pitching body. Farrell vomited across the floor.

  Once he stopped moving, she watched for his convulsive breathing to ebb. His wheezing finally end with a long, gurgling exhale.

  Tucking the drug vial back into the pouch in her purse, she pulled out a small plastic bag of cocaine. She opened it, and tapped out a dusting of the normal strength powder to the side of the table. She dropped the packet next to Farrell’s hand. Moving to the bar she put the wine bottle back into the refrigerator, and the glasses back on the shelf. Behind the bar she pressed on a portion of the wainscoting. The picture frame molding hid a door that clicked open. Inside was a pair of security recorders. She popped out the disks and placed them in her purse. Placing fresh disks on the sliding drawers, she gave her blonde wig a reassuring tug to make sure it was straight. After a glance around the room, she pushed the “close” buttons on both machines and shut the hidden cabinet door. As the machines booted the disks she exited the brownstone, closing the door behind her, and calmly walked away. The camera equipment began recording just in time to capture her from the back.

  Chapter 70

  Sitting in their office in the lowest level of The Pentagon, Pat and Gail watched three computer monitors. They had been trying to break into the NSA OPOV security system ever since Grady had visited them. Hooked on the project, they’d kept working through the weekend. Gail had succeeded in breaking into the moderately secure area just outside the main OPOV firewall. Pat had set up two machines identical to the voting servers used by the individual states. It took several code breaks to get all the downloaded software he needed, but breaking codes was his business. His computers now looked like carbon copies of North and South Dakota’s.

  The OPOV schedule called for a system wide check and verification at 1 p.m. Saturday. This would give the NSA time to fix any apparent problems before the vote on Tuesday. This was the standard test procedure, according to the manual Gail had located. Pat and Gail now watched the monitors, waiting.

  At 1:15 the North Dakota server signed on remotely, and the code started running across the screen. Pat’s set-up would record every command string. A few minutes later, the South Dakota system signed on. Pat smiled at Gail. Now they could analyze the data.

  Pat concentrated on the system comparison. He had selected the Dakotas because they were so similar in population, time zone, number of counties, and number of elected officials, making it easier to spot any variations between the two sets of data. It didn’t take long. He now had four lines of code that did not match. The first looked like the state ID he had used to copy them, so it had been easy to spot. The second lines each looked like a long polynomial. The third and fourth were decimal numbers.

  He handed over the polynomials to Gail, who began crosschecking them. Pat wrote the decimal numbers on the wallboard.

  “Vote counts!” Pat suddenly exclaimed.

  “Really?” Gail turned around.

  “Yep, these are vote counts. ‘Yes,’ and ‘No’. They match up with typical Dakotas’ ballot turnout.”

  Gail came over and looked at the numbers. A quick comparison to the state’s voter demographics confirmed it. “They seem a bit inflated, even for a national ballot. Could it be a ratio?” She suggested.

  “Hmmmm.” Pat made some calculations on the board. “It could be a ratio. Does either of the polynomials use these numbers?”

  “Yes, the first poly confirms activation, and reads two variables.” Gail confirmed. “The second compares the results of the first poly with these two numbers, and then adjusts the output.”

  Pat did a search routine on the download. “The comparison numbers look like the right number of votes for each state within a standard deviation of normal. I think this thing adjusts the vote count.” He said, pointing to one of the polynomials.

  “It sure does,” said Gail. “It adjusts it by a ratio in the direction given by the activation code. Then the software reports an adjusted vote count.”

  “Look here.” Pat pointed to the computer screen. “This part right here is the confirmation code, and the last two characters are 01. That would drive the vote count slightly negative bringing the results closer together. It they made it, say 09, the vote would have swung the other way by a tiny margin.” Pat was clearly enjoying this. “How about that! A landslide vote result wouldn’t change, but if it was a close vote, it could be swung either way.”

  “I recognize the format of the activation code.” Gail looked over at Pat.

  “Really?” Pat asked eagerly.

  Gail nodded. “It’s the same sequence we used back when I did work on the new Senate and House systems. One capital letter, two numbers, and then five of anything you want. It’s the same size and configuration as one of those passwords. Back then we didn’t have as much flexibility in the security code.” Gail went to an old file on her computer and pulled up an archive of passwords used to verify that the users were not repeating or using their old passwords. No one could use a password for more than ninety days, and then never again—the system would check it against the list. She looked up at Pat. “There’s only one match, Pat,” she said slowly. “It’s from six years ago. It belonged to Senator Tom Baxter.”

  Robert couldn’t take the quiet at home. He’d paced around his study a few times, and then distracted himself by looking at the photos on the wall. Something about the pictures was bothering him. There was a familiar feeling about the scene in one of them, but he couldn’t put his finger on why it was disturbing.

  His pulse was still spiking from adrenaline, and he felt edgy. He kept hoping that Grady would call. He needed to know that Grady was still alive.

  After listening to the recording again, he’d decided to confront Gregg. It was a dangerous move with such limited information, but he’d run into too many brick walls in this investigation. His time was running out. He was going to have to bluff Gregg into thinking he knew more than he did.

