The Puppet Master

by Ronald S. Barak

  If Brooks was also smiling, he didn’t let it show. He just stepped down from the bench and returned, once again, to the sanctity and solitude of his chambers.

  EPILOGUE

  August 10–September 28

  The price good men pay for indifference

  To public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.

  —PLATO

  CHAPTER 135

  Monday, August 10, 6:00 p.m.

  ELOISE BROOKS CHEERFULLY GREETED her husband on his return home at the end of the day. As she always did. Brooks would not have changed a single thing about his wife. “Good evening, love. Dinner’s just about ready,” she said to him.

  “Give me two minutes to change my clothes and I’ll be right in.” Brooks stopped in his home office to quickly check his email. His two minutes became more like five or six.

  Mrs. Brooks called out, “Food’s getting cold. Are you going to be much longer? Do I need to put it in the warming oven?”

  “No,” Brooks called back. “Coming right now.” He finally appeared two or three minutes later.

  They sat down to dinner. Mrs. Brooks asked, as she always did, “How was your day?”

  “Pretty much the same as usual,” Brooks replied, as he always did. Ignoring in this instance any reference to the unusual conclusion of the Norman case that he had presided over earlier that day.

  “How was your day? And how is your back?”

  “My day was quite nice. My back is feeling a little better. Ryder gave me quite a workout, though.” Ryder, their Havanese puppy, was a real bundle of energy. Even their British shorthair cat, Maccabee, enjoyed Ryder. Brooks knew that Mrs. Brooks was very pleased that Maccabee now had a friend to keep him company during the day, while Brooks was running his court and she was off running the rest of the world.

  Brooks was rather quiet. Deep inside, he was continuing to struggle with his management of the Norman case. Hollister and Ayres dead. Lotello almost killed. And wouldn’t you just know it, some worthless scoundrel got hold of that demented DVD and posted it on YouTube after all! Love to know who pulled that stunt. I should have handled things much better than I did. Especially concerning Bernie. I think I must be losing my touch. Maybe it is time for me to step down. I’ll have to sort it all out. But I’m not going to worry Eloise with any of this. “What’s on television tonight, dear?”

  “It’s the finals of So You Think You Can Dance. I’m really looking forward to it. Who do you think’s going to win?”

  “I think that pretty little redhead with the freckles is going to take it all. That’s how I’d decide it … if I were the judge.”

  * * *

  ELOISE BROOKS WAS ALSO processing her own thoughts. Not that I don’t appreciate it, and love him for it, but I wonder why Cyrus thinks he needs to protect me all the time. Treat me like I’m so fragile. And why does he think I don’t know exactly what’s on his mind? How upset he is that he couldn’t prevent what happened to dear Bernie, that nice Frank Lotello and those two other men. He’s always so hard on himself. But he’ll sort it out. And get through it. He always does. Still, a little gentle coaxing might be of some help to him. “Did I hear you say your day was ‘pretty much the same as usual’? The news reports I listened to this afternoon describing the outcome of the Norman case didn’t make your day sound like it was very ‘usual’ at all.”

  “Oh, well, you know those news folks. Always looking to make more of something than is actually the case. They need to outdo one another to maintain their following.”

  Mrs. Brooks gently probed. A question here. A question there. Slowly, Brooks finally gave her his take on the matter. And everything related to it. And not. As of course she knew he would. Very slowly. For over an hour. She listened patiently. Someone had to. Brooks needed that.

  CHAPTER 136

  Monday, August 10, 10:30 p.m.

  “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT do you think you’re doing here at this hour?”

  “Are you the nurse in charge of Frank Lotello?”

  “I am.”

  “Is this not Mr. Lotello’s room?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I am obviously here visiting Detective Lotello. My name is Rachel Santana.”

  “Do you know what time it is, Ms. Santana? Visiting hours were over hours ago. Detective Lotello needs his rest. Are you a family member?”

  “I am,” Rachel Santana lied. Without the slightest hesitation or compunction. She was used to lying to get what she wanted. Often.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Santana. You’ll still have to come back tomorrow during visiting hours. I can’t let you visit him now.”

  “You listen here, Nurse. I’ve driven several hours to get here. I cannot come back tomorrow. And there is some urgency to this visit.”

  Lotello interceded. “Really, Nurse. I’m feeling fine. Please let Ms. Santana stay. I’m sure we’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes. If you’re still here when I return, I will have security remove you. Detective Lotello needs his rest. Whether he thinks so or not.” The nurse turned and walked out of the room.

  “Frank, you look like shit. How are you?”

  “You don’t look that great yourself, Santana. From what I hear, Leah Klein whipped your ass pretty good in court the other day. You had it coming. In spades. I’m kind of surprised to see you’re still poking around this case. Haven’t you done enough? Your fabrications just to get your almighty story contributed to an innocent man almost being convicted of murder. Don’t you have any sense of when to back the hell off and let things be?

  “The only reason I told the nurse to let you stay was so I could tell you myself how I feel. In the past, we’ve enjoyed an okay relationship. Sparred with one another here and there, mostly lighthearted. Even helped each other out a little now and then. No more, Santana. From now on, you’re persona non grata as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Frank. I’m just a journalist with a job to do.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. You crossed the line on this one. By a long shot.”

