“Okay,” Lee replied calmly. He said nothing further. Lee drove for about ten minutes into the downtown area and pulled up in front of the Police Department.
“What are you doing?” Miller asked, sounding panicked.
Lee turned off the car. “I am not wasting my time with you. We had an agreement. Now you tell me you're not sure you are going to cooperate. Okay, your choice. So let's just go talk to the cops, and they can contact the FBI for us. We'll all meet right here, and you can explain everything to their satisfaction.” He opened the car door and got out. He leaned in and said, “Let's go.”
“You are blackmailing me,” Miller said, without moving.
Lee looked back into the car and stared at him. “And your point is?”
“There could be people very unhappy with me coming forward.”
“Yep. Could be. You ready to walk in or do you need help?” Lee said evenly.
“All right, all right. I'll do it. I'll tell you.”
“Good,” Lee said, getting back into the car. “But just so that we understand each other, this is going to be the last time this happens. You stop talking again, and I will drag your ass to the closest FBI office. I am not going to fuck around with you.”
“I understand,” Miller said, resignation in his voice.
“So who approached you?” Lee asked as he started the car.
“A guy who called himself Mr. Valentine.”
Lee furrowed his brow. “Who was this Mr. Valentine?”
“I don't know.”
“Where did he approach you?”
“I was having lunch at a restaurant called Boca, sitting outdoors on the patio. This guy walked up to my table, pulled out a chair and sat down. I was puzzled, and I said, “Can I help you?”
The guy looked at me and said, “No, but you can help you.”
“What did he look like?” Lee asked.
“He had a closely trimmed beard and a moustache and dark eyes. He was tall and thin.”
“Then what?” Lee asks.
“Then I listened, and he told me that he needed some records fixed. He said that the records for the Ruston and Wheeler mines needed to be switched. Ruston needed to become Wheeler and Wheeler needed to become Ruston, and whatever documents are inconsistent with that realignment needed to disappear.” Lee nodded and waited for him to continue. “I told him I have no idea who you are and that we had nothing to talk about. The guy just stared at me. And then he said it's going to be easy. You know how to deal with the physical files, and we can help with the clearances needed for the electronic files.”
“What did you say?” Lee asked, as he listened to tone and delivery and tried to assess whether Miller was telling the truth.
“I asked him, 'Who is we?' He said that information was beyond what I needed to know. At that point I said we had nothing more to talk about, and I stood up to leave.”
“What did he do?”
“He stood and walked with me. He told me that I better listen to the rest of what he had to say before walking away. At that point I was pissed, and I said, 'Or what?' ”
“That's what you get to find out. You need to know what might happen before it actually happens to you.”
Lee was now convinced that Miller was telling him the truth. “How did you react?”
“We just stared at each other for a couple of moments. I noticed at that point that he was wearing a wig. But that told me I didn't know his real hair color, and I wasn't sure if the beard was real. It occurred to me that the intent might be to assure that I couldn't describe this guy accurately.” Miller shook his head as he reflected on the conversation. “Anyway, I let him walk next to me for a couple of blocks. He tells me that he can arrange for me to have a great retirement. Full retirement, full benefits, and a cash bonus of $50,000 to walk away with.”
“Sounded tempting, I bet,” Lee responded.
“No, it didn't. I am a career guy and care about protecting public safety. So I told this guy I had nothing more to say to him.”
“He said, 'I guess that's your choice, but there is one more thing you should know. If we don't reach an agreement, you are going to be fired and never get to that pension.' I watched him in stunned silence, and he told me that they had the goods on me. That there were going to be questions raised about whether violations existed that were not reported by me. Then he said that the next thing they would do is present evidence that I was paid not to record violations that I was made aware of, and several people who uncovered these events would be prepared to testify about them.
“I was angry and ready to strike back by then. I said that none of that was true. He shrugged and told me that there would be very credible witnesses who said otherwise. I told him that he would be implicating his own client if he did that. The son of a bitch just grinned at me and said that his client would be nowhere near the incidents that had been discovered. I told him again that this was all bullshit. The guy said that I should watch the six o'clock news for the first hint. He said he would meet me back at the restaurant tomorrow at the same time, and he turned and walked away.”
“Then what?” Lee asked.
“Then I watched the news and heard a headline about a possible investigation into bribery of county employees.”
“I get it,” Lee said. “So did you meet with him again?”
“Yeah. The next day. This time his beard was longer and both his hair and beard were a different color. He asked me if I saw the news, and I said that I did. At that point he handed me a briefcase. He said that the instructions were in there along with the fifty thousand. He told me that I had twenty-four hours to make the changes, and if I do it, the investigation story ends, and they set up my retirement. He asked me if I had any questions and then walked away, telling me that we would have one more lunch the next day.”
“So you did it?”
