“And I’ll bet if we check,” Robert mused aloud, “we’ll find that Marsten had recommendations from the ‘Who’s Who of Congress’ to get on Senator Baxter’s campaign staff, and into the White House. He may even have brought in some interesting campaign funding.” Robert paused a minute, then said, “We can research that all later, but right now I would say Grady and I need to talk with Gregg. Thanks, Phil. You’re a miracle worker. Keep digging and make sure you document this research. We may need this in court.”
“Glad I could help. I’ll dig a little more on this, and get back to you.” Phil hung up.
Robert held the envelope in his hand, and grabbed his coat, herding Grady along with him through the office door.
Brown and the JPS Officer stood as he and Grady entered the outer office. Robert looked at them, remembering that Brown was waiting for an answer.
“Agent Brown,” Robert addressed him, “Tell your team leader that he may have the pleasure of informing my wife that her security detail will be released. I’ll leave it to her to decide whether she wants them to escort her home.”
Robert turned toward Lorraine’s desk. “Lorraine, see if you can track down Senator Gregg. Tell him I’m on my way, whether it’s a convenient time to see him, or not.”
Chapter 78
As Robert and Grady drove up Independence towards Gregg’s office in the Russell Senate Office building, Robert got a call from Lorraine. It hadn’t taken her long to find out that Gregg was not in his office, but in a meeting at the Capital building. She gave Robert the room number, and told him where it was located.
Robert’s new position gave him some of the privileges he’d been waiting for, so he parked in the Russell garage. They took the underground Capital subway, since it was quicker and warmer than walking. Robert figured his badge had automatically been updated with the credentials to use it, and to take a guest. He was correct. Clearing security again at the Capital, Robert and Grady found the room they needed. The doors to the room swung open as they walked up. Apparently Gregg’s meeting had just adjourned.
Gregg stopped when he saw Robert, and stepped back into the room. A few cordial words with departing members later, Gregg, Robert, and Grady had the room to themselves.
“Gentlemen.” Displaying some mild annoyance at seeing them, and glancing at his watch pointedly, Gregg asked, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Senator, I believe you know Lt. Col. Barlow,” Robert said, a touch of sarcasm flecking his words.
“We’ve met,” the Senator said shortly, hardly sparing Grady a glance. “It’s getting late, Robert. Would you like to tell me why you’re here, and why I’m seeing you again so soon?”
“You’re right, Senator; it is late, and I’m a little late figuring all of this out. You’ll have to take some of the blame for that, since you complicated the situation.” Gregg raised an eyebrow, but turned and seated himself in a chair. Robert and Grady remained standing. “I’ll get to the point, Senator,” Robert continued. “I played a recording for you during our previous conversation. In that recording your voice appeared to be ordering Colonel Barlow’s death.”
Grady’s spine stiffened, making him seem taller. He stared at Senator Gregg, barely restraining himself from attacking the man. Gregg remained silent, ignoring Grady.
“Since then I’ve realized that Hunt was your man,” Robert continued. “All those little hints leading me toward the NSA were coming from you. I was slow to pick up on that, but I do know that Hunt was with the Secret Service, and he’s now what, OIG? Homeland Security? You and your cohorts created a nice plan, Senator. You thought you’d distract me; that you’d be the man behind the curtain whom no one would ever see. You pointed the blame toward Karlovich and Farrell, figuring they’d be nailed for the crime, while you controlled OPOV. But something went wrong, didn’t it? I wasn’t supposed to find out about your involvement. And Hunt’s man Carey wasn’t supposed to die. Yes, I know that Hunt knew Carey from FLETC. I doubt that he intended to get rid of Carey—he was too useful a tool. So there had to be someone else in the loop.” Robert began to pace as he talked. “The picture of you and the men you didn’t remember? One works for Karlovich. He’s dead.” Robert paused for Gregg’s reaction.
