by J. C. Fields
“Twelve?”
Sandifer nodded.
“Tell me about Holt.”
The attorney took a sip of his coffee and then stared at the ceiling.
“He’s an ambitious little shit.”
Kruger hid his grin by sipping his coffee. “Go on.”
A half smile appeared at the corner of Sandifer’s lip. “Did you know he is only one of three no votes during the approval process for Roy Griffin as vice president?”
“No, I don’t follow Washington intrigue.”
“Well, he was. The reason…” He paused and sipped his coffee. “He was thoroughly pissed he didn’t get picked for the job.”
“How do you know?”
“I still have a lot of friends in Congress, Agent.”
Kruger nodded, no longer trying to hide his grin.
“What’s he done now?” Sandifer asked.
“He’s convening a hearing to investigate why the Griffin administration seized three of Dmitri Orlov’s banks here in the states. Plus, he has described me as a rogue FBI agent.”
Sandifer laughed out loud. “What a pompous ass.”
“Kyle, I’ve interviewed Elizabeth Townsley. I need confirmation that Holt raped her.”
“My case notes and the settlement paperwork are on that flash drive, Agent.”
“What about Jane Friedman?”
“That one is a little more complicated. You would think in this age of instant news and reporters constantly seeking the next big story, someone would have discovered that she has a secret.”
“Which is?”
“Her husband bought and paid for her Cabinet seat.”
Hiding his surprise, Kruger sipped his coffee as he composed his next question. “How would that be possible?”
“Very simple. He asked my firm to set up a number of non-profit 501(c)(4) corporations to funnel money to the campaigns of several key senators on the Health, Education, Labor, and Pension committee. The committee approved of Friedman’s nomination and sent it to the Senate floor for a vote. She was confirmed with a one-vote majority.”
“I’m not sure that would be considered a federal crime.”
“No, by itself it wouldn’t be. Except where the money originated.”
“Are you going to tell me…”
“Yes, Friedman’s husband is chairman of an international investment bank based in Switzerland. He constantly indulges his wife and buys her anything she wants. She wanted a Cabinet position.”
“We understand Pittman put pressure on Bryant to nominate her. Why?”
“Pittman had an affair with her before she married her current husband. She more or less told him she wanted a Cabinet position or she’d take the story to the Washington Post.”
“So, Pittman was compromised in various ways?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out about the affair?”
“I was Pittman’s attorney. He always dumped his mistakes in my lap. I told him to do what she wanted. It’s a meaningless Cabinet position anyway. What harm could she do?”
“How’s Orlov involved?”
“The husband.”
“Not following you, Kyle. How?”
“The originating funds to set up the 501(c)(4)s came from Advanced Capital Bank in Arlington, Virginia. Do you recognize the name, Agent?”
Kruger was silent for several moments. “Yes, I do. It was a bank controlled by Orlov.”
“Was?”
“Federal Reserve shut it down when it failed a stress test.”
Sandifer smiled, partially hiding it as he took a sip of coffee. “Interesting.”
“So, you believe the money came from Orlov to pay off the senators to confirm Friedman?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t Orlov’s money.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. I’m speculating. If you look at all the money he’s thrown around over the past few years, there has to be a bottomless pit somewhere backing him.”
Silence was Kruger’s response. He stared at the bistro table top for several moments. “Tell me about Carl Wood.”
Sandifer dry-rubbed his face with his hands. When he was done, the attorney looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “One of the biggest errors I’ve made in chasing the almighty dollar as an attorney. I didn’t see the connection until you mentioned his name earlier.”
“Care to explain.”
“Several years back, Wood came to me with a legal problem. He was an up-and-coming attorney with the Justice Department. His then-wife was filing for divorce, claiming physical abuse.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes, the charge of abuse could get him fired from the Justice Department.”
“Okay, go on.”
“He was technically bankrupt, but the wife just didn’t know it at the time.”
“Mistress?”
“No, gambling debts.”
Kruger nodded.
“Our firm worked it out with the now ex-wife to drop the abuse charge and settle for a no-fault decision.”
“Okay, one problem solved. How did you resolve the money issue?”
Sandifer did not answer right away. He twisted his coffee mug clockwise, then counter-clockwise. Finally, he looked up. “We shopped around for a financial institution willing to help him out of his financial hole. We found one.”
Kruger tilted his head slightly as he asked, “Which one of Orlov’s banks volunteered?”
“Bank of the Atlantic in Washington, D.C.”
Closing his eyes, Kruger slowly shook his head.
“Let me guess, they forgave the loan.”
Sandifer shook his head. “I don’t know about that, but Wood’s gambling debts disappeared.”
“Now he’s Chief of Staff for the President.”
A slow nod was his answer.
Kruger stood. The attorney did not move, but just stared at the table top.
“Thank you, counselor.”
***
Sitting in the gate area waiting for his flight back to Springfield, Kruger accepted a call from Ryan Clark. “Hello.”
