by Blair Howard
“What do you mean, we won’t need it?”
“I can’t explain now. I don’t have time. You’ll just have to trust me, okay? Will you do it?”
“Oh, I trust you, all right.” Was that sarcasm? “You’ll go through with it anyway, right?”
“Yep, if not you, it will have to be Bob and Tim. Bob is great, but police back-up would be better; I’d feel better.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. What time?”
“I have to be there at ten. You’ll need to drop by the office and pick up the gear. You’ll also need to learn how it works, which shouldn’t take but a couple of minutes. Tim will handle that for you. Don’t take any chances with the range of the thing. You should be as close to the Tower as you can. If you could find a place somewhere inside, that would be even better. I won’t be able to hear you, but you should be able to hear and record everything.”
“I’ll be at your office in... twenty-five minutes.”
“Great. Bob and Tim will be waiting for you. Talk to you later, bye.”
“Wait. Be careful, Harry.”
“Always am. Bye.” I disconnected. I had to take a little time, compose myself.
I strapped the watch onto my left wrist. Geeze, I hope this thing works. If not, I’m going to be in a world of trouble.
I slipped into my rig, put my jacket on over it, retrieved my backup MP9 from the safe, checked the load, made sure there was one in the chamber, and then slipped it into the holster under my arm. If I was frisked, it would be found, but I wasn’t going to let anyone frisk me, so that was moot.
I entered the Tower a few minutes before ten, took the elevator to the top floor, and marched into Harper’s office.
“He’s waiting for you, Mr. Starke. You can go right in.”
I nodded to the receptionist and pushed open the door. Harper was at his desk; Hope was at his. Harper had an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“Come on in, Starke. Frisk him, Jackson. See if he’s carrying, or if he’s wired.”
Hope started to rise. I took a step sideways toward the window. “Back off, Hope.” He sat back down. “You know damn well I’m carrying. I always do. As to a wire, here, take a look. I opened my jacket and pulled my tee out of my pants and all the way up to my neck, exposing my bare chest.
“Satisfied?”
I had to think carefully now, about what I said next. No lies. I had to think like a politician.
“Why would I be wired?” I said. “You have this office bugged, camera and audio, I shouldn’t wonder, right?”
He smiled, but didn’t answer. Hope, however, told me everything I needed to know. He glanced up at the bookshelf behind Harper’s chair. I couldn’t see it, but it was there all right. I knew it! Now I have you, too, you cocky bastard.
“Screw you, Starke. You have five minutes and the clock is running. Now get on with it. What the hell do you want?”
“I have you, Harper. I have the file.”
“What file? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the computer file that Michael Falk stole from you; the file that got him killed. It’s the key to your entire corrupt financial empire. You know what it contains. That’s why you had to get it back.”
He didn’t answer, but I could tell I’d hit a nerve.
“You used the Harper Foundation as your own personal piggy bank. You invested the Foundation’s legitimate assets into a web of phantom shell accounts, and then you took out loans from those companies; you borrowed your own money, the Foundation’s money, with no intention of ever paying it back. That’s money laundering. You even paid dividends from those investments into the Foundation, and then you churned that back into the quagmire in the form of more investments: another illegal act, more money laundering, with the Foundation as the investor and you the only beneficiary. You used the funds to finance your political ambitions, and your extravagant lifestyle. It was a hell of a scheme, and it’s all there, in the file.”
“So you’ve got the file, so what? You can’t tie me to it.”
“Oh but I can. You know what metadata is, Harper?”
“Metadata? What the hell is metadata?”
“Will you tell him, Jackson, or will I?” I asked with a malicious smile.
Hope had gone white. He knew exactly what was coming.
“What’s he talking about, Jackson?”
“Er....” Hope looked sick. “The files contain hidden data. Time stamps, the author, authorized users... the administrator.”
Harper looked as if he’d been kicked by a mule. “Why are you doing this, Starke? Why are you poking your nose where it doesn’t belong? What did I ever do to you?”
“Tabitha Willard. You made me cause her to die. I’ll have to live with what she did for the rest of my life, and all because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw me, but it’s also about justice, Congressman. It’s all about justice, not only for Tabitha, but also for Michael Falk and Charlie Maxwell, and every other poor sucker that you’ve screwed over, and for poor Olivia Hansen. Why you had to kill her, I don’t know; probably because of her connection to me. If so, I owe you for that one, too. You are guilty of a whole range of criminal activities, any one of which can, and will, put you away for the rest of your days, including conspiracy to commit murder, starting with Michael Falk.”
“You can’t prove any of that, you smart-ass piece of shit.”
“No? You want to hear my theory? Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“Screw you, Starke. Get the hell out of my office, and take your fantasies with you.”
I smiled at him. He looked away.
“Here’s what I think. Falk was killed because you caught him downloading your secret financial dealings from your computer. There’s a camera up there, in the bookshelf, isn’t there?” I nodded in the direction of the clock on the shelf behind his chair. “It records everything that goes on in this office. I suspected the office was monitored the first time I was here. You were so precise with your questions and answers, and with your dealings with my father’s check. You made sure it was placed precisely on your desk so the camera could get a good view of it. It wasn’t a huge leap to figure out the rest.
