“No, we didn’t fail,” Luke countered. “We may not have planted drugs on the governor like we wanted, but we got our message out there, and the Virginia media is now discussing the private-prison issue. I think public reaction to the transfer will be negative enough to shut it down.” Maybe that was wishful thinking, but he was trying to cheer up Tara. She was facing some serious charges. “Have you decided how you’re going to handle this? I can contact a lawyer for you.” He was glad the JRN network was extensive and included a few law enforcement and government officials as well as professionals of every kind.
“It’s tempting to just not show up for court,” Tara said, between bites of stew. “How are they going to find me?”
Abby cut in. “The problem is that they’re even looking.” Her voice grew loud and trembled with emotion. “Now that the Virginia cops have Tara on their radar as an activist, it’s a risk for the rest of us if she stays here. I think she should leave.”
“No.” Luke glared at his ex. “We don’t abandon our members. And now that our funding has been cut off, we might have to move soon anyway. I still have to talk to Hana about that. In the meantime, Tara’s no more of a risk than any of the rest of us.”
Abby slammed down her knife. “I disagree.”
“I’m with Luke,” Cree said. “We all know the risks, and we could all go to prison.”
“We can come back to this discussion after our mission Friday.” Luke looked at Aaron. “Do we have Stella Pearlman’s schedule yet?”
“She’ll be out of the house between one and three.”
“Perfect.” This mission was bolder than anything they’d ever done, and it was happening fast. But the decriminalization vote was Friday, and they had to be proactive. He started to outline the plan. “We’ll take several vehicles and park in different locations, in case we have to make a fast getaway and only have one exit route.”
“But we’re parking the van right out front, right?” Abby asked.
“Yes. Cree and I will wear blue jumpsuits and work belts, so we’ll look like electricians.” They had recently painted the Eric’s Electric sign on the van so no one would pay attention to it. “Cree will disable the home’s security, and we’ll walk right in the front door.” He touched Abby’s hand to reassure her. “You’ll be down the street, watching for us, ready to cause a distraction if necessary.”
“I want to go in the house. Tara can be lookout.”
Luke decided to let it go. He needed to placate Abby until he could find a way to ease her out. “Fine.”
“I’ll be on the other end of the block, monitoring the police scanner,” Aaron said.
“What happens if the senator refuses to vote our way?” Abby asked. “His dog may not be as important to him as we think.”
“He’ll go along.” Luke had been worried about that too, but now he had a backup plan that seemed foolproof. “The senator will not only vote with us, he’ll bring in a few others. And he’ll never report the incident or call for a new vote.”
Abby spun toward him. “Why not?”
“We’ll have Pearlman’s laptop. Tell them what you found, Aaron.”
The analyst grinned. “Once I had remote access of his computer, I dug through his files and found some salacious photos. I’m sure the senator doesn’t consider them to be child pornography, but the state of Maryland does.”
Tara cocked her head. “What exactly are they?”
“Naked fourteen-year-old girls.”
“Gotta love politicians.” Tara laughed. “The hypocrite probably voted for stiffer sentencing for possessing such material. They never learn.”
Cree chuckled too. “Like that congressman who pushed for drug-testing food stamp recipients, then was arrested for cocaine.”
Luke could have added a dozen more examples, but he wanted to stay focused. “Let’s run through the timing.”
“Wait,” Tara cut in. “What happens inside the house? You call Pearlman and threaten to hurt his dog? How do you prove you have the pup?”
“We’ll send images, maybe a short video.”
“What if he tells you to fuck off?”
“I’ll bring up the laptop and threaten to expose him.”
Tara smiled. “This could work. Do you really think the vote could pass?”
“It may not.” Luke refused to let it bother him. “But having the head of the Congressional Judiciary Committee vote in favor will be a huge political win. Other politicians will get on board, and it will pass the next time. We have to start it rolling. In a punitive society, reform takes time.”
