by J. C. Fields
JR spoke first. “I thought it was just Griffin and his wife meeting us here. Since when does a senator get Secret Service protection?”
“They don’t.” Kruger pursed his lips as he parked the Cherokee two car lengths behind the rear Suburban. “Something’s happened. Something we don’t know about. It may be the reason we’re meeting him in this secluded spot.”
Mia spoke from the rear to ask, “Do you suppose he’s been asked to take the VP position?”
No one responded as a tall slender man in his early seventies emerged from the front door, stood on the front deck and waved. He wore a navy blazer, white button-down oxford shirt, khaki cotton pants, shiny loafers and boldly colored socks. With his broad smile, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the actor Morgan Freeman. Joseph Kincaid was a lifelong friend of Kruger and the reason he became an FBI agent. He was also an equally good friend of JR. His past remained a mystery to most people, except them.
The two couples emerged from the Jeep and approached the deck. Kruger pointed to the Suburbans with a questioning look. Joseph nodded and said, “Roy will explain. Come on in.”
As they entered, Roy Griffin and his wife, Cheryl, smiled. Both were dressed casually and standing in the living room waiting to greet the newcomers. Four men stood off to the side watching every move Kruger and JR made. Stephanie squeezed her husband’s hand and whispered, “That’s creepy.”
Kruger mumbled under his breath, “Yep, it is.”
Griffin offered his hand to Kruger, who shook it and then made the same gesture to JR.
“Thank you all for coming. I don’t remember if Stephanie and Mia have ever met my wife, Cheryl?”
Stephanie and Mia shook their heads as they were introduced. Cheryl Griffin stood as tall as her husband, slender with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She possessed a California tan and a beaming smile.
“It is so nice to finally meet you two,” Cheryl said. “Your husbands helped save Roy’s and my life a few years ago. We owe them a lot.”
Stephanie smiled and glanced at her husband. “Don’t brag about him too much, he’ll get a big head.”
Everyone chuckled.
Kruger turned to Griffin and asked, “What’s the big mystery and why do you have Secret Service protection?”
Taking a deep breath, Griffin let it out slowly. “Because I’ve been asked by the president to fill the vacancy left by the death of Donald Pittman.”
Silence filled the room.
Chapter 8
Christian County, MO
“I know, it shocked me too when he asked,” Roy explained. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. A vote in both chambers of Congress is scheduled on Monday. The Senate Majority Leader told me late yesterday there would no opposition in either the Senate or the House.”
“Makes sense,” Kruger nodded. “You aren’t a controversial individual like Pittman.”
“No, I guess I’m not.”
Joseph interjected, “Roy has a proposal for us.”
JR’s eyebrows rose and Kruger smiled. “Kind of figured he would.”
A tall woman with curly black hair emerged from the kitchen area. “Joseph and I have a wonderful meal planned for everyone. Let’s adjourn to the back deck and enjoy this lovely Saturday in the Ozarks.”
Mary Lawson’s heritage was Jamaican, French and for attitude, a bit of Louisiana Cajun. After graduating in the top ten from Columbia University Law School, she had spent her entire career at the Justice Department. Having met early in their careers and falling in love, they pursued separate paths, she with the DOJ, he with the CIA and later as a recruiter for the FBI, CIA and DEA. Now retired from her position as deputy director of the Office of Violence Against Women, she and Joseph were inseparable.
As everyone followed Joseph toward the back deck, Stephanie and Mia lagged behind and exchanged hugs with Mary. Stephanie glanced at her friend’s left hand and smiled. Pointing to the simple gold band on Mary’s finger, she asked, “When?”
Returning the smile, Mary replied, “While we were in New Zealand this past winter.”
Mia chuckled. “It’s about time.”
“I know. Joseph told me we weren’t getting any younger and needed to do what we should have done a long time ago.”
“Glad he came to his senses,” Mia’s smile intensified.
Mary hugged both of her friends again. “Me, too.”
When they arrived on the deck, Griffin, Kruger, Joseph and JR were huddled in the corner on the western side. Two Secret Service agents were to the right and two to the left of the group, all out of hearing range and staring off into the tree line behind the log structure.
Joseph frowned, “I’ve never met the man, Roy.”
“He’s a pure politician. The only reason he chose me is because I can be confirmed by both houses of Congress without any lengthy hearings.”
“At least we got lucky this time.” Kruger shook his head.
“Agreed.” Joseph grinned.
JR crossed his arms over his chest. “So why the secluded meeting to tell us all this, Roy? We’d eventually hear it on the news.”
“Very astute, my friend.” Griffin looked at each man with a grim smile. “We need to find out why Pittman committed suicide.”
Kruger stared at the newly appointed Vice President, “Stumpf’s already requested an investigation.”
“I know, he and I spoke. Another reason to have this clandestine meeting.” He glanced at Joseph. “We need your old team looking into it. Paul and I are concerned the official version coming out of the White House will be tainted. Our commander-in-chief is not interested in the truth, only what will make him look good. This country needs to know the real reason a sitting vice president committed suicide.” He looked at Kruger and then JR and asked, “What do both of you think?”