  Robert logged into the government system from his computer, and checked the Congressional calendar. It looked like there was a chance he could catch Gregg in the office today, given the Saturday meetings he saw listed. He left a message for the Senator, and told Agent Brown to get the car.

  Robert worked while Brown drove. He left another message for Senator Gregg, and continued making notes on his computer pad. He jumped slightly when his phone rang.

  “Robert?” Gregg’s voice boomed.

  “Yes.” Robert took a deep breath, thinking about how he was going to approach the Senator.

  “We seem to be talking more often these days, Robert. Do you have something for me?” The Senator asked.

  “I need to meet with you right away. I know it’s Saturday, but I was hoping you might be available.”

  “It’s getting late, Robert, but I am in the office right now. If you can get here in the next half hour, I can spare you a few minutes.” Gregg stated.

  “Getting there won’t be a problem.” Robert answered, thinking that getting there in time was the least of his troubles. This conversation could be a huge problem. “I’ll see you in 20 minutes.”

  Robert and Brown got out at the front steps of the Russell Senate Office Building, even though the Agent had objected to not using the underground parking. The car sat in the loading zone, a portable flashing blue light running on the dash.

  Going th
rough security was much faster than on weekdays. It was late afternoon, so most people were thinking about leaving, and some were already heading home. Tours were done for the day, and most workers had left to enjoy what remained of their Saturday.

  The Russell Building’s classically straight rectangular exterior hid a massive round rotunda from view. Its two-story ring of columns above a white and dark-grey swirled marble floor never failed to impress visitors. Robert found himself listening to the heels striking the rotunda floor as visitors headed out, pounding past him. He walked out of the circle, heading up the stairs and into the hallway on the right.

  The senatorial office corridors were cold and impressive. Dark wood doors lined the halls, with large, freestanding federal and state flags marking each Senator’s office. The flags stood in colorful contrast to the white walls, dark doors and white crushed marble terrazzo floor. Black POW/MIA flags also flanked some doorways.

  Robert felt some surprise that he was noticing these things. He felt no sense of the intimidation he used to experience in these halls, but the stark contrast and bareness of the place seemed significant today.

  Stepping into Senator Gregg’s reception area, he expected a tactical waiting period. An assistant surprised him by immediately saying, “Mr. Carlton, the Senator is ready for you.”

  Startled, Robert wondered how much of what he had to say was being anticipated. His cynical side kicked in, and he began thinking about the Senator’s manipulative tactics. He deliberately slowed his breathing, projecting a calm, confident demeanor as he entered the office. Agent Brown stood in the outer office as the assistant closed the door behind Robert.

  “Deputy Attorney General Carlton.” Gregg was sitting behind his desk, but rose to extend his hand. “I have a difficult schedule remaining today. I assume you will get straight to the point.”

  Robert nodded, but did not reach for Gregg’s hand. Gregg raised an eyebrow, and gestured to the chair next to Robert. Both men sat.

  Robert sat as straight as possible, his back barely touching the chair. The Senator’s large desk set the two men unusually far apart. “I’d be happy to get to the point, Senator,” Robert said, diving in. “I have information implicating you in receiving a bribe, and involving you in a possible murder investigation in an attempt to derail OPOV.” Robert opened his briefcase. From his smart phone he played the recording of Gregg’s voice.

  Gregg held his hands together in front of his stomach, his elbows on the chair arms. His index fingers were pointing up and touching. His face had paled slightly after hearing his voice, but he sounded solidly in control. “That’s not evidence,” he stated flatly.

  “If my information is accurate,” Robert continued, as if he hadn’t heard Gregg, “there will be more than enough evidence for a trial, and for a conviction.”

  Gregg’s voice grew a little louder. He was clearly discomfited by Robert’s accusation. “Is this what you are wasting my time with today, Robert? You can’t possibly think you have anything on me. That so-called ‘recording’ is garbage.”

  Robert interjected quietly. “Then you deny its validity.”

  “Of course I deny it!” Gregg’s face was now suffused with color. He looked understandably angry. “That could easily have been fabricated from other conversations. And, as you well know, it’s inadmissible. You have nothing there, and I very much resent your attacking me in this way. I would think you’d know better by now than to approach someone without more substantive evidence.”

  “This is the beginning of ‘more,’ Senator.” Robert said, and placed the photographs onto the desk.

  Gregg glanced fleetingly at the pictures, and then glared at him.

  “Do you recognize anyone in these pictures, besides yourself, of course,” Robert pursued.

  “You are well aware that I meet many people, Robert. I don’t remember them all, and neither do I want to,” the Senator said carefully.

  “Senator, being evasive is rather pointless. You realize where I’m going with this. You are clearly...” Robert began.