Tara went back to eating stew, so everyone else did too. Between mouthfuls, Luke outlined the timing of the day from the moment they left the house, then ran through some worst-case scenarios. Cree and Tara were the most concerned about the mission, and he did his best to reassure them. But he was worried too. If they were caught, they would face ten- or fifteen-year sentences, at least. It almost made him let out a bitter laugh. He’d served ten years for holding someone else’s pot. He might actually be sentenced to less time for extortion. Many rapists had served less time, along with nearly everyone who committed manslaughter. He shook it off. He’d been through this in his head a million times. All he could do now was move forward and push for change.
After the dinner meeting, Abby and Aaron went back to their rooms, but Luke headed to the living area to check the news. Cree and Tara joined him. He turned on the TV and switched to CNN. As a group, they usually watched movies, particularly comedies or indie slice-of-life films, but they were all news junkies too and checked multiple sources every day. The newscaster spent ten minutes talking about the Ebola crisis, showing graphs of how quickly they thought it could spread, then switched to the daily drone strike report in the Middle East. Luke got up, intending to go check his email, when the pretty newscaster caught his attention:
“In a breaking development, a judge’s murder in Washington DC may have a new, deeper new motive. Sources tell us that retired Judge J.D. Bidwell had been investigated for racketeering, fraud, and corruption. The charges, which had just been filed, indicate that during Bidwell’s twenty-year seat on the circuit court in Virginia, he took more than two hundred payments from a company known as CSA, Corrections for a Safer America, a private-prison contractor that runs facilities around the country. In exchange for the payments, the US Attorney’s office says Bidwell gave defendants maximum sentences, essentially selling them for profit.”
The news landed like a punch in his gut. He’d been sold for cash? Ten years of his life stolen, so the judge could drive a better car or play golf in Hawaii? Luke collapsed back onto the couch.
The newscaster continued: “The payments amounted to more than two million dollars, and the IRS has frozen the judge’s assets in an attempt to collect taxes on the money.”
“Two million!” Cree’s mouth dropped open.
“The scandal made us take a deeper look at the private-prison industry and how it operates,” the newscaster said. “Almost all for-profit prison contracts include minimum quota clauses that stipulate the state must keep the prison on average ninety percent full or pay fees to make up the difference. By sentencing defendants to the maximum, Bidwell was not only lining his own pocket but also helping the state meet its contract quotas.” The newscaster took on a concerned look. “The social issue that arises is whether private prison systems lead to longer-than-necessary sentences. We’ll look into average sentences in states that have mostly for-profit prisons, such as Texas, and compare them to states like California and Oregon, which have none. So we’ll have more coverage on the issue soon.”
The newscaster moved on to another subject. Still stunned, Luke turned to Tara, who sat next to him. “Judge Bidwell sentenced me. He traded my life for a bribe.”
“I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”
“Death is too good for him.”
“I wonder how they caught him.” Cree muted the TV and came over.
; “It was probably the IRS.” Luke pushed off the couch, hoping no one tried to hug him. “I need to be alone.” He started for his room, then changed his mind and went out for a walk. Somehow, news of the judge’s corruption changed everything.
Chapter 24
Dallas watched Luke leave, wondering if she’d have another chance to pry him for intel before the takedown on Friday. He’d seemed stunned by the news of Bidwell’s corruption, but Luke’s comment that death was too good for the judge had almost sounded like regret. Did he wish he hadn’t killed Bidwell, so the judge could spend the rest of his life in prison and get to experience it for himself? That would have been better karma, if you believed in that kind of thing.
“Ready for that chess game now?” Cree plopped on the couch beside her.
“Sure, but you’re probably out of my league.”
“Because I’m a techie? Not all coders are good strategists.” He laughed again, a mellow sound she’d come to enjoy. “But I’m better than average. Let’s play. I need to get my mind off all this heavy shit.” Cree reached for a small coffee table, pushed the magazines off it, and yanked it toward them. A chessboard was embedded in the surface. Cree opened a drawer and pulled out a set of carved wooden pieces.
