The Puppet Master

by Ronald S. Barak

  “Mr. Foster, the speaker is always in for you. Just a moment, please.”

  Only seconds later, Jamison came on the line. “Hi, Pete, thanks for returning my call.”

  “You’re welcome, Madam Speaker. You sound surprised. No one is more important to the NAIB than the speaker of the House.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Pete. The reason for my call was that some of my colleagues here in the House are becoming increasingly concerned about the upcoming Norman trial and wanted me to speak with you about it.”

  “You have my undivided attention, Madam Speaker. How can I help?”

  “The word is that the Norman trial may also turn out to be a referendum on the caliber and integrity of our elected representatives. As you can imagine, that kind of talk is not making anyone on the Hill happy. They expect me to do something about it. Are you hearing anything along these lines? How can you help me nip this in the bud?”

  “Madam Speaker, I appreciate your concerns, as well as those of your colleagues. Coincidentally, I’ve already been pursuing a few ideas on this very point. As you no doubt know, one of the troublemakers, over at The Post, is Rachel Santana. I’ve been in touch with Milt O’Hara, The Post’s publisher. I’ve encouraged a few key mutual acquaintances to speak to him as well. I think Milt understands the importance of dialing down Santana’s cheap sensationalism. However, when it comes to the media, there are a lot of potential holes in the proverbial dike we might have to plug.”

  “True, but Santana’s certainly a good start. Any other thoughts?”

  “I have a couple of other irons in the fire. As I’m sure you also know, Judge Williams originally issued a subpoena and search warrant permitting the district to seize Senator Wells’s calendar. Given her proclivities, her appointment book could contain all kinds of embarrassing information, and Senate legal counsel successfully moved to quash those court orders. In the face of this mounting scrutiny of public officials, we let our local DA, who has political aspirations, know that we are opposed to the enforcement of the subpoena and search warrant and that it would not be in his best interests to press the matter. I think he got the message. Given that Judge Williams’s seat on the bench is up for election next year, we also shared our concerns with him about his court orders.

  “I can’t tell you what worked and what didn’t, but when push came to shove no one tried very hard to uphold the subpoena and search warrant, and Judge Williams ended up vacating them. At least for the time being, the sanctity of Senator Wells’s calendar is safe.”

  Foster had more to share. “We are also looking for some way to soften, if not eliminate, the justifiable homicide defense tied to our political representatives that the public defender’s office is expected to raise. We have two targets on this: Deputy Public Defender Leah Klein, who’s going to be defending Norman at trial, and her boss, Public Defender Bernie Abrams. We’re trying to encourage them to stay away from any attack on our public officials and to stick to the more conventional defense of not guilty by reason of insanity.

  “Focusing on our political representatives is awfully far-fetched. It really shouldn’t be needed on top of an insanity defense. So far, we’ve not had much luck on this front. Abrams is an old warhorse who’s about to retire and believes in his charge. He is squeaky clean. We just don’t have any leverage there. Klein is so committed to her cause that there doesn’t seem to be any opening there either. We’re still trying, but I’m not optimistic.”

  “I understand, Pete. We appreciate your efforts. I have a meeting with the president tomorrow on some other business. Do you think it might be worth feeling him out to see if he would work on the PD’s office? You know, in the best interests of the country.”

  “It’s worth a try, Madam Speaker. He might or might not help. But he certainly knows how the game’s played. He shouldn’t take exception to your raising the subject. However, aren’t all of his meetings recorded?”

  “Most of them are, but this meeting is off the record and won’t be recorded.”

  “Well, then, you have a chance. You’ll still have to get past Manny Reyes, his chief of staff. He’ll be a lot tougher to sell than President Tuttle. Let me know how it goes. If you see any opening, I may be able to provide some help on that front as well.”

  “Will do. Thanks for your help and counsel.”

  “Always a pleasure, Madam Speaker. Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Monday, July 13, 7:30 p.m.