“I did it. I stayed awake all night turning it over in my mind and concluded I had no way out. I did it, and I met with the guy, who looked different again—no facial hair and a double chin that wasn't there yesterday. It was only the voice that convinced me it was the same guy. He asked me if I watched the news, and I told him I did. Then he asked me how I want the rest of the story to go. I tell him that this story isn't true and whoever was doing this was manipulating facts. The guy shrugged and said that the story was going to be believed. He said I could take my chances, but the odds weren't good. By then, I was really scared. So I went along with the deal. I agreed to do what they wanted over the next couple of days. Somehow, Valentine knew when I had done it without me showing him any proof, so this guy was somehow plugged in. He then called me and said that I had done the right thing, and within two days I got a statement confirming my date of retirement and retirement benefits.”
“And then you changed your name and moved a long way away.”
“Right. After what I did, I didn't want to be findable by anyone connected to my old life. So I blended into a small town with a new name to live my life out peacefully, which I might have done if you hadn't tracked me down.”
Lee nodded and then said, “If all goes well, you still might get to be that guy.”
* * *
At three thirty, Kevin Walters opened his front door to see Officer Braddock with a man in blue slacks and a bluer jacket. The man was built like an NFL receiver, but approaching NFL retirement age. He was tall and wiry but clearly muscular.
“Mr. Walters?” the blue man said.
“Yes.”
“I'm Detective John Landon. You remember Officer Braddock?” he adds, referencing the uniformed officer.
“Yes, sure. Come in gentlemen.” They walked into the living room. “This is my wife, Julia,” Walters tells them. “Julia, Detective Landon and Officer Braddock.”
“Hello Ms. Walters.” They shake hands.
“Anything learned from the analysis of the phone?” Julia asked.
“No. The lab got nothing from the phone.” He paused and then asked,
“Any calls on your home phone?”
“One, Julia replied. The readout said private caller, and there was no voice mail message.” She drew a breath and then added, “I' can't help but be a little nervous about all this, Detective. Kevin is not dismissing his lawsuit, and we have no clue what happens after the three days are up.”
“I understand,” Landon said, “but we don't have much to work with here unless there is another call. We set up your cell phone so that we get to listen to and record any calls.” He returns the phone to her. “With your permission, we will do the same with your home phone. The techs will be here shortly. The problem is no one has seen this guy; we don't know that he has a prior record, and we know nothing about him. So we don't have enough information for much of a search.”
“Yeah, that's fine,” Kevin says.
“Anything else you can tell me about the voice? Any other facts you remember?”
Kevin shakes his head. “No, I told you all I know.”
Landon nods. “Okay, we'll be prepared to listen, and we will also roll a patrol car by here every couple of hours around the clock. Please call us if you see or hear anything else.”
“Sure,” Kevin says.
They shake hands again and open the door to leave.
* * *
From across the street in a neighbor's front yard, Jerry watched as the cops walked outside and down the driveway to the unmarked car at the curb. Walters had fucking gone to the cops. Jerry was angry, but he knew what it meant. Any incoming calls and visitors to the Walterses' would be monitored. Technology would be used to identify anyone who contacted them, and if he got close, here would be a search for any kind of hair or fiber of DNA evidence. He wasn't going to walk into a hornet's nest, so he told himself that he had to be done with the Walterses.
Jerry walked back to his car frustrated and angry with himself for failing to account for the obvious. He had made no plan in the event that Walters called the police. He had naively assumed that they would fear the threat and comply, dismissing the lawsuit, without going to the cops. Jerry slapped the hood of his car in anger. The thought then occurred to him that he had simply lost one battle—not the war. No one knew who he was, and he was still free to act. He would make a new plan.
Chapter 24
When I get back to the office, it is almost five o'clock. Donna hands me a stack of messages and says, “Well?”
“No clue,” I say shaking my head. “Some guy calls Kevin on a blocked cell and tells him that he has three days to dismiss his lawsuit. The police took the phone yesterday but came up with nothing. No one has any idea who this is, where the call emanated from, or how to determine any of it. The Walterses' phones are being bugged, and marked cars are going to patrol the house, but that's all the news.”
“Wow, crazy.”
“Yeah. Anything critical?”
“Yeah, Lee just called for a second time. Says that he has Miller, and Miller told him how he was approached.”
I dial Lee. “Did you get the update?” he asks.
“Well, I heard he talked to you.”
“Right. Here's the scoop. Miller is contacted by some guy who calls himself Mr. Valentine. Valentine tells him that if he switches records between Ruston and Wheeling and purges anything inconsistent with that reversal, he gets a great retirement package plus fifty grand in cash. When Miller resists, they blackmail him—I can give you more on that later. So he meets with this Valentine guy in public places three times, and each time the guy changes his appearance. Ultimately, they use a news release to convince Miller that they will get him fired or worse if he doesn't cooperate. So he takes the deal, changes his ID to a dead guy's and moves to a small town where he wants to remain a hologram.”
“Amazing story,” I say, marveling at all this. “I set his deposition for next Friday at my office. The other side knows that we put his deposition on calendar, but they have no idea that he will actually show up.”
“So I will find him a hotel when we get back and have him lie low,” Lee replies.
