Sparring Partners(80)
“That’s illegal in at least fifty states.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawyer. We know that and we’re not stupid. The hackers, shall we say, are not U.S. citizens and work from the safety of Eastern Europe. They’re quite good, almost got caught when they went trolling through the CIA’s super-safe, hacker-proof systems about five years ago. You remember that?”
“No, and I’m barely hanging on here.”
“Almost there, Rusty, and it’ll be worth it. So, we’re watching Jackal’s secret emails and tracking him as he bed-hops around the state, always on official business following the governor around. Seems like the gov, too, likes an occasional frolic and Jackal can always arrange things.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Got the proof, but I digress. Anyway, we found some emails that were unrelated to women but directly related to a scheme of selling pardons.”
“Sturgiss is selling pardons?”
“Don’t be surprised. It’s happened before in other states, not recently and not very often, but it has happened. The governor has an absolute right to pardon anybody convicted of a state crime, and that could be worth some money.” Kemp drained his beer and wiped his mustache. “Now, you gotta figure that since most guys in prison don’t have a dime and they come from low-income families, the customer base for selling pardons is quite small.”
“That’s pretty obvious.”
“But, for someone who understands politics and whose family can put together some cash, it might work.”
“I’m following.”
“You also gotta figure that Sturgiss is not a wealthy man and will leave office now or in four years without a lot of assets. Why not make some easy bucks, sign your name a few times, sell some pardons, take the cash and bury it somewhere? With an operator like Jackal doing the dirty work, it’s a piece of cake.”
“I think I know where this is going.”
Kemp looked at his empty plate and then looked at Rusty’s. “You finished?”
“I am now.”
Kemp glanced around and almost whispered, “Good. Let’s walk to my office around the corner and I’ll show you an email that might interest you.”
“I can’t wait.”
Kemp’s office was an old store on a street lined with the same. It had been gutted and refurbished. With its worn pine floors, brick walls, and high ceilings, it was more attractive than Rusty expected. They walked into a long conference room with wide screens on both ends. Kemp opened a laptop, scrolled and pecked, found what he wanted and looked at one of the big screens.
He said, “This is an email Jackal received on one of his hidden accounts, three weeks ago. His address is [email protected]. The sender is [email protected]. Have no idea who the sender really is.”
Rusty gawked at the screen and slowly read the email: “Eyeballs with BM at Saliba CC, confirmed agreement at two mil, full and complete, done after January.”
He was silent for a moment as the reality hit. Kemp finally said, “There are eighteen hundred inmates at Saliba, don’t know how many could be BM, but only a handful. The way I read it, the sender met with Bolton in prison and cut a deal for a full and complete pardon, in January, for two million dollars.”
“January would be after the inauguration, assuming Sturgiss gets reelected. Any follow-up after this email?”
“No, at least not on any of the accounts we’ve discovered. Jackal is a smart guy and stays away from email and texts as much as possible. He carries at least three phones in his pockets and he’s always talking to someone, but from what we gather he tries to avoid leaving trails.”
Rusty shook his head and walked around the conference table. From the far end he asked, “Any indication that anybody else knows about this?”
“Like who?”
“Like the FBI.”
“No, none at all. This is collateral damage. We were looking for sex, remember? That’s all we’re getting paid to do. We stumbled onto this.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Absolutely nothing. We’re not getting involved. I’m showing it to you because it’s your old man and you’re my client. And besides, if we took this to the FBI they’d probably bust us for hacking. No sir, we know nothing.”
Rusty walked to within two feet of Kemp, pointed a finger, and said, “Walt, as far as you and I are concerned, I never saw this email. Okay?”
“You got it.”
He punched a remote and the screen went black.
(33)
About half of the seventh floor of the Malloy building was occupied at the time. The remaining spaces were either awaiting new tenants or being renovated by those who’d already signed leases. Rusty found a small empty office suite last used by an insurance broker. The utilities were on, and most of the furniture was gone. He moved a table and pulled together some folding chairs. No one would ever find them up here. Old Stu was far down the hall and rarely came out.
Diantha approached the meeting with uneasiness and concern. Nothing about it added up. First, Rusty and Kirk were almost never together in the same room. Second, to her knowledge they had never held a meeting on the seventh floor. Third, her little phone chat with Rusty had been cryptic and suspicious enough to set off alarms. He had ducked all of her questions.