It was almost frightening how perfectly organized the file system was. All the files were arranged with Germanic efficiency, though she wished there wasn’t so many cumbersome paper files to sift through. She also managed to locate three special cabinets filled exclusively with DVDs from important meetings between AMP and prominent legislators and other closed-door events. The DVDs were affixed with neatly typed labels, listing dates and attendees.
She quickly made up her mind on how to conduct the search. She would not try to copy everything, but would focus on records most critical to her story. There were at least twenty cabinets, a lot of material to cover, but it was not quite 7 p.m. so she would have essentially twelve hours at her disposal. Her goal was to finish before 7 a.m., which was when the early birds started arriving for work.
For a veteran journalist who knew what to look for, twelve hours was enough time to topple a government.
CHAPTER 55
AT 6:52 A.M. it was time leave. The early birds would arrive any minute, and Jennifer didn’t want to risk being caught. By any measure it had been a successful night. She had copied over six hundred pages of documents in the high-speed copier as well as downloaded the contents of several CDs onto her 50-gigabyte flash drive. She had a veritable gold mine of material, exceeding even her wildest expectations.
She had five DVDs of closed-door meetings between Locke and major GOP legislators, including Kieger and Fowler.
She had political blackmail letters from Locke to the Republican National Committee and several moderate GOP candidates for federal office, threatening to keep AMP’s huge voting bloc away on election day if the demands of Christian conservatives weren’t met.
She had copies of checks made out to prominent Republicans, including Kieger and Fowler, from secret Stealth Political Action Committees and shady 527s set up by AMP.
She had a copy of AMP’s comprehensive plan to influence the Republican presidential nomination during the last election.
She had the complete AMP donor list for the last five years as well as the lists of the other Stealth PACs and 527s to which AMP funneled money to direct the outcome of local and state ballot initiatives.
And she had copies of correspondence between Governor Stoddart and AMP. Colorado’s own governor, in bed with the religious right, and the public scarcely knew about it.
All the dark secrets were there just as she had hoped.
Just give me the damn Pulitzer!
She now had conclusive proof that AMP was not only a political beast masquerading as a religious organization, but was also engaged in questionable campaign financing practices and misrepresenting itself to its members. Its primary purpose was not to promote Christian goodwill, or even to give its members a political voice, but to elect rabid conservatives to public office.
All her hard work was going to pay off—all her clever deception.
But now the story had a new twist: the connection between Locke, Kieger, Dubois, and Fowler. The Locke-Fowler relationship was, on its own, no surprise since AMP had courted the senator since her election to Congress. What was surprising, however, was the degree to which they were intertwined. Likewise, Jennifer had known that AMP had approached Kieger on at least two occasions before the primary, to secure his support of the Christian agenda. But now she knew the relationship had run far deeper. Then there was the matter of the Prince of Darkness, Senator Dubois. AMP had funneled significant sums of soft money into his failed primary campaign. This, in itself, wasn’t surprising since campaign donors often backed several candidates at once, until a frontrunner emerged from the pack. What made it newsworthy was the secretive nature of the transactions.
Based on everything, a disturbing pattern was beginning to emerge. AMP had at one time supported Kieger, concurrently with Dubois. It had secretly funneled substantial money Kieger’s way six months before the Iowa straw poll, via AMP’s largest anonymous Stealth PAC contributors. But by the New Hampshire primary all funding had ceased. From what she had seen on one of the DVDs, Kieger had been lukewarm, at best, on AMP’s public policy proposals. In fact, during the last closed-door meeting in early February, just before the kick-off of the primary, Locke and Kieger had actually gotten into a shouting match over the governor’s pro-choice stance on abortion.
It was around then that AMP’s Stealth PACs began feeding money to Fowler, while continuing its support of Dubois. Huge sums began pumping into her war chest. And with the new inflow of unregulated soft money, Fowler had damn near won the primary, coming on particularly strong at the end. Meanwhile, by mid-March, when it was obvious Dubois couldn’t win, AMP had withdrawn its financial support for the Louisiana senator altogether.
True, the questionable campaign financing practices weren’t particularly troublesome in their own right. And being unfamiliar with the intricacies of federal election laws, Jennifer couldn’t be certain that actual laws had been broken. But the records did establish solid connections between the key players of what was currently the nation’s biggest melodrama. The connections raised intriguing questions.
How deep was the rift between Locke and Kieger? Did AMP stop backing him and switch to Fowler because of ideological differences, or because it believed she had a legitimate shot at winning the primary? Did Locke know who was behind Kieger’s assassination? Could he have something to do with it? Could Fowler be involved in the scheme? Or Dubois? It had to be considered a possibility in light of what Jennifer now knew.
Turning these unsettling questions in her mind, she shut off the copier and put the last file away. For some reason, she felt like she was being watched.
She went to the door, opened it, and checked the hallway.
There was no one.
But something didn’t feel right.
She closed the door, suddenly very aware of her own breathing.