  JAMES AYRES WAS TORN. Detective Lotello had been pressing him for Wells’s calendar. Ayres thought it made good sense for certain references in the calendar to see the light of day. However, several senators, and various senate lawyers and administrators as well, had made clear to him immediately following Wells’s death that he had a duty to preserve the inviolability of that calendar and to turn it over only to Senate legal counsel. He did as instructed. But not before making a copy of the calendar and tucking it away for possible future use.

  Ayres was exploring the possibility of running for Wells’s vacated seat in the next election. Testing the waters for the degree of support he could expect. And who his competition might be. With the Norman trial soon to begin, Ayres’s thoughts again returned to the two or three entries in the Wells calendar that had originally jumped out at him. Given recent developments, his earlier sense that the calendar should see the light of day was rekindled.

  For the past several days, Ayres had been pondering exactly what to do about this. While he was now convinced that the calendar had to reach the right person, the official Senate position made it clear that the source of the calendar could not be him. If he were found to have violated the Senate directive, it would spell the end of his political career. It was essential that the calendar surface in a way that could not be traced to him.

  Another thought had occurred to Ayres because of his legal background. A copy of the calendar would not be useful in and of itself as independent legal evidence of anything. It was not the calendar itself that was going to count. It was what someone could do with the content of the calendar that would matter.

  So, Ayres pondered, to whom should he surreptitiously deliver the calendar? Five candidates occurred to him: District Attorney Vincent Reilly, Public Defender Bernie Abrams, Deputy Public Defender Leah Klein, Detective Frank Lotello, and reporter Rachel Santana.

  Ayres quickly eliminated Reilly and Abrams. Reilly was too much of a politician. He wanted higher office, perhaps even Wells’s Senate seat. He was now invested in convicting Norman. Even though Reilly originally was the one who sought to obtain the calendar, Ayres felt there was no longer any assurance that Reilly would do anything with it.

  In contrast, Abrams was a good man. But too much of a straight shooter. He would not be a party to illicitly surfacing the calendar. Even though he might owe a duty of undivided loyalty to his office’s client, Norman, to do so.

  Ayres also eliminated Klein. She would no doubt want to use it to her client’s advantage, but she reported to Abrams and she might defer to her boss in spite of her loyalty to Norman.

  This left Santana and Lotello. Santana would expose the calendar, but in a way that would advance her own career. The calendar references of interest to Ayres might never receive any attention.

  In contrast, if only by default, Lotello seemed like the perfect choice. An honest, self-effacing guy who seemed committed to the truth.

  Ayres next focused on how and when to get his copy of the calendar to Lotello. And whether it might be enough to get Lotello the leads in the calendar that originally caught Ayres’s eye. For two reasons, Ayres rejected the idea of just getting Lotello the leads. Even though that would have been easier. And safer. First, Ayres did not want to hamper Lotello’s ability to find other leads in the calendar that Ayres might have missed and that might be helpful. Second, Lotello might be reluctant to pursue a blind, unaccredited lead. He would not, however, likely ignore the calendar itself if a copy of it somehow came into his possess
ion. No matter how.

  And just as quickly as Ayres realized that Lotello was the one to give the calendar to, he also realized how and when to do so.

  CHAPTER 47

  Monday, July 13, 11:45 p.m.

  FIVE MONTHS LATER, STILL alone, with just his thoughts, and the pain. Everything was still proceeding just as he had planned. People were beginning to understand now why these politicians had to be punished, why he had to stop them. The trial was going to blow this town—and the country—wide open. They will pay, all of them. I must prevail. I will prevail.

  CHAPTER 48

  Tuesday, July 14, 2:45 p.m.

  TUTTLE AND REYES WERE again convened in the privacy of the White House Oval Office. “Welcome back, Mr. President. How’d your lunch go with Speaker Jamison?”

