Electing To Murder

by Roger Stelljes

  “We’re up anywhere from seven to eight points nationally and the leads are following in the swing states, Mac!” she screamed, a raucous crowd in the background, she was at a campaign event. “In Iowa we’re up eight, Wisconsin nine, Ohio six and Virginia we’re up six as well. There are even a few other states we thought were lost causes and now we’re in the hunt there. We’re even in Arizona and Missouri, and that’s just polling today. This could be a wave election all of the sudden.”

  Mac flipped over to MSNBC, which was scrolling through the state polls based on their own Wall Street Journal/MSNBC polling and they mirrored what Sally was saying. “You’re gonna win, honey.”

  “We’re gonna win.”

  Mac smiled at the joy in her voice. He loved hearing her so happy.

  “We’re gonna win and you made sure it would happen,” she said.

  Mac shook his head, “No, no, no honey, we just made sure the playing field was level, that’s all; you guys won the election.”

  “As usual, you sell yourself short,” she replied sarcastically. “You and Wire, you two saved this thing, Mac. You saved it. Sure we did the work to win, we are ahead and we should win, we deserve to win. But you two made sure all that work paid off. It is going to have a huge effect on the country. Massive. Now we’re going to win and we’re going to win huge.”

  She was right. The discovery of the election fraud related to the murders was having a huge effect on the American electorate and in Mac’s mind that made a certain amount of intuitive sense. Regardless of whatever it was in the United States, politics, sports, business, whatever it was, people had an overall sense of fair play. Could you bend the rules? Sure. Could you break them to take something that should go to someone else? No. That particular American ideal was playing out in the polls and not just in the presidential race, but it appeared to be having an effect down ballot as well. The polls for several close Senate races were showing a swing to the Democratic column. Voters were going to take the scandal out not just on the vice president, but the Republican Party in general. Sally was right; Governor Thomson was heading for a decisive victory.

  “You know, honey,” Mac said, “you’re right this could be a wave election but …”

  “But what?”

  Mac exhaled. “I don’t know. This whole electoral fraud thing was pretty isolated to the presidential race, Sally, so the swing there is understandable. I have a feeling a bunch of Republicans, through no fault of their own, are going to get caught in the wave.” That impact affected Mac’s sense of right and wrong. Innocent people were going to lose their races because of the acts of someone else. He didn’t necessarily like that result.

  Sally was unbothered by it. “That’s politics, Mac. What the top of ticket does or doesn’t do impacts races up and down the ballot. That’s what’s happening here.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Of course I am,” he could hear her smiling on the other end of the line. “I can’t wait to see you. When are you going home?”

  “Not sure,” Mac answered, taking a sip of water and wishing for some Ibuprofen for his headache. “I’m going into the Hoover Building later to check in and see if we’ve made any progress on figuring out who this Bishop is. Do you know, did Wire talk to the Judge about that?”

  “I think she talked to him just a few minutes ago,” Sally replied. “Hang on.” There was a huge roar from the crowd in the background and Mac could make out the sound of Thomson’s voice. He wasn’t even sure where they were so he flipped the channels and CNN was covering the speech. They were in Toledo, Ohio. “Mac, here’s the Judge.”

  “Mac, how are you son?”

  “Fine, sir, just fine.”

  “Dara told me you guys were up pretty late cocktailing,” Mac could tell the mood of the Judge was light. Certain victory had a way of doing that. If he didn’t know any better, there was a cigar in the man’s fingers.

  “We definitely had a few, Judge.”

  “Well I should hope so, you two deserved it. Send me the tab.”

  “It was pretty big, Judge.”

  “So much the better,” he replied heartily and then changed gears. “I’m sure Dara is planning on calling you. Sally asked about this ‘Bishop’ business. I don’t know who that is, son. The only recollection I have of that name was a case when I was the attorney general that came up in the last few months of my term. I think it was Younger Investments. The case dealt with a Hedge Fund Manager, which was Younger, and redemptions and how the Hedge Fund had redemptions well in excess of its assets.”