She looked around the room. It seemed terribly small, as if the walls were closing in. She felt a wave of claustrophobia, a sepulchral quiet that seemed to portend doom. The confined space, the white sterility of the walls, the harsh overhead lights—all of these conspired against her, making her feel like she was being hunted.
I have to get out of here!
She made a quick pass-through, making certain she had closed all the cabinets and hadn’t left any paperwork behind. With nervous hands, she stuffed the pages she had copied into her backpack, along with her flash drive and the five DVDs she had pilfered, which she would return once she’d made copies. Completing her pass-through, she surveyed the room one last time. There was no trace of her incursion here tonight.
She went to the door, opened it, and checked the corridor. Again, it was empty. Feeling emboldened, she turned off the light and went out, closing the door behind her.
Now all she had to do was make it to her car.
CHAPTER 56
THE TENSION played through her like an electrical storm as she rode the grinding elevator to the first floor. She glanced at her watch. Damn, it’s already two minutes to seven!
When the doors opened, she peered out cautiously. Muted pink light filtered through the lobby windows. Outside, beyond the glass, loomed safety. Jennifer stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for the front door, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
I’m going to make it!
She pushed open the door and started for the parking lot on the south side of the building.
Her heart lurched in her chest as she turned the corner.
There, a mere ten feet away, was beefy Benjamin Jr. And he was walking straight towards her!
Shit, how am I going to get out of this?
Their eyes met. For a moment, he was as surprised as she, but then his expression narrowed with suspicion.
“What are you doing here?”
She felt her whole face flush with guilt. “Nothing,” she said, and she instantly regretted the defensiveness in her voice.
He stepped towards her, crowding her with his bulk, and pointed to the huge backpack o
n her shoulder. “Doesn’t look like nothing from where I’m standing.”
She decided to play dumb. “Oh, you mean my pack. I’m going rock climbing this morning—Garden of the Gods. I left some of my equipment here and had to pick it up.”
“Rock climbing,” he said, disapprovingly. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because it’s fun.” She decided to turn the tables on him. “I should ask you what you’re doing here so early, Benjamin. Normally you don’t come in until nine.”
“I have to get some papers for my dad,” he said, with an air of importance. “He’s driving to Denver to give a speech this morning.”
She started for her Subaru Outback. “I’ll let you go then.”
“Oh, I expect we have a little time,” he said, taking hold of her arm as she tried to slide past him. His eyes took on a pernicious glint and his thin, moist lips parted. “Why don’t we sit in my car and...you know...talk?”
This wasn’t the first time he had tried to hit on her, but she still felt a tremble of fear as he grinned at her suggestively. She quickly decided against making a scene, unless he persisted. She was too close to the biggest story of her life to risk blowing it now. There might be more records in Fileroom E that she wanted to copy and she still had to return the DVDs. She decided to be firm but nonthreatening. He was likely to explode if sharply rebuked or outright rejected.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Benjamin. Your mother and father wouldn’t approve.”
“They wouldn’t know about it. It would be our little secret.”
Jennifer pulled her arm away, firmly but without anger. “I think you should go upstairs and get what your father needs. You don’t want to get in trouble with him now, do you?”
“I don’t care about him. I care about you.”
“This is not Christian behavior,” she said, and she pushed her way past him.
“Christianity has its time and place,” he sneered, tromping after her aggressively. “And this isn’t the time or the place.”
“You must stop this. Your parents wouldn’t approve,” she said as she reached her Outback.
He closed in on her, pressing her against the cool metal door. “I’ve got desires like everybody else,” he said. “That doesn’t make me sinful.”
“If you don’t back away from me right now, I’m going to report this incident to your father. And the police.”
For the first time he showed a flash of fear. Then his face relaxed, as if it was all a simple misunderstanding. “Why’d you have to go and say that? I was just horsing around.”
Oh no you weren’t, you twisted little shit. “I certainly hope so,” she said, pretending to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re just so beautiful, I can’t control myself.”
“You must learn to.” Pulling her car keys from her pocket, she unlocked the car door, slid the backpack off her shoulder, and was about to place it inside the back seat when he slipped his hands underneath and started to grab it from her.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got it.”
“I said let me help you.”
She jerked it back from him, but his plump hands held on stubbornly. She felt a wave of panic, but then forced herself to give a calm smile. “It’s okay, Benjamin, I’ve got it.”
“All right, suit yourself.” He released his grip and she took the pack, quickly stuffed it in the back seat, shut the door, and started for the driver’s seat.
But he had blocked her path and was peering suspiciously inside the rear car window at the backpack. “Awfully heavy bag. What do you have in there anyway?”
She felt momentary panic.
“I asked you a question, Jennifer. Why is your bag so damned heavy?”
“I already told you, Benjamin. It’s got all my climbing equipment: ropes, clips, climbing shoes, the works. I do more than sport climb. That’s why the bag is so heavy.”
His beefy, pimply face bore a skeptical smirk. “I don’t believe you.”
