JK's Code (Brooks/Lotello Thriller Book 4)

by Ronald S. Barak

  “What does your handler think you’re doing now?”

  “He sent me a message one day ago saying ‘it’s over. Come home to Russia now.’ He thinks I am wrapping up loose ends and returning to Russia. In maybe one more day, he will become suspicious, and send someone to find me.”

  “Why did you come here to my home now?”

  “Because I care for Jake. If he’s still alive, I want to help him. I would like to help you help him.”

  “I want to believe you, Anya, but how can I? How can I possibly trust you? Are you the beautifully made up Anya with the long blonde hair, or this new plain Anya with short dark hair and no makeup? Are you the Russian spy who preyed on my brother, or the woman who says she now cares about my brother?”

  “I understand. All I can say is that if I wasn’t telling you the truth, there was no reason for me to come here today and risk going to a U.S. prison, instead of returning home. And I changed my looks because I was afraid Russian agents might follow me and prevent me from reaching you.”

  “Or, because you are now here to spy on me, as you spied on Jake, to advise your handler what I know, and what I’m now trying to do to help Jake.”

  Resigned, Anya looked back down at the hands in her lap. “I understand,” she said softy.

  “Please wait here.” Leah pointed to an internal door in her study. “There’s a bathroom through there if you need one.”

  LEAH LEFT ANYA IN her study, and closed the door behind her. She went into the family room, and reported to Frank, Abelson, and Amir what Anya had said. “What do you think?”

  “Hard to tell,” was all that Frank said.

  Abelson offered a little perspective. “When Jake first told me he had a Russian girlfriend who just happened to sit next to him on his delayed flight home from Europe, I told him it was highly suspicious, too much of a coincidence. I encouraged him not to trust her, and to distance himself from her. That said, and while I don’t know for sure, I can’t see her handler sending her here to spy on Jake’s family. The odds of her getting anything new from you are pretty slim. I think her handler would be far more likely to want her back in their grasp in Russia—or worse. She is a loose end. Potentially dangerous now to Russia because of what she knows.”

  “Amir know many similar situations with Russians. Many pretty Russian girls taken from poor background, have nothing, then educated and given nice life to help Russian government.”

  “It occurs to me,” Frank said, “that she has very little to offer us that we don’t already know at this point.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no,” Leah replied.

  CHAPTER 97

  July 18, 2020, One Day Later

  LEAH AND FRANK TOOK the first flight out the next morning from D.C. to Atlanta. Abelson, Amir, and Anya remained at their home. Holding down the fort one might say, although there wasn’t really much more they could do just yet. Abelson and Amir had agreed to double up in Charlie’s room, so Anya could have Madison’s room to herself.

  Anya had wanted to get a hotel room nearby, but Leah had insisted that she stay at their place. There would be time enough later for recriminations. Besides, this way, Gali and Amir can keep an eye on her.

  It was the first flight either Leah or Frank had taken during the pandemic. Leah found it irresponsible to see passengers sitting next to one another, even though the plane wasn’t full, and the airlines could have imposed more socially distant seating. She was also upset that not all passengers were wearing masks, in spite of the closed loop cabin air conditioning system. She might have found a way to register her feelings with the airline if her plate was not already full.

  Frank had insisted on accompanying Leah. She objected but he prevailed. She didn’t know whether to be grateful that he cared, or insulted that he perhaps thought she couldn’t handle things on her own. Actually, it is reassuring to know that I have my own personal security detail, and that Frank wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She hadn’t decided yet whether she was going to tell him how much she actually appreciated his protection and his company in the midst of all this stress. She wondered if the Klein family stubborn streak explained why Jake was in such a predicament. Hopefully still in such a predicament. Can’t accept the alternative. Just can’t.

  It was also nice to have someone with whom to think things through out loud on this mission. Imagine someone seeing me talking to myself.

