Bloody Politics

by Maggie Sefton

  Tuesday afternoon

  Larry Fillmore picked up his pace as he walked down Independence Avenue, cell phone to his ear. “I lucked out this morning. Jackson was meeting with some of his biggest donors, and they wanted a little private time with him. I was able to slip away to the Congressional Research Services and run a search.” He glanced over his shoulder for oncoming traffic as he crossed over South Capitol Street, heading toward the Rayburn House Office Building. “I had to be careful, though. I didn’t want Loretta Wade to spot me in her fiefdom. So I used some of the computers on the upper level.”

  “Good, what did you find out?” Spencer prodded. “Raymond said Wade handed Malone some papers, so she must have been researching something.”

  “I’ll say. She was looking at people and banks. European banks. One was in Stuttgart, another in Milan, another in Geneva. As far as people, her most recent searches showed she was looking at Ryker, Dunston, Holmberg, then some others. Anthony Montclair and Dimitry Kasikov.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Larry prompted, “You still there?”

  Spencer’s voice came, sounding a little different than he’d heard before. Tighter. Something changed in the tone. “Yeah. I’m here. Good job, Larry. I’ll … I’ll be in touch.” He clicked off.

  Larry pocketed his phone and sped up the steps of the Rayburn Building. With luck, he’d get back to the office before the congressman.

  Tuesday evening

  “Could you tell me where to find one of your staffers, George Trudeau?” I asked the older woman seated behind the Information Desk at the Arlington Library.

  “Yes, I saw him over in the reference section. Ah, here he comes now.” She pointed to the tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman who strode toward me. Silver-haired, he could have been a retired senator or judge.

  “Molly?” he asked, extending his hand. “I’m George.”

  I gave his hand a firm shake. “George, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for taking your own time to speak with me.”

  “I’m happy to. Follow me, and we’ll find a cozy corner where we can talk,” he said as he turned toward the reference section and headed down an aisle.

  I followed behind, scanning the various shelves filled with books on different time periods in history. George led me to a corner where there were two small armchairs angled close together. No one else was seated nearby.

  “Here’s a good spot. Have a seat.” He gestured toward an armchair.

  I settled into a chair. I had brought a takeout coffee with me, which was the only thing between me and hunger pangs. “This is good. Quiet and no one is about.”

  I wondered how on earth the Prestige team would arrange a way to scan all the library patrons. So many were standing or sitting in the aisles, spread out everywhere. Lounging on some of the sofas near the center or entrance to the library. Studying at the tables lining the walls.

  “Yes, it is. That’s why I suggested this place. Because some of what I’m about to tell you is rather sensitive information. So I wouldn’t want anyone overhearing our conversation.”

  Needless to say, that got my interest and I leaned on the arm of the chair, getting a little closer to George. “Let’s start at the beginning. What did Eric Grayson tell you he was researching? And did he ever tell you why?”

  George shifted in his chair and leaned a little closer as well. “At first, he simply asked me to search for the organization called the Epsilon Group. He wanted to find out what it was and who were the members and if any politicians were involved with the group. He knew they focused on international monetary issues and wrote papers, but he wanted to know if I could find any connections that group had to European banks or other financial institutions.”

  “Was Edward Ryker a member of the group?”

  “Yes, along with Senator Dunston. They were both adjunct members, whatever that means. We were never able to find any information on the organizational structure of the group.”

  “What about connections to European banks? Did you find any?”

  George nodded. “Indeed I did, after a lot of searching. Years ago the Epsilon Group offered grants and economic aid to developing countries, helping them build infrastructure. Wealthy donors and charitable organizations contributed to the fund. The fund was managed by a Russian, Boris Breloff, who had connections to the group through one of its members, Dimitry Kasikov. A couple of years into the funds operation, however, it was uncovered that Breloff had engaged in money laundering for the Russian mafia.” George’s voice dropped lower when he said that.

