The Strategist

by John Hardy Bell

  Camille stood up and approached her father with her arms extended. She couldn’t help but be moved by his words. “I’ll do anything for you, dad. You know that.” She felt warm as he wrapped his arms around her.

  But she also felt guilty, because for as much as his advice made perfect sense, she had no intention of taking it. Despite her empty promises, she would be visiting Mayor Richmond’s campaign headquarters as planned. The directions were already plugged into her cell phone. All she needed to do was to get to her father’s car again. She had hoped the trip would be made with his blessing. Now all Camille could do was hope that he would eventually forgive her.

  When Paul looked into her eyes, the overwhelming sense of relief on his face was punctuated by that familiar look of pride. It almost made her cry.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome, dad.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The fact that Elliott Richmond lived his life in a perpetual state of nervousness came as a surprise to few who knew him. As the campaign strategist for the leading candidate in one of the country’s most scrutinized senate races, Elliott’s sole responsibility was to ensure that nothing derailed the freight train that was destined to lead him to Washington D.C. Right now, that train was running full steam ahead, and the track in front of him looked smooth and swift. His candidate was comfortably ahead in every poll, the list of campaign donors was swelling, and many of the country’s most powerful politicians, the Vice-President of the United States included, were on board with enthusiastic endorsements.

  But even with all of this good fortune, Elliott rarely experienced a restful night of sleep. His mind was constantly filled with questions: questions about money, questions about the next interview or debate, questions about his opponent’s ability to dig up dirt that wasn’t buried far enough beneath the surface.

  Most political candidates have something from their past that can be used against them if their opposition has the resources to uncover it and the will to use it. Elliott certainly had enough on Robert Haney to ruin his chances should the Attorney General’s fledgling campaign ever pick up enough momentum to become a genuine threat. But so far that hadn’t happened, which meant that Haney’s three year extra-marital affair with his communications director could stay comfortable hidden from his wife and the rest of the world.

  What was ironic to Elliott was that his own candidate didn’t have a speck of dirt that anyone could use against her. As career politicians went, Sonya Richmond’s past was as blemish-free as they came. Four years as a state judge, six years on the Denver City Council, one term as a representative in the Colorado legislature, and two terms as Denver’s current mayor were all conducted with nothing but the utmost integrity and commitment to the citizens she served. Because of that, she was as popular as any public figure in the state. Before she even hinted at running for the senate, local pundits predicted a landslide victory, irrespective of her opponent.

  Elliott should have never spent a single night worrying about the veracity of his candidate’s record or her chances for victory in November. But he did worry about his candidate’s chances, because there was a blemish in her past, a glaring one that threatened to not only derail the freight train, but destroy it altogether.

  She married him.

  Sonya may not have had any dirt that could come back to haunt her, but Elliott had plenty. He was covered in it. And the more he tried to wipe it away, the more layers he discovered.

  The first and most important layer was Julia Leeds. In the eighteen months that he’d had sex with her, Elliott had never had even the slightest indication that she was as unstable as she ultimately turned out to be. Only a woman afflicted with severe mental problems could believe that anything she had to offer – emotionally, financially, or sexually – would ever be enough to make him abandon a life he had spent the better part of thirty years systematically building.

  But Julia believed that he would. And when Elliott informed her of just how delusional she was, she threatened to destroy that systematically-built life piece by piece.

  Even if they were made in the heat of a particularly vicious argument, how was he not supposed to take those threats seriously? How was he not supposed to think that Julia was capable of destroying not only his life, but his wife’s? She had the means to do it. And when he abruptly ended their affair, she had the motivation. The one thing Elliott could not allow her was the time.

  Enter the second layer. Joseph Solomon, a man who came highly recommended by someone he trusted a great deal, was hired to handle the Julia Leeds problem before it had a chance to escalate. But two days ago, Elliott received a phone call from that trusted person informing him that Solomon had not fully solved the problem. He received a second phone call from that same person no less than thirty minutes ago, this one more urgent than the first. As a result of these two phone calls, Elliott now had a third layer to contend with; a layer that was potentially more dangerous than the first two combined.

  According to the message, Walter Graham, the lead detective in Julia’s murder investigation, was nearly hysterical with panic. Elliott knew a great many people in the Denver Police Department, but few had a sensibility more amenable to his efforts than Graham. He had first met the detective over a decade ago. Back then he was a take-no-shit cowboy who intimidated people simply by the way he wore his badge. He was also a well-respected veteran of the force, with an arrest record second to none. Most importantly, he was a highly corruptible cop with a firm grasp of how to conduct, and ultimately manipulate, a murder investigation. According to the stories he’d heard, little had changed about the detective in that decade.

