“That’s exactly where you need to alter your thinking.” His father told him.
Just what I need, Robert thought; more lectures.
His father continued his tutorial. “You think the President is wrong, but that is because you’ve narrowed your focus to absolutes. One Person, One Vote was a solid platform, but not practical. Think. Be realistic about this. If ‘the people’ got to vote on everything Congress considers, there would be no taxes, no defense appropriations, and eventually no country. Those are obvious examples, but consider the hundreds of issues that people don’t understand, and don’t take time to study. Roads, water, air; the people think that they want to make decisions about things, but they really want to get back to their mindless pastimes. If they were genuinely interested, they’d do more to learn the facts. They’d be more interested in what their Representatives and Senators are doing, and how their money is being spent.
Most people in this country don’t have any idea what their elected officials do, or how they vote. They whine over how much they’re paid, or about who has a better pension plan, and insurance. They understand that their taxes are paying for the schools their kids go to, and the local cops. What they don’t understand is that they’re paying for pension plans and insurance for their government representatives, which are better than anything they’ll ever have. They don't get that Congress doesn't live by the same rules they do. They don’t know that their Congressional representatives are busy lining their pockets with lobbyists’ bribes, and that their political parties are only interested in power, not in serving the people.” Robert’s father was pacing as he spoke.
“And the truth is that they don’t want to know. We’ve been living in the ‘all about me’ society for some time, now, Son. You and Tracie would be part of it, if you weren’t working here. The people don’t care what’s happening to anyone else. They care more about the newest smartphone gadget than about what any level of their government is doing.”
“I do understand that, Father. And I just heard the President say essentially the same thing,” Robert muttered, still staring at the envelope. The envelope had no address, just his last name in its center.
His father walked casually toward the bookshelves lined with old Corpus Juris Secundum volumes. “And we’re both right. You need to take your thinking farther, and recognize the greater good when you see it. You can’t make the people smarter. You can’t force them to wise up. It is, and always will be a politician’s game.”
Robert’s attention came back. “I was almost killed as a result of this investigation. Other people were killed. Where’s the greater good in that?” Robert’s voice gained strength.
“You were always protected, Robbie. You played your part well, and did what you were supposed to do. Now it’s time to get past all of this. You need to officially take down the perpetrators, and punish them for those deaths.”
Robert’s head was clearing. “Okay.” Robert figured this was his last chance to get some answers. “Explain the President’s password being used. I’m sure he told you about that.” Robert sat back in his chair and waited.
“What makes you think that? You’re an attorney, Robert. Focus on the facts. Think about what you do know.” Remarkably, his father was holding himself in check. He sounded merely annoyed, rather than angry. “If you were the Senator, and surrounded by trusted advisors who had been with you for years, what are the odds you’d need to give someone access to get your work done?”
Yes, Robert thought; it was understandable how that might occur, but that answer only led to other problems. If the then Senator had breached protocol, and given his password to an assistant or advisor, who was that person? Had they knowingly passed on the password? Had they used it themselves, and been involved in the OPOV scheme?
Robert was tired. He knew that if he persisted he’d only have the dubious success of enraging his father. He decided to concede in the hope this conversation would end, and he’d have time to sort this all out.
His Father, sensing victory, became more generous, bringing Robert’s skills into the discussion. “Remember your courtroom experience, Robert. You have good litigation skills. You never ask a question unless you know, beyond a doubt, the answer. It’s not important which side you argue, only how often you win.” He lifted his coat from the back of the chair.
“Pick the battles that are worth fighting. From those, pick the ones you can win. You can win this one if you are on Tom’s side. You have the opportunity of a lifetime—an opportunity most never see.” He twisted the door handle. “Don’t waste it.” He walked out leaving the door open behind him.
Chapter 76
Grady was standing just beyond Lorraine’s desk, facing the window. When Robert’s father came out of the office he appeared to take no notice of him.
Lorraine bid Robert’s father a good evening, getting a slight head nod in return as the hall door closed behind him. She turned to Grady and told him he could go in Robert’s office.
Grady walked into the office, closing the door behind him. Robert stood to the side of his desk looking out the window, much as Grady had just been doing.
“Hello, Robert.” Grady greeted him.
“Grady!” Robert turned immediately. He was honestly glad to see Grady. He uncharacteristically grabbed Grady’s broad shoulders with both hands and shook him. “I’m really glad to see you—alive!” He added as an afterthought.
“Thanks. Glad to be that.” Grady’s natural smile came back. “Got a minute?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Robert shook his head. “I haven’t had a minute to myself since this thing started, but if I don’t find out what you know, I’ll never get any of this straight in my head. Start at the beginning, and tell me what’s been happening to you.” Robert had almost forgotten about Grady’s research.
“Plenty of time for that and a beer, too...later. Right now, I need you to look at this.” Grady opened his valise. “You can’t keep it, or make copies, but you need to know what’s inside.” He handed the “Confidential” folder to Robert, who opened it under his desk lamp.
Robert quickly passed the cover sheet, and read the second page. He scanned the rest, which seemed to be mostly charts of information.