“Y-You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t. You must think I’m dumb or something? I know what you’re up to.”
Her muscles froze.
“You’re taking office supplies—photocopier paper, pens, notepads, that sort of thing. That’s why your bag is so heavy.” He gave her a conspiratorial grin, like this was just between friends. “Hey, I don’t have a problem with that. Hell, I do it too.”
She felt a wave of relief. Thank God Locke’s son was a complete idiot unlike his powerful, clever father.
“Look, Benjamin, I hate to disappoint you, but it really is my climbing gear in that pack,” she said to him sternly.
“It is? Really?”
“Yes, really. And now I suggest you go inside and get what your father needs before you get yourself into trouble. I don’t want to have to tell your parents about this little incident. But I will if you ever come on to me inappropriately like that again.”
And with that, she hopped in her car and drove off, wiping away the beads of perspiration from her forehead when she reached Cascade Avenue.
WEDNESDAY
CHAPTER 57
PATTON DIDN’T WAKE UP UNTIL THE FOURTH RING. With a half-conscious groan, he picked up the phone from the bedside table, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dirty light filtering through the bedroom curtains.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice laced with sleep.
“Boy, do I have a story for you,” he heard Jennifer Odden blurt excitedly, too excitedly in his view, considering he had managed only a few hours’ sleep.
“Give me a second here. I’m still on the deserted isle with Ginger and Mary Ann.”
“Both of them at the same time? I wonder what Freud would say about that?”
“He’d probably say I was a boringly normal heterosexual male. What’s up?”
“You need to get your butt out of bed, come down here, and interrogate Benjamin Locke.”
Patton rubbed the slumber from his tired eyes. “You broke into the fileroom, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t break in anywhere. I work there for Christ’s sake.”
“Pulitzer fever. That’s what you’ve got, Pulitzer fever.”
“This thing is even bigger than I thought, Ken. I’m not sure, but I think Locke could be involved in the assassination. He tried to strong-arm Kieger into taking hard-right positions during the primary, but Kieger refused. There’s conflict there—and conflict leads to motive.”
“I suppose you have actual proof of this?”
“I have DVDs of their meetings. They had a shouting match during the last one around the time of the New Hampshire primary. Over abortion.”
“So that proves Locke killed him,” he said skeptically, turning on the light on the side table. “Kind of a leap of logic, isn’t it?”
“I’ve just handed you motive on a silver platter. Don’t tell me you don’t see it?”
“You haven’t handed me anything. AMP, or someone associated with the group, has always been one of our prime suspects, Jenn. Not just because of the button, but because Locke has close ties to both Kieger and Fowler. Of course we’re looking into all of AMP’s activities and public documents, but we’re doing it in a methodical manner. I’m just not sure a shouting match between Locke and Kieger proves anything. When you put two powerful egos like that into a room, quite frankly I would expect discord. When was it again, nine months ago?”
“Jesus, can you really not see this?”
He said nothing. It felt weird arguing with her for the first time in twelve years. He reached for the lead miniature next to the clock: a Berdan’s Green Coat 1st U.S. sharpshooter. He had painted the figure two weeks ago and thought he might touch up the tunic. During the Civil War, Union Green Coat snipers had targeted high-ranking Confederate officers during engagements to disrupt the command structure—precisely, he reflected, what Kieger’s conspirators had accomplished last Sunday.
“Come on, Ken, you know a right-wing group’s behind it. The Brigade’s just a ruse.”
“I don’t know that. That’s your theory—I have to deal with facts.”
“Oh, so that’s it. You’re the G-man expert and I’m just an overzealous journalist with an agenda .”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Look, it’s too damned early in the morning for this—I need java.”
She chuckled. “You’re still not a morning person, are you?”
“You remember,” he said softly.
“Of course I remember. I was in love with you in case you forgot. But that was before you turned into a poster boy for J. Edgar Hoover. Just listen to what I have to say—the facts speak for themselves.”
She quickly told him what she’d found in Fileroom E. While he still thought she was jumping to premature conclusions based on inadequate facts and seemed to have it out for Benjamin Locke and AMP, he had to admit there was sufficient justification to again question Locke. And Fowler and Dubois, for that matter. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to talk to the president-elect or the senator; they were just too damned powerful and they wouldn’t tell him anything voluntarily anyway. The starting point, then, was Locke. Patton would have to question him carefully, without disclosing his source. He would be treading in murky legal waters since, at present, the DVDs were stolen property and there was some question as to whether the files were legally obtained. Jennifer had copied the files without AMP approval, and although she hadn’t signed a nondisclosure agreement, how records were obtained was a critical factor in federal cases. As an FBI agent, Patton spent more than half his time preparing cases and assisting federal prosecutors in trying them. In many ways, he was as much an attorney as a detective. But before he could request a subpoena or refer a case to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for indictment, he had to have all his ducks lined up. He damned well had better get Sharp’s approval before he made a move.
The Coalition: A Novel of Suspense Page 21