  Leah had used Google to put together a list of federal and state detention facilities in the Atlanta area while they waited to board their flight. For several reasons, she had decided to begin with the federal institutions first. One—there were fewer of them. Two—there were simply too many state and private establishments to cover. Three—her instincts told her that the entire EBCOM scheme, and what had apparently happened to Jake, reeked of a federal attitude and substantial federal resources.

  There were only six federal detention centers in the greater Atlanta area. This kind of an operation seemed beyond the capabilities of five of them. They started there in order to quickly eliminate them. Those five were quite forthcoming, and quickly confirmed her suspicions—they had nothing to hide, and nothing to offer. The two of them were hurriedly in and out of each of the five.

  The sixth—the United States Penitentiary Atlanta—was a different story altogether. The physical presence of the penitentiary was ominous and foreboding. The head of the establishment had a massive attitude. When Leah told him why they were there, he smirked, and said she was reading too many conspiracy novels. When she asked if she could tour the facilities, he responded, “Sure, when you get a court order.”

  The odds were, if Jake was being held somewhere, this was probably the place. However, even if Leah obtained a court order allowing her to make an inspection, she would need a full team of persons to carry it out to avoid being defeated by a game of musical chairs. Unless she could blanket the entire campus at one time, the warden could move Jake around from one cell to another quicker than she could cover them all. The good news is, Jake must be alive, or this jerk would have told me to knock myself out when I said I wanted to inspect the place. Unless he’s just too arrogant. Or stupid.

  For now, Leah thought they had what they came to find out. It was time to head back to D.C., but they made one more stop first.

  BAKER FLEW INTO A rage. The warden had immediately called Austin. Austin summoned Baker, Jr. to a local park bench. No time for a couple buckets of balls. Baker, Jr. was now meeting with POTUS on the White House grounds.

  “No surprise that this asshole Klein’s sister is an obnoxious bitch,” Baker said. “We have to stop her dead in her tracks because I think our confiscation of Klein is a seminal moment.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?”

  “First—I don’t want Klein to see the light of day until after the election, when it will be too late, no matter what the outcome is. Second—I’m planning to do to tons of obnoxious protesters what we’ve just done with this treasonist Klein. Third—”

  “There are a lot of protesters, most of them pretty peaceful. How many arrests do you have in mind?”

  “Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.”

  “Sorry, Dad.”

  “These protesters come in a lot of shapes and sizes. We have to pick our battles carefully. I want to get the ones who we can argue we are undertaking an insurrection, even if peacefully. For example, I have a mind to arrest some of these professional athletes who are taking a knee and disparaging our flag and our military. Absolutely treasonous. Unacceptable. To me, and, I’m told, to many of my core supporters. I have to protect them—show them I am worthy of their support. You need to let Austin know to be prepared.”

  “Yes, Dad, I will. You can count on me.”

  “Also, you need to tell Austin that our White House communications people are about to release a series of trial balloons over the next week or so that I’m going to soon sign a number of Executive Orders. Austin needs to know.”

 
; “What kind of Executive Orders, Dad?

  “Different kinds. For example, Congress isn’t working out the right kind of pandemic relief legislation. I plan to suspend payroll taxes to fund more relief money to the unemployed. We want these people in my corner at the time of the election. And their employers who don’t like paying taxes. I am also thinking about outlawing the use of any kind of mail ballots for the election. They invite chaos and election fraud, such as ballots sent to people who have moved. These ballots can be completed and sent in by fake people who will vote for my opponent. We can’t have that. If mail-in ballots are used to any extent, I may have to order them tossed out.”

  “That’s good stuff, Dad.”

  “Of course it is. I’m just getting started. There will be more steps, I just haven’t thought of them all yet. But I am also going to start pardoning those who my enemies have put behind bars for nothing more than supporting my just causes. You just make sure Austin’s ready for what’s coming.”

  “Will do, Dad. By the way, is a pardon the same as an Executive Order?”

  “Beats the shit out of me. It’s whatever I say it is. I’m the goddamned president. I just call it whatever I want, whatever my lawyers say to call it. I don’t care. It’s all the same to me. We just give it a name, and have the photographers take a picture of our supporters standing behind me with smiles on their faces while I hold up the document with my beautiful strong large signature on it. Have you seen my signature? I just love it. It lets everyone know they’re in good hands under my rule.”