Grady pointed to the folder. “Take a close look at the last page.”
Robert flipped to the back and read the title line, “Search results keyword 2”. The chart showed three Internet connections that linked to each other on three occasions. The links were based on IP addresses with VPN passcode accesses.
Robert read the chart and looked up at Grady.
Pointing at the chart, Grady said. “All three used ‘key fob’ generated VPN sign-on passwords that gave them Virtual Private Network access with time-generated numbers. You probably have a software version of the key fob on your computer for less sensitive things like e-mail these days. I’ll bet for really sensitive things you still use a physical device.”
Robert pulled open his desk drawer where a roughly key-shaped plastic device sat. The LCD display showed six numbers that would change every thirty seconds. “That’s mine.” Robert pointed. “I need it to access case files, but stopped needing it for e-mails about a year ago.”
Grady clearly disapproved. “You’re supposed to keep that with you, or in a safe place. Anyway, on this list three VPNs assigned to three different people were used within 24 hours, and none of the assigned owners reported a missing fob or computer. This happened just over a year ago.”
Grady pointed. “See on the last column? The assigned VPNs are for Director Karlovich on an NSA e-mail server, Rick Marsten on a White House server, and Senator Daniel Gregg on the Senate system. The key word used in this search is the password previously used by Senator Baxter, and found in the suspect OPOV file.”
Robert stayed quiet as he thought about the information from the file. He flipped to an earlier chronologically sorted page showing Senator Baxter’s password used in links that went from Marsten
to Gregg, and then from Gregg to Karlovich. There was a response back on each connection within a few minutes, but without the keyword. At the bottom was a tally of communications between the three of them. There were very few from Marsten to Gregg and back, and even fewer from Gregg to Karlovich. He could find none from Marsten to Karlovich. Robert looked up at Grady as though he didn’t see him there.
Grady asked pointedly. “So, what are you going to do with this?”
Robert focused on Grady, thinking for a long minute. “Grady,” he finally said, “We need to see the President.”
Chapter 77
Lorraine had been on the phone with the White House scheduling administrator for some time. She’d had no luck in getting even a moment for Robert to meet with the President. Robert and Grady had continued to compare notes in Robert’s office.
After almost an hour their conversation had lagged. They’d rehashed the details too many times. Grady broke the silence.
“So where’s your bodyguard?” he inquired. “I didn’t see him when I came in.”
“That’s odd,” Robert told him. “They’ve been planted in the office since I was assigned the detail.” He hit the intercom button. “Lorraine, where is Agent Brown?”
“He is in the hallway talking with building security,” she told him.
“Could you ask him to come in please?” Robert requested.
“Just a moment, Sir.” Lorraine got up and went to the main door. Looking out to the left, she asked, “Agent Brown, could you come in for a moment? Mr. Carlton would like to see you.”
Brown walked into Robert’s office, along with the Justice Protective Service Officer. “Yes, Sir?”
Seeing the uniform of the normal building security officer, Robert asked. “Is there anything happening that I should know about?”
“Yes, Sir.” Brown answered. “I’ve been asked to notify you that we will be returning your security to the JPS team. We’re supposed to stand down in forty-eight hours and report for new duty.”
Robert was stunned. “The car I was riding in blew up with Agent Carey in it, and you’re to report to other duty? The Secret Service is being reassigned? Has some new information been released?”
“I’m not aware of any new data, Sir, but I checked for confirmation of the orders.” Brown answered.
“That makes no sense.” Robert was flabbergasted. “And my wife?”
“They will escort her back, if she wishes. That team has seventy-two hours before they are required to report back for new assignments.”
“Has my wife been told this?” Robert asked, wondering about Tracie’s reaction.
“Not yet, Sir. I was just informed. I was told to await your instructions on how to proceed. My team leader felt you might want to inform Mrs. Carlton personally.” Brown said neutrally.
“I’m sure he hoped I would,” Robert commented sarcastically. He wondered why someone apparently thought he was no longer a target. He turned toward Grady. “We don’t have answers to what’s been happening, but apparently we’re supposed to return to everyday, normal life. How nice for us.” he commented acerbically. “What do you think of that, Colonel?”
“I have to confess that I’m amazed!” Grady responded in an equally mocking tone. “I suppose I can simply go back to my house now. There is that little problem with it having been blown to smithereens, along with my vehicles, and with the fact that someone apparently wants me dead, but I suppose that’s of no consequence in the big scheme of things.” Grady shook his head, and got up, walking to the window.
Brown’s poker face showed no reaction. The JPS Officer stood by, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Could you both wait in the outer office for a moment?” Robert said to Brown and the officer. They nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind them.
Grady turned back to Robert as the door clicked shut. “Are you kidding me? What is going on around here?”
“Just hang on. Something doesn’t add up.” Robert said, thinking hard.
“Really, counselor! I’m shocked to hear you say that. Perhaps I should just give my insurance agent a ring and get this all straightened out, since we’re out of danger now.” Grady told him acidly, sitting down hard in one of the leather chairs.