“I’m not impressed, Robert.” Gregg said dismissively. “What is the basis for this wild speculation? I’m not sure what it is that I’m supposed to get out of this. You and I already have an agreement. Let’s just keep it at that, before you overstep your bounds and cause me to reconsider.” Gregg stood up and moved toward the door to leave.
Grady wasn’t standing near Gregg, but with one step he blocked Gregg’s direct line to the exit. Gregg’s face snapped toward Robert. “Call off your dog, Robert. You’ve got what you want from me.”
“I’m not sure I do, Senator.” Robert sounded very sure of himself. He felt confident as he continued, “I discovered some things today that I’d like to share with you. Perhaps you’d like to take your chair again?” Robert gestured toward Gregg’s chair. Gregg ignored him, and remained where he stood.
Robert held up the confidential folder from Grady. “I have proof that your dedicated VPN connected with the President’s Assistant, Marsten, and with Karlovich in a sequence, and that the President’s personal password was transferred to Karlovich, through you. That password, which the President no longer uses, was later applied in software designed to infiltrate the OPOV system.” Robert stopped again, waiting for Gregg to speak.
Gregg smiled as he calmly walked around to the end of the table, and sat with an air of exaggerated patience at the head of the table. “Go on, Robert. Let’s hear you make a complete fool of yourself.”
“I’m happy to oblige, Senator,” Robert continued, “But I believe that the jury is still out on which of us may be more foolish. Rick Marsten, the President’s Special Assistant went to school with your son, Senator Gregg.”
“As did many others.” Gregg snarled. “Out with it, Robbie. You have to do better than this. I’m losing my patience.” Gregg looked at his watch again, and tapped the desk with his finger.
“I’ve reached the part where I explain how that fact is connected to this situation, Senator,” Robert said smoothly. “That password was used in the software to break OPOV security, and you paid Marsten to get it. It was easy to convince him. He wouldn’t have his job without your help, or without the recommendations you got for him. And yes, Senator, I do have proof that you were paying for his assistance.” Robert hit the play button on his smart phone, playing the video from the yacht. He held it out for Gregg to see.
Gregg stared down at the video as Robert continued. “You paid him tens of thousands in cash from your Leadership PAC, and he was foolish enough to make lump deposits of that cash. You thought it wouldn’t be traceable, because it was cash, but his deposits are timed with your e-mails and these pictures. You thought you were untouchable—too bad you didn’t advise Marsten to be a little smarter with where he put the money.” Robert felt stronger with every word. He knew he had Gregg’s attention.
“Are you done, Robert?” Gregg growled, dropping his pretense of annoyed tolerance. “You seem to be a little too impressed with your promotion. I’m reminding you again that we have already agreed on a strategy. So what if I paid off Marsten? I’ve given you scapegoats. What’s your point with all of this? If you try to publicly take me down, your career will nose dive—I’ll make sure of that. There’s no profit in it for any of us that way, Robert. I’ve given you a nice, neat package to close this case, and to keep everybody happy, including the President.”
Robert smiled coldly. “I have more, but perhaps you would like to admit your involvement, again? I’ve been recording this conversation,” Robert said, lifting his cell phone into view.
“Inadmissible, as you should know.” Gregg snapped. “I didn’t, and don’t agree to any recording of this session.” Gregg smiled sardonically at Robert, trying to re-attain his nonchalance.
Robert sm
iled. “It doesn’t matter, Senator. I don’t need it for court.”
“You’re right it doesn’t matter.” Gregg stood up again. He was angry. “What do you think you’ve got? The President’s password and payments to his personal aid, some pictures, Baxter’s voting system, and the nation’s electronic security-controlled communications—have I covered the points that you think implicate me? No one will let you publicly prosecute this, Robert. If you’re thinking of changing our deal, you should understand that no one would want the press this would generate. They’ll bury it. If they don’t your own father will be exposed. You know that, too, so what’s your objective?” Gregg was making a show of leaving again, but it was clear that he was waiting to see what else Robert was going to reveal.
