Chapter Three
Zoey reached for the pitcher and filled her water glass with deliberate slowness. She was on her fifth day of Senate hearings with no end in sight. She’d repeated, numerous times, the full details of how she’d discovered that managers at Nine Tech were bribing soldiers under her command to requisition munitions and other equipment in exchange for kickbacks, including how she’d uncovered that the soldier who ran the scheme on the Army end was also selling the excess equipment on the black market and double dipping from the already profitable enterprise.
She’d taken no glory from her findings. These men and women had been under her command, and their crimes reflected on her abilities. Her superiors had suggested to her more than once that she keep the disciplinary action in-house to save face, but she’d ignored the well-intentioned advice. If Nine Tech was bribing soldiers in her unit, chances were good they were making similar deals with other military bases as well. Not coming forward simply wasn’t an option. Not one she could live with anyway.
“Major, please describe for us again how you were able to detect the discrepancies?” the senior senator from Texas, Connie Armstrong, asked. Before Zoey could answer, the senator added, “I’m interested because I think your methods should probably be implemented system-wide if we want to prevent this kind of large-scale looting of our limited military coffers in the future.”
Zoey cleared her throat, pushing down her first response that questioned if it was a good use of taxpayer dollars to keep her away from her command to answer the same questions, over and over. But Senator Armstrong had lobbed her a softball, designed to help her look like a hero instead of a failed commander, so she set aside her frustration and repeated the information she’d relayed no less than a dozen times in the past few days.
Two hours later, the committee chair thanked her for her time and service, excused her from her subpoena, and adjourned the committee for the day. Zoey turned to the Pentagon lawyer beside her. “Is it over?”
“For now, for you, yes,” he said as he packed up his briefcase. “They’ll start on the not so friendly witnesses next. Are you headed back to your base? I’ll need to be able to get in touch with you in case the committee has any follow-up questions about the documents we provided.”
Zoey had wondered several times over the past week what her future would hold, but she hadn’t let herself dwell on it. But now that he’d asked, she realized she didn’t have a clue. She fudged. “I’m supposed to check in with General Sharp as soon as we’re done here to get my orders. I’ll get you my updated contact info as soon as I know.”
She tucked away his card, hoping she never saw him again, and left the building. It was just after three on Friday afternoon and the mass exodus of legislators was in full swing. She should probably head back to the Pentagon right away, but it was a gorgeous spring day and she hadn’t had an opportunity to experience anything in the city so she lingered for a moment. The hearings had taken place in the Hart Building, a couple of blocks from the Capitol, and she started out in that direction, determined to at least capture a couple of pictures to send to her mother back home. As she walked onto Constitution Avenue, she was surrounded by history with the Supreme Court and the Library of Congress to her right and the Capitol building to her left. She walked by a group of tourists posing for pictures with the statues in front of the Library of Congress and wished she were here under different circumstances, dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sandals with no agenda other than to soak up some history.
The buzz of her phone rousted her out of her daydreams. “Granger,” she answered the unknown caller.
“Major, I hear it went well.”
She recognized David Sharp’s voice and seized on the lifeline since he was likely to have answers about her future within the service. “Glad that’s what you heard, although that’s a little spooky since we just finished up. I guess it went okay, but it’s kind of hard to tell when you’re being chewed up and spit out over and over again.”
Sharp laughed. “Been there. Trust me, it doesn’t get any easier. Happy you survived.”
She waited, wondering if he’d called just to check in or if he had something definitive to tell her about her future. He rambled a bit longer about his own experience testifying before Congress, and when he paused to draw a breath, she seized the opportunity. “When should I report back to base?”
“We should talk about that. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I called. Take the rest of the afternoon off but plan on sticking around for a few days. There’s a function tomorrow night and I’d like you to go with me. Service dress. I’ll pick you up at your hotel at seven sharp. Let me know if you need anything between now and then.”
His conclusory tone didn’t invite any questions, but she had plenty. Why was she sticking around? What was this function? Did she still have a future with the Army or was he taking a little extra time to let her down easy? “Will do,” she said, but he’d already clicked off the call. Resigned to waiting until the next day to learn her fate, she focused on the right now. If she hurried, maybe she could fit in a tour or two before they shut down for the day. Her mind drifted to Rook Daniels and the way she’d effortlessly guided her through the airport. No doubt as a DC insider, she’d know exactly where to go and what to do in the capital. But Rook wasn’t here now and she was on her own. Zoey pulled up the camera on her phone and snapped a few photos of the buildings lining Constitution Avenue, and then made her way to the tall columns of the Supreme Court building. She might not be from a big city and she definitely wasn’t an insider, but she’d do just fine on her own.