  “Uh, oh. Not good. Was the Epsilon Group ever involved in any wrongdoing? Any complicity?”

  “Not directly. There was never any connection established between the group’s members and Breloff’s misuse of the fund’s capital. Breloff was supposedly going to be charged with misuse of funds or embezzlement, but the case was dismissed a year later on insufficient grounds. Then Breloff simply disappeared from the scene. It was as if he disappeared into thin air. Needless to say, the Epsilon Group discontinued its developmental fund completely.”

  I stared at my coffee mug for a minute. “And this is what Eric Grayson was researching for all those months?”

  George nodded. “Yes. It took us quite a while to comb through all the research materials. This sort of information requires a great amount of digging. It’s a lot of minutiae.”

  “And none of it proves any wrongdoing by any of the people involved. Except that Russian guy, Breloff. But it looks like he never went to jail either. So I still don’t understand why Eric was so determined to take time from his own committee work to dig into something like the Epsilon Group. They still come off looking squeaky clean.”

  “Not quite. You see, Eric was also digging into the investment activities of one of Congress’s most powerful politicians, Edward Ryker. And he found not only a connection between Ryker and the Epsilon Group’s development fund, but he also learned that Ryker had taken money from a huge agricultural conglomerate and a mining company. Ostensibly the money was intended as contributions to Epsilon Group’s development fund. But we found a letter from an employee who was convinced Ryker was skimming off a healthy percentage of the donation for himself. There’s a letter in the files. Unfortunately, the man never formally accused Ryker or brought charges, and he left the company within months.”

  I stared at George as long-ago memories crossed my mind of my young husband Dave’s desperate attempt to expose Ryker’s underhanded dealings with a large mining company. But Ryker let loose his hounds of destruction that smeared Dave’s reputation and ruined his career. Ryker had once again successfully kept all charges of his corruption out of the public eye. No one dared speak of it, only whispers around the outskirts lest the hounds be set on them. Everyone had seen what had happened to David Grayson.

  Those memories must have shown on my face, because George looked at me solicitously. “I can’t help but remember your husband David and his fight against Edward Ryker. David was never able to bring any of the rumored bribery witnesses to give statements against Ryker. It was tragic how it ended.”

  “Yes, it was,” I said with a sigh. “And it looks like Ryker’s corruption and greed increased over the years. And his tactics have become more sophisticated.”

  “You’re right, Molly. And that’s the second level of Eric Grayson’s research.” George reached inside his suit jacket and withdrew a CD in a plastic case and handed it to me. “Eric never put anything he found involving Ryker in his notebooks where someone could see it. He was very careful that way. He put all of his Ryker research on this CD. And he always gave it to me to keep whenever he left the Library of Congress.” George gave a rueful smile. “Poor Eric. He was so careful. And then he died in such a tragic accident.” He shook his head. “I’ve been keeping this CD for all these years. I would have given it to his
daughter Karen except I remember Eric saying one of the reasons he was being so careful was he didn’t want anything to hurt Karen’s blossoming career. Knowing what was on this disc, I decided to just put it away and hoped there would be an opportunity to tell Karen about her father’s research, but that time never came.” He glanced away.

  I sensed George wouldn’t have brought the disc with him tonight if he hadn’t intended to give it to me. “It sounds like you want me to have it, George. Am I right?”

  He smiled. “Yes. It’s obvious you’re serious about uncovering wrongdoing. So, I think Eric Grayson would approve of my handing over his research to you. I sense you’ll make good use of it.”

  I accepted the plastic case, my curiosity growing. “Thank you, George. I promise I will definitely make sure this information comes to light. Somehow.”

  “It won’t be easy. There was never a case of anyone putting their accusations against Ryker on paper. But there are layers and layers of allegations, from the mining company to the agricultural conglomerate. We also found instances when Ryker steered legislation that benefited the mining company years ago. Rumors of bribes. Eric tried to get something concrete. He even spoke with two different men in Montana who claimed they knew of Ryker’s bribes. They’d seen the money. But then, both those men dropped out of sight. Eric never could find them. They may have panicked at the thought of going public with the charges and changed their minds. Or, they may have simply fled the country. Who knows?”