“Nice,” Dallas said, touching the wood. “Is this yours?”
“I bought it at a local garage sale after we moved here.”
“Sweet deal.” She started setting up the pieces. “I call black.”
“I knew you would. I like to think of myself as a white hat anyway.”
She recognized the hacker term for those who used their skills in a positive way. “You do have the right motives.”
“My family doesn’t think so.”
“Families never do.” She moved a pawn just to get the game rolling. “I hope there’s more tequila in the kitchen. Are you up for shots?”
“I have something better.” Cree pulled a small mint-candy container from the drawer and removed a joint. “You toke?” He lit up before she could answer.
A pungent aroma she hadn’t experienced in years. “No, it just makes me sleepy.” Dallas stood. “But I do need another beer.”
She brought the tequila too, just in case Luke came back and wanted to drink with her. Or Cree changed his mind. Getting people drunk had proved successful in learning their secrets. She could drink like a sailor and puke on cue to stay more sober than her target. Dallas settled into the couch again, a little closer to Cree. Physical proximity was effective too. “How did you get connected to Luke and the inner circle?”
“We met at a skydive a few years ago.” He took another drag of the joint.
“I remember now. We talked about it that first night we all hung out. I guess I’m curious about why you’re willing to take such risks for this cause. Considering your background.”
Cree gave her a wounded look. “That’s why I’m willing. I don’t want to be just another spoiled rich kid. I want my life to mean something.”
Dallas patted his leg. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive. That’s why I joined too. I was just drifting before. It’s important to have purpose.”
Cree made a standard move, giving no hint of his chess strategy.
“What was your first mission with the group?” Dallas asked.
“A phony email campaign, supposedly sent by Congressman Bletzo to his constituents. Luke wrote the text, but I hacked his account and orchestrated the digital part.” Cree smiled with pride.
A piece of information she hadn’t known. “Was it effective?”
“We think so. Two weeks later, his state voted to legalize medical pot.” Cree took another hit from his joint. “A small victory, but that’s how we started, working to change drug laws.”
Dallas studied the board and moved her rook. Cree was either not that good at the game or was about to blow her away. “What’s next for the inner circle? Especially now that funding is a problem?”
“I don’t know.” He stiffened a little. “I’m worried about Abby. She’s becoming radicalized, and I’m afraid she’ll push Luke to do something regrettable, maybe even violent.”
An opening. “Is Luke capable of violence?”
“I don’t see him that way.” Cree’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “But Luke told me once that everyone who spends that long in prison starts to see violence as just another behavior, almost a way of communicating.”
Dallas repressed a shiver. Considering the millions of people incarcerated, most of whom would be free someday, that was a lot of potential trouble. She made another move on the board, eager to be alone so she could leave the house and contact Drager. She would have to go for a long walk again to get out of the range of Aaron’s monitoring before she made the call.
Cree beat her in three more moves and was very gracious about it. Dallas excused herself. “I think I’m going out for some fresh air too. After I get my jacket.” She hurried upstairs. Contacting her team would be so much simpler if she could just use email. Dallas pulled on her running jacket, grabbed her cell phone, and headed back down. Outside, the air had cooled but the night was clear, and above her hundreds of stars sparkled, something she never saw in Phoenix or DC, where the city lights drowned out the night sky. Dallas started down the gravel driveway to the main road.
She hoped to run into Luke and offer him comfort. He seemed vulnerable at the moment and might reveal something important. The bureau needed to know more about their plans to sabotage prison supply trucks—in case the mission or the takedown didn’t go as planned Friday. Luke had been reluctant to talk about the subject.