  CHAPTER 98

  July 19, 2020, One Day Later

  LEAH SPOKE TO FRANK in their master bedroom before meeting with the three other members of Team Jake resident in their home. “We need to introduce the two new members of our team to Abelson, Amir, and Anya, but I arranged for you and me to speak with Cyrus first, so we can bring him up to speed. I spoke with him when we returned last night, after you were down and out, but only briefly. Can we go into my home office and get him on a videoconference?”

  “How about if I get us some coffee while you hook Cyrus into the desktop in your study?” Frank suggested.

  “Five minutes?” Leah responded.

  “Yep,” Frank confirmed.

  FRANK WALKED INTO THE study with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand, using his elbow to close the door. “Morning, Judge,” Frank said.

  “Morning, Frank. I’ll take mine black, thanks for asking.”

  Frank could see, literally, that Cyrus was already starting with his shtick. It was his way. Frank knew not to bite. It did bring a smile to his face to see Cyrus in his sweats and cross-training shoes, already tracing the perimeter of the rug in his home office. No doubt, he would keep that up for as long as they spoke.”

  “Enough banter,” Cyrus said, ready to take over the conversation in his customary style. “Seriously, Leah, I have the big picture you gave me last night. Helluva story, helluva mess. How are you holding up?”

  “You know me, Cyrus,” Leah said. “I’m for shit, on the verge of going down for the count. I’d be a complete puddle if I didn’t know I was all Jake has.”

  “That we’re all Jake has,” Frank corrected Leah. He saw Cyrus overlook Leah’s blunder. He knew Cyrus wouldn’t mind in the slightest, even under less distressing circumstances. Leah’s his favorite. He’d never let me get away with a faux pax like that.

  “Okay, so now give me the details, Leah,” Cyrus said, cutting to the chase. “Let me know what I can do, how you think I can help.” No doubt, the bugger already knows how he thinks the matter should be handled.

  Frank admired how Cyrus was making the conversation all about Leah, wanting to prop her up and make sure she understood that she was in charge. He and Frank had worked together even more than Cyrus and Leah had. He was secure in the knowledge that Cyrus respected his judgment, and would lean on him when he was ready for it.

  Leah walked Cyrus through all of the background, from soup to nuts, including a rundown on the other members of Team Jake—Sam Townsend, her old law school classmate and friend who was now practicing law in Atlanta, and was more than willing to do everything he could, and Abelson, Amir and Anya holed up in Leah and Frank’s home. She didn’t skip a beat, and Cyrus listened patiently, even if it was more than he actually needed to hear.

  “That’s some story, and that’s some team. So, what do you want to accomplish here, Leah?” Cyrus asked.

  “I want Jake outta there, home here with us.”

  “And how do you propose to accomplish that?”

  “Petition the U.S. District Court in Atlanta for a Writ of Habeas Corpus. You know, some kind of an order compelling the penitentiary to turn Jake loose, or at least expeditiously charge him with some kind of crime and give us a shot at bail.”

  “Right. How long does that take?” Cyrus probed.

  “I have no idea. I know what a WHC is, but I’ve never handled one.”

  “I’ve never handled one as a lawyer for a client either, but I’ve had to adjudicate several Petitions for a WHC back when I was sitting on the U.S. District Court here in D.C. They’re reasonably straight forward and logical, but tons of them are filed every day, they’re usually denied, and they take thirty to sixty days for a Writ to issue, if they do.”

  “Thirty to sixty days!” Leah shouted. “That’s unacceptable!”

  Frank thought Leah was on the verge of being reduced again to her infamous puddle.

  “And why is that?” Cyrus gently probed Leah.

  Frank was well acquainted with Cyrus’s style. As Leah’s decibel level rose, Cyrus would speak more and more softly.

