Lethal Politics

by Bob Blink

  He nibbled as he flew, and after about twenty minutes of flying he pulled on a thin pair of Bob Allen shooting gloves and fished the burner phone out of his duffle bag. He'd carefully sanitized the device, pulled the SIM and flushed it town a toilet, and removed the battery. Now he wanted to be shed of the thing entirely. He opened the side window part way and tossed it out of the window. It would tumble to the ground and disappear in the miles and miles of empty desert here, unlikely to be found for many a year. As the plastic device tumbled away from the plane he felt a small weight lifted from his chest. He still knew they had trouble, something he'd believed for a while they had managed to sidestep. Well, what came, came. He had no intention of being taken if it came to that, and he patted the small pistol on his belt. He'd known from the beginning that it could go sour, and he had no intention of being the one who revealed Mark's part in all this.

  The flying today was quite bumpy, the weather outside blustery and cold as November approached, just a couple of days away now. He'd flown in considerably worse weather, but it was something that Mark would have found uncomfortable. Mark had never been easy in little planes like the Cessna.

  Right on schedule the Weatherford Airport appeared ahead, as he scanned the skies for other traffic. There hadn't been radio traffic for some time, so he was convinced the route was clear, and bypassing protocol, he failed to announce himself, simply lining up and setting down the runway much as he had his previous visit. He parked less than fifteen feet from where he had tied down when he'd been here earlier in the year, and a short time later was driving the same wreck of a vehicle into town.

  When he drove up to Jason's place, his friend's vehicle was parked in the driveway, an encouraging sign. He parked alongside the curb, climbed out, walked up to the porch, and rang the doorbell. A short wait later, the door opened and Jason stood there with a wad of dollar bills in his hand.

  "Earl!" he said when he realized who was standing there. "I was expecting the pizza guy."

  "Gourmet eating, hey? I'd have thought you were flush enough to do better than that?"

  Jason grinned. "Working on some code. Tend to get involved and don't want to cook and don't want to go out. At least this way I have some food around the place. Come in."

  Earl stepped past his friend who held the door, and once inside turned back toward Jason who had closed the door behind him.

  "We've got trouble, haven't we?" Jason said, guessing the purpose of Earl's unannounced visit.

  Earl nodded. "Abe's dead," he said, "and they know about our phones and are trying to track them down. You should power yours down right away, sanitize it, and toss it."

  "Abe's dead? What in hell happened? I thought they bought our story and this was all filed away and forgotten."

  "Private detective, working for the lady's husband managed to ferret out some indications we existed. Apparently he found a pattern and he dug out enough to learn the credit cards we were using followed the same path as Craig."

  "That might have told him that something was up, but not to link us to anything," Jason protested.

  "You can thank Abe for that. I wiped the fake business, and tried to cancel the credit cards, but they hold them until all charges have been cleared. These days most charges come to the credit card company electronically, but especially in the smaller towns some are taken manually and take a while to work their way through the system. Abe was losing money and discovered he could still charge his hotel to the credit card. The company tried to contact the business, but I never looked since it was supposedly gone and I never anticipated someone doing such a dumbass thing."

  "They found his charges, and through them located him, didn't they?" Jason asked.

  Earl nodded. "This detective engaged him in Vegas, ending up killing him, and got his throwaway phone. Seems like it was a bad idea of mine to keep us linked with them, because once they had the one, with the numbers Abe had stored in the device for the others, they know about the group. They have tracked one phone to Fort Worth and another to El Paso. I got rid of that one today. You need to get rid of yours, but they are setting up to pin down the location of the phones to more than just the active cell tower they are using."

  "Bo's?"

  "Not on the network. I don't know where Bo is or what happened to his phone."

  Jason nodded as if not surprised at the news.

  "So you came to warn me in a way they can't trace," Jason said. "I appreciate that. But how did you learn about all this?"

  "I have a couple of contacts who informed me," Earl replied evasively.

  "Mark," Jason said without hesitation.

  Earl was unable to keep the look of surprise and despair off his face. He knew there was no denying it at this point.

  "How did you . . ?"

  "Suspected it all along, and I can't think of anyone else who would have insider information this detailed."

  "We can't let anyone know that?" Earl cautioned.

  Jason held up a hand. "Not to worry. I kept my knowledge of it from you, didn't I?"

  "I'd suggest you turn off that phone sooner than later," Earl said, "then maybe we can talk about Bo."

  Jason laughed. "They aren't going to learn anything from my phone."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The only thing that exists of that phone is the SIM. I put the SIM into a box I built a few years ago, and stuck it on a power pole across town. The box designed to act like the phone, but always only lets the caller leave a message. If you know the code and type that in, it will transmit back all of the stored messages, sending them to the calling phone. I usually check it with a pay phone from somewhere in town. A different one every time."

  "Maybe we should recover it?"

  Jason shook his head. "If they know about it, that might give us away, and if they don't, they aren't going to learn anything if they find it. Actually, I can remotely turn it off, but I'm inclined to leave it going. Powering down all the units so soon after you learned they are looking might alert them they have an inside leak."