At the road, she went left and jogged past the field to a turnout where it was safer to stand. She didn’t expect much traffic, but outside this little pocket of rural hideaway, the whole area was densely populated, at least compared to large chunks of land in the southwest and Midwest. Dallas pulled out her cell phone and punched in Drager’s number. Then she hesitated. Calling her contact from the Tara phone was still a risk. Aaron might be able to access her data once she was back in range. She’d only called Drager once last Sunday, but she’d been much farther away from the house. Cree and Aaron both had mad tech skills, and sometimes people like that spied on others just for fun. But Drager needed to know they were set for Friday. She remembered Drager’s backup plan to comment on the Real Food blog. That seemed safer.
Dallas deleted the number and jogged back toward the house. As she approached the driveway, headlights appeared. Someone was leaving the farmhouse. The van barely stopped before it entered the road with Abby driving. What was she doing? It seemed late to be making another trip into town. Was she buying more meth to try again with the governor? Dallas was glad this case would be over Friday. She didn’t want to face another ordeal like that again. She slowed to a walk down the driveway but didn’t see Luke anywhere.
The common areas of the house were empty, and she hustled upstairs without running into anyone. This assignment was so different from the last two she’d done. It had taken a lot longer to get inside her target group this time, but once she’d been accepted, she’d had a lot more direct involvement with their activities, so there had been less need for spying. Her testimony—plus Luke’s downloaded files—might be all the bureau needed to prosecute the inner circle for sabotage and vandalism. But the cyber crimes would be harder to prove. Drager knew that and wanted a big bust and long sentences. The irony of it was almost painful. Thinking about Luke in prison for twenty years made her stomach clench. Unless he had killed the judge. But if Bidwell had sold hundreds of people to an undeserving life of incarceration, his death didn’t need any justice. This case was fucked up and she wanted out. Cameron was in Arizona, pining for her. She couldn’t wait to get home and screw his brains out.
Up in her room, Dallas retrieved her laptop from between the mattresses and logged into the Real Food website. The newest blog was about fasting for short periods and how to do it safely. Dallas skimmed the article for something to respond to an
d scrolled down to the Comments section. It would be challenging to use Drager’s code words, plus weave in the day and time of the sting, while trying to post something intelligent. After a minute of thinking, she logged in and wrote: I’m sure humans fasted for periods of time as hunter/gatherers, but not eating on certain days seems silly. Like Catholics not eating meat on Friday. What’s that about? It’s just one of many peculiar human food issues. When you go to the religious texts, the inconsistencies make the directives about when not to eat certain foods meaningless. It’s better to target a daily caloric intake and eat whatever real food pleases you.
Good enough. Hunter, Friday, one, go and target should give Drager everything he needed. He probably wouldn’t see the comment tonight, but he still had plenty of time to set up. She clicked Post and switched over to watch dance videos on YouTube. She’d give Drager an hour to respond, then check again in the morning. Her phone made a funny beep, and she looked over at it. Time to update her settings. She plugged the cell into her computer and went to brush her teeth. Thirty-six more hours and it would be over.
Chapter 25
Thursday, Oct. 9, 6:17 a.m.
Drager woke with a throbbing pain in his left eye. He rubbed it for a minute before getting up. A morning ritual now. The medication he took for the tumor wasn’t working any more, and the surgery was risky. He was putting it off until the bureau forced him to retire at age fifty-seven. Jocelyn had pushed for the surgery, and that issue had become another wedge between them. She’d also nagged him to eat healthier and take the statins his doctor prescribed. God, he missed her.
He took a twenty-minute walk just so he could tell her he’d started exercising, then ate a banana and some beef jerky for breakfast. That was healthy, right? He couldn’t stop thinking about Joce. Would he see her again on the Bidwell case? If not, he would call and ask her to lunch. He could use their son Kyle as an excuse. Drager strapped on his service weapon, grabbed his briefcase, and headed out of his new condo rental. He was closer to work now that they’d separated, but he hating living alone. Jocelyn hadn’t put their house on the market yet, so maybe she was subconsciously waiting, hoping he would come back. He realized now he wanted that more than anything.
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