Robert thought it over quickly. Robert now knew for a fact that Gregg had become involved in the OPOV investigation knowing most of the answers before the investigation had ever hit Robert’s desk—before Chris Stoker had called. What Robert didn’t know was why Gregg was capitulating so completely, and who else might be involved. Who were the associates who wanted to remain out of the limelight, but could be powerful enough to intimidate Gregg?
To get what the President wanted, Robert was going to have to take Gregg’s deal. Gregg might give him more than he’d hoped for. It was a gamble, but Robert wasn’t going to get Gregg anyway.
“That sounds acceptable, Senator. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He agreed.
Gregg pulled the painting away from the back wall. After quickly punching in the lock code, he opened the hidden safe, and removed two folders. “I have materials here relating to the infiltration of the OPOV system. Watch your step, Robbie. This is dangerous stuff. You’re on the big boys’ playground now.” He handed the two folders to Robert, then looked toward Robert’s folder, and lifted a questioning eyebrow.
Robert decided to use his upper hand for a change. “Tit for tat, Senator? I’ll be happy to hand over my information to you, once this investigation is complete, but not until then.”
“Robert, that’s not how this works, but I’ll allow for some variations if you will agree to not use that,” Gregg said, pointing to Robert’s pictures. “I will agree to give you whatever you need. We know we both have copies of this information, so there’s no point in me destroying what you leave. You understand that we have a commitment based on mutual trust.”
“Trust?” Robert said, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. He stood up.
“Yes, trust.” Gregg smiled. “This trust is based on what we know we each can accomplish, and upon what we choose not to do. Leverage.” Gregg told him. “You haven’t heard a few stipulations that I’m going to make. Take a minute and look through those folders.”
Robert opened the folders and scanned through the documents, feeling an increasing sense of elation, tainted with growing nervousness. The information was shocking. The specifics outlining Senator Farrell’s and NSA Director Karlovich’s involvement were damning. Robert wondered how much of this kind of information Gregg had stored away. He’d been involved with multiple programs and many people in high-ranking circles. If his data was this complete on this subject, there must be a warehouse somewhere filled with files like these on his other potential victims.
Since these two folders rested with only a few others in the safe, Robert also knew that Gregg had been prepared for his visit. His elation quickly faded to concern. Was he being played again?
“You’ve been prepared for this for some time,” Robert said, his eyes narrowing.
“When one plays in the big game,” the Senator said, “One had better protect oneself. Be grateful, Robert. You’ll still have to do a little legwork, but that information should give you most of the specifics.”
Gregg sat back down. “Now...here’s what I want: this investigation ends with Farrell. No watchdog subcommittee crap, except where I direct; no investigating down the line. You will ask for an oversight mandate of the government agencies involved in OPOV, and you will recommend that the House Committee on Rules, along with Homeland Security convene a subcommittee to investigate the viability of OPOV in the current cyber-terrorism geopolitical climate. Obviously, I’m not your source.”
Robert shook his head in disbelief. The Senator wasn’t asking for peanuts. His stipulations weren’t going to be easy to achieve—and what was he getting at, with investigating the “viability of OPOV? “Is that it, Senator? No laws you want rewritten? No Presidential appointments?” Robert asked, his sarcasm clear now.
“Laws control the lesser man, Robert, and I make my own deals with the President. These aren’t big requests, considering what you’re getting in return. Let’s face it Robert, it would have taken you months to get this background data that I’m handing you. You may need more information that you will only be able to get from me.” Gregg sat comfortably in his chair, his fingers laced together over the top of his stomach. He was confident and arrogant once again. Robert had to admit that the guy was skilled at manipulation.
“Robert, you now have a place at the adult table. I’m willing to make sure you stay there. Be careful what you say, and to whom you say it. When you aren’t sure, ask me. I’ll guide you. You only get one shot at this level. You will need allies, and somehow I don’t think your father is going to be one of them. Don’t mess this up.” Gregg stood and gestured toward the door.
Robert took Gregg’s folders, left his, and walked out without saying a word. What did his father have to do with this conversation? Was Gregg referring to his father’s influence with the President? He didn’t dare ask. It would reveal too much about what Robert didn’t know.
Robert thought about the information in Gregg’s file. Had Farrell and Gregg each been trying to get rid of the other? If so, they were both losing something. Gregg would still have his influence and money, even if he no longer had his office. Farrell and Karlovich would fry. There were names, dates, places, and money exchanges. A Marty Torrance at the NSA figured prominently with the perpetrators, and Chris Stoker was named. Robert was feeling queasy.
Agent Brown drove Robert home. Strangely, while Robert had become used to being chauffeured, he’d found that he wasn’t entirely comfortable. It didn’t feel good, sitting in the passenger seat while someone else handled traffic. Having the opportunity to work or relax during the commute was not the benefit it should have been. It was a reminder that nothing was normal, or safe. The last government car he had ridden in was a wreck, actively burning in his mind. He felt distanced from, but not numb to the shocks that had added up over the last week. Logically, he could assess and deal with them, but part of his brain was slower to feel the full implications of what had happened.