“Sean, where are you?”
“Dallas. Just finished interviewing Kyle Sandifer. Why?”
“Just received a call from the Arlington County jail.”
“Uh, oh. Bad news?”
“You might say that. Peter Yanovich was stabbed while taking a shower this morning.”
“How bad?”
“He was taken to the emergency room at the Virginia Hospital Center. He’s still in surgery. I’m heading over there now.”
“They know who did it?”
“Yeah, some guy picked up last night on a DWI. No ID, speaks very little English and all he says is ‘I want lawyer’.”
“Picked up last night?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Let me guess, he has a Russian accent?”
“Yeah, a thick one.”
“He was paid to do it, Ryan. If Yanovich survives, he’ll have to be put in protective custody.”
“I’m told his survival is iffy.”
“Okay, keep me informed.”
The call ended and Kruger looked at the clock on his cell phone. Eighteen minutes until his flight boarded. Time to call Sandy Knoll.
Knoll answered the call on the third ring. “What’s up, Sean?”
“Where are you?”
“Lake house. Why?”
“Someone tried to kill Yanovich this morning.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, I’m flying back to Springfield from Dallas in a few minutes. Can you and Linda head back to Joseph’s place?”
“No problem. What did you learn from Sandifer?”
“Orlov’s been at this for a while.”
“Okay, what’s your plan?”
“I need to brief you and Gibbs. It’s starting, Sandy. Orlov is lashing out, just like we predicted.”
Chapter 38
Springfield, MO
&n
bsp; The faint clicking of a computer keyboard broke the nighttime silence on the second floor of JR’s office building. At two minutes past 2 a.m., the only person in the building stopped typing and stared at the three computer monitors located in his personal cubicle next to the conference room. JR’s concentration focused on the middle screen as his left arm, elbow on the desk, supported his chin with the hand covering his mouth.
The information displayed on the screen, the result of a concentrated hacking effort to trace the money trail from Moscow to banks around the globe and then to Orlov, depicted a complicated ruse. A ruse used to hide the true source of funding for Dmitri Orlov’s empire.
JR’s experience and knowledge of tracing international money transfers had been challenged with this exercise. As each layer of deceit was peeled away, he learned more about the tactics used by his Russian opponents. They were good, very good, but he and Alexia were as well and getting better with each layer they stripped away.
With a click of the mouse controlled by his right hand, the computer made a call to a frequently-called cell phone number.
The call was answered by a voice, heavy with sleep. “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s time to fuck with Dmitri Orlov?”
Now totally alert, Kruger responded, “What did you find?”
“The so-called keys to the kingdom.”
“Where are you? The office?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Fifteen minutes later, a disheveled Sean Kruger in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt stood behind JR, looking at the computer screens.
“What am I looking at, JR?”
JR pointed to the left screen first, “I’ve created a flow chart so we can understand how money moves between Moscow and Orlov’s organization.” He looked up at Kruger. “Money flows both ways. From what we can see recently, more going to Moscow than out. But, sometimes more going out. Depends what they have going on, I guess.”
“How much?”
A small grin appeared on the hacker’s lips. “Billions.”
Kruger’s eyebrows rose. “Really? With a b?”
“Yeah, kind of shocked me, too. There’s a computer in the Paris office controlling the flow.”
“Do you have access to it?”
Nodding, JR pointed to the middle screen.
“Those are pending transfers waiting for authorization from the receiving bank.”
Silence returned to the second floor. Kruger paced for a few minutes and returned to stand behind JR. “Can you divert them?”
Fingers flew over the keyboard as JR typed. “Yes.”
“Did you set up an account in Orlov’s name somewhere and transfer it?”
“That is not very original, Sean. Too obvious.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Kruger looked down at this friend and replied, “Sorry, I’m not a seasoned criminal like you.”
“Ha ha,” JR typed again. “I set up three accounts, all in the name of a fictitious company registered in Geneva. One bank is in Hong Kong, one in the Caymans and a small bank in Paris.”
“Aren’t there protocols for banks acknowledging transfers?”
“Yes, there are.” He looked up at Kruger again. “Alexia wrote a neat little script she inserted into the controlling computer in Orlov’s office. When a transfer is made, a few dollars goes to the real bank and the rest to one of the banks I just mentioned. That way, there is a receipt from both banks. Alexia’s little program adds the two totals, deletes the acknowledgement from the bank they use and only displays the acknowledgement from the bank we use. No one is the wiser on the Paris end. They think the total amount was transferred to the Moscow bank. Here’s the neat part. If they check the deposit at a later date, their receipt number will not match any records from their bank. They’ll have no clue where the money went. It’s untraceable.”
Shaking his head, Kruger pursed his lips. “How long before they discover the money is missing?”
“Probably a few days. In the meantime, I’m going to move it around until it can never be traced.”
“When can you start?”