“My next stop is the White House.” Robert picked up his phone. “I have no plans to take this public, Senator. I told you that I didn’t need the recording for court; I need it for the President. I intend to end your career earlier than you planned.” He walked toward Grady and the door. “You’re retiring—now. You just made the decision, Senator. Today. And those little stipulations you had for me? I’ll keep them, because you’ve proved we need some oversight—but, Senator, if I were you, I’d hustle right over to my office and start packing up. You’ll have to clear out by the end of the day. I’ll have your security clearance pulled after that.”
Gregg had stopped moving, and was staring at him. Robert continued. “You can still become a highly paid consultant. You’ll get richer, but you won’t represent your constituency for one more day. You deserve jail; but, yes, I do understand how this works. I understand that courtroom publicly won’t benefit the country. I’m willing to make things more public if necessary, but I don’t think I’ll have to do that, do you?” Robert asked rhetorically. He turned and walked by Grady, grabbing the door handle.
Gregg’s face had reddened as beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “You have no idea of the power I have, Robert. You can’t do this to me. Laws control the lesser man, and I certainly am not lesser to you!”
“Right conduct controls the greater man.” Robert said. “Finish your quotes, Senator. You might learn something. Again, I suggest you get over to your office before I have security change the locks.”
Robert and Grady were out the door in an instant, leaving Gregg alone. As they headed back to the car, Robert asked, “Ready for that beer? We’ve got one stop to make first, but after that my time is yours.”
“About time you offered.” Grady smiled. “What stop?”
“Your hotel, to pick up your stuff. You’re staying with me.”
“No way.” Grady protested, shaking his head. “I’m fine at the hotel. Really.”
“Grady, after all this, it’s the least I can do. Besides, I have the place to myself. The guest room is comfortable and has its own bathroom with a big shower.” Robert smiled.
“Fine. I’m too tired to argue anyway.” Grady opened the car door and settled in. “What kind of beer do you have?”
Chapter 79
Sitting in a quiet crab shack far down the bay on the Maryland side, Blair slowly drank his beer. The steam from the crabs was gone; the chill afternoon air had cooled them quickly. He sat at the rail of the outdoor deck that reached over the water, his back to the inlet. The waitress only brought out two crabs at a time so they would stay warm. The few other patrons preferred indoor heat.
He had been reviewing details of the last job. The end result was good, but too much of his plan had been altered. Things seldom went precisely as planned when dealing with the complexities of humans and their behaviors, but Blair hated mistakes.
The girl had escaped. That was irritating. Somehow she had gotten the better of Mary, and escaped. He’d read that the authorities had found Mary’s remains in the burned rubble of the house. They couldn’t identify her, so she was still on ice as a crispy Jane Doe. Christen had been traumatized, according to the papers. All she could remember was two young men whose descriptions fit almost anyone. The police drawings were no threat to his operatives; they were too generic. The police had already stopped working the kidnapping, although the file remained open.
The girl had seen Blair, but having been under the influence of the drug it was unlikely she could recognize him. Still, he would have to delegate activities like that from now on. A pity; he enjoyed his field work.
After spending time with her mother, Christen had returned to school—this time sharing a room with another girl. Her father’s death had been ruled an accident when he was found at home in his bathroom. It was assumed he’d tripped and fallen into his wet shower while holding the hairdryer that lay next to him. They’d ruled out foul play.
Blair’s operatives hadn’t subdued Barlow. Instead Blair’s two men had been killed. Maybe they weren’t as good as he’d thought. He’d have to recruit better. Barlow had proven a surprise—or perhaps he’d just been lucky. Melanie was expert at what she did, but overall the team had failed. He’d have to think about that.
He’d received instructions yesterday to shut down the operation. So that was that. Blair never held grudges. It was all strictly business. Nevertheless, he would keep an eye on Carlton and Barlow for a while. If they kept nosing around...well, that would be personal. His personal business.
In between bites, he watched the driveway. It was the only way into the restaurant. A white car pulled into the lot. A bright green rental agency and airport tag showed on the rear bumper. A stocky man got out and headed his way. Hunt.