“Your man killed Falk, but then he found out that the drive was gone. You figured Tabitha must have it.
“You had Tree set his goons on Tabitha, scared her out of her wits. She gave up Charlie Maxwell, panicked, ran, and then tossed herself off the bridge. Charlie was an unfortunate victim of circumstance. Her only sin was knowing Tabitha Willard.
“Your man killed Charlie.” I looked at Hope as I said it. He stared back at me, unflinching. “He retrieved the drive and all was well, at least you thought it was. What you didn’t know was that Charlie was an IT specialist. She downloaded the files, encrypted them, and sent them to me as an attachment to an email. I have it all, Harper, every dirty deal you’ve ever done, every off-shore account, every shell corporation, the loans, everything, and I know all about Mystica. I even have the file that contains the list of Mystica members. I’m sure some of them will be willing to talk, if only to keep their names out of the media.”
“Your five minutes is up, Starke.”
I smiled at him. “You had it all, didn’t you, Congressman? More money than you could ever spend, but it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed more, much more. You needed power. The sad thing is, you could probably have achieved it without taking the path that you did, but you’re corrupt, you’re rotten to the core, a truly evil man. You couldn’t help yourself, so you resorted to blackmail and extortion, and you did it by exploiting your victim’s most basic weaknesses, hence Mystica.
“Mystica was a tool designed to gather dirt on the rich and powerful, and it worked. But you made a mistake. Your arrogance let you down. You reached for the top, but you picked the wrong mark, Senator Linda Michaels.”
“Michaels?” He smiled. “What if her little hobby was to
become public, Starke? How about that?”
“Was that a threat, Congressman? If it was, it won’t work. She just doesn’t care. If she did, you would have gotten all you asked for. Then again, I don’t think you have anything on her. She never really played the game, did she? That suite was just a place for her to get away from it all, a secure place to rest and relax, and one more thing. She had it swept for bugs and cameras almost on a weekly basis. She also had the lock changed.”
I had him, and he knew it.
“She’s incorruptible,” I continued. “But Mystica? How, I asked myself, did she become a member? I knew from my conversations with Olivia Hansen, and she said very little, that the invitation to the club had to come from a founding member, not some kinky sex practitioner. Whoever it was that inducted her, had to have gotten his instructions from such a member, and there is only one such member, isn’t there, Congressman? You!”
He didn’t answer.
“The first time I met you, I noticed that ring on your left hand. It was a dead giveaway. So I figured that the infamous Terry must work for you, but who was he? It wasn’t until we set a trap to catch whoever was following me that I figured it out.”
Harper said nothing. He simply pushed a button on the office intercom. Two seconds later, the door behind me squeaked. I stepped sideways, turned my back to the window so that I could see not only the door, but the entire room. Hope started to rise, then sat back down. The door was slowly opening.
“Come on in, Terry. Don’t be shy,” I said quietly. The receptionist stepped into the room, gun in hand, silencer attached.
“Nice weapon, Terry. Beretta, right?”
He turned to look at me, the gun low, but aimed in my direction. His eyes were two strips of flint.
“Terry Hamlin,” I said, with a smile. “One-time First Lieutenant, dishonorably discharged, of Army Rangers, now undercover black ops for the good Congressman. You’re older than you look, Terry. I must admit, you took a bit of figuring out. We finally tracked you down when my investigator caught you following me. He managed to get a photo of you. Not a good one, but it sufficed. I knew as soon as I saw it that I’d seen you somewhere. It took me a while, but then it hit. I’d seen the face a couple of times before, sitting behind a computer, playing Little Billy’s receptionist. Which you’re not, is he, Congressman?”
No one answered, so I continued.
“Once I knew who you were, it was relatively simple to get hold of your records. You’ve been a very bad boy, Terry. That gun you’re holding; it’s going to put you away for the rest of your days, and Little Billy here, too. They took a good slug out of young Falk’s head. I’m sure they’ll be able to make a match, and then it’s goodbye, Terry; goodbye, Little Billy; and goodbye, Jackson Hope.”
“The hell you say,” Hope snarled. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. “I didn’t know about anything.” Hope was agitated. “I just do the books.”
“Shut up, Hope,” Harper growled.
“Fuck you, Harper. I’m not going down for you. Starke, I—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Harper yelled, and he did.
Never for a moment did I turn my attention away from Hamlin. I watched his eyes. They narrowed. He was going to do it.
“Don’t do it, Terry.”
“Let him have it, Terry,” Harper snarled.
Hamlin’s gun began to move upward, his right eyelid lifted, his fingers twitched. Almost without thinking, I swept my right hand up under my jacket, and in one smooth movement, I drew the nine. Without aiming, I fired. I’d practiced the move a thousand times. The bullet took him low in the right shoulder. He staggered back several steps, looked down at the small red spot, a surprised look on his face. He dropped to his knees, sat back on his heels, his hands hanging by his sides. The gun fell from his fingers. He looked up at me, wide eyed, stunned. I turned quickly to face Hope, but the man had not moved, neither had Harper.