“Now if you want to.”
“Do it.”
JR turned to face the monitors and clicked his mouse on an icon.
Kruger frowned. “That’s it?”
“Yeah, sorry, no fireworks. Just a click of the mouse.”
***
A few minutes past 6 a.m., Kruger called Joseph. “How hard would it be for the president to schedule a private meeting with Holt?”
“Not hard. Holt’s telling anyone who’ll listen he wants a Cabinet position.”
Kruger chuckled. “Perfect. Schedule one for tomorrow. I’ll fly in this afternoon and brief you on what I have.”
“The president will want to be involved.”
“That’s even better.”
***
“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Congressman.”
The president shook Anthony Holt’s hand and motioned for him to sit on one of the sofas in front of the Resolute Desk.
“It’s an honor, sir.”
Roy Griffin raised an eyebrow and gave Holt a condescending smile. “Are you sure?”
“Beg your pardon.”
“I’m afraid I have summoned you here under false pretenses, Congressman Holt.”
Holt started to stand, but Griffin said in a harsh tone. “Sit down.”
The congressman automatically sat, but his attitude changed to defiance. “What’s this…?”
His question was interrupted by the appearance of three Secret Service agents, Joseph Kincaid and FBI Agent Sean Kruger as they entered the Oval Office. Two agents took a stance, one on either side of the president and one behind Holt, who remained on the couch. Holt stared at Kruger and pointed, “What’s he doing here? He’s a danger to this country.”
Kruger sat across from Holt and smiled. “As are you.”
In an attempt to escape, the congressman started to stand, but was gently pushed back into his seat by the Secret Service agent standing behind him. Looking up, Holt said, “What the hell?”
Clearing his throat, Kruger placed an iPad on the coffee table and touched an icon. The voice of Elizabeth Townsley emanated from the small device and described her experience with Anthony Holt. Kruger sat on the edge of the sofa, facing the man, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front as he stared into the now terrified eyes of the future ex-congressman.
Holt recovered his initial shock quickly and narrowed his eyes. “I get it. Just because I’m going to investigate your illegal seizure of those banks, you’re going to threaten me with this false accusation.”
Smiling, Kruger placed a file folder on the coffee table. “Actually, I didn’t seize them. The Federal Reserve, FDIC and the IRS did.”
“At your insistence.”
Kruger shook his head. “You have your facts mixed up. I was just an FBI agent there to observe the process.”
Holt sat back in the sofa and crossed his arms. “This little shakedown will not prevent my moving forward with a Congressional hearing about your conduct, Agent Kruger. If all you have is a crazed woman accusing me of attacking her, then you have nothing. No one will believe her.”
With a smile, Kruger opened the file folder and extracted copies of the legal agreement between Holt and Townsley prepared by the law office of Rothenburg and Sandifer and signed by a Virginia judge. He held them so the man across from him could see them.
“Recognize this?”
Holt’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened, but no words were spoken.
“This is a legal agreement, whereas, you settled financially with Ms. Townsley to hide your sexual assault on her.” He removed a photograph from the back of the file and laid it so Holt could see. “Recognize the large man entering your congressional office?”
An expression of recognition and horror now appeared on the face of the congressman as he stared at the photograph
. He remained quiet.
“Of course, you do. His name is Boris Volkov and he is an agent working for a Russian Oligarch named Dmitri Orlov. Orlov is under investigation by the Department of Justice for various crimes against the United States.”
Kruger pointed at Holt, his voice growing colder, “We have evidence you told Volkov where I lived, a fact he did not know prior to his visit to your office. Thanks to you, there was an attempt not just on my life—but my wife’s. Federal charges are being prepared against you for aiding and abetting a declared enemy of the state. I don’t think the constituents in your district will be pleased.”
“I only told him the city.” The voice was weak, barely above a whisper.
Roy Griffin leaned against the front of his desk. “Congressman, I believe it is time for you to resign from Congress to spend more time with your family.”
Gathering the paperwork and picture, Kruger returned them to the file folder and closed it. “The DOJ will not pursue legal action against you if you resign. This matter will be closed and you can go back to whatever it was you did before being in Congress.”
“What if I refuse?”
“I hope you do.” Kruger tapped the folder, “Then all of this will be leaked to a high-profile Washington Post reporter. Ever hear of Tracy Adkins?”
Holt only stared at Kruger.
“I’ve already contacted Tracy about this. She is really excited about writing the story, particularly when she would have the legal files for reference and direct access to Elizabeth Townsley.”
Turning his attention to the President, Holt begged, “I don’t want to resign. I’ll drop the congressional hearing and enthusiastically support any and everything you want done in Congress.”
Griffin chuckled. “Sorry Tony, you can’t have it both ways. The only way to keep that information out of the Washington Post is to resign and…” The president paused. “And, I am very serious about the next part. Never run for elected office again. Agent Kruger has a long memory and so do I.”