A Delicate Touch

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A Delicate Touch Page 15

by Stuart Woods


  “We’re not sure yet, but something very peculiar happened yesterday.”

  “What was that?”

  “Every polling station, across the board, had a last-minute surge of three percent for my opponent.”

  “Every one? Three percent?”

  “Exactly three percent.”

  “Well, that certainly does sound fishy.”

  “I wonder if you’d be interested in taking our case?”

  “No, I think you’d get a more generous hearing from the public if you use a Georgia attorney—a local one, if you’ve got someone who can handle it.”

  “You have a point.”

  “If you set up a fund to challenge the election, I’d be glad to make a contribution.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” Dodd said. “I think maybe I know an old law-school classmate who might take our case.”

  “You’re going to need some tech help, too, to make sense of the count.”

  “I’ve already got someone on the campaign who can handle that—in fact, she’s the one who spotted the last-minute shift in voting. She’s a seventeen-year-old high school student.”

  “That will look very good in the papers,” Stone replied. “Make sure she gets a lot of TV interviews.”

  “I’ll work on that.”

  “Keep me posted on your progress.”

  “Thank you, Stone. Goodbye.”

  Stone hung up wondering what the hell was going on in Georgia.

  36

  The following morning Stone was reading an account in the Times of the three percent anomaly in the Georgia special election, when the “Breaking News” sign began flashing on the TV screen. They did that so often that he was reluctant to pay attention, but then the image of a beefy, balding man in a suit came on the screen, and he was standing before a podium emblazoned with the name CAMERON.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Arnold Cameron, and last night I was elected to Congress in your district.” Scattered applause. “The problem is, my computer people believe I was elected fraudulently. Shortly after the polls closed it was pointed out to me that my vote totals in almost every district showed a late three percent surge. Exactly three percent, in every district. My people spent the night digging into this, and they have found traces of Russian hacking into the county systems. So it would appear that, for some reason, Vladimir Putin has some interest in my election.” Groans and moans.

  “Well, I am not going to sit still for this. I have written to the county board of elections and asked that my total vote be reduced by three percent, leaving my opponent, Mr. Dodd, with a victory by an overall margin of one point two percent, too high to effect a mandatory recount. I am standing aside in favor of Mr. Dodd. The board of elections, on viewing the evidence, has accepted my decision. I thank everyone who voted for me, and I hereby take this opportunity to declare my candidacy for the seat in the next election. Thank you.”

  He walked off the platform, and the cable networks went nuts. They were on every channel, praising Cameron and damning Vladimir Putin.

  * * *

  • • •

  HANK THOMAS WENT UPSTAIRS for lunch with his grandfather and father. The old man could barely contain himself.

  “Young man, what the hell went wrong?” Henry demanded.

  “We’ve spent the morning working on that, and we’ve traced it to a single station in our operation. A young and inexperienced operator misunderstood his instructions and simply enlarged the vote at every voting station by three percent. Naturally, this was noticed almost immediately. Arnold Cameron, our candidate, refused to be elected that way and stepped aside in favor of Dodd.”

  “I assume your computer operator has been fired,” his father said.

  “Certainly not. We can’t have him walking the streets knowing what he knows. He’s simply being retrained. Also, in the search for what went wrong we discovered a hack into our system, which I had thought impossible. It bears the hallmarks of one of the Russian groups who do that sort of thing. So, on balance, it’s turned out well for us, since we discovered a weak link in our software, which has already been repaired.”

  “Well, after all,” the old man said, “this was just a test run, and it’s just as well we did it. At least, no one has traced this incident to us.”

  “I agree,” Hank said. “Work continues apace.”

  * * *

  • • •

  UPTOWN, STONE MET with Bob Cantor. “You’ve seen the news, I suppose,” he said.

  “Seen it? I am the news,” Bob replied.

  “You’ve been found out?” Stone asked, incredulous.

  “Just the opposite,” Bob said. “I discovered a little bit of code that took three percent of the vote and added it to Cameron’s vote, proportionately adjusted to each district. I adjusted the vote totals to a flat three percent across the board and routed my code through one of their stations. I also planted what appears to them to be a Russian hack to their system. They’ve found it, as I intended, and removed it from their system, but I’ve got two other hacks of my own still operating.”

  “So you’re in?”

  “I’m in. I just don’t know yet what I’m dealing with. Oh, I found the election thing—no problem. But there’s more than that going on, and I haven’t yet figured out what they’re up to. All I know is it’s really big. They’re using very nearly the maximum capacity of their system to work on it.”

  “The general election?”

