Hitting the hustings and the small towns on bus tours was over. The campaign was now in big venue mode, hitting arenas, stadiums and airplane hangars for the big crowds, getting to as many people at a time as possible. For Sally, on her maiden big time political voyage, it was intoxicating. “It’s like a concert tour,” she remarked with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a child when they were at Joe Louis Arena in downtown Detroit over the lunch hour.
The television was on CNN. A reporter was now standing outside of the DataPoint building and reporting on the deaths of Checketts and Martin. “That didn’t take long,” Sally stated.
“It’s something new to report on,” the Judge answered, taking in the news report. “I know for a fact, that this reporter has more background information than she is letting on.”
“Such as?” Sally asked.
“I’m sure the names of Montgomery and Stroudt might have been mentioned.”
“But not Heath Connolly?”
“Not yet, but soon,” the Judge answered. “Tomorrow, in time for Meet the Press and the rest of the morning shows. Give the media a taste of this thing and then drop the big name in and they will be relentless in their pursuit. It’s good for us if the media starts looking at that company. If we need to pressure states to inspect their machines, the media will prove an ally for us.”
Kennedy was quietly amazed. Sebastian had not been dead twenty-four hours yet the Judge soldiered on, completely locked into campaign mode. There was a cloud of sadness that hovered over him that everyone could sense. He tried to suppress it but it was there. After Tuesday, it would be tough on him with the election over and there was time to stop and reflect. But for now, the adrenaline and urgency of the race and what they were facing was enough to keep the Judge focused on the election. What Sebastian’s mother said to the governor had spread throughout the campaign staff now. “You better win.” The Judge was determined not to let Sebastian, or his mother, down.
CNN switched stories and the byline was Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and it was video of a police chase. The reporter indicated the chase ended just fifteen minutes ago and then what grabbed their undivided attention was: “The chase included detectives involved in the investigations surrounding the deaths of Peter Checketts and Gabriel Martin from DataPoint.”
The Judge and Sally stood up and walked to the television.
The footage from the news helicopter caught the chase directly from behind as it went through a combination residential and commercial areas of Milwaukee, a police chopper shining a light on a crossover vehicle while an unmarked police car and another gave chase.
The crossover turned hard left into an industrial area and then tried to turn left again but was unable to negotiate the corner and crashed violently into the building. Two cars pulled up, one unmarked police car and another vehicle. The cop out of the police car was on the radio while another cop was out of the second vehicle, in plain clothes and approached in a crouch with a gun and flashlight.
“Oh my God,” Sally croaked.
“What?” the Judge asked.
“That’s Mac.”
“How can you tell?”
“The crouch,” Sally replied. “I saw that twice last night and now as he’s standing up, that’s Mac, no doubt. I recognize his brown leather flight jacket. That’s him.”
“He sure does know how to find trouble,” the Judge remarked.
“It usually knows where to find him,” Sally quipped back.
“And that’s Wire right behind him,” the Judge replied, noting the tall brunette with a ponytail. Just then the Judge pulled his phone out and it was ringing. “Ms. Wire, care to tell me what this police chase is all about?”
* * *
It took Mac, Wire and a contingent of Milwaukee cops an hour to make their way down to Kenosha. Ring had to remain back at the crash site. Kaufman and Herdine, however, having spent the afternoon tracking down whether there were any flights from Minneapolis-St. Paul to Milwaukee late in the night or early in the morning, were back on the scene. They found a flight that left Flying Cloud airport in Eden Prairie at 12:08 a.m. and landed in Appleton, Wisconsin, just south of Green Bay at 1:14 a.m. That left plenty of time to get down to Checketts’s place along Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, at neither Flying Cloud nor the small airport in Appleton, was there any video footage of who came on or off the plane. The plane itself was registered to a White Knight Corporation in the Cayman Islands and Kaufman and Herdine indicated that finding more than that would require two things, more time to dig and probably some federal assistance. Mac and Wire thought they were getting close to the point that the feds needed to be brought in. But first, what was in the storage locker?
With an assist from Kenosha Police, the group was able to get into the Kenosha Self-Storage Facility and to storage unit 137. Kenosha Self-Storage had both indoor and outdoor storage units. Unit 137 was located outdoors in the middle of the third row of storage units back from the gated front entrance. Unit 137 was a small, narrow unit, perhaps six feet wide, maybe ten feet deep, a kind Mac had seen a hundred times watching Storage Wars. The kind of locker Jarrod would bid big on and Brandi would get pissed about while Dave smirked at them and uttered several “Yuuups” to bid them up.
Mac looked over to Kaufman who had a video camera in hand which was now running. “You’re good to go, Mac.”
A padlock fastened the orange metal door down. Mac took out the key from Bloom, slid it in the lock which opened. He and Herdine pushed up the door.
Inside there was a table, a voting machine and metal briefcase.
Mac looked to Kaufman and gave him a moment to take some video of the room. Wire and Mac pulled on blue rubber gloves and walked to the table. They both looked at the briefcase. Mac flipped the locks and opened it. Inside were what looked like computer disks and a large yellow envelope. He opened the envelope and inside was a letter addressed to Adam Montgomery.
