Executive Privilege
Page 27
“Dana Cutler hung on to the cell phone Dale Perry gave her. She also gave us the number she called to leave the voice mail messages for the client and she gave us the date and time she called the client with the information about the location of Walsh’s car. Once we had the client’s number we were able to identify the cell phone provider. The cell phone provider stored the voice mail messages from Ms. Cutler on a backup computer and gave them to us along with the time they were retrieved.
“When a person wants to retrieve voice mail messages that have been left on his cell phone he dials a remote voice mail retrieval number for the provider’s voice mail system from his cell phone. The system will ask the caller for a password. After the person punches in the password he’s given his messages. The cell phone provider was able to give us the mystery client’s remote voice mail retrieval number, but the provider did not have a record of telephone calls to the client’s voice mail system between the time Cutler left the message explaining where Walsh was parked and the time she was murdered. They had no record because there was bad reception that night. Bad reception is common, and it can be intermittent. In this case, the client couldn’t use his cell phone to call for his messages and he was forced to use a landline to retrieve them.
“As soon as we suspected that Mr. Hawkins was the mystery client we tried to learn where he was when Cutler left the message with the location of Walsh’s car. We learned that he was at the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel. One of the Secret Service agents remembers him getting a call on his cell phone around nine-forty. The agent also remembers Mr. Hawkins complaining about the reception and leaving to try to get a clear signal.
“The hotel confirmed that Mr. Hawkins reserved a suite for Dr. Farrington so the first lady could rest if her pregnancy fatigued her. He also reserved an adjoining suite for security purposes. Several Secret Service agents remember Mr. Hawkins coming out of one of the two suites he reserved shortly after complaining about the poor reception on his cell phone.
“We went to the phone company and asked for a record of all calls to the cell phone company voice mail retrieval system telephone number in the D.C. area on the date and time in question. There were thousands of calls because everyone using the cell phone provider would call that number to get their voice mail, but only a few calls were made from the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel. Once we’d confirmed that calls had been made from the hotel we got the hotel records to see from what rooms the calls had been made. One room was in the suite adjoining Dr. Farrington’s suite.”
Evans stopped talking. Bischoff waited until it became obvious that the agent was finished presenting as much of his case as he was going to reveal.
“That’s it?” the lawyer asked.
“I think I’ve given Mr. Hawkins enough to think about for the time being.”
“You’re going to indict Chuck based on the word of a man facing multiple death sentences and a cell phone call?”
“We have other evidence that I’m not prepared to reveal at this time,” Evans bluffed.
The lawyer stood. “This has been very entertaining, but Mr. Hawkins and I have busy schedules.”
“I understand, but you should understand this. I really want Mr. Hawkins. The only reason I would even think of cutting a deal with him is my belief that the president may be involved. If he is, the only way your client is going to come out of this alive is by cooperating, and I’m not going to wait very long for your call.”
“I’ll let you know Mr. Hawkins’s position as soon as we’ve had a chance to confer,” Bischoff said as he ushered his client out of the office.
“What do you think?” Evans asked Maggie Sparks and Gordon Buss as soon as the door closed.
“I wouldn’t wait by the phone,” the AUSA answered. “You’ve got as much of a chance of cutting a deal with Hawkins as I do with Osama bin Laden.”
“Do you agree, Maggie?” Evans asked.
“I think the next time you talk to Hawkins he’ll be sitting in the witness box in a federal court.”
Evans sighed. “You’re probably right. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try.”
Roy Kineer wasn’t in, so Evans couldn’t report on his meeting with Hawkins and Bischoff right away. Instead he went back to his office and read over a report he’d received from Oregon that morning. Clarence Little’s pinkie collection had been printed. Laurie Erickson’s pinkie was not a part of it, but Peggy Farmer’s was. The report concluded that it was highly improbable that Little would have been able to kill Farmer and her boyfriend in Central Oregon and return to Salem in time to kill Laurie Erickson. The report cheered up Evans, who felt that the interview with Hawkins had been a complete bust.
Shortly before noon, Kineer’s secretary told Evans that Justice Kineer was back and wanted to be briefed about the meeting. Evans spent an hour with the judge before his boss left to have lunch with several members of the House Judiciary Committee.
Evans had his secretary pick up a sandwich for him, which he ate at his desk. He was halfway through it when the receptionist buzzed to tell him that Gary Bischoff was on the phone. Evans was surprised.
“What’s up, Gary?”
“Are you busy?” Bischoff asked. Evans thought he sounded upset.
“No, why?”
“We need to talk. Can you come to my office?”
“When?”
“Right now. Hawkins wants to cut a deal.”
Evans was stunned. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“And come alone. This is between the three of us.”
“I’ll be there.”
Bischoff hung up without saying good-bye. Evans stared out the window, but he didn’t see a thing. He had to believe that Hawkins was thinking of pleading guilty against the advice of his counsel, but he couldn’t think of what he’d said that would have frightened a man as powerful as Hawkins into negotiating a guilty plea.