  “No doubt,” Bob said, “but there’s something else. They’re writing a ton of code, but they’ve broken it up among three dozen operators so that not even their people know exactly what they’re working on. Right now, I’m working on the passwords to their sysops. They’re very complex, but I’ve written some software to search them out.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “Longer than I’d hoped,” Bob said. “I’ve taken to sleeping in the bedroom you’ve given me, so that if I wake up at night I can check progress. It’s easier then because they’re not working after midnight. They’ve got a guy who comes in at midnight and sweeps their system for hacks or attempts at hacks. I’ve managed to dance around him, though, so he’s not on to me.”

  “This is making me nervous,” Stone said.

  “Me, too,” Bob replied.

  * * *

  • • •

  STONE AND JAMIE were having dinner in his study. “You’re looking discouraged,” he said to her.

  “Does it show?”

  “There are two little wrinkles between your eyes that show up when you’re unhappy.”

  “You’re very observant. We seem to be at a dead end, and I’m having trouble convincing Jeremy and Scott that we need more time.”

  “I thought something like that might happen,” Stone said.

  “Why did you think that?”

  “Because I’ve got somebody else working on it, too, with a whole different skill set than your people are working with.”

  The two little wrinkles appeared again.

  “Tell me about it,” she said.

  Stone shook his head. “If I told you about it you’d have to tell Jeremy and Scott, and that would put your investigation at risk.”

  “I don’t have to tell them about it,” she said.

  “That would put you in an impossible position. Sooner or later they’d know the truth, and they would know you can’t be trusted.”

  “That’s my problem,” she said.

  “It’s mine, too. I don’t want to see a brilliant career destroyed because you had to keep secrets from your bosses.”

  “Then why are you telling me about it?”

  “Because it’s the only way I can get you to shut down your investigation—at least, for a while.”

  “That would make me look very bad.”
/>   “Only for a while. If this other thing works out, you’ll have a bigger story than either of us had imagined.”

  “But what am I going to say to Jeremy and Scott?”

  “Tell them the truth: you’ve gone as far as you can until you get a big break, and you don’t want to waste any more of the Times’s money. That will impress then. After all, you’ve cracked half the story: you know all about the Thomases. You just haven’t found out what they’re guilty of.”

  “But you’re confident that this new thing you’re doing will crack the whole thing?”

  “‘Confident’ is too strong a word,” Stone said. “Hopeful, is a more appropriate one.”

  37

  Stone came back from lunch the next day to find Joan on the phone.

  She pressed the hold button. “It’s that nice Senator Sam Meriwether, from Georgia, for you. He’s Holly’s new campaign chairman. I just love this guy.”

  “I think I know what that’s about,” Stone said. He went into his office and picked up the phone. “Sam, how are you?”

  “Never better, Stone. I wanted to call and thank you for the million-dollar check that came in from you.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Stone said. “How much more do you want?”

  Meriwether took a deep breath. “Five million from each of the President’s Council members. That’s what we’re calling it.”

  “Let me shake loose some cash, and I’ll have another four million on the way by tomorrow,” Stone replied.

  “That’s fantastic, Stone.”

  “How many of the others have come through?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, you’re the first one I’ve called. Can I use your name with the others?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Something else. I heard that your buddy, Dino Bacchetti, has come into some money. Should I hit him up?”

  “I don’t think you should ask a public servant for that kind of money, even though it would come from his personal fortune. There are certain parts of the media that would report it as stolen from the Police Pension Fund.”

  “I guess you’re right, Stone. You’d think I would have thought of that.”

  “I’ll talk to him about making a smaller, but substantial, contribution during one of your TV drives. He can call it in.”

  “Great idea. I’ll leave it in your hands.”

  “Give my best to Holly.” Stone hung up and called Dino.

  “Bacchetti.”

  “It’s Stone. Are you sitting down?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “It’s not a bad thing. I’ve committed you to joining a special committee on Holly’s campaign called the President’s Council. You’re going to love it. You’ll get the best seats to the inauguration, tickets to the ball, and a free hotel suite and limo for the week.”

  Dino sighed. “How much is it going to cost me?”

  “Only five million dollars.”

  “What!!!”

  “That’s what each member of the council contributes. You can manage that, can’t you? Sam Meriwether will call you for confirmation and to give you wiring instructions.”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “Relax, Dino, you’ll have a stroke.”

  “Why do they think I even have that kind of money?”

  “Word has gotten around about your recent inheritance, so they know you’ve got it.”

  “I’m saving that to buy a retirement place somewhere.”

  “Dino, your country needs it more than you do.”

  “Nobody needs it more than I do! Now you call them back and tell them you’ve made a mistake.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell them you want Hank Thomas for your next president.”

  “I didn’t say that! I want Holly!”