  “I kind of remember this,” Mac replied, he routinely followed the market. “Maybe not that specific case, but wasn’t there a bunch of cases of market timing?”

  “That’s right,” the Judge replied. “There was a market timing element of this as well and an international component, buying on the Japanese Exchange based on the closing price on the US Exchange. In any event, I recall there being this mystery man called ‘the Bishop’ in that case. This Bishop was an unidentified investor who benefited from the scheme. However, before we could really figure out what was going on, the Hedge Fund manager was dead and by the time we left office, we never identified who this Bishop was.”

  “The key witness was dead before you could get to him. That sounds awfully familiar,” Mac deadpanned.

  “I hear you, son,” Dixon replied. “I think that case died on the vine with my successor. That’s three AGs ago now, well before Gates’s time. I mentioned that to Dara not fifteen minutes ago. Perhaps Gates could look into that case and that might get you on the road to figuring out who this Bishop is. It might not even be the same guy, probably isn’t, but it’s the only reference to Bishop or the Bishop that I ever ran across or at least remember running across.”

  Mac heard another roar in the background. “Thanks, Judge. I’ll mention that to Gates and Mitchell and we’ll see where it leads.”

  “Very well,” the Judge answered. “Listen, Mac. After Tuesday, you and I need to sit down and have a few drinks when this is over. Sally too.”

  Mac wasn’t sure where that was headed and didn’t really want to think about it at the moment but you don’t say no to someone like Judge Dixon. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, here’s Sally.”

  “Where to next, Sal?” Mac asked.

  “I just got the itinerary. We made some changes based on the sudden polling swings. We’re going for it. From here we’re going to Tampa, then back to St. Louis and believe it or not, we’re going west, we’re hitting Phoenix late tonight.”

  Sally was like a kid at Christmas. The euphoria was clear in her voice. Three months ago she was a damn good county prosecutor who took a leave to help a close friend on the campaign for president. In the last two weeks she’d found her way into the inner circle and she had the political bug now. Mac suspected she would not be returning to Ramsey County. Things were going to change, but that was for later. For now, she needed to enjoy the moment, “Sally, have fun, enjoy yourself, take lots of cell phone pictures.”

  “Mac, this is amazing. I can’t believe I’m a part of this. Tomorrow is going to be awesome. You better be back by then.”

  “I hope to be.”

  “Good,” she replied, and then her voice went a little quieter. “Because I have a big welcome home planned for you.”

  * * *

  Connolly stood on his balcony, overlooking the courtyard and out to the Potomac River, the gold, rust and yellow of the leaves of Virginia glistening against the sun in the distance. He could even make out a rower pushing to the north on the river, getting in an early Monday morning workout.

  In his hand he held the burner cell phone.

  * * *

  The Bishop answered on the second ring. “How are you my friend?” he asked with concern.

  “I am doing okay this morning,” He could hear the relief in Connolly’s voice. “Fine, in fact, all things considered. And you? Obviously things are not going to go the way
we’d hoped tomorrow.”

  The Bishop sipped his coffee, sitting deep in the dark condo, looking out to see Connolly standing on his balcony, a cup of coffee in his hand. Having spent the past two hours watching the political shows, he knew the election was over, Thomson would be president. After all, when FOX News said it was over, the Bishop knew it was. “No, my friend. They will not. Our plans went awry.”

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  The Bishop decided to get some information from the political operative. “I understand you were not helpful to the FBI yesterday.”

  “No, I wasn’t, not at all,” Connolly replied urgently. “However, you know the St. Paul detective working the case?”

  “McRyan?”

  “Yes, him. He has your name somehow, not your real name, but he knows there’s a man named the Bishop involved. How he knows I don’t know, but he knows.”

  The Bishop grimaced. He had not learned this piece of information. And while he doubted anyone in the government knew ‘the Bishop’ meant him, with a moniker they could potentially work their way back to him. Few men alive knew of him as the Bishop. Connolly was one, Kristoff was another.