Chapter Forty-one
Gary Bischoff ’s law office occupied part of the first floor of an elegant red brick Federalist-style house on a quiet, tree-lined street in Georgetown. The stately home had been built in 1826 by a wealthy merchant, but Keith Evans was too preoccupied to pay any attention to the antiques, oil paintings, and period furniture that Bischoff used to furnish the place.
Bischoff ’s secretary showed the agent into an office in the back that looked out through leaded windows on a beautifully maintained garden where a very attractive woman was sunbathing in a lime bikini. Evans remembered reading that some years ago Bischoff and his first wife had been involved in a bloody divorce. He guessed that the woman in the backyard was Bischoff ’s trophy wife, which would explain Bischoff ’s rigorous exercise routine. She was at least fifteen years younger than the lawyer, who appeared to have aged since the morning meeting.
“I want you to understand that I’ve advised Mr. Hawkins against this course of action,” Bischoff said, straining to maintain a professional demeanor, “but he’s the client and he makes the ultimate decision on how he’ll proceed.”
“Okay, Gary, I understand.”
Evans studied Hawkins, who was sitting in a high-backed armchair, one leg crossed over the other, looking calm to the same degree that his attorney was agitated.
“Can I speak directly to Mr. Hawkins?”
Bischoff waved a hand at Evans, signaling that he wanted nothing to do with what was going to occur.
“Mr. Hawkins, may I record this conversation?” Evans asked as he took a cassette recorder out of his jacket pocket.
Hawkins nodded. Evans stated the date, the time, the place where the interview was being conducted, and the names of all present. Then he gave Hawkins his Miranda warnings.
“Mr. Hawkins, why are we here?” Evans asked as soon as Hawkins acknowledged the warnings.
“I want to plead guilty to the charges.”
“All of them?” Evans asked, unable to hide his surprise.
“I’ll have to see the indictments before I can answer that. Bu
t I’m prepared to accept responsibility for the crimes I committed.”
“You understand that conviction for some of these crimes can carry a death sentence?”
“Yes.”
“Gary says that he’s advised you that this meeting is not in your best interest. Is that true?”
“He told me that you don’t have much of a case. It’s his opinion that it would be very difficult for a prosecutor to get a conviction.”
“So why do you want to confess?”
“I’m Catholic. I have a conscience. I’ve done terrible things, and I want to atone for them.”
Evans didn’t buy the religious angle, but he wasn’t going to stop Hawkins if he wanted to confess.
“I don’t want to put words in your mouth,” the agent said, “so why don’t you tell me what crimes you believe you’ve committed?”
“Chuck, don’t do this,” Bischoff begged. “At least let me try to negotiate some concessions from the government.”
“I appreciate your concern, Gary, but I know what I’m doing. If the authorities want to show me mercy, they will. I’m in God’s hands now and I’m prepared to accept whatever He sees fit to give me.”
Evans got the impression that the attorney and his client had debated Hawkins’s position many times before his arrival, with Bischoff losing the argument every time.
“You were right about everything,” Hawkins told Evans. “I killed Rhonda Pulaski, Tim Houston-”
“That’s the chauffeur who saw President Farrington having sex with Pulaski?”
Hawkins’s features tightened. When he spoke his tone was as cold as his eyes.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m guilty of many things, but disloyalty to Christopher Farrington is not one of them. He’s not responsible for my actions and I will not discuss him. If you insist on asking about the president of the United States this meeting will end.”
“Okay, I accept that. Go ahead.”
“I killed Mr. Houston. I also murdered Laurie Erickson and Charlotte Walsh.”
“Why did you kill Erickson?”
“She was going to make false accusations against the president. She demanded money. Even though the accusations were false his career would have been ruined.”
“How did you kill Erickson?”
“I left the papers for Chris’s speech in my office in the mansion on purpose to give me an excuse to return. She was very slender. I knocked her out, wrapped her in sheets, and sent her down the laundry chute. I bound and gagged her in the basement, smuggled her out the basement door, put her in the trunk of my car, and returned to the fund-raiser. I’d read the police reports of Clarence Little’s crimes. Later that night, I duplicated his modus operandi.”
“Was Laurie Erickson alive during the fund-raiser?”
Hawkins nodded, and the image of the terrified girl, bound and gagged in suffocating darkness, made it difficult for Evans to maintain his composure.
“What about Charlotte Walsh?”
“Cutler sent me a voice mail telling me where she’d parked. I disabled her car and waited until she came back to the lot. Then I knocked her out, bound and gagged her, put her in my trunk, and drove to the farm to meet with the president.”
“Was Walsh in your trunk while you were at the farm?”
Hawkins nodded.
“She was alive?”
Hawkins nodded again. “As soon as I could get away I killed her, duplicating the Ripper’s MO. Then I left her in the Dumpster.”
“Why did you have Dale Perry hire Cutler?”
“I didn’t trust Walsh. I knew what had happened with Pulaski and Erickson. Those girls were a threat to the president’s career. He’s a great man. The country needs him. I couldn’t let those whores bring him down.”