  Earl had worried about that, but hadn't had any alternative. Jason's way might be best, so long as he was as safe from discovery as he claimed.

  "What about Bo?" Earl asked. "Did he decide to disappear?"

  "I can call a friend of his," Jason said. "He might know where he went."

  Earl nodded. "But let's do it using that payphone you know about."

  Jason hung up the phone and looked at Earl. "I don't know about his phone, obviously couldn't ask his friend, but Bo is off driving around the Southeast hitting a bunch of long range shooting events. It's anybody's guess just where he is, but probably won't be back for another couple of weeks."

  "Does he have his own cell?" Earl asked. "It's not the best, but I'd feel better if we can warn him."

  Jason shook his head. "Bo never liked cell phones. Electronic chains, he called them. He relies on old-fashioned land lines when he needs to call someone."

  "Shit! Well, I guess there's no point flying down there just now."

  "How about you stay the night?" Jason asked.

  Earl shook his head. "I don't want to spend anymore time here than needed in case someone remembers my tail number. I'm going to head back to the airport and fly off somewhere else to stay a day and be very noticeable that I'm there."

  "And if a problem develops?"

  "Well, we have each other's regular cell phones. That is going to be the safest bet I'd think since they aren't connected to any of this. If you get a text that says 'Vamonos', you'll know it's time to beat feet. Once you get settled we'll find a way to get in contact. I have a lot of money hidden outside the US, so I'll be able to help you in that way if needed."

  Jason nodded, as they stepped out of his car back at his place. "Let's hope they find a dead end and it doesn't get to us. Thanks for the head's up."

  Chapter 32

  Karl leaned back in the large, heavily upholstered chair and sighed. It was amazing how the other half lived. He and Ke
vin were flying as the only passengers aboard a military C-37A, basically a Gulfstream V executive jetliner, at the orders of Director Crampton. The Air Force owned, high performance jet, had been commandeered to get them as quickly and expeditiously to El Paso, Texas as possible. Their crew of five seemed unbothered by the abrupt nature of the flight and by the miserable time of day, night actually, that they were traveling. It was just after 4 AM, with their landing at the El Paso airport targeted for just before 6:30 AM.

  They were to be met by a pair of FBI agents from the local office who were familiar with the area and who would provide them with transportation and whatever assistance might be required. Upon landing they would be driven to Silver City, New Mexico, a small town of approximately ten thousand, a couple of hours drive outside of El Paso, where they hoped to learn more about the purchase of the phones. Then they would return to El Paso and seek out Mr. Earl Campbell. Director Crampton explained that Mr. Campbell was father to the Secret Service agent that had been questioned in regards to Cindy Moore's death and who was on the President's personal protection team. Earl was a long time friend to the President, having been in business with him for a great many years, and who lived within range of the tower of the cell phone that had abruptly dropped offline. The Director thought these were a lot of coincidences, and wanted the two agents to evaluate the man and see how he reacted to some unexpected attention.

  One of their mission goals had been scratched before they'd even boarded the plane. A few short hours after the FBI Director had spread the news about the recent discoveries, another of the phones had gone silent. Of the four phones, only the phone in Fort Worth continued to periodically, happily pinging the local cellular tower, indicating it was alive and open to receiving calls. Karl found the abrupt loss of the El Paso phone concerning. It seemed too coincidental that it would suddenly drop off the network, so soon after it's importance had been discovered, given that it had been on-line for many weeks. Coincidence? Information leak? The latter seemed likely, but whom. By now when one considered the FBI agents, Secret service agents, politicians, and others who had learned of the phones, the number was surprisingly large. And the leaker, if there was one, might have done so without thought of passing on vital information. Politicians were notorious at doing such things without thought to the consequences. What was odd if there were a leak, was the fact one of the phones stubbornly remained operational. Perhaps the word hadn't reached the individual who possessed it as yet, and it might still disappear before the team seeking its precise location had a chance to complete their search. Once they had concluded their business in El Paso, they planned to re-board their plane and make their way to Fort Worth, in hopes that the efforts there to locate the last of the four phones had borne fruit.

  They had been met as planned, their escorts waiting as the plane parked near a reserved hanger for VIP visitors to the airport. Jack Rawlins and Tom Macki had been partners for several years. Jack and Karl had met before, working on a serial killer case the year before Karl had retired.

  "What can you tell us about this place where we're headed?" Kevin asked.

  "Small country town," Tom Macki replied. He'd had lived here longer than Jack and knew the area better. "Nice place. Friendly people. It's big enough that a couple of strangers wouldn't stand out like a lot of other places."

  "Why do you think they bought the phones there instead of in El Paso where they'd go completely unnoticed?" Jack asked.

  "Maybe because they didn't want to come into El Paso as a group." Karl suggested. "I guess given one phone has been active here in town, at least one of the group is likely from the area, but maybe the others are outsiders, or more likely individuals who would be known here in town and perhaps risk drawing attention to themselves."

  Kevin was nodding in agreement. "I was thinking along similar lines."