  “What does your attorney have to say?”

  “That the government has nothing on me really. They have a picture of me, Khrutov, Checketts and Domitrovich and those three are dead. Otherwise they have nothing to tie me to the DataPoint machines. I’m a dead end for them.”

  “They could be watching you.”

  “I suspect they are. They are probably watching the building but they certainly don’t have anything close enough to get some sort of search warrant or conduct any sort of wiretapping on me,” Heath replied. “We sat there for four hours last night and all they really have is the picture and nothing else.”

  “They’ll come back at you again.”

  “They will,” Connolly answered, the confidence growing in his voice. “But they have nothing and I will not give them anything and I want you to know that, I need you to know that.”

  Connolly was worried about his life. The Bishop could sense it in his voice. It was the reason for the call, it was the reason he decided to take it. Connolly had his guard up and the Bishop would just as soon have it down. “You needn’t worry, my friend. We’ve been friends a long time. I know you’ll stay strong and you have to know that I will take care of you. Don’t worry about work or money. I can supply plenty of both. There will be other election cycles and we shall plot our comeback together. In the meantime, things will die down and the investigation will lead nowhere. Trust me.”

  “I am glad to hear you say that,” Connolly replied and the Bishop, with the powerful binoculars to his eyes, could see a wave of relief wash over his face.

  “No worries, Heath. We are good. I must go, but hang tight. I will be in touch.” The Bishop hung up and watched Connolly put the phone in his pocket, exhale and look to the sky in relief with a light smile on his face.

  A minute ago his guard was up.

  Now it was down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “I’ve seen that man.”

  Mac and Wire enjoyed an early lunch at a small homey café in Arlington, a place she’d discovered four years ago and tried to make it to at least once per week when she was home. The food was tremendous, excellent coffee, even better iced tea, and it felt like a Saturday or Sunday back home when he and Sally would take the paper and go to Mac’s favorite place, the Cleveland Grille, to eat and relax.

  They actually discussed the election for a good long while, Mac relating his conversation with Sally and the Judge. Wire said she’d spent a couple of hours watching the election news as well. They both knew their investigation would garner a lot of media attention in the days to come, particularly once tomorrow’s election was over. Neither of them really relished the thought of the media poking around in their lives.

  “Trust me,” Mac said, “it’s not a lot of fun, but my advice is to find someone you can trust and talk to them, get it out and then politely refuse to talk to anyone else. If you say it all at once, people will lose interest pretty quickly.”

  “That work for you?”

  “Yeah, there’s this reporter, she’s actually with NBC News now, Heather Foxx.”

  “Why am I not surprised,” Wire stated, rolling her eyes.

  “What?”

  “She’s kinda hot.”

  “Yes she is,” Mac replied sheepishly. “But she’s also very good and I found she can be trusted.” Mac told Wire about the case where he crossed paths with Foxx, a double kidnapping that involved Chief Flanagan’s daughter and the daughter of a prominent lawyer. “In any event, Heather actually helped out our case a little bit. So in return, I gave her a sit-down one-on-one and she did it right and that was that. I didn’t exactly play that case entirely by the rules but she steered fairly clear of those areas and once I’d talked to her there was really nothing left to say. She’s on the trail with the Thomson campaign now for NBC. If I end up having to talk with someone in the media about the case, I’ll probably talk to Heather.”

  Wire took that advice to heart. “Maybe she’d talk to me too.”

  “Heather?” Mac asked. “For sure. She’s ambitious as hell but she’s pretty discreet, at least with stuff like this.”

  “What isn’t she discreet about?” Wire asked, catching the hint.

  “Trying to bed me,” Mac replied casually, stuffing a fork full of ham and cheese omelet into his mouth.

  A big smile came across Dara Wire’s face and she had to ask, “Really, Heather Foxx has been after you?” She was skeptical.

  “I’m hurt,” Mac answered mockingly.

  “Seriously? She was after you?”