* * *
Rook swung through the door to her office suite and waved at Ben, the receptionist.
“Jenkins’s office has phoned exactly seven times in the last fifteen minutes,” he called out cheerfully as she walked briskly down the hall.
“On it.” She stopped in front of her assistant’s desk and waited impatiently for her to finish her call.
“That’s right,” Lacy said into the phone. “We’ll have a full statement within the hour.” She shook her head. “No advance copies, for anyone. Thanks for—” she stopped abruptly and then muttered “asshole” as she hung up. “That little jerk from Fox thinks he’s entitled to the inside scoop. He’ll get his copy of the press release exactly five minutes after everyone else.”
Rook waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Lacy.”
“Hey, Rook. About time you got here. Everyone’s in the conference room. They should have a draft ready for you.”
“Maybe you could lead with that next time. Any messages not about this case?”
“Several, but they can all wait.” Lacy flicked her hands at Rook. “Go, now.”
“Trying to remember why I hired the bossiest assistant in the history of assistants,” Rook said as she walked toward her firm’s conference room.
“Ignoring you,” Lacy yelled back.
Rook pushed through the conference room door and took a second to watch her team at work. Images projected onto a light box on the wall captured the most important aspects of the Buster Jenkins case including the bombshell that had interrupted her afternoon meeting with a high level executive from Diamond Credit who wanted advice about dealing with a recent hacking scandal that had resulted in the exposure of their clients’ private information.
Buster’s case had taken a wicked turn. What had started as an embarrassing case of infidelity had turned criminal this afternoon when FBI agents showed up at his DC office with a search warrant. Rook’s phone had started blowing up during her Diamond Credit meeting and hadn’t stopped since. Lacy had George on standby to drive her back to the office, and on the way Rook had contacted one of her sources at the US Attorney’s office to see what she could find out. What she’d learned had been shocking, and her first call was to Farah to see if she was still hired to work the case. To her surprise, Farah had told her to fix it and money was no object. With her full team assembled, she planned to do just that.
“Talk to me,” she said to the room, before turning to her senior associate, Blake Wyatt. “What do we have so far?”
“The FBI showed up at three o’clock,” Blake said, reading from the notes in her right hand, while she ran her other hand through her short blond hair. “They had the Capitol Police with them and carted out a couple of boxes and four computers from Jenkins’s office. As of right now, Jenkins has not been arrested.”
“Is he going to be?” Rook asked.
“Too soon to tell,” Harry Etheridge, her other associate, said. “We have a copy of the warrant but not the underlying affidavit, so nobody knows what the allegations are yet.”
Rook’s phone pinged and she glanced at the screen. “Well, we know now.” She tossed her phone at the man seated to her right, Eric Pryor, their resident computer expert. “The affidavit is attached to that email. It’ll be encrypted.”
“Gimme just a sec,” Eric said as he typed on her phone, and then his computer. A moment later, he pointed at the front of the room. “There you go.”
Rook digested the words on the screen and waited for the rest of her team to catch up. The affidavit to the search warrant accused Buster of texting nude photos of himself to an underage girl he’d met in an online chat room. Suddenly, his marital infidelity and reelection prospects were the least of his worries since he was looking at possible prison time and sex offender registration.
“Holy shit,” said Harry. “Did anyone else see this coming?”
“Sure,” Blake, the always skeptical former CIA agent, said. “I always thought he was a little skeevy, but I figured if Farah was married to him, then he must have some redeeming quality. Guess I was wrong.”
“We need to get out in front of this. Harry, get Paul Hanson on the phone,” she said, referring to the managing partner at one of the top law firms in DC. “Tell him we want a female partner assigned to the case. Get whoever it is a copy of this affidavit and tell her all statements need to be vetted by us before they go public.” She turned to Eric. “You cloned Buster’s computer, didn’t you?”
“I did, but only his personal one and the one he uses at his office. From what we can tell, the feds seized several others.”
“Those probably belonged to his staff. Someone needs to talk to them as soon as possible. Blake?”
“On it. I’ve got their names and addresses, and I’ll head out as soon as we craft the statement.”
“Go now.” Rook pointed at her head. “I already know what we’re going to say. Senator Jenkins is fully cooperating with law