“Yeah, that's good. I want to ask you how you got all this out of him, but I know better.”
Lee laughs. “We are working on our relationship and have a long ride and lots of time to share. You know, I think he's actually a decent guy. My take is that someone at Consolidated—whoever this Valentine is—really worked this poor bastard over. I think he'll come across okay.”
“Is he nervous about getting busted when he comes back to testify?”
“Yep. I told him that we need his testimony, and if he can deliver and then disappear, we won't be spending time or money looking for him.”
“Okay, thanks, Lee. Great work.”
As I hang up, Donna's voice on the intercom says, “Bob Harris on line two.”
“I was just wondering how this day could be even more fun.” She laughs as I hit the line two button.
“Afternoon, Bob.”
“Hi, Scott. I was wondering if you got a settlement demand from your client yet.
“No, I haven't had an opportunity to do that.”
“Okay, well look. You were worried about whether we were going to low ball you if we went to mediation, right?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“My client is operating in good faith here and would like to get this case settled. They have authorized me to give you an opening offer of $100,000 to show you that we are serious.”
I think that sounds like a good faith opening offer, so I say, “Okay, Bob. We are on board.”
“So I have two dates from your proposed mediator, Jake Billings, three and four weeks out. I just e-mailed both to you, and you tell me if you can make one of them work,” Harris says.
I glance at the e-mail he referred to and then look at my calendar. “I will confirm with my client before committing, but I think the second date works.”
“Perfect. I will have Billings's office block the date for us.”
“Okay, Bob. I will get back to you to confirm in the next day or two.”
“Also, let me have your initial settlement demand so I can share it with my client.”
“Shall do.”
We hang up, and I sit back in my chair, genuinely confused. Consolidated wants to work on settling this case while someone is threatening Kevin if we don't just dismiss it and walk away? If you want to settle the case, why go over the line in an attempt to blackmail someone? Is it possible that the caller was not with Consolidated? But who else would need to have this case dismissed? I can't think of anyone else who would want to make sure that a lawsuit against Consolidated didn't go forward. Could the threat be intended to make sure we settled? Seems unlikely. Crossing the line to blackmail in order to assist in getting a good settlement is not the kind of practice that a major corporation can afford to engage in. And then there is Harris. A complete asshole, to be sure, but seemingly representing a client who wants to get this case resolved by settlement. And I can tell that Harris is carrying out his client's intent to get this case set for mediation, or he wouldn't have called me back again before I even gave him a settlement demand. They offer six figures without even knowing how high the demand will be in order to get us to go to mediation. So if Consolidated wants to work toward settlement, then who wants to exhort a dismissal of the case without payment? I play it over and over in mind, and I get nowhere. It just doesn't make sense.
At 6:00 p.m., my partner appeared at my doorway with a grin on his face. Bill says, “I just met with a woman who has a sexual harassment case against the county.”
“Good case?”
“Yes, but more relevant, she worked with Carl Miller in the inspection division. A name I know you're familiar with.”
“No shit. What does she say about him?”
“That he was the only decent human being in the bunch.” Four others in the division spend half their time asking her about her sex life, and the other half telling her how they could make it better for her. Frequent comments on her boobs and he
r ass. Pretty serious stuff.”
“She report it?”
“Yeah. After your man Miller retires, someone pins her in the corner and kisses her, and she takes it to personnel. They tell her they will review it and get back to her. Two months later, she's still waiting for the call back.”
“And Miller is not one of the assholes doing this stuff?”
“Right. According to her, he was always a gentleman. Thought you might want to know that.”
“I do. That is fascinating. My witness can be impeached by the fact that he manipulated public records, ran away with cash, and took the identity of a dead guy. But at least he's not a sexual harasser. He has to be everyone's hero, right?”
Bill shrugs. “No one's perfect.” But I guess I should get his deposition about the harassment in the work environment before the cops lock him up for excessive creativity with public records.”
“Wish I could say you're making me feel better,” I add.
“See you tomorrow, buddy. I am out of here.” He waved and headed for the door.
As Bill approached his car, he glimpsed a figure sitting in a car across the street, staring directly at him. Bill stopped for a moment and then starting walking toward the figure. At that point, the old car with the discolored hood took off in a hurry.
* * *
They were passing through Oklahoma just a couple of hundred miles from the New Mexico border when Lee got back to a topic that he had already probed at length. “Let's talk more about Valentine,” he told Miller, who did not respond. “You told me that you met with this guy three times, right?
“Right.”
“And each time he looked entirely different than he did the time before?”
“Yes, correct.”
“Do you have any idea how we can identify this guy?”
“Well, we don't have any clue which one of these three people he is—maybe he doesn't really look like any of them. That's why the picture doesn't help.”
“What? What picture?” Lee said, incredulously.
“I paid the waiter fifty bucks to take a picture of me and this guy together on the third day, but then he showed up with the double chin that he never had before, so it all seemed useless,” Miller replied.
[2017] The Whistleblower Onslaught Page 19