For the first time, Hawkins’s voice trembled with emotion. Evans might have some questions about Farrington’s involvement, but he had no doubt about the depth of Hawkins’s commitment to the president.
“If you already felt that Walsh was a threat, why did you need to have her followed?”
“I don’t think you need to know that.”
Evans could see that there were problems with Hawkins’s story, but he decided that he wouldn’t pressure Hawkins now. He’d let him talk himself out, put him behind bars, and hit him again when he’d had a nice taste of jail.
“Did Dale Perry commit suicide, did you kill him, or did you order Oscar Tierney or someone else to go after Cutler?”
“I don’t want to discuss Dale Perry’s death.”
“We’re going to cut Tierney a deal, so it won’t hurt him.”
“I may not have made myself clear, Agent Evans. I will tell you what I did but I will not implicate anyone else in a crime. I’m prepared to die for what I’ve done, but I won’t take anyone down with me. And don’t waste your time trying to persuade me to change my mind. I’m going to be executed, so there really isn’t anything you can use to threaten me.”
Evans saw nothing that convinced him that the president’s aide could be moved.
“Mr. Hawkins, based on what you’ve told me I’m going to place you under arrest on kidnapping charges for taking Charlotte Walsh across state lines. We’ll sort out all of the charges and the jurisdictional disputes later. Would you please stand and place your hands behind your back.”
Hawkins did as he was told, and Evans snapped on a pair of cuffs.
“Maggie,” Evans said into his cell phone, “I’m at Gary Bischoff ’s office. I need you and Gordon down here. Charles Hawkins has confessed to several murders.”
Evans paused while Sparks said something.
“I’ll go into it later. We need to book Hawkins, and I have to brief Justice Kineer. Can you get him back to headquarters for a meeting?”
Evans hung up and turned his attention back to the president’s aide.
“I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Hawkins, but I think your loyalty to the president is misplaced. Your loyalty shouldn’t be to the man but to the office and to the country Christopher Farrington swore to serve. If the president conspired with you to commit the crimes to which you’ve confessed he has betrayed his oath and he has betrayed the American people.”
Justice Kineer had deserted his congressional lunch companions in the middle of their meal after telling Maggie Sparks to have a war council assembled by the time he returned to the office. When Keith Evans, Gordon Buss, and Maggie Sparks returned from booking Hawkins into jail they found the conference room packed with lawyers and investigators waiting to hear what had happened.
“Give me your best shot about what’s going on here,” Kineer asked Evans when the agent finished his summary of his meeting with Hawkins and Bischoff.
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Hawkins is falling on his sword to protect the president.”
“Convicting Hawkins will be a hollow victory if Farrington is involved in the death of those girls and he skates. Can we do anything to prevent that from happening?” Kineer asked.
“Hawkins is the key,” Evans said. “I can’t think of anyone who can nail Farrington if Hawkins clams up, and believe me I’ve been thinking of nothing else since Hawkins told me he wouldn’t talk about Farrington.”
Kineer looked around the conference room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we all give this our undivided attention because our mission is to determine what involvement, if any, President Farrington has in these murders. If he’s innocent, so be it. If he’s guilty, we have to prove it. We need to decide if we can do that without Hawkins’s cooperation. Does anyone have any bright ideas?”
After forty-five minutes of unproductive discussion Kineer shooed everyone but Evans out of the room.
“I notice you didn’t have much to add to our discussion,” the judge said.
“I couldn’t think of anything to say.”
“Is Farrington guilty, Keith?”
The excitement Keith had felt when Hawkins confessed had died away and the agent looked depressed.
“Can he be made to talk?”
“It’s going to be tough. Hawkins is fanatically loyal. He’s idolized Farrington since his college days, and he feels that he owes him his life. He has no family. He has acquaintances but no friends except for the Farringtons. Everything in his life revolves around the president and it has for a long time. I think he’s going to say that he committed all of these crimes on his own. Everyone will believe him because he’ll come off looking like a crazed killer who deluded himself into believing that the murders were necessary.
“But say he changes his story and implicates Farrington. The president’s lawyer will crucify Hawkins by reading back all of the statements in which he exonerates Farrington. I think he’s got us, judge.”
Part Seven.The Queen of Hearts
Washington, D.C.
Chapter Forty-two
Brad got back to his apartment just before three after spending the morning and early afternoon at a law firm interviewing for a job. As soon as he checked for phone messages and e-mail, he changed into running gear. Now that all he had was free time, he was finally able to keep his resolution to exercise.
Working out hadn’t been easy right after the shoot-out. Every time he left his apartment he had to run a gauntlet of reporters who wanted to know what had happened at the Erickson house. Television vans crowded the parking lot at his apartment complex and reporters tied up his phone lines at all hours. Brad wanted to tell everybody what he knew about the Clarence Little case, but Keith Evans had explained that the independent counsel’s investigation could be compromised if he talked to the press, so Brad had been forced to stick to “no comment.”