  “For a time, when she was working local news in the Twin Cities,” Mac answered nodding. “The fact I was with Sally didn’t seem to matter to her. She came onto me a number of times. It got a little awkward once or twice.”

  “She had to be hard to resist.”

  Mac nodded and smiled. “Yeah, she kinda was. A night with her would be one to remember.”

  “But you never …”

  Mac shook his head, “I know what it’s like to be cheated on, and I couldn’t do that to Sally. I didn’t want to do it.”

  “Were you married?”

  “Once,” Mac answered looking down. “I caught my ex having an affair with a partner in her law firm. Sally was married too and she thinks her ex, also a lawyer, did the same thing to her.”

  “So you both have that baggage.”

  Mac sat back in the booth, exhaled and nodded lightly. “The experience of it was devastating to both of us. So I just could never do that to her. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did.”

  Wire smiled her approval, as she poured more coffee. “Sally is a lucky girl.”

  Mac shook his head, “I’m the lucky one.”

  “You both are,” Wire said. “I’m envious of you both. Don’t ever screw it up, McRyan.”

  “I tell myself that every day.”

  Mac was due back at the Hoover Building in a few hours and he wanted to get Wire into the investigation. She deserved it and he felt a little like he was on his own dealing with Director Mitchell and Attorney General Gates and could use the support of a partner. So when he called into the FBI director with the tip on the Bishop, he attributed it to Wire getting the information from Dixon. Mitchell said she should come in with him. “If you’re going to tell her everything to begin with, she might as well be here,” the director snickered. Mac let it roll off his back, his mission was accomplished.

  “So you’re in,” Mac said. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re on the outs with the bureau to begin with?”

  “Ever heard of the Giordano Crime Family in New Jersey?” Wire asked, sipping her coffee.

  Mac shrugged, “Not really, sounds like the name of every other crime family.”

  Wire tilted her head sideways. “I suppose it does. Anyway, about four years ago I had a guy und
ercover in that family, his name was Giovanni Franchesca. Somehow, the fact I had a man in the Giordano’s was discussed at a Washington DC cocktail party by none other than Donald Wellesley Jr.”

  “The vice president’s son? Seriously?” Mac asked, surprised, as he filled her coffee again, settling in for the story.

  “Yeah, he’s the one,” Wire answered bitterly, mixing sugar into a fresh cup of coffee.

  “How’d he know about your guy?”

  “Wellesley Jr. was tight with the then attorney general who was spouting off one night in his office about the case and how close we were getting to breaking that family open. The AG in his infinite wisdom mentioned we had the undercover in the family.”

  “Nice,” Mac grunted with disgust.

  “Exactly,” Wire added, shaking her head, looking out the front window. “About the only thing the AG didn’t do was disclose my guy’s name. In any event, at the cocktail party were a number of people in the New Jersey Congressional Delegation.”

  “You’re kidding,” Mac blurted in disbelief, now knowing exactly where this was going.

  “I kid you not,” she replied, exasperated. “Someone from that group, we never did find out whom, got word back to the Giordano’s and a week later my guy’s floating in the world’s greatest body depository.”

  “Ahh, the Hudson.”

  “He was beaten to death.”

  “You were upset,” Mac said, leading her along. He saw the darkness slowly float into her eyes as she told the story. He wanted to know it all now.

  “You have no idea,” she replied darkly. “I didn’t know who from Jersey told the Giordano’s but I found out it was Wellesley Jr. who let word slip at the party.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I followed him for three days until he went to a small out of the way bar in DC. When I approached, I didn’t look like I presented a danger. The Secret Service didn’t even bat an eye when I walked in the bar. I went in the front door, locked it behind me and walked right up to Wellesley and told him Franchesca was a friend of mine. I one punched Wellesley’s friend out of the way and then proceeded to beat the living daylights out of Donald Jr. For a minute or maybe longer, Mac, I just beat him about the face with my fists, feet and elbows. I just kept going and going and going.”