  “Well, they’re never going to believe that if you demand your money back. Holly will hear about it, too. Tell you what, how about if she appoints you the director of the FBI?”

  “What?”

  “Interesting, huh?”

  “You think she’d do that?”

  “Who would be better?”

  “Well, nobody, of course, but everybody will think I bought myself the job.”

  “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll cancel the contribution, if, the first time you see one of Holly’s TV commercials, you call in and donate a hundred grand. How’s that?”

  Dino was cooling down. “Well, I guess I can do that,” he said. “I mean, I was going to give her ten grand, but . . .”

  “Careful what you say, Dino. This line could be tapped. You might hear yourself buying the directorship of the FBI on Fox News.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “You don’t want to be heard saying that, either. Well, I’d better get busy calling some more folks for campaign contributions. On Holly’s behalf, I thank you for the hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Not ever again?”

  “Wait a minute,” Dino said suspiciously. “You didn’t tell them I’d give them five million, did you?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t hang you out to dry for five million—just for a hundred grand. See ya!”

  Stone hung up the phone laughing so hard that Joan came in to find out what was going on.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I just told Dino I’d committed him to five million for Holly’s campaign.”

  She burst out laughing, then stopped. “He didn’t agree to that, did he?”

  “Of course not, but I got him up to a hundred grand, instead of the ten grand he thought he was going to get away with.”

  Joan howled with laughter. “Oh, I wish I could have seen his face!”

  “I can tell you, from the sound of his voice, that it was puce!”

  * * *

  • • •

  THAT NIGHT, Dino and Viv were watching the evening news, when a clip of Holly’s Warm Springs speech came on, followed by an 800 number for contributions. Dino picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Viv asked.

  “I thought I’d make a contribution to Holly’s campaign.”

  “Good idea. Make one for me in the same amount.”

  “This is the Holly Barker campaign,” a young woman’s voice said. “Would you like to make a contribution?”

  “Yes, I would,” Dino replied.

  “May I have your name and mailing address, please?”

  Dino gave it to her.

  “And your phone number and social security number?”

  He gave her that, too.

  “Now, you must state that this is a private contribution from your own funds and not from a corporation or business, and that you’re over eighteen years of age.”

  “I so state,” Dino replied.

  “May I have your credit card number?”

  Dino gave her the number of his new black American Express card. “Oh, and my wife wants to contribute, too.” He gave her Viv’s card number and confirmed her information.

  “And how much would you like to contribute?”

  “A hundred thousand dollars,” Dino said.

  Viv sat up straight in her chair.

  “Each.”

  “Oh, wow!” the young woman said. “Hey, everybody, I’ve just scored two hundred grand!” There was cheering in the background. She came back on line. “Mr. Bacchetti, my supervisor tells me that’s more than the legal limit for a couple, but you can make the donation to Holly’s political action committee. I can handle that for you.”

  “Fine, you do that. Gotta run.”

  “Goodbye and thank you so much!” she yelled.

  Dino hung up.

  “What have you done?” Viv asked.

  “I told you I was making a campaign contr
ibution, and you asked me to make one for you in the same amount.”

  “You gave them a hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Yes, and another hundred thousand from you.”

  Viv’s jaw was working, but no sound was coming out. Finally, she spoke, “From now on, I’m charging you for sex—ten thousand bucks a pop.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.”

  She stood up. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. You have a hundred thousand dollar credit.”

  He followed her upstairs.

  38

  Stone was watching the news the following morning, when he learned how successful Sam Meriwether’s fund-raising had been. He had gathered twenty-one contributions to Holly’s PAC of five million dollars each.

  “As a sideline,” the news anchor said, “the Holly Barker PAC revealed that it has received two contributions of a hundred thousand dollars each from Police Commissioner Dino Bacchetti and his wife, Vivian.” Dino’s face appeared on the screen in a shot from outside his office building. “It came from our own personal funds,” he said. “Please note that I did not rob the Police Pension Fund.”

  “Do you think you’ll be considered for director of the FBI, if Secretary Barker is elected?”

  “Who knows? I do know that I can’t afford the attorney general’s job.”

  Stone got a good laugh out of that.

  Jamie sat up across the bed. “Was that Dino?”

  “Yes, it was. Good line, huh?”

  “I hope it made the Times,” she said, picking up the paper from the breakfast tray and leafing through it. “Nope.”

  “That’s because he just said it. That was a live shot from One Police Plaza.”

  “Oh, well.” She reached for him.

  “Not now,” he said. “Breakfast will get cold.” They ate quickly.

  * * *

  • • •

  WHEN HE WENT DOWNSTAIRS, Stone walked into the living and dining rooms and looked around. All the paraphernalia from the Times investigative team was gone, and the place was as neat as a pin.

 

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