  “It was … strange. The meeting was fine in terms of what we were supposed to be discussing, but that pushy woman had the gall to say to me that she and Pete Foster, over at NAIB, think I should personally get hold of Bernie Abrams, our D.C. public defender, and attempt to curb the defense his office will be providing to Norman in the upcoming trial.”

  “Say what? I guess you wouldn’t expect less of the speaker. Or Foster, for that matter. He’s more of a lowlife than Jamison. How did you respond?”

  “Told her she was totally off base. That I didn’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “Even for Jamison, that was a new low.”

  “I’m not so sure, Manny. My feelings are mixed. Of course it was out of line for Jamison to raise something like that to me. However, I’ve independently been considering the very same thing on my own.”

  “Mr. President, how—”

  “Hold on, Manny. I’ve been thinking about the Norman trial. How the defense is likely going to approach matters. I expect a straightforward insanity defense should get Norman off. Nevertheless, I’m concerned the PD’s office is also going to put the government on trial. Either to strengthen an insanity plea or to pursue an outright not guilty verdict. This could strategically be the right play at the right time. For them.

  “I couldn’t care less about Norman. But, as you and I have already discussed, we could end up with a real grassroots revolution on our hands at a time when we can ill afford any further loss of public support for our overall agenda.”

  “I fully understand, Mr. President. But Abrams is the consummate straight arrow. I don’t think even you could influence him. He might even go public with it if you tried.”

  “I don’t think Abrams would do that. He might reject my outreach, but I think it would stay between the two of us. It would be his word against mine. He’d never be able to prove I suggested it. My ratings are just too high for any charges like that to be believed. He’d be stepping on his own dick to no good end. Also, he’s too loyal to the government. He might turn me down, but I think that would be the end of it.”

  “Even if you’re right, how could you possibly convince Abrams not to defend Norman with everything his office can muster?”

  “I’ve been giving that some thought, too. How about an approach based on national interest? My telling him the country is just too fragile right now to handle an open attack on our government?”

  “Sir, Abrams is a devoted public servant. He would likely wrestle with such an outreach coming from you. However, I think Abrams would ultimately determine his obligations run first and foremost, if not solely, to those being defended by his office.”

  “Which is precisely why I’ve concluded we need to go a different way. We need to get one of our loyal party foot soldiers to figure out where Abrams is vulnerable. Where he won’t be able to ignore our wishes. I want you to make this happen, Manny, quickly and quietly. We don’t need to talk about this any further. But you need to get this done.”

  Reyes was visibly upset. “Mr. President, I …”

  “Manny?”

  It didn’t take Reyes very long to recover. To remember where he was and with whom he was dealing. “Very well, Mr. President, I’ll get on it.”

  “Thank you, Manny. I think we’re done for now.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Tuesday, July 14, 4:30 p.m.

  “DETECTIVE LOTELLO HERE. How can I help you?”

  “I’m calling about the Norman case. This is a recording. It’s short. It’ll only play once. Don’t interrupt or you may miss something important. I don’t think Norman killed anyone. I have the Wells’s calendar you’re after. I’ve marked several entries that may lead you to the real killer. The calendar’s in a package with your name on it in the trash bin in the northwest corner of the fourth floor of the Congressional Mall parking structure. The bin will be emptied by janitorial staff at five ten this evening. You’ve got forty minutes to get there before it’s gone. Get moving. There won’t be any second chances.”

  The line went dead.

  Lotello looked at his watch. It was already 4:38. Allowing a few minutes to rummage through the trash, he had all of thirty minutes to get there. Through rush-hour traffic. What the hell do I do here, Beth? Is this for real? A crackpot? No way to tell who the caller was with that electronic garble. Am I being set up? Do I ignore the call? Do I take J with me? No time to think. If I do this, I’m totally off the reservation. Can’t put J at risk by taking him with me. Has to be me alone.

  Lotello was up and out of his office as inconspicuously as possible. No time to get to his car. He hit the street running. He was not in great shape. But it was only a half mile. He thought he could make it. 4:45. Twenty minutes left.