“I hope you got all that,” I said into the watch.
I stepped over to where Terry was still sitting on his heels. He had a dazed look in his eyes. I kicked the gun away from him — it was indeed a Beretta — and then stepped back to the window. I took out my cell phone and hit 911. “Shots Fired,” I said, and gave the operator the address. I then turned my full attention to Harper and Hope, knowing that Kate would respond quickly to the 911 call.
“Congressman,” I said, amiably. “You just told Terry to shoot me.”
“The hell I did, I told him to give you the gun.”
“So you say, but your camera will tell the tale. Sit still, Jackson.” He was rising to his feet, probably going for the disks.
“You’re done, Congressman. So are you, Hope. That gun will put all three of you away for a long time.”
“You’ll not make it stick, Starke. I didn’t kill anybody.”
“No you didn’t, but he did.” I nodded in Hamlin’s direction.
“What if he did? You can’t prove I had anything to do with any of it. It’s just a file. You can’t tie it to me.”
“Oh, I think we can, but even if we can’t, he can.” I nodded in Hope’s direction. “And he will. I already have him for money laundering. His name is on the spreadsheet as an authorized user, and as the last person to amend and save it.”
Hope glared at me, his eyes glittering with hate.
“That being so, Jackson, I’m sure the Feds will cut you a deal. All you’ll need to do is hand them your boss. Better ten years, for money laundering — maybe only five if you’re a good boy and cooperate — than life without parole for conspiracy to murder, right?” I grinned at him. Where the hell was Kate and her team?
“You, Terry.” I didn’t think he could hear me; I think he’d gone into shock, but I continued anyway. “You’re done. I hope it was all worth it.”
It was at that moment that the cavalry arrived. Kate burst in, followed by Lonnie and a half-dozen uniforms, guns drawn.
“We got it all, Harry,” Kate said, as we watched them cuff Hope and Little Billy. “You got them.”
“You need to lock this place down, Kate. There’s a camera, up there in the bookshelf. It is recording everything. My 911 call gave you probable cause to enter the office; it’s a slam-dunk. I talked to Judge Strange before I left the office. He has a search warrant already signed and waiting for you, if you need it. You can legally grab the camera and recorder and the disks. It should have recorded everything that happened here. It will also prove that I had to shoot Hamlin in self-defense. No one can argue with Harper’s own recordings. All you need do is find them.
“You don’t really need the recordings I made, Kate. They’re a bonus. It was never my plan to use them, unless I had it all wrong, of course. I knew from day one, at least I thought I did, that Harper had his office bugged. I planned to use Harper’s own recordings against him. How to enable you to get your hands on them legally was the big problem. I had no idea how to do that, so I had to improvise, play it by ear. I knew Terry, his receptionist, was his man, and probably the killer, too, but again, I couldn’t prove it. When Harper summoned him into the office, I knew I had them, had them all. The fact that Harper told him to kill me, and that I had to shoot him, hence the 911 call, was all an unexpected bonus. I was lucky, I guess.”
“You always are, Harry. One day, though, your luck is going to run out, and that’s a day I never want to see. Give me your weapon and go wait for me in the car. Lonnie, go with him. Get out of here, Harry. I’ll finish this up.” And she turned away. So, it really is over.
Chapter 34
I drove slowly up Lookout Mountain early that same afternoon. It was one of those days when all is well with the world. The rain had stopped, the sun was shining, the sky was clear and blue, and the view over downtown Chattanooga was stunning. Doctor Willard was waiting for me. We sat together in his living room and I told him the story, all of it except for Tabitha’s so-called career. I just didn’t see any point in destroying the man’s illusions.
He took it from me, tore up the check, thanked me, got up, patted me on the shoulder, and walked out of the room. I left his home and walked out into the bright sunshine, but it did little to uplift my spirits. Doctor Willard was changed, a sad old man who would have to live with the loss of his eldest daughter for the rest of his life. It was tough to take.
I drove back to the office. There was a message for me to call Kate. Somehow even that didn’t make me feel any better. I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Harry?”
“Yes. It’s me. What’s up?”
“What’s wrong, Harry? You sound down in the dumps.”
“Yeah, I’ve just got back from seeing Doctor Willard; not a pleasant experience.”
“No, I can imagine. Well, maybe this will cheer you up. We found it, the camera and the recorder, and a whole library of DVDs. Talk about Richard Nixon. He recorded everything. We even have Falk at his computer. The Feds will have a field day with it all. Oh, and you were right. There will be no charges for the shooting. It was self-defense, clear and simple. It’s on camera. You’re good; you’re in the clear.”
Good? The hell I am.
“How is he, Hamlin?”
“He’ll recover. He’s at Erlanger, under guard. The Feds will transfer him to a government facility as soon as he’s fit to move.”
“How about Harper and Hope? Where are they?”
“In Federal custody, facing a long litany of charges including conspiracy to commit murder. Hope was just a minor player, Harper’s gofer. He’ll probably cut a deal with the Feds and get off with five years. Harper and Hamlin will get life, if they’re found guilty, and there’s little doubt of that. You did good, Harry.”