  "They might have been staying up toward Silver City," Tom suggested. "Boy, if so, it'd take a lot of manpower to chase them down out there. There's a million old mining shacks, hunter's cabins, and even summer lodges people have built and deserted over the years. Lots of active ones as well."

  "A bunch up in Gila National Forest too," Jack added.

  Kevin nodded. "I have a feeling they might have a place out there somewhere, but we'd need something to point us in the right direction."

  As it turned out, and probably not surprising, the small store in Silver Springs that had sold the phones was unable to provide any help. The phones they sold were on racks, and people who bought them mixed them with other items they wanted. A search of the records for the day they had been sold showed that cash had been used, and even the clerk who'd sold the items was no longer employed at the shop. A group of four strangers didn't result in jogging anyone's memory, so they had lunch at a small mom-and-pop diner, and drove back into El Paso to see about the last item on their list.

  The Campbell Ranch was more impressive than either of the out-of-town agents had expected. They passed through a gate with the name of the ranch and the brand, something that looking like a circle with a fancy 'EC' linked together. The road was well cared for and they drove nearly half a mile between fenced range land before coming to the second arched gateway. This one was far more ornate, but duplicated the name and brand. On the far side were green grass enclosures on either side with at least half a dozen horses standing off in the distance. An extremely large ranch house, barn, and far more trucks and pieces of machinery than Karl could imagine a use for were parked in various spots around the perimeter.

  "Money," Kevin said as they drove toward the house.

  "Lots of it," Karl agreed, but then the President was known to be rich and this guy was supposedly his long term partner, so it shouldn't come as a surprise.

  They driven less than half the distance to the house when a man riding a horse closed on them from one side. Jack stopped the car and rolled down the window so they could talk.

  "Can I help you?" the man asked politely, but all the while examining the four men inside the vehicle.

  "FBI," Tom said, flashing a badge. "We're here to speak with Mr. Earl Campbell."

  The surprise was obvious on the wrangler's face, but he nodded and replied, "Mr. Campbell ain't here today."

  "Where did he go?" Karl shouted out from the back window.

  "Don't rightly know. He took his plane and flew off early this morning. You better talk to Gus."

  "Gus?" Jack asked.

  "The foreman," the wrangler replied. "Why don't you drive up by the barn and I'll go and find him."

  Jack waved a hand in understanding and slowly headed toward the barn as directed.

  They had barely come to a stop when a man who promised to be Gus stepped out of the barn. In his mid-forties, thick and short brown hair, dressed in working man's clothes, he walked toward them with the confidence of one who was in charge and knew exactly how to do his job.

  "Can I help you gents?" he asked.

  "We're looking for the owner, Mr. Campbell."

  "Shoulda come yesterday. He flew off in his plane this morning."

  "Private pilot?" Karl asked.

  "Yessir," Gus answered. "Doesn't get the time in he'd like these days though."

  "What he fly?"

  '"Cessna 182."

  "Did he say where he was going or when he'd be back<" Kevin asked.

  "Not exactly?" Gus replied. "He talked about Amarillo, but also talked about maybe going all the way to Washington. Hasn't seen his son in a while, and seemed like he had a wish to do so."

  "Does he take off like this often?" Karl asked.

  "Mr. Earl sorta does what he wants these days. He'll get an idea in the morning, and off he goes. He knows he has a team here that keeps things running and will ensure his horses make it to all the shows."

  "So he won't be back today, I take it?" Karl said.

  "Earliest would be tomorrow, but it could be considerable longer if he heads east. He was gone almost a month a while back. If you really want to talk
with him, it's best to call ahead? Is your business urgent?"

  "I suppose not," Karl said, not wanting to stir up any uncertainty in these people. "Is there any chance of calling him and seeing if he plans to come back tomorrow?" Karl would have preferred to surprise the man, but that wasn't going to be possible now anyway. Whenever he returned he'd hear about the agent's visit.

  "I can try, but most times when he's away, he simply refuses to answer his phone. It's my belief he doesn't even take it with him, but I'm no proof that's the case."

  "I'd appreciate if you'd try," Karl said.

  Gus pulled out a well worn, older phone and made the attempt while they watched. As he predicted, there was no answer.

  "Sorry," he said.

  "I guess we'll catch up with him later," Karl said, and the four agents climbed back into the car.

  Their visit thus far a waste, Kevin jumped a bit when his cell phone vibrated. He was surprised to see it was from the FBI Director's office, and quickly answered.

  "He wants us back in DC in the morning," Kevin told Karl. "There's a meeting with the head of the NSA at ten."

  "Guess we bypass Fort Worth," Karl said. He turned to the two local agents. "Is there any way that someone can check in Amarillo and see if Mr. Campbell actually shows up there. I would be curious to know."

  Chapter 33

  Washington, DC

  "This is Gary Rosen from the National Security Agency," the Assistant Director of the FBI informed the group assembled for the special meeting he had called the day before. Special Agent Martini and Karl Baxter were among those present, having arrived back in the capital at a reasonable hour after their unproductive trip to Texas the day before. Despite the long hours involved, they'd had the opportunity for a good night's sleep and were curious was the NSA was going to say.