The waitress came out with two more crabs. Blair ordered a beer and two more crabs, plus the check. As she went toward the building, Hunt came out, holding the door until she’d gone inside. Seating himself on the picnic table bench across from Blair he waited.
“You did well, considering.” Blair said.
“He needed more pushing than I anticipated.” Hunt replied. He knew that Blair was not interested in excuses. Admitting difficulty was usually safer ground, particularly on a job that had not gone smoothly.
“Yes.” Blair responded, focusing on the crab.
The waitress came out with the beer and set it down near Blair. “The crabs will be ready in a moment. Can I get you something?” She asked Hunt.
“He’s not staying.” Blair pushed the beer to Hunt. “I know you don’t like the crab much.”
“Well, if I can get you gentlemen anything, just let me know. I’ll be right out with those crabs for you, Sir.” She smiled and left.
Blair pulled one of the crabs over, and hit it with the wooden mallet.
“I have another job for you. It’s a short one, but interesting. The particulars are in the bag along with what you earned.” He pushed a black gym bag along the deck to Hunt.
Hunt reached down to grab the handles and pull it closer. “When do we start?” Hunt asked.
“You’ll be told.” Blair said.
Hunt took a long draft of his beer, then stood up, holding the black bag. He walked away toward the restaurant shack. Inside, he passed the waitress as she was coming out with the two fresh crabs. “Never mind those two. Get him a dozen on me.” He handed her a hundred. “It’s a surprise. Keep the change.”
She smiled and went excitedly back to the kitchen.
Blair watched Hunt head for the parking lot. A grin stretched across his face. He pulled a remote from his pocket and waited.
From the moment Hunt had left the building, he had started counting. He was trying not to look awkward walking in his suddenly flatter shoes. The heels had detached easily when he pressed them together under the deck table. They sat unnoticed beneath the bench, a few inches from Blair. When Hunt reached the count of twenty, he pressed his own remote. The wooden bench and table exploded up into Blair’s face, sending thousands of flaming splinters into the sky. Blair’s torn and charred body was blasted into the water. It floated face down, surrounded by riven shards of scorched wood. A plume of red flame and black smoke rose where the table had been.
Hunt drove calmly away, shaking his head as he said out loud, “You shouldn’t always count to thirty. People start noticing.”
Chapter 80
Robert and Grady stood in Robert’s driveway staring. Tracie, the boys, and a crowd of people were pouring out of the house, cheering. Tracie raced to Robert, arms wide, and grinning from ear to ear. A huge banner painted by the boys hung from the house. “Welcome Home, Mr. Deputy Attorney General” it read. It was big enough to impress everyone in the surrounding area. It was apparent that they’d had plenty of time to work on it. Tracie must have heard of his promotion even before Robert had known about it. It flashed through Robert’s mind that his father must have told her. That would explain her presence, too. His father somehow had explained away the Secret Service cloak and dagger, and now all Tracie could see was the glory of his new position. Others saw it, too. Tracie’s friends, the Kennedy Center Hostesses, had rushed over champagne, a sumptuous display of catered food, and festive trimmings that had been thrown up in record time. The hostesses were amongst the crowd.
After Robert convinced everyone to go into the house ahead of him, he turned to Grady. “Still want that beer?”
“Champagne’s fine,” Grady responded, grinning. “But maybe a hotel would be better than the guest room.”
“Stay. This will wear off soon enough. Until it does, let’s celebrate a little. I think we deserve it.” Robert grinned at Grady as they walked up the steps and headed in the door.
Once inside, Robert was greeted with an endlessly enthusiastic series of handshakes and smiles. Some even came from people he knew. Glasses and forks clinked as conversations broke out all over the living room, hallway, and kitchen. Grady quickly found himself the center of attention in a group of single women, clearly having been pointed in his direction by the talented Kennedy hostesses. For a moment Robert stood alone, watching the circus, then Tracie swooped in to grab his arm and hug it to her.
One Man Two Votes (The Robert Carlton Series Book 1) Page 43