JR shook his head. “Don’t know enough to even make a guess.”
Kruger crossed his arms over his chest. “I agree with JR. What little we do know doesn’t explain why he took his own life. There has to be more.”
Griffin nodded. “Paul told me about his little nest egg in Dubai. Do you think the money is related to having Russians on his committee?”
With a grim smile, Kruger said, “Too early to tell, but if I were to guess, I’d say, yes.”
Looking out over the tree line, Griffin remained silent for several moments. Turning back to Kruger, he said, “How can we be sure?”
“During our investigation of Robert Burns Jr., we learned he and his father had ties to the Russian mafia here in the states. His attorney during that time was murdered along with a Washington Post reporter by a Russian nerve agent a few weeks ago.”
“I heard that. Is it related to Pittman?”
“We found notes at Keira Pennington’s home suggesting she was investigating him. At this point, we can’t determine why because her notes are in her own shorthand. Ryan Clark is working on getting them translated.”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Griffin stared at Kruger, “Care to speculate?”
“I don’t like coincidences. But if I were to speculate, I’d say the attorney, Jolene Sanders, knew something about Pittman and was providing confirmation to Pennington. Because of it, both women were murdered. The method used to kill was so flamboyant, I believe it was meant as warning to Pittman.”
Joseph frowned. “How so?”
“Someone was basically telling him to keep his mouth shut. If he talked, he would be facing a horrible death.” Kruger paused for a brief moment. “He took the easy way out.”
JR joined the conversation to ask, “If Jolene Sanders knew something, where did she discover it, Sean?”
Kruger gave his friend a sly smile. “Think about it. She’d just been let go at Rothenburg and Sandifer. My guess is someone at the law firm represented Pittman at one time. Heck, it might have been Jolene for all we know. But the answer may be hidden in their files.”
Griffin frowned. “Gaining access to those files could be diff
icult.”
“I agree, Roy.” Kruger looked at JR. “Unless…”
“Hey, don’t look at me, I still have some scruples.”
“Don’t worry, JR,” Griffin chuckled. “We’ll figure something else out.” Turning to Joseph, he grew serious. “Paul wants you to come out of retirement to put your team together again. Financing’s already been appropriated.”
Pursing his lips, Joseph took a deep breath and said, “I have one condition.”
“Okay, what?”
Joseph continued, “Once this is over, I go back to being a consultant.”
“Agreed.”
“Then, yes, I’ll get the team back together.”
“Gentlemen, thank you for your support. I don’t know what the future holds and I’m trying not to be paranoid, but my fear is our government and way of life are being attacked externally and more importantly, internally, by forces we can’t identify.”
Kruger took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know if you read the official report about the Robert Burns Jr. case or not.”
Griffin shook his head.
“One fact was left out, mainly because we didn’t have corroborating evidence. However, we did determine the Russians were blackmailing Robert Burns Sr. while he was in the Senate back in 2004 through 2007. They put pressure on the senator to introduce and help pass several bills in Congress easing restrictions on banks and financial institutions. The consequence of those changes led to the Great Recession of 2008.”
“How did they know those restriction would cause a recession?” Griffin’s eyebrows rose as he spoke.
“They didn’t. They wanted the restrictions eased to help them make more money with their banks here in the states. The recession was an unintended consequence. Once they determined they could exert influence on our government with legislative connections, their efforts intensified. Robert Burns Jr. was elected with the help of funds provided by a man named Dmitri Orlov. We suspect, but can’t confirm, other politicians may be compromised as well.”
“How do we find out?”
“We have to look at Dmitri Orlov.”
Griffin stiffened. “Sean, I can’t authorize any overseas trips for the FBI. Paul would have to do that.”
“We wouldn’t have to. Besides, it would raise too many red flags. When we discovered how involved Robert Burns Jr. was with the Russian mafia, Clark and I worked with an Interpol agent named Sergey Brutka. He’s from Ukraine and is fluent in English, French and German, plus his Russian is good.”
Joseph nodded. “That would work. Is he trustworthy?”
Kruger smiled. “Extremely.”
Griffin’s mood lightened. “How would you get in touch with him?”
Pulling his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, Kruger held it up. “We’ve kept in touch since his last visit to the states about six months ago. He seems to think going to Silver Dollar City and Bass Pro Shop would be the event of a lifetime.”
Griffin crossed his arms and brought his right hand up to this chin. Tapping one finger on his lips, he was quiet for a while, then said, “Invite him to visit as soon as possible. I’ll personally pay for his trip.”
Kruger nodded.
Turning to Joseph, Griffin asked, “Would you allow him to be your guest here, Joseph? I would prefer his visit to be as invisible as possible.”
“We’d be delighted.”
***
Evening fell and the night sky above Joseph’s home seemed on fire with the Milky Way. Kruger never tired of standing on the back deck and gazing up into the sky. Discussion of political and investigation matters ceased long ago as the old friends feasted on steaks, freshly caught grilled trout, Caesar salad, roasted root vegetables and hand-turned homemade ice cream. Wine was plentiful and the laugher and conversations satisfying. Kruger made himself a small glass of Glenfiddich single malt scotch and retired to the back deck. The stresses associated with his FBI career always melted away when he stood on the deck of Joseph’s retreat and stared skyward.