  Who knows, indeed, I thought. They may have had their minds changed for them … permanently.

  “So you can understand Eric’s caution,” George continued. “To be honest I’m relieved to finally be rid of it. I always felt slightly guilty, holding on to it and not doing anything. I feel better now.” He gave a small smile.

  “I promise you this, George, I will do my best to make sure this information gets out to the public. I don’t know how yet. But I’ll figure it out.”

  “I do not doubt that at all, Molly.”

  _____

  I leaned my chin on my hand as I stared at the screen of my old desktop computer. My brother-in-law’s concise paragraphs detailed every accusation of corruption as well as every instance of Edward Ryker’s meetings with the mining and agricultural companies years ago. Ryker’s voting history, public comments, even rumors of bribes heard around the Hill. There was more information concerning the huge agricultural conglomerate and their contributions to the Epsilon Group’s development fund. Checking my watch, I saw it was nearly midnight. I doubted I could sleep, so I moved Eric’s file and opened a document file of my own. I stared at the blinking cursor. Innuendo and rumors, very little in writing, no one willing to talk. Eric had never been able to prove any wrongdoing. Possible accusers suddenly changed their minds or disappeared. What made me think I could ever put that information to its best use? I had no idea, but somehow I knew I’d find a way.

  fifteen

  Wednesday morning

  I raced from the limo to the back door of the Russell mansion and shook my umbrella free of raindrops. A surprise morning shower.

  “Morning, Molly,” Albert said, taking the umbrella as I stepped inside.

  “Thanks, Albert. It’s chilly out there.”

  “Coffee’s waiting.”

  “Ah, music to my ears. Have you seen Casey this morning?”

  “About an hour ago. He should be back from dropping the senator and Peter any minute now.”

  “Good Lord, they leave earlier and earlier every morning,” I said as we walked down the back hallway.

  “Hi, Molly,” Luisa said as soon as I entered the kitchen. “We’ve got a surprise reception this evening. Apparently some Colorado manufacturing group is in town to meet with the senator and government officials. And you know how hospitable the senator is.” She laughed as she wiped off invisible fingerprints from the kitchen cabinets.

  “I do, indeed, and I also know that where senators and government officials are, lobbyists are right behind. Looks like the senator’s entertaining account will go in the red for the month.” Coffee poured into my mug. I was going to need it, what with the rain and overdrawn accounts.

  “Oh, you’ll find a way to balance it.” Luisa pooh-poohed my concerns with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  I figured that’s how most people thought of accountants. We were magicians who magically made numbers behave and budgets balance. All with a wave of our hand … or a click of a computer mouse.

  “I hope you’re right, Luisa,” I said, leaving her to bustle about her kitchen as only she could. Happiness was having caterers to boss around. Meanwhile, I headed to my office, determined not to let the dark-gray skies outside get to me.

  _____

  Raymond poured three fingers’ worth of the premier Scotch into the crystal glass on his desk. That, plus four of the over-the-counter pain killers, had kept the pain in his throat manageable. He took a deep drink of the liquid gold and let it slide down his throat, bringing a blessed numbness. Then he pressed Spencer’s number on his phone directory.

  Spencer picked up after the fourth ring. “Have you heard anything from Trask?”

  “Yeah. Just this morning. He wanted to get more information on that librarian guy Malone was meeting.” Raymond felt the cough start to rise and stopped it with a big sip from the glass.

  “Who’s this guy, again?”

  “His name’s George Trudeau. He was a senior researcher at the Congressional Research Services when Eric Grayson was digging around. That’s why it got my attention. We were never able to find any files or notes on Grayson’s home computer or in his desk years ago. Grayson must have kept them at his Capitol Hill office. That’s why my buzzer went off when Trask said this Trudeau guy handed Malone a CD. They were sitting in a corner of the library, huddled together, talking. So it doesn’t sound like they were discussing the weather.”