Robert was still thinking, while watching Grady. Grady’s smooth, unwrinkled jacket and crisp pants seemed at odds with his temperament. Robert had always imagined that military uniforms were like formal guards. They appeared to be carved out of stone, and somehow the men in them didn’t crease or crumple.
Robert pulled himself out of this digression and back to the matter at hand. “Just hang on a second, Grady. Let me try something here.”
“What?” Grady asked.
Pressing the intercom Robert asked, “Lorraine, could you please get Phil Davidson on the phone. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“Yes, Sir.”
They sat silently. Robert tapped his finger as he looked through a couple of pages in the file on his desk for the fiftieth time. Grady was glaring but not moving. They didn’t have to wait long.
The phone chimed. It was Lorraine. “Yes?” Robert answered.
“I have Mr. Davidson on the line.” She hung up when Robert was connected.
“Phil.” Robert said.
“Mr. Deputy Attorney General. Congratulations!” Phil sounded chipper.
“News travels fast. Thank you. Phil, I have a favor to ask.” Robert wanted to get right to the point.
“Certainly. What can I help with?” Phil answered quickly.
“I need you to trace bank accounts for Senator Daniel Gregg, Presidential Special Assistant Rick Marsten, NSA Director Bill Karlovich, and NSA software programmer Chris Stoker. I need anything on any recent bank account increases, or any new accounts that look suspicious.”
“I can get to the Gregg, Karlovich, and Marsten accounts, and link to anything they didn’t hide well, but Stoker is probably not part of our public record,” Phil cautioned.
“That’s okay Phil. Do what you can. Also see if the four sent payments to any of the others, or to an account within their own bank. Start with these dates, plus or minus ten days.” He rattled off the dates that coordinated with e-mails that contained the old Baxter password.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Phil told him. “How fast do you want this?”
“Can you do it now?” Robert asked.
“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Phil sighed. “Okay, I’m on it. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“Great. Thanks, Phil. Oh, call on my cell. I’m headed up the hill.” Robert hung up.
“You think he can do that?” Grady asked in disbelief.
“You’d be surprised.” Robert told him.
“So, we’re going to see the President?” Grady asked.
“No, I think we are headed somewhere else, first.” Robert answered cryptically. He had turned toward the intercom when the mysterious envelope on his desk caught his eye again.
Picking it up and swiftly tearing it open, Robert dumped out the contents. Pictures on a contact sheet spilled onto the desk, along with a memory stick. The pictures were in order, dated, and time-stamped. He popped the memory stick into his USB port, and yanked open a drawer to get his magnifying glass to examine the pictures at closer range.
The pictures were of Gregg on the yacht. The framing covered more area than the two pictures he had gotten earlier from Farrell, but they were the same photos. Robert stared at one picture, understanding now what had seemed familiar. Gregg was on Robert’s father’s boat. His father was in the picture, standing with what looked like his usual scotch in hand. His back was turned while he talked to a man who was almost out of frame. Farrell’s pictures had been cropped to leave out the man. The hand giving Gregg the money was fully visible now. The man was young—maybe 28. Robert realized that it was Marsten, the President’s aide.
The computer had loaded the memory stick. It had the series of photo images stored on it, and one video f
ile. Robert double clicked the video and the player window opened up.
It was the source of the pictures. The pictures were screen captures from the video, taken from a cell phone. Robert watched as the envelope came out of Gregg’s jacket and was handed to Marsten, who put it into his jacket. It wasn’t Gregg getting the money. It was Marsten, which meant the money wasn’t a campaign contribution.
Robert copied the memory stick contents to his computer. Putting the stick and the pictures back in the envelope, he looked up at Grady.
Grady had been watching the video as it played. “Looks like a payoff. Who’s that young guy?”
“Rick Marsten, the President’s special assistant.” Robert answered.
“That other guy looks like your father.” Grady said cautiously.
“Yes, and that is our yacht.” Robert knew how bad that sounded.
Robert’s phone rang. Lorraine picked it up in the outer office, and almost immediately beeped the intercom in Robert’s office.
“Mr. Davidson for you.” Lorraine’s voice told Robert.
Robert picked up the extension. “That was fast,” he told Phil.
“Thanks.” Phil answered. “Actually I found a common thread linking electronic transfers through Marsten, so it wasn’t very difficult. All four have obvious transfers of over ten-thousand dollars each; some multiple times.”
“You’re serious?” Robert was actually shocked. He had hoped for a link to confirm his theory, but hadn’t expected to find it so easily.
“Yep.” Phil sounded like he was smiling. “Four weeks earlier, and then again two weeks before the dates you gave me Marsten’s account jumped by ten-thousand. Then the week before the e-mails, it went up ten thousand each day for seven days. Cash deposits. Gregg’s accounts showed large, consistent cash withdrawals from his “leadership” PAC. No annotations showed where they went. Now, get this: I thought of a question of my own, and searched the Secret Service background check for Mr. Marsten. He had a roommate at his Ivy League college. His roommate was Daniel Gregg’s son by Gregg’s first wife, who used her maiden name for herself and the son after she and Gregg divorced,” Phil finished.
One Man Two Votes (The Robert Carlton Series Book 1) Page 42