When they got to his house another agent was standing in the garage. Robert didn’t ask his name. He just walked inside and went to his study. When asked, he agreed easily to Chinese food being ordered, and didn’t give it another thought. He sat studying the evidence from Gregg, a glass of dark, red wine within easy reach.
Chapter 71
Grady had been driving his stolen car for less than an hour. He knew exactly what he had to do. Whoever these guys were, they weren’t going to stop trying to kill him.
He took the back road path through Goffstown to avoid the freeway. It was easy enough to park the car at the Manchester, New Hampshire regional airport, and walk into the terminal. A small airport like Manchester was unlikely to have the license plate scanners at their tollbooths that the big airports were getting. That made the odds low that, if it had been reported stolen, the car would get matched up to the big database in the Cloud. It was possible that the car’s owner, eating a leisurely lunch, hadn’t yet realized that the car was gone. They’d get it back unharmed eventually.
A quick check at the information desk in the airport, and Grady had an Amtrak pamphlet. Grady then checked the bus connection at the Manchester transportation center. An hour and a half bus ride to Boston, and then taking the train would put him in DC at about 7 a.m.
There was a Sam Adams pub outside of security at the airport. Grady settled in with a Boston Lager, a burger, fries and football recaps on the TV. After relaxing for a couple of hours, he took a cab to the bus station. He bought a ticket. With no security checks, Grady’s departure would be hard to trace. He figured they wouldn’t think of him going back to DC.
Chapter 72
Robert woke up early Monday. The clock said 5:30. He’d slept surprisingly well. The contents of Gregg’s file were spread all over his bed and floor. He hadn’t expected to sleep. He’d spent all Sunday coordinating the information that Gregg had given him. The pen still in his hand certainly spoke to the idea that he’d passed out while working. With a quick shower, an espresso, and bagel from a batch one of th
e agents had brought in, he was back in his study crosschecking his evidence.
Grady had also slept soundly. When the train pulled into Union Station in DC at 7 a.m. he was awake and rested, despite a slightly stiff neck from sleeping in a chair. A quick eye-opener, plus a breakfast burrito, and he was on the Washington Metro. He changed lines twice, ending up at National. There he grabbed a hotel shuttle, figuring that was the best place to hide out until he could get the information he needed on Monday, and then see Robert.
Grady was back at National, catching the Metro again Monday morning. Switching lines, he decided to stop at the Pentagon barbershop for a trim and shave. His next stop was the Pentagon uniform store. A fresh set of Class A’s, new ribbons, and high gloss shoes made him feel much more like himself. He carried a second uniform in a hanging bag, with two additional shirts. The jackets and shirts would have to be tailored later.
Grady didn’t go to his office. The deluge of work that would have piled up during his absence would have to wait. He proceeded directly to Phase Shifted Crypto, and John McGarrity’s office. Entering through the outer door, he walked back to John’s office. It was empty. He heard Gail’s voice from around the corner, and found her talking with Pat.
“Lt. Colonel! How nice to see you again.” She said. “John’s not here.”
“I noticed. I looked in his office. I’m sorry for barging in, but John was going to give me a list of the critical findings, perhaps you have them?”
Gail and Pat both looked hesitant. Providing findings was a rarity, but this project had been special.
“I think...hang on.” Gail got up and went past Grady down the hall to another room. When she returned she was carrying a dark manila folder with a metal, two-hole clip at the top. The front cover read “Confidential” in red letters. It did not say “SECRET,” or “TOP SECRET” Grady noticed.
“I think this is what he was planning to give you.” She handed Grady the report folder.
“Just ‘confidential’?” Grady asked with a smile.
“Yes, amazingly, all that information was gained via the open internet, so only the method of finding it is ‘secret.’ We didn’t disclose the method in the write ups.”
Grady opened the file and gave it a quick glance. The second page, the one behind the confidential qualification statements, shocked him, but it was precisely the kind of information he’d hoped to find.
“Yes, this is what I needed.” Grady looked up. His air was decisive and confident. “Do you have a sign out sheet for this?”
Pat hesitated only long enough to say, “I can make one up. It will take a minute.”
Gail spoke as Pat got up to create a tracking form. “I suppose you’ve already made sense of it all.”
“Yes.” Grady sounded confident. “I need to complete the files now, and the members need to review this. Then we’re done.”
Pat returned. “Here we are, Colonel. John checked your clearance already. You are obviously approved for carry at this level outside the ‘reservation.’ No copies without review approval, and you cannot release possession of the original. Pretty standard. In the back you’ll find associated IPs that have clearly related code. We ran a regional cache-file-sweep routine. It turned up some interesting links.”
Grady gave a thorough look at the last page. “The same password was within each transmission.”
“Yes, on the subject line.” Gail answered.
“This was over the VPN. How can that be on the open internet?” Grady queried.
“VPNs are used when outside the buildings; therefore, they run through Internet services. Usually these transmissions pass through at least one buffer on a server farm. These particular communications were still sitting in memory at a hub, kind of like a copying machine or fax keeps a copy until you deliberately clear the memory, or overwrite it using FIFO—you know, ‘first in, first out.’ Technically speaking we never left the open domain to find these.”
“You’re not making feel good about our security.” Grady shook his head.