  In spite of the inherent risk that came with involving too many people in this already risky scenario, Elliott had no concerns when it came to Walter Graham; a man whose exceedingly checkered past managed to disappear not only from his Internal Affairs file, but from the headlines of every newspaper in the state, only because of Elliott’s influence. But those files could reappear as quickly and easily as they had gone missing. And even though Graham knew nothing about the operation he was participating in beyond his role in it, he did know that much. Scratch my back and I won’t stab yours. Elliott hadn’t spoken two words to Graham in the decade since they’d first met. But he still considered the detective to be the perfect ally.

  Then came the phone call that changed everything.

  According to Elliot’s source, Graham had just conducted an interview with Julia’s best friend. This friend claimed to have an incriminating video of Elliott and Julia in a heated argument. Elliott assumed it was the very same video that Julia had sent him a five minute excerpt of three weeks earlier. In the subject line of the email that she had attached the clip to, Julia wrote the eight words that virtually assured her death: ‘Next time I send it to your wife.’

  Graham had apparently done his best to get the disk, but failed. After apologizing profusely, he swore to do anything he needed to do to fix the situation. Though Elliott was not privy to the actual conversation being reported to him, the take-no-shit cowboy had seemingly turned into a sniveling teenager who called to tell his father that he accidentally wrecked the family minivan. His disappointment in the detective couldn’t have been more profound.

  But the fear that resulted from the phone call was much worse. Julia’s best friend, he was informed, was also a former FBI agent. And if she really did have the video, as well as any of the other documents that Julia had in her possession, the chances were quite good that she would know exactly what she was looking at. She would also know exactly what to do with it.

  As he fretted over the possibilities, Elliott picked up the wastebasket that sat next to his desk and put it in his lap. He had a feeling he was going to throw up and didn’t want to ruin the suit that he had to wear to the Denver Chamber of Commerce luncheon he was scheduled to attend in an hour. His wife was already there, along with ever other person who formed the exceedingly powerful political circ
le that he would do anything to remain a part of.

  For now, his prominent standing in that circle was safe. Two days ago, he had assumed it was iron-clad. But the nightmare that started two months ago in Julia’s bedroom and had seemingly ended four nights ago was far from over. And if he didn’t discover a solution to his current crisis and discover it very fast, that prominent standing may vanish altogether.

  As Elliott cradled the wastebasket, convinced the contents of his queasy stomach would soon fill it, he was nearly startled out of his chair by the buzz of his office intercom.

  Fighting to recapture the breath that had suddenly left his body, he picked up the receiver.

  “What is it, Sarah?”

  “Sorry to bother you, Elliott. But someone is here to see you.”

  Elliott put the wastebasket down, straightened his tie, and held a compact mirror up to a youthful, sun-bleached face that was currently offset by deep frown lines. “Who is it?”

  “A new donor,” Sarah answered enthusiastically.

  Elliott’s frown lines instantly disappeared, as did the queasiness in his stomach. Money had a way of doing that. “I’ll be right there.”

  He got up from his desk, put on his expensive suit coat, and walked out into the lobby of his wife’s campaign headquarters. The thousand mega-watt smile that he had long used to charm the wealthy into pulling out their checkbooks was on full display.

  The moment he entered the lobby and saw who was really there waiting for him, the smile went away.

  CHAPTER 34

  Solomon couldn’t help but smile when he saw the look of utter astonishment on Elliott Richmond’s face. He was used to inspiring that look in people. But the sense of raw power it infused him with never got old.

  He had only met Richmond twice. Both meetings were brief and to the point. But in those few moments he gained more insight into the man respectfully referred to as ‘The Strategist’ than most people, even the ones closest to him, would learn in a lifetime. The nickname was well-deserved. Richmond was as thoughtful and organized a plotter as Solomon had ever met. But there was nothing at all respectful about him.

  The girl who escorted him through Mayor Richmond’s campaign headquarters wore the same astonished look as her boss. But hers was inspired by something else. At first, Solomon had suspected, with as little vanity as possible, that it had something to do with his looks. But the way she introduced him to Richmond let him know that it probably had a lot more to do with her perception of his wallet size.

  “Hey there,” she chirped with a fresh-out-of-college kind of enthusiasm when Richmond entered the lobby. “This is the brand new donor I was telling you about. He also calls himself the mayor’s most enthusiastic supporter.” Solomon had thrown in that little tidbit for good measure. “Elliott Richmond, meet Solomon Gates.”

  A rather ridiculous pseudonym, Solomon had concluded the instant he came up with it. But pseudonyms, ridiculous or not, were an indispensable part of his life.

  “Mr. Gates. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Richmond said with a bogus smile as he shook Solomon’s hand.

  Solomon squeezed hard and immediately felt the smaller man’s hand buckle under the strength of his grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Richmond. Sarah wasn’t kidding when she said that I’m your wife’s most enthusiastic supporter. She’s gotten my vote in every election since she first ran for city council. But now that the stakes are a bit higher, I figured it was time to finally put my money where my vote is.”