  “Shut up, Robbie.” Gregg commanded harshly. He gave the top picture a flip with his finger. He quietly fumed for a couple of minutes, then said, “No matter what you think you’ve got, you have nothing on me. You can’t indict everyone involved in this—you know that. You can’t pick and choose when it comes to an investigation like this. When you’re forced to issue subpoenas, how do you think you’ll manage to avoid serving everyone? You may think you’ve got a case, but think about it: you can’t attack me without burning the bridge under your own feet. Did you dig deep enough to find that out? You’re showing me a few pictures that could be interpreted a hundred different ways, and a recording that could have been created with some electronic magic. It’s not enough to scare someone like me.” The Senator was beginning to regain his confidence. He looked Robert squarely in the eye. “All in all, you’ve got nothing, and I have nothing to explain.” He shoved away the pictures contemptuously as he sat solidly back in his chair. “Alone, these pictures are completely out of context. You’d be a fool to release them into an investigation. Where did you think you were going with this?”

  Robert stayed silent, maintaining direct eye contact. He hardly blinked, leaning back slightly in his seat. He displayed a confidence that he hoped gave him the appearance of having another card up his sleeve.

  Gregg, too, stayed silent for a very long time. He had regained his normal demeanor, and was obviously thinking...calculating. “But I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something more significant than this paltry offering. What is it?” he tried, fishing for something that would indicate what Robert might know. “More photos? More recordings? Perhaps some pathetic copy of a document?”

  Robert stayed silent for almost a minute, silently counting the seconds, then said, “I think you know what I have access to at this point, Senator. My...connections... have provided me with some interesting data, once I found the trail.” He held his breath, hoping his bluff would work. If Gregg thought he had more, he might just slip. He might even give Robert enough to hang him.

  Gregg was silent for almost three minutes, staring hard at Robert. Robert wondered how long they could both play this game. He carefully cocked one eyebrow at Gregg, and leaned a little farther back in his seat, indicating he was in this for as long as it took Gregg to figure out what he might have discovered.

  “You’re very much like your father, Robert, and I see now that you’ve finally learned to play your cards as he does,” Gregg spoke, sighing almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he said, carefully gauging the effect of his words on Robert, “you are willing to use your information as leverage, since you came to me before taking any action? Perhaps that was the advice you were given?”

  Robert was trying to maintain his poker face, but he was startled. He’d been literally biting his tongue, trying to keep from talking for as long as possible. He’d thought he could provoke Gregg into an admission. This was not what he’d expected. Gregg was ready to make a deal? Without verifying the extent of Robert’s discovery? Robert knew he must have bumped into something big. Gregg must have thought Robert had found what could cripple his Senatorial position—maybe something he’d masterminded.

  “As always, Senator, you are astute.” Robert complemented him, assuming that was the best way to continue his charade. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I suspect, Robert,” Gregg suggested, “that you’d rather not bring all of this into the light of day. Perhaps your ‘connections’ mentioned that I might be amenable to a trade?”

  “I think we are beyond that, Senator.” Robert suddenly felt that he had been too heavy handed in that remark. He almost winced, thinking about it. Could he have overplayed his hand?

  “Think I’m through, Robert? That I’m reaching retirement age, and want to spend more time fishing, and golfing? Maybe I should finish my term in a reserved and dignified manner? Would that fit nicely for all of you?” Gregg almost soun
ded mocking while extending his carefully worded offer.

  Robert was reeling. Gregg was capitulating? Without a fight? What was going on? What had he stumbled into? He cleared his throat, trying to conjure up a response, but Gregg was continuing.

  “I have to admit that I didn’t expect this, Robert. I don’t know how you were able to ferret this out. I’m sure you know what your role was supposed to be, now, but let me show you how we can both benefit from your findings. You have, shall we say...an opportunity.” Gregg stood up, moving towards the picture hanging just beyond his desk. “Your career has been hanging in the balance, and you’re trying to figure out how to ensure that your career path eventually gives you Jack’s job. I can get us both what we want, and satisfy your ‘connections,’ as well. You’ll have a successful outcome to your investigation, accolades, and career insurance, and I’ll enjoy the rewards for my many years of service and influence.”

  There was a long silence. The Senator had paused, and was facing Robert. Robert’s shoulders twitched, and his neck stiffened. He was thinking hard. There was no way that he was going to get anything admissible out of Gregg without agreeing. He had no other cards to play. Gregg clearly thought that he had discovered whatever and whomever were behind this situation.

  Robert had known that in coming here he would have to cut some kind of deal with Gregg. Seeing Gregg’s corrupt influence brought out in a very public venue would have been satisfying, but Robert knew it was a layman’s fantasy. He liked the idea, but couldn’t flesh out the actual events, or put together a complete picture without Gregg’s help. If he could bluff Gregg into a retirement deal while getting more information, it might be the best choice.

  “You’re a consummate negotiator, Senator. I’m willing to proceed on that basis,” he finally answered.

  Gregg now felt he had the upper hand. He acted upon it with smooth confidence.

  “I can give you what you want, Robert. I can hand you Farrell and Karlovich on a platter, with enough admissible evidence to make your case. The proof will be complete, without any embarrassing connections, and it will satisfy everyone.”