  “I’m here because I have a final story to do on the Norman case. I’m also thinking about writing a book about the case. From what I see and hear, the real story here is not Norman. I think the real story has to do with Blaine Hollister and Tom Thomas. And possibly some other folks higher up in the government. And then there’s also James Ayres. Who seems to have been another casualty in all of this.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Santana.”

  “Sure you do, Frank. Klein had both Hollister and Thomas under subpoena throughout Norman’s trial. Then, suddenly, Thomas was a no-show, both the Thomas and Hollister subpoenas were dropped without explanation, and you just happened to witness a shootout between Hollister and Ayres that just happened to occur at Thomas’s apartment in the middle of the night. And you were almost killed in the process as well. And now you tell me there’s no story here. C’mon, Frank, you know there’s a story here. What gives?”

  “For a journalist, you sure don’t know how to listen very well. I told you the two of us are through. You’re never getting anything more from me. Not unless you fabricate that too. Which I caution you not to do. Close the door on the way out.”

  Santana was used to having the last word. This time, she would apparently have to do it with her pen. She left Lotello’s room. Just as the nurse was returning to make sure she did.

  CHAPTER 137

  Tuesday, August 11, 7:00 a.m.

  AP Online News

  Rachel Santana

  JURY ACQUITS NORMAN UNANSWERED QUESTIONS REMAIN

  YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, THE JURY in the case of People versus Clifford Norman unanimously found the defendant, Clifford Norman, not guilty.

  Speaking for the defendant, Deputy Public Defender Leah Klein, who represented Norman, was jubilant, declaring, “Justice has been done.” District Attorney Vincent Reilly, who prosecuted the case, was surprisingly quiet, stating only,
“The people have spoken.”

  In a brief press conference held by all twelve members and two alternate members of the jury panel, jury foreperson Steve Kessler explained the verdict by saying, “With the strong public sentiment sweeping the country that far too many of our public leaders have abandoned their public trust and are not doing their jobs, the number of people with motive, means, and opportunity to murder Senator Wells was simply too great to find Norman guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  Kessler expounded, “Even if the jury had concluded that Norman had, beyond a reasonable doubt, acted as charged, they unanimously decided that they would still have found him not guilty based on justifiable homicide.”

  Numerous questions remain unanswered. In particular, exactly what do mystery men Blaine Hollister and Thomas Thomas have to do with this case?

  Hollister, who built a fortune over the years in a series of highly successful Louisiana wildcat oil ventures, was in recent years active in Washington politics, primarily behind the scenes. Most recently, Thomas has been the Washington chief intelligence and security officer for CRP, the Committee to Reelect the President. Little is known about Thomas’s background other than the fact that he has apparently worked in government most of his career.

  Both Hollister and Thomas had been under subpoena by Klein and were expected to be called to testify on the final day of trial last Friday. Both had attended the trial each day. Thomas failed to show on Friday, and Hollister was then promptly released from his subpoena without any testimony on his part. It is not known whether this was necessitated by Thomas’s mysterious absence. Thomas has now disappeared altogether. Not just from the courtroom. He is simply nowhere to be found.

  Even more bizarre and unexplained, so far, early Saturday morning, as most of D.C. slept, Hollister, James Ayres, former chief of staff to Senator Wells, and veteran Metropolitan D.C. Detective Frank Lotello were involved in a close-range exchange of gunfire outside Thomas’s apartment in a nearby D.C. suburb. According to witnesses, Thomas was not at the scene.

  Hollister and Ayres were killed in the exchange. Lotello was wounded. He is in the hospital and expected to recover. Lotello has declined to comment.

  Ayres had come to Washington from Kansas with Senator Wells after she was appointed by the governor of Kansas to succeed her late husband after he died while in office. Ayres had been expected by many to succeed Wells’s husband on his death, and it was rumored that he intended to put his hat in the ring to fill the vacancy caused by the second Senator Wells’s untimely death. It is presently unknown why Ayres was present at the early Saturday morning shootout outside the Thomas apartment.

  In this writer’s opinion, all this uncertainty is unacceptable. The public is entitled to answers. This writer will stay on the case until those answers are provided.

  In the meantime, Norman is once again a free man. Free again to wander the streets of D.C. as he did before his arrest. And before charges were brought against him for no less than three murders.

  Between jury foreperson Kessler’s remarks and Norman’s release, our political leaders will no doubt be looking back over their shoulders. And sleeping fitfully.

  * * *

  SANTANA SAT IN THE office of her chief editor. “With one exception, the article is fine, Rachel. We’re running it at nine o’clock this morning, but without your final two paragraphs. Those paragraphs are inappropriate and are out.

  “Unfortunately, Rachel, we have concluded that you, too, are inappropriate and out. Did you really think we wouldn’t learn what Klein uncovered in your testimony during the trial? I don’t know which is worse, what you originally fabricated to get a story or how you then tried to cover it up. There’s just no place for such a lack of ethics in responsible journalism. At least not here at AP. We can’t be sitting on pins and needles wondering when your next transgression will come. We can’t afford the possible bad press. So to speak. I’m sure you’ll land somewhere else. But you’re through here, Rachel. Effective immediately.”