Gail beamed. “Not just anyone could have found it.”
“Where is the rest of the e-mail to go with title line?”
“There isn’t one.” Pat replied. “Either there was no e-mail content, or it wasn’t actually an e-mail. It may have been a link transfer of some kind. Or, maybe a command statement to a reader file we haven’t located yet. It might just be a signal to go look at something else. In each case, all they needed was the subject line. We’re still trying to work that out.”
“Outstanding.” Grady signed the top slot on the freshly minted checkout sheet.
“You’re allowed thirty days.” Pat was going by the book. Grady was okay with that. Some things, at least, were as they should be.
“Excellent. Thanks.” Grady put the folder in his shiny new black valise. It was empty except for two pens that were equally new.
“Then I guess we will be seeing more of you?” Gail smiled.
“Absolutely.” Grady smiled back. “Thanks for expediting this.” He raised the valise slightly, and turned away.
As Grady walked down the hallway he knew he needed to go directly to Robert’s office, and fast.
Chapter 73
Robert called Lorraine on his way into the office Monday morning.
“Yes, Sir.” Lorraine answered, sounding as efficient as ever. Her typical voice mannerisms seemed to be returning.
“Lorraine. I need to you call the West Wing and get me an appointment with Buchanan, Chief of Staff, or McCray, Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations regarding the OPOV investigation. Track down Jerry and have him meet me for the appointment. And get hold of Phil Davis for me. Have him call my cell.”
“Yes, Sir.” Lorraine hung up.
It was a calculated move—or maybe a gamble. By going to the West Wing right away, he could establish a timeline. He didn’t expect to get a meeting with the Chief of Staff, but the request might get him bumped up the list enough to meet with the Operations Deputy. McCray administered the inner workings of the Presidential offices, and a number of the President’s temporary oversight teams, including OPOV. If he could see the Deputy Chief of Staff, he could effectively get multiple support functions investigating at the same time, and free up his team to concentrate on prosecution.
Lorraine called back a few minutes later. “Mr. Carlton? Lorraine.”
“Yes, Lorraine.”
“You have a fifteen minute appointment with the Chief of Staff this morning at 9:15. I have notified Mr. Turner who will meet you at 8:30 in the lobby. I left a message for Mr. Davidson to call you as soon as possible on your cell.”
“Thank you, Lorraine.” He hung up the phone.
Agent Brown got Robert through traffic in time for him to meet Jerry at 8:30 in the lobby area of the West Wing. Robert set to work with Jerry, giving him an edited summary of the evidence and loose ends. Robert had compared the information Gregg had provided with what Jerry and his team had researched. The timing matched, showing how each player had set the changes in motion, based on Farrell depositing funds in accounts, or coercing participants through fear. The probability of convictions looked good.
Not being able to use Gregg as the source of their information was a problem. Jerry voiced discomfort over having an anonymous source—inadmissibility in court could become a huge problem. They would have to corroborate Gregg’s findings with their own research, but at least now they knew where to look. By the time Chief’s assistant came out to get them, they felt sure they had a case to present.
The assistant led them through the left door toward the Roosevelt room, instead of the Chief of Staff’s office. Jerry gave Robert a glance. This meant that there would be people in the room other than Buchanan. Robert’s view was fixed on the assistant who continued walking to the Presidential Secretary’s desk. She rose from her chair, extending her hand.
“Mr. Carlton, how good to see you again.” The woman told him. Beth Parin had been an associate of the Pre
sident’s for years. Her organizational skills and ability to keep the President on schedule was legendary.
“Thank you, Mrs. Parin. Good to see you, too.” Robert said, shaking her hand.
“Both of you are scheduled to see the Chief of Staff in a moment, but Mr. Carlton, the President has asked to speak with you first, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. It’s my pleasure.” Robert waited as she moved to the oval office door and knocked twice. She didn’t wait for a response to the knock, and swung open the door for Robert to pass into the Oval Office. Jerry waited silently behind.
The President sat looking toward the door from the far couch. Facing the President with his back to the door was Robert’s father.
“Robert, good to see you. Here, have a seat.” The President indicated the spot next to Robert’s father, who turned his head, smiling toward Robert. “I suspect you have brought me some answers to the OPOV trouble.” The President sounded congenial.
“Yes, sir.” Robert was surprised. He didn’t want to discuss this in front of his father. He wasn’t sure it was the best time to present his evidence.
Robert’s discomfort showed as he sat down next to his father. The two of them looked similar in body style, features, and coloring, but beyond that they couldn’t have been more disparate. His father sat back, relaxed and comfortable. Robert sat erect and stiff, feeling the acolyte beside his revered patriarch.
“What have you got?” The President asked Robert.
Robert cleared his throat and told the President about Farrell, Karlovich, and the others implicated in Gregg’s files. It was a shorthand version, identifying the perpetrators, and explaining the admissible evidence, and that which would have to be obtained in order to make solid convictions. Robert wasn’t sure that courtroom guilty verdicts were necessary to achieve The President’s goals, but it felt good to be able to state that they might be possible.
One Man Two Votes (The Robert Carlton Series Book 1) Page 39