Electing To Murder (13 page)

But now they caught a break thanks to Gerstner.

LoJack.

LoJack, as a tracking system, came to fame as an aftermarket vehicle tracking system that allowed vehicles to be tracked by police with the aim being to recover the vehicle after a theft. After its beginnings in the prevention of car theft, LoJack evolved into a tracking system for trucks, construction equipment, motorcycles and now laptop computers. The Congressional Page had a LoJack system loaded onto their new laptops. The LoJack system was installed by TRP, which stood for Technical Recovery Professionals, a component business of their outside computer support company, Technical Office Professionals or TOP.

Ginger, one of Kristoff’s technical people, was now accessing the TRP system to track the laptop. Kristoff was anxious and therefore impatient for results. “How much longer, Ginger?”

“Relax. I’m working it,” she replied tersely.

Kristoff hovered as Ginger’s fingers worked frantically over her keyboard. After five minutes, he was impatient. “Damn it, do you have anything or not, Ginger?”

“Almost there. I just need to get through one more layer of the system here, hold on …” There were more blinding fast keystrokes, followed by some play-by-play from Ginger which consisted of “no, no, yes, I got you, no I don’t, there, there it is, yes, yes, YES!”

“I’m in, now I’m just waiting for the map to pull up. Should be just a few seconds … Whoa!”

“What?”

“I found it.”

“Where?”

Ginger turned her laptop around for Kristoff to see, “Montgomery and the laptop are moving north on Interstate 35W, just south of Minneapolis. Kristoff, your boy is coming to you.”

W
ire took in the lights of downtown Cleveland as her Learjet made its final descent to Burke Lakefront Airport. Governor Thomson thoroughly worked the state of Ohio all day. He started the day in Cincinnati and then worked his way northeast through the state, with stops in Dayton, at Ohio State University in Columbus, Akron and now Cleveland where he was making three different appearances. The campaign would then spend the night in Cleveland before leaving first thing in the morning for a day of campaigning in Iowa and then back to Wisconsin.

Wire spent the hour and a half flight from DC jotting notes down on her tablet on the day’s events.

Question: What have I learned?

Answer: Very little.

She made no progress in tracking down Montgomery other than to confirm that it was highly unlikely that he was in the Washington DC area. While Montgomery’s home did not appear to have been searched, Stroudt’s home and The Congressional Page had and there was little if anything left behind for her to work with. Detective Court thought they might find something in the forensics reports for the two crime scenes but she wasn’t holding her breath. She was up against professionals. It was highly unlikely that they would leave something behind. Nonetheless, the crime scene techs worked through both scenes and Court said he would call if anything jumped out at him and would be sure to get her a copy of the report.

Before she got on the plane, she’d given the Judge the license plate numbers for the blue minivan and the silver Ford sedan she saw hovering around Montgomery’s condominium in the afternoon. She hoped those plates might give them some idea of who they were dealing with.

The jet landed and taxied to the side of the runway where the Judge’s limousine was waiting. When the plane came to a stop, the copilot emerged from the cockpit and opened the plane door and eased the drop down steps to the tarmac. The Judge exited his limousine with an unlit cigar in his mouth, a beige trench coat draped over his right arm and his old tan weathered lawyer briefcase in his left hand. An aide grabbed the Judge’s luggage from the trunk and walked it over to the copilot who took care of storing it. Dixon climbed up the steps and onto the plane. He nodded to Wire as he dropped his coat and briefcase on an open seat opposite of her, loosened his tie and walked over to the galley and mixed himself a drink. He looked back to Wire who nodded her approval and he brought over two bourbons.

The Judge took his seat, buckled himself in and said, “We’re good to go,” to the copilot who simply nodded, ducked back into the cockpit and a moment later the jet eased forward, heading towards the runway.

“So how was your day, dear?” the Judge asked whimsically.

“Felt unproductive. And yours, darling?”

“Not too bad, not too bad at all. Huge crowds, lots of enthusiasm and the governor was really quite good. He’s not the most scintillating speaker but he has found another gear here the last few weeks and has turned into a helluva candidate. I think he’s starting to feel it.”