  4:55. Just fifteen minutes before the janitors would supposedly empty the dumpster. Sweating like a pig. Damn! Harder than I thought. Four flights of stairs. Heart beating fast. Too fast. Shit! There’s the dumpster! 5:05. No time left. No package with my name on it, either. What kind of a sick prank was this? Ugh! Fucker better hope I don’t figure out who he is!

  CHAPTER 50

  Tuesday, July 14, 7:30 p.m.

  AT 7:30, LOTELLO AND his kids were done with dinner and the dishes. The kids were finishing their homework. Lotello’s cell phone rang. “Lotello.”

  “Another recording, Lotello. Listen up. Sorry I had to do that to you. Had to see how you would react before I actually put the calendar in play. Glad to see you passed the test. Even if you are out of shape. The calendar really is there now. And the bin isn’t emptied until ten o’clock. It was fun watching you hoof it, but you don’t have to run quite so fast this time. But don’t be late.”

  Bastard played me like a fiddle! He better hope I don’t figure out who he is. Hmm. If it is a he. With that encryption, who knows? The kids! What if this freak is gunning for me? Could have done it this afternoon, but can’t take a chance. Can’t take them with me. “Hey, guys. I have a quick chore to run. Need to leave you next door. How about we go for some ice cream when I get back?”

  As usual, Maddie was the first to answer, stifling a yawn. “Kind of late, isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “It is. But it can’t be helped. Get your jackets. We gotta go.”

  Getting to the fourth floor was a lot easier by car than by foot. At 8:30, Lotello found a parking spot close to the dumpster. Twenty minutes later he had the package with his name on it safely in tow and was on his way out of the parking lot.

  An hour later, one strawberry-cheesecake ice cream cone, one vanilla-bean ice cream cone, and one coconut gelato cone packed away, they were back safely at home. The kids were tucked in. And Lotello had a package in hand to sort through.

  He didn’t think there would be any prints. Still, he donned a pair of paraffin gloves just in case. He carefully removed the paper wrapping. There it was: a duplicate of that little black book copied on 8½ x 11 pages. With Post-it notes on several pages. There were a lot of pages. It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 51

  Wednesday, July 15, 10:30 a.m.

  IT HAD BEEN A fairly typical court morning when there was no trial in progress. Beginning
punctually at eight thirty, Judge Cyrus Brooks had finished his morning court call calendar in under ninety minutes. The calendar consisted of a cluster of perfunctory law and motion hearings in some fifteen different cases. It took a little bit longer than he had expected: an average of six minutes for each hearing.

  He was feeling the pressure—and guilt—in the pit of his stomach. He stared at the memo his research clerk, Candace Jones, had prepared for him summarizing all the pretrial motions of each side in the Norman case. He had given her only five pages to summarize more than one hundred pages of motions. She had delivered.

  He now had barely ten minutes to skim her memo before they were scheduled to meet. He was frustrated. The D.C. judicial system didn’t have the money to hire enough superior court judges to keep the workloads down to realistically manageable levels. He understood, but it was still annoying, trying to do right by all of those seeking their day in court. He did the best he could. The operative word was skim. Experience would have to count for something. To fill in the gaps.

  “Okay, Candace, what’ve we got?”

  Jones explained that both sides had pretty much focused on the same predictable issues, with only a few surprises between them. “The prosecution, headed by DA Vincent Reilly, intends to argue to the jury that Norman had the motive, means, and opportunity to commit—and did commit—each of the three murders,” Jones began. “Motive is beyond question here: Norman’s life was destroyed. Irrationally or not, he blamed it on the political system. He created the means and opportunity for himself, having quietly researched each of his targets, their schedules, their habits, and their environs.”

  Brooks nodded, more to himself than to Jones.

  “The defense, specifically Deputy PD Leah Klein, of course sees this quite differently,” Jones continued.