  “Crap,” Spencer said softly. “How’d this happen?”

  “I figure the only way Malone could have heard about this Trudeau guy is through the Loretta Wade woman. She’s been at the Research Services for years. So she undoubtedly knew this Trudeau before he retired a few years ago.”

  “Dammit! Every time we’ve got one leak shut down, another one pops up.”

  Raymond leaned back in his desk chair and sipped the Scotch. No sunlight streamed into his office this morning. It was gray and depressing outside. He let the Scotch soothe his throat. “Yeah, I know. Malone had stopped poking around until she met with Sylvia Wilson.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Spencer growled.

  “Too bad we can’t get into the congresswoman’s house. Trask was going to take a look, but he saw that Prestige Systems company installing security.”

  “Jesus! Didn’t Trask have that place bugged?”

  “Yeah, and they probably found it,” Raymond said with a sigh.

  Spencer cursed softly for a minute, then exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Now I’m wondering how much Loretta Wade knows. She may have helped this Trudeau when he was digging up stuff.”

  “Yeah, I had the same thought. Trask has already checked out Wade’s neighborhood. She’s in a house on Potomac Avenue, across from that Harris Teeter store. Lots of neighbors around those houses, so he’ll have to go in as a repairman or something.”

  “Okay. Get it done. Let’s see if she’s got a copy of that CD. Or any other files.”

  “I’ll get him on it and let you know what we find. He may be able to get in there today or tomorrow. Wade is gone all day and so’s the kid. Basketball practice over at Gonzaga.”

  “Keep me posted by text. Tonight I’m attending a manufacturers’ reception. Would you believe it’s over at Senator Russell’s house?” He gave a disgusted snort. “Dunston says Russell’s turning really inquisitive ever since he took Karpinsky’s seat on that committee. The last thing I need tonig
ht is to listen to another politician sound sanctimonious.”

  Raymond chuckled. “Malone’s got her office there, so if you see her tonight, say ‘hello’ for me.”

  “Like hell.”

  Raymond laughed out loud at the irritation in Spencer’s voice, even though he knew it would spur the cough. Some things were worth enjoying.

  _____

  Casey stepped inside my office, coffee mug in hand. “Albert said you wanted to see me.”

  I paused the mouse over the spreadsheet columns of Senator Russell’s soon-to-be-overdrawn Entertainment Account. “Yes, I wanted ask you to please contact Prestige Systems and Danny and tell them I obtained some interesting information last night from librarian George Trudeau. I wanted to share it with them.”

  Casey approached my desk and looked down at me with what I’d come to recognize as his Big Brother expression. Never having had a brother, big or small, I wasn’t sure if that was an accurate description, but Casey’s expression was a mixture of concern with a touch of scolding. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you called Danny yourself?”

  Crazy Ass spoke up quietly. “Don’t you think it’s time?” I hadn’t been able to hear that voice through the dense emotion-charged cloud that had been hanging over me. Crazy Ass preaching forgiveness. That was new. Sober and Righteous, however, responded truer to form with a scowling “No.” Stubborn as ever, Sober refused to let it go. Despite the conflicting advice, I could feel that dense cloud start to lift.

  I concentrated on the spreadsheet again. “Well, I’d like to have Prestige’s input, since they’re a security company.”

  “Uh, huh. Okay, Molly. I’ll call Danny. This time.”

  I glanced back at him and watched him shake his head at me before he walked out of the office. Instead of returning to the spreadsheet immediately, I reached for my personal cell phone and clicked on Loretta Wade’s number. She picked up quickly.

  “Hey, Molly, what’s up? Have you met with George yet?”

  “Just last night, and you won’t believe what he told me. He gave me a CD with all sorts of research he and Eric uncovered years ago. Eric never put any of this stuff in his notebook. He put it on the CD and gave it to George to keep.”