  “This is bullshit. I’m—”

  “Save it, Rachel. I don’t want to hear it. It’s a pointless waste of time. You’re through here. Please get out. Now.”

  Santana stood up. She put on the best face she could gather and walked out. I’ll show these assholes. I’m going to write my book on this story. Even if I have to publish it myself. Self-published authors are much more credible and respected these days. No longer just that vanity press image. We’ll see how smug and cocky these smart-asses are when I win a Pulitzer for investigative journalism.

  CHAPTER 138

  Tuesday, August 11, 8:00 p.m.

  THOMAS RESTON THOMAS III sat nursing his drink and gazing off into the beautiful South American sunset he hardly even noticed. His mind was elsewhere. Always pays to plan ahead. Which I did. Might not have been able to get out of the country without the false passport. But I’m here now. And with more than enough money to live very well. Indefinitely. But I failed my president. And I failed my country. No way could Thomas scratch that itch. He would not find peace until he figured out how to return to service. And to make things right.

  CHAPTER 139

  Wednesday, August 12, 2:00 p.m.

  “GOOD AFTERNOON, MR. PRESIDENT. You wanted to see me?”

  “I did. Come in, Manny. I’ve been worrying about this Thomas fellow. All of the stories floating around about him. And his relationship to the White House.

  “He was your man, Manny. You brought him into the CRP. God only knows whatever else he’s been involved in. I’m worried about what kind of a liability he may become for us. Or already has become for us. I don’t even know how much you and I can discuss about Thomas without impairing my plausible deniability. Possibly making matters even worse for me.”

  “I understand fully, Mr. President. The Thomas issue is very delicate. I also agree that you and I have to be very careful in terms of what we discuss about Thomas.”

  “You’ve been with me from day one, Manny. You know better than anyone that the central theme of my campaign has been ‘change.’ Change in how we deal with our enemies abroad. Change in how we regulate the health care industry and provide appropriate health care coverage to more Americans. Change in how we regulate Wall Street.

  “It was easy to be a back-seat driver. To take cheap shots at the prior administration. We carried out all of this extremely well. Especially with the viral marketing campaign we ran.

  “It was easy to make the promises I did to get elected. Delivering on those promises I had to make to win the election has become a totally different story.

  “Now I am the administration. Now the critics are back-seat driving me. Taking cheap shots at me. Claiming that my strategies in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, and North Korea are really not any different than those of my predecessors. The polls show that increasing numbers of voters are tiring of all of the money we have been printing and spending in order to deliver on what I promised during my campaign. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I’m being accused of deceiving the public in order to get elected. What a bunch of ingrates!

  “The winds are blowing, Manny. The seeds of serious dissent are taking hold, gaining a life and momentum all their own. It’s not just a case of the critics deceiving the public, Manny. Ordinary voters are becoming more and more restless, active, outspoken about their criticism with our political representatives in general. And with me in particular.

  “Hell, the next thing you know, I may actually have to call over to the SEC and have them bring a lawsuit against Goldman Sachs. Or someone else on Wall Street. Just to get the heat off me. To show that I’m really on the side of my constituents. What a fucking mess that would be!

  “The Norman trial has become a focal point for increased accountability on the part of our political leaders. And it seems that Thomas is becoming a lightning rod for all of this mounting grassroots inquiry. A catalyst and rallying point for all of this dissension. Thomas was our CRP chief intelligence and security
officer. Again, he was your man, Manny. You appointed him. There are those who are saying that Thomas was somehow illicitly involved in the Norman case. That he might even be one of the reasons why Norman was acquitted.

  “Somehow we have to get out in front of this clamor for political accountability. If we don’t, it could take me under. I could be swept aside. My reelection could be down the drain.

  “We have to be squeaky clean here, Manny. We have to cut any of our potentially questionable ties with Thomas before he can do us any real damage. He may have disappeared. But the questions concerning him—and our relationship with him—have not.” Translation: Manny, you’re running out of time. You need to fix this before it’s too late. You have to come up with a plan and a story to get us out from under Thomas. Before I have to lay all of this at your feet and jettison you. Make you the fall guy for all of this and send you packing.

  “I understand fully, Mr. President.”

  “I didn’t doubt for a moment that you would, Manny. Please give this your highest priority. And keep me posted as appropriate. Or not.”

  “I will, Mr. President.”

  “Thank you, Manny. That’s all.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  * * *

  BACK IN HIS OWN office, Reyes reflected on his conversation with Tuttle. The bastard’s gonna make me the fall guy here. Put the blame on me. Cut me loose like a dog. Sadly, I’m not surprised. No matter how loyal I’ve been to him. Doing exactly what he wanted. But that’s just the way it is. There’s no reason to think I could expect anything more: lie down with dogs, get up with fleas. Well, we’ll see. Two can play this game.

  CHAPTER 140

  Thursday, August 13, 4:00 p.m.