  “That’s awfully generous of you,” Richmond said as he rubbed his hand. “When you’re running a campaign as big as this one, you can never have enough enthusiastic supporters.”

  After a moment of silence that bordered on awkward, Sarah extended her hand to Solomon. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone. Mr. Gates, it was really nice meeting you.”

  Solomon took the girl’s hand and squeezed gently. “The pleasure was mine, Sarah. Hopefully we’ll see each other again.” Her breath caught slightly as she pulled her hand away and walked out of the lobby.

  Once Sarah was out of sight, Richmond abandoned the fake smile, looked at Solomon and shook his head. “So it is finally safe to end the Amos and Andy routine?”

  “I thought it was kind of fun,” Solomon countered. “Imagine me as the fine, upstanding patriot whose willing to put his hard earned millions behind the one politician he believes will finally do some good in this God-forsaken world. I should really consider taking up acting.”

  “The world’s first contract killer to ever win an Oscar. Inspiring.”

  Solomon’s half-smile quickly disappeared. “Do you have an office?”

  Richmond nodded then turned around and started walking. Solomon followed in silence until they reached an isolated corner in the back of the building.

  “Come in and have a seat,” Richmond directed as he opened the office door and pointed to the high back leather chair in front of his massive mahogany desk.

  Solomon waited for Richmond to situate himself behind the desk before sitting. “Judging by that slack-faced look of yours, I can only assume you’re surprised to see me.”

  “Surprised is one word. Mortified is another. Why would you even consider coming here?”

  “I understand that I’m violating the whole chain of command thing. But considering the current situation, the breach was necessary.”

  Richmond took a long breath. “I’m fully aware of the current situation. But showing up here was not the way to handle it. If anybody recognized you—”

  “So you know about the disks?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Then I can safely assume that this operation wasn’t about retrieving two inoperable computers and a box full of blank media? Because that’s exactly what I got.”

  “Of course it wasn’t about that,” Richmond answered. “There was supposed to be specific, highly sensitive information on those disks.”

  “But there wasn’t, unless you count her ski itinerary as highly sensitive.”

  Richmond shook his head and mumbled under his breath. “This is such a fucking nightmare.”

  “Where is the information I was supposed to retrieve, Richmond?”

  Richmond wrung his hands then set them down hard on the desk. “I just finished a rather disheartening phone call with your boss. Did he send you here?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him yet. I found my way here all on my own.”

  “So you don’t know.”

  Solomon had only been here two minutes, and he was already getting angry. “Not until you tell me.”

  “Someone else has the disks.

  Of course, Solomon thought, surprised by his own lack of surprise. “Who?”

  Richmond put a hand over his mouth, as if to stifle the words that were about to come out of it. “An FBI agent.”

  Solomon’s blood instantly ran cold. Afraid that Richmond would see the fear in his icy blue eyes, he cast them away. “You can’t be serious.”

  “She’s a former FBI agent, not that that makes it any better.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. Just tell me how it happened.”

  “I really assumed you would be in the loop with all of this.”

  “I’m not always as available as my bosses would like. So why don’t you do me a favor and bring me up to speed.”

  “I’ll have to tell them to keep better tabs on you,” Richmond said flatly. “At any rate, this former FBI agent also happens to be Julia’s best friend. They spent that entire last day together and the agent was most likely the last person to talk to Julia before she was killed.”

  Solomon’s chest suddenly felt heavy.

  Richmond continued. “So to answer your question, she probably got the disk directly from the source.”

  Solomon tried to regulate his breathing, but his lungs felt as if someone were sitting on them. The agent Richmond spoke of could only be Camille Grisham, the same Camille Grisham he allowed Julia to spend the entire day wit
h without intervening. They never should have made it home from the airport. Of course, he wasn’t prepared to tell Richmond that yet. “I’m assuming she told someone in the DPD about it.”

  Richmond nodded. “The two detectives assigned to the case. She told them that it contained, among other things, an incriminating video of me that essentially proves that I killed Julia.”

  Solomon always figured it was something like that, but he still couldn’t hide the look of mild surprise on his face. “And what was their reaction?”

  “Fortunately she didn’t get much traction with it. Not yet anyway.”

  “If we’re lucky she won’t get any more with the Clemmons angle playing out the way it is.”

  “I understand an arrest is imminent.”

  “He’s already in custody.”

  “You should be proud of yourself,” Richmond said with a strained smile.

  “I don’t deserve any pats on the back yet. There’s too much left on the table.”

  Richmond nodded. “Indeed there is.”

  After a prolonged silence, Solomon asked: “What about the video? Is it as bad as the agent said it is?”

  “It’s worse.”

  Solomon leaned back in his chair. “Do you mind telling me what’s on it?”

  “I mind.”

  Solomon smiled. “Fair enough.”

  “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is how we’re going to get it back.”