“How about the polling, at least your internal polling, what is that telling you today?”

The Judge leaned over and opened the latch on his briefcase, pulled it open and pulled out a report with polling data for the key states. “We picked up a point in Wisconsin and Iowa yesterday and we hit both those states tomorrow to cement those gains. So on the straight politics front, I feel pretty good.” Dixon said, “As to what our opponents are up to …” The Judge shook his head and took a long sip from his drink.

Wire sighed her own disappointment, “I don’t have much, Judge. Did those license plates tell us anything?”

“Yes, but mostly no,” Dixon replied, pulling a sheet of paper out of his suit coat pocket and handing it to Wire. “The plates are legitimate. The minivan and sedan were rented in DC from Budget. They were rented by an Ed Jones and John Brown …”

“Of course they were,” Wire leaned back in her seat and shook her head at the bland names, certain they were cover IDs. “Let me guess, their addresses are PO Boxes somewhere.”

The Judge pointed to his nose, “Exactly, the two men rented them under corporate credit cards for a Black Knight Enterprises. Unfortunately, Black Knight Enterprises is a PO Box in the Cayman Islands and my contact at the bureau didn’t have any more for me, at least at this point. I may reach out to some NSA or CIA people I know to see if they can find anything for me. But if I don’t know any better, they sound like …”

“Mercs,” Wire finished. “It would require two things to figure out who they are really working for. Time and resources, neither of which we have.”

“What does this all tell you?” the Judge asked.

“That maybe more than just politics were going on down in the Florida Keys,” Wire answered. She took a sip of her drink. “Connolly arranged access to some serious professional help. There was good security on that island. I couldn’t have gotten over there even if I’d wanted to. Heck, I needed to be careful across the bay as it was. The security personnel were constantly looking out over the water at the beach I was sitting on.”

The Judge sat back and played with his small beard, pulling at the hairs on his chin. “So how does Heath Connolly coordinate with these people? You ever see anything like that?”

“Not that I recall, or not that I have recognized thus far,” Wire answered. “So I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but did he slip away another time that we missed?”

Wire shrugged her shoulders, “He could have. I’ve stayed on him as best I can but ever since Florida, I’ve put him to bed and gotten up with him, literally, every day. I’ve flown all over the country, followed buses, stayed in hotels, tracked him in cars and run up one hell of a travel bill for the campaign. He’s rarely been out of my sight for more than a few hours. Other than Kentucky, I’ve seen nothing but familiar faces.”

“But you’re not with him all the time.”

“No I’m not. I’m not on the plane with him, I’m not in his hotel room and I’m not in his condo at the Watergate. There are times I do not have him under surveillance.”

“He must be communicating with them.”

“I’m sure he is,” Dara answered. “But I don’t see them hanging around, if that’s what you’re asking. Like I said, other than Kentucky, there’s been nothing but familiar faces. I’m sure he communicates with them but I don’t have a tap on his phone or access to his e-mail. I’m good but I’m not that good, at least not on my own.”

“And he’s too smart to communicate in that fashion anyway,” Dixon answered dismissively. “He’d have a separate phone to talk to whoever he’s talking too, just like you and I.”

“I’m doing what I can, Judge,” Wire said defensively.

“I know you are, Dara,” the Judge answered, sitting up in his seat, patting her on the knee. “I know you are.”

“There’s just only so much I can do on my own,” Wire stated with frustration. “I don’t have people. I don’t have technical assistance. I don’t have any authority.”

“Correct,” the Judge answered. “You don’t have any of that. But then again, this is not what I hired you to do to begin with, which was simply shadow Connolly and tell me what he was up to, which you have done for me spectacularly well. This is much bigger now and more complicated. That’s why we’re going to sit down first thing tomorrow morning and talk with Detective McRyan in St. Paul.”

Wire, who’d spent the day with Detective Court from Alexandria, a competent and professional cop, was skeptical. “Judge, I mean no disrespect, but he’s a St. Paul cop, what can he really do?”