“Dear Adam,
When I called you yesterday I know I was cryptic in telling you to keep an eye on Peter Checketts. If you’re finding this letter, it means that Ginger has contacted you and that something has happened to me.
Four days ago I found five memory cards for DataPoint Voting Machines in the office of Peter Checketts. As you know, Checketts is the president and owner of DataPoint Electronics. I’ve known and worked for Peter for over ten years. I even introduced you to him a number of years ago.
Three nights ago I went into Peter’s office to look for some reports we ran regarding the new machines we delivered to three states, which were Iowa, Wisconsin and Virginia, as well as a memory card replacement we completed for those machines. I’d left the reports in his office. I couldn’t find the reports on the top of his desk so I started looking in his desk and credenza drawers. I’ve told him for years that he needs to lock his desk but he never does. It’s those little details that he always misses.
I found the reports I was looking for in a credenza drawer where there were also five memory cards for our newest voting machines. It was unusual for him to have memory cards in his office. However, he and I were discussing memory cards a few weeks ago with regard to the replacements and the new company he hired to make the new cards. I recalled bringing some cards into the office at that time, so I just assumed they were the cards I left in his office. I took them and stuffed them into my backpack along with the reports I’d been looking for.
When I emptied my backpack at home, I pulled out the memory cards. They looked slightly different than our cards normally do, the gray coloring was slightly darker and there was a red-dot on the cards. I keep DataPoint machines at home in my shop as I like to tinker with them. I decided to test the cards and make sure they worked. I put one of the memory cards I found in Checketts’s office into my machine. After some test runs, including an election morning test run, things looked fine. I was about to shut down the machine when I decided to set the internal clock on the machine to 1:00 p.m. on Election Day. As you know, I am as big a political junkie as ther
e is, especially on presidential politics. So I set the machine up for the presidential election and I put in forty votes, twenty for each candidate. However, the machine registered twenty-one votes for Wellesley and nineteen for Thomson. I reset the machine again with the same memory card, twenty votes for each candidate and again, it was twenty-one for Wellesley and nineteen for Thomson. I checked the other four memory cards and the same results occurred.
I opened one of the memory cards and evaluated the programming. In the attached sheets I show how the memory card programming has been altered to roll back one of every twenty votes for Governor Thomson that is made after 12:00 p.m. on Election Day.
I confronted Peter Checketts about this. Whenever I’ve gone to him with a technical concern in the past, he would automatically say, get it fixed. This time he went off on me for coming into his office, for overreacting and questioning the integrity of the company. It was a side of him I’ve never seen before. It was totally out of character. He was not the man I’ve known.
That was earlier today.
I am not sure what I am onto here. The cards you find in this storage locker are the four remaining ones I found in Checketts’s office. I know what I’m seeing on these cards. The memory cards for our machines have been programmed to run this rollback, but I don’t know on how many. I don’t know how far this goes.
If I am right, the very company I work for has conspired to fix the United State Presidential Election for Vice President Wellesley. You have a deep interest in the issue of election integrity. We have had long talks on this issue and both share a passion for our nation’s election process. If you find this, please succeed where I have failed.
Your friend,
Gabriel Martin
Mac handed the letter to Wire, and in disbelief said: “A murder at The Snelling led to all this?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“You’ve got about three hours to prepare. No sweat.”
Mac leaned back against a car, sipping a Starbucks coffee and devouring a slightly stale glazed donut that Kaufman and Herdine picked up. This was no longer simply a homicide investigation. Upon reflection, Mac realized it stopped being just a homicide investigation last night, when Judge Dixon became involved.
At that point, it became more—much more.
As a detective, Mac didn’t ever like to think there was something bigger and more important than the death of a human being. But the reality of what he and Wire discovered an hour ago made him realize there was so much more at stake.
The voting machine suggested election fraud which fell within the purview of the FBI and in particular the Civil Rights Division. The FBI would be taking over—and at this point, should be taking over.
This was one reason Wire was now picking up Dixon at the Bradley Center in Milwaukee and transporting him down to the storage locker. McRyan and Wire both worried about the FBI slow walking the case to get through the election. Wire worried that the director was three years into his first five-year term and he undoubtedly would be looking for another five years after that from the next occupant of the White House. The director wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side and Wire speculated he would tread carefully. Mac deferred to Wire on bureau politics but he thought it was unlikely the bureau would move slowly given what was in the locker and the letter. To be safe, Mac also took several photos of the letter and e-mailed copies to Pat Riley and Bobby Rockford in St. Paul with the notation, “I’m not making this up. This is what the case is about. Keep these in case the bureau decides to bury this.”
Wire took photos with her own camera so that the Judge could read the letter. Now there were copies in case of an attempt to cover up the discovery. There would be something to show the media if need be. The Judge’s presence would apply the necessary pressure to ensure their discovery would be properly and immediately investigated.
The early signs were promising.