  “Because I have no idea how he is, what’s being done to him! I can’t stand the thought of him being locked up for that long. I have to know he’s safe. That warden jerk we visited was absolutely frightening.”

  “Can we promptly find all that out through a WHC?” Cyrus asked Leah.

  Frank suffered for Leah. Sometimes “Professor” Brooks could prove to be agonizing. But there usually was a method to his madness. Thank goodness he didn’t ask me that question.

  “I don’t know, Judge. Can we?” Leah asked.

  “Do you know what habeas corpus means, Leah? By the way, feel free to chime in anytime, Frank.”

  No way Frank was going to stick his nose under this tent and get it chopped off.

  “Not really,” Leah answered.

  “It means ‘produce the body,’” Cyrus said. “It doesn’t say anything about what kind of shape it has to be in, or when it’s to be produced, or what’s to be done with it until or after it’s produced.”

  “Well, what the hell good is that then?” Leah asked.

  “C’mon Leah,” Cyrus said, “you need the body produced, but what else?”

  “I wish you’d quit talking about Jake’s body. I need to know Jake’s okay. Right away. And that he’ll be okay until he is produced.”

  “Precisely. So?” Cyrus asked.

  “How about we file some kind of civil rights lawsuit,” Leah said, “that his civil rights are being violated?”

  “I was wondering when you’d use your noodle and get there,” Cyrus said. “Give the girl a kewpie doll! And?” he added.

  “We file an application for a temporary restraining order, a TRO, under Rule 65 of FRCP, the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, compelling that Jake’s captors not harm him or otherwise violate his civil rights simultaneously when we file the lawsuit!”

  “Bingo!” Cyrus exclaimed. “Couldn’t have got there without you, Frank.”

  Frank knew there was no way he was going to come through this conversation unscathed. He wanted to add “if they haven’t already done so,” but Leah would not have been able to deal with that.

  “All right, my dear, prepare the lawsuit and the application, and email them to me and I’ll do a little editing, if need be. You and Townsend are all the lawyers we need to formally name in your papers as counsel of record, but I have a couple of old buddies
on the Atlanta District Court bench. Let me know the minute Townsend is going to file the papers, and I’ll make a couple of off-the-record calls and see if I can’t grease the skids, just to make sure your papers don’t slip through the cracks.”

  Leah sighed with relief. “Thanks, Judge. I couldn’t possibly have thought this through without you.”

  “Sure you could have. And you’ll do a great job on the papers, just as you did when you defended Cliff Norman in my court, and as you did when you second chaired Congress vs. Nopoli with me in the U.S. Supreme Court.”

  “Hey, what about the Writ Petition?”

  “First things, first. We need to make sure Jake’s okay. The petition is much more involved. We don’t want its preparation to muddle or delay our lawsuit, and the application for a temporary restraining order. There is one other thing we need to discuss before I put my mask on and take my power walk outdoors.”

  “What’s that?” Leah was almost afraid to ask.

  “Anya Lebedev,” Cyrus answered.

  TURGENEV LOOKED AT ANYA’S handler in disbelief. “What do you mean you still haven’t been able to find her?” he asked the handler.

  “After you and I spoke when she didn’t immediately return to Moscow, I sent her another text. She still didn’t answer. I then sent agents to her apartment in Cambridge. She’s gone. Her phone and laptop were there, and a lot of clothes, but her travel bag was gone. Our agents found some hair in the bathroom sink. They think she has disguised her appearance and ran.”

  Turgenev pounded his desk. “Last warning, for both of you. Find her. Dispose of her—permanently. The last thing you need are any loose ends. You do understand what I’m saying, do you not?”

  Anya’s handler nodded solemnly and exited Turgenev’s office.

  LEAH PEEKED INTO THE family room, and motioned to Abelson to join her and Frank in the entryway. “Good morning,” Leah said to Abelson. “I want to fill everyone in on what we’re going to be doing today, but I first want to get your take on how Anya spent the day yesterday while Frank and I were in Atlanta, as well as any other news you might have for us.”