“He’s not your average cop, Dara.” Dixon provided some background on McRyan. “And Mac? He knows this smells. I could hear it in his voice and Sebastian saw it in his eyes. He knows Stroudt was in Kentucky. In fact, he has a good timeline established. And after today, as sure as the sun rises in the east, he is going to come back at us because he knows we know more than we let on. So rather than pissing him off, I’d rather have him on our side. If we tell him what we know and give him what we have, little though it may be, he will run with it. And once he has the scent, look out.”

Wire didn’t often hear the Judge speak of people in this way. The man was a hard sell, yet he gushed about this St. Paul detective. “You’re
that
impressed with him?”

The Judge nodded. “He’s natural police. You will like him. I guarantee it.”

“So do we call him when we land?”

“I have Ms. Kennedy taking care of that. We will meet first thing in the morning.”

M
ac was a St. Paul guy through and through, but when it came to good restaurants, the competition to the west, Minneapolis, won hands down. In particular, Mac and Sally had developed an affinity for the little restaurants, bistros and character filled hole-in-the-wall bars just northeast of downtown Minneapolis, across the Mississippi River, in an area known to the locals as Nordeast. They often found themselves over in that part of town, going to dinner at one of the little eateries and then finding a small bar or two, usually with good live music, for post-dinner drinks, especially if they made their way over that way on a weekend. The twenty-something crowd, along with Twins and Timberwolves fans could have the robust bar district in downtown Minneapolis, but Nordeast catered to the thirty-something crowd and that worked just fine for them.

Their new favorite restaurant was the Bella Eatery that served authentic Italian. The Bella sat in the middle building of a short block on University Avenue. It was a small place with two rows of four top tables up front, then a small bar that divided the restaurant width wise and then a series of tall booths in the back. When they came to the Bella, Mac and Sally always tried for one of the booths. Tonight, their timing was impeccable as their favorite booth opened up just as they walked in. The booth was a small circular one isolated in the far back right corner. It offered privacy and quiet, as if you were eating at home.

The greeter seated them at the table and let them know of the specials. The waiter was Johnny, on the spot a minute later: “Can I offer either of you a glass of wine?”

Mac was a beer man normally but he’d taken a liking to wine in the last year or so. Up until that point in time, he’d never been a big wine fan, not liking the bitter taste and generally being like his family, strictly beer and Irish whiskey. Sally told him it was because, “All you’ve ever drank was cheap Two Buck Chuck or Boone’s Farm, Mac. Funny how much better good wine tastes, you know, wine that comes out of a bottle with like, you know, a cork.”

Sally was exaggerating to a degree, but when he went to a dinner party with some older lawyer friends of hers last year, he was introduced for really the first time to high quality wines. The friend had a wine cellar in his Lake Minnetonka home stocked with over five hundred bottles of red wine. That night the dinner party of ten polished off twelve bottles and the quality of each left Mac with a new appreciation for wine.

As was his nature, once he was interested in something, he jumped in with both feet. The day after the party, Mac went online and ordered a subscription to the
Wine Enthusiast
magazine. Not long after, he joined a law school friend’s wine club and found his way to a half dozen wine tastings in the last year. In his own right, he was now building a wine collection with over fifty bottles of mostly red wine at home and was drawing up plans for a small wine cellar behind the bar in their basement. In no way did he consider himself an expert but he did feel he was learning the wines and matching them better to whatever meal he was ordering. He expected he would order chicken parmesan and knew Sally was having linguini, so he was looking for a good Barolo or Amarone for his meal and found one he recognized and liked. “I’d like a bottle of the Bussola Amarone.”

Sally too was looking at the wine list and raised her eyebrows at his order. After the waiter left, she asked, “A $185 bottle of wine? Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’ll get to that,” Mac answered, as he slid close to her, slid his right arm around her and kissed her lightly on the lips, “How was your day?”

Sally gave him an approving look, slid into him a little more and then said, “It was pretty busy, of course. I was working hard on getting Senator Baker around Wisconsin.” Senator Alexander Baker from North Carolina was the vice presidential nominee. He spent the day in Wisconsin campaigning. “We had him going from Madison up to Oshkosh, then Appleton and finally to Green Bay.”