Special agents from the FBI Milwaukee office arrived on the scene quickly and in force, with crime scene techs and agents. You could always count on the bureau to want to make a display of power when they wanted jurisdiction, hence the excess of dark suits hovering around the scene. Yet they were working with Kenosha and Milwaukee police and had acknowledged Mac’s presence. Crime scene people, both from the county and from the bureau were snapping photographs and logging evidence.
The Local Special Agent-In-Charge (AIC) for the bureau was special agent Margaret Berman and in charge she was. There was no doubt who everyone from the bureau would be answering to. Mac met with Berman briefly, giving her a run down on the situation and was reasonably impressed with her response. He called Wire and the Judge to clue them in on Berman.
Mac took in the scene as he placed a call to Ed Duffy.
“Duffy.”
“McRyan.”
“How’s Milwaukee?”
“A party town like always.”
“I saw the car chase and you hovering around the scene. Do tell?”
“Over beers at the pub, another time, I promise. I’m pressed for time. What can you tell me about Special Agent Margaret Berman?”
“Maggie?” Duffy laughed. “She’s known as the Little General. You’ll love her. She doesn’t take shit from anyone and can be a real ball breaker if you get on her bad side, so I might suggest you hide your usual contempt for us bureau types if I were you. Good news is she’s a hell of a cop and gets the job done. Oh, and one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She’s very ambitious. She doesn’t want Milwaukee to be her last stop. She’s very attuned to what it takes to climb the ladder.”
Mac thought about the case they were dealing with and an ambitious FBI agent could be good or bad. Good if she goes after the case. Bad if in her efforts to climb the FBI ladder, she would be willing to sack a sensitive case for a promotion. Duffy usually read people okay and if he thought Berman was the goods, he’d go with it. Plus it was consistent with at least his initial impression of the agent. He changed topics, “Ed, have you had any luck on the man we gave you pictures of?”
“Your call is good timing, I was getting ready to call you anyway,” Duffy replied. “The answer is yes and no and I can e-mail you some more information or have Riley do it if you’d like.”
“Yeah, get it to Riley and me. It may be helpful on both ends. But for now, I’ll take the quick version.”
“Okay, the guy you captured that killed McCormick, Montgomery and probably Stroudt at The Snelling, we don’t have an ID on him yet.”
“Nothing, huh?”
“Nada yet,” Duffy answered. “He’s dead, you sure it matters?”
“If I know who he was, that can still help me.”
“Okay,” Duffy answered. “As I look at the pictures you gave me, my impression is he looks southern European to me, not Spanish or Portuguese, more French, maybe northern Italian or even Sardinian. In any event, I mentioned that to my people in DC and they’re looking in those directions.”
“Okay, what about the other two guys? The blonds in the photos I handed you when we were at police HQ?”
“There I have some help for you, Mac,” Duffy replied eagerly. “The younger blond man we’ve identified as Viktor Domitrovich.”
“Russian?”
“Ukrainian. He’s a computer hacker and virus creator. He’s been a pain in the bureau’s butt from time to time over the last several years.”
“That fits,” Mac told Duffy what they’d just found and another person now was in the know on Martin and DataPoint, just in case. “Unbelievable,” was all Duffy could say in response, then got back on task “So we know who Domitrovich is, so that’s the good news.”
“The bad?”
“He’s dead. Kiev police found him this morning in his apartment with one between the eyes execution style. Sound familiar?”
“Indeed,” Mac answered. “Any witnesses? Anyone see anything?”
Duffy exhaled. “Nada.”
“Natch,” Mac
replied disgustedly.
“There are other apartment units but nobody heard anything, so the thought is—silencer. Based on the condition of his body, they think he was done sometime yesterday.”
“So that guy is dead. What about the second guy?”
“That’s where it gets tricky. By the way, are you ever going to tell me where these pictures came from?” Duffy asked, still fishing.
“Sometime, maybe when I tell you about the car chase,” McRyan answered again evasively. “But not right now.”
“Okay, let me ask this a different way, these photos are enlargements. Will I ever get to see the whole picture?”
“Again, maybe when I tell you about the car chase,” Mac answered, evading. “Ed, there’s a great story behind this but I’m just not at liberty to tell it all yet.”
“Okay,” Duffy groaned, the disappointment obvious in his voice. “The picture you gave us shows about seventy-five percent of his face and for the most part he’s in the shadows so it is difficult to get a firm identification.”
“How about an un-firm one?”
“That I just got,” Ed answered. “We have a semi-retired agent in DC who used to work the Russia beat. He thinks the guy could be a Russian by the name of Anatoly Khrutov. That’s the good news.”
“And the bad?”
“He’s a nasty guy. Ex-KGB with some ties to Putin from back in the good old days. After the Cold War ended, he became something of a shadowy fixer in Russia. He puts people with people and gets paid for it.”
“Puts people with people?” Mac asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“For example, he helps foreign businessmen get connected with the right ministers in the government. You need a drilling permit, he can help shepherd it through the bureaucracy. You want to open a business? He knew who could help you get the right permissions. He’s said to know where everyone’s skeletons are buried so he can apply leverage to get done what he wants done. He wasn’t cheap either, very expensive.”
Electing To Murder Page 27