“I’ve never seen the night sky like this.”
Kruger turned and saw Roy Griffin standing beside him. Two Secret Service agents stood respectfully by the door, their eyes sweeping the area for threats.
“There are a lot of places in this part of the country with a view like this. Unfortunately, most aren’t as civilized as Joseph’s property.” He raised the Glenfiddich and smiled. “I like it here.”
“As do I.” Griffin raised his glass and the two friends clinked them together.
Returning his attention in the direction of the North Star, Kruger pointed, “See the bluish bright smudge above the north star?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the star Vega. The Lynid meteor shower will be visible in its direction.” Kruger paused as he saw a streak appear where he was pointing. “We got lucky this year. The moon isn’t in the way.”
Griffin remained silent as he studied the area Kruger pointed out. After a few more streaks of meteors were visible, he spoke without looking at Kruger.
“Sean?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been blessed with your friendship over the years. My wife and I owe you more than you can imagine.”
“No, you don’t.”
He nodded in the dark. “We do. I wish I had a crystal ball to see if I’m making the right decision.”
Kruger remained quiet, knowing Griffin was thinking out loud.
“Cheryl and I had been trying to decide if I should run for President after Bryant’s two terms. We had decided not to, but Pittman changed everything. She still doesn’t like Washington, but understands how I feel about serving the citizens of California.”
Kruger let the senator talk and sipped his scotch.
Taking a deep breath, Griffin sipped his drink as well. “Once I’m Vice President, my duty is to serve the entire country. If, for some reason, and I hope this doesn’t occur, something happens to Bryant, I’ll be president. If that happens, I will need a lot of support.”
Kruger nodded, but remained quiet. He knew Griffin was building up to something.
Looking at Kruger instead of the night sky, Griffin said, “Joseph doesn’t want to lead his old team after this Pittman business is resolved. I want you to take it over.”
“And do what?”
“I’m the chairman of the Homeland Security and Government Affairs committee. We see more top secret matters than most other senators. Some of the information scares me to death. Our country is under siege from all angles, politically, financially, cyber and internally. The problem is no one is taking it seriously. Bryant has his head in the sand because he would have to make decisions his base wouldn’t like. Congress doesn’t want to address it because no one can agree on a spending bill to cover the cost. When was the last time Congress approved any huge expenditures?”
Again, Kruger remained quiet.
“The answer is not for a very long time. So, they won’t be any help. We need individuals like you and JR to start chipping away at these threats.”
“Roy, I’m not sure I’m the right person to lead that kind of program.”
“Yes, you are. I’m a good judge of character and you and JR fit the bill.”
“He won’t like it.”
“Why?”
“He’s spent the last seven years keeping under the radar. He doesn’t obsess about it like he used to, but he still feels he needs to hide from the so-called men in black suits.”
Griffin chuckled.
“I’m serious. You’re asking him to become one of them.”
With a broad smile, Griffin put his hand on Kruger’s shoulder. “Karma can be a bitch sometimes.”
“Yes, it can.”
Returning to quiet contemplation of the heavens, both men stared at the sky. After several minutes, Griffin asked, “Where do we start, Sean?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. First we have to determine if Orlov has any other politicians in his pocket.�
��
“How?”
“Something’s not quite right at the law firm of Rothenburg and Sandifer.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Too many connections. First, they represented Robert Burns Jr., which at first seemed innocent enough, but then they were bought by an undisclosed corporate entity. Who was it? Next, Jolene Sanders and the reporter are murdered with a Russian nerve agent.” He paused and looked at Griffin. “I don’t like coincidences like that.”
“I see your point. What can you do about it?”
“I’ll talk to Paul in the morning about putting video surveillance on the law firm’s building. Let’s see who comes and goes for a while. JR can utilize his facial recognition software to monitor the video feed without costing the Bureau any manpower.”
Griffin nodded and stared out into the night.
“I’ll get Paul the funds for the monitor.”
Kruger smiled. The investigation was starting.
Chapter 9
Springfield, MO
One Week Later
Sergey Brutka read the plaque under the portrait of the Indian Chief.
“Your American Indians have a lot in common with my country, Sean Kruger.”
Smiling, Kruger looked at his guest. Brutka was tall for a Ukrainian and the two men stood at eye level with each other. A massive callused hand traced the words on the plaque. The Interpol detective wore Levi jeans, a beige cable knit turtleneck sweater and an oversized corduroy sport coat. With disheveled dark brown hair and an untrimmed drooping mustache, he was a throwback to fashion of the early 1980s. As he spoke, his bushy eyebrows danced with delight. He was staring at a portrait of Chief Seattle in the Bass Pro Shops World of Wildlife museum.
“How so, Sergey?”
“We both have been the subject of an oppressive government during the last century. Germany twice and the old Soviet Union after World War II.”
“Yes, but your people were not driven from their land and given false promises that were never fulfilled.”
Brutka smiled grimly in reply, “A matter of opinion. We were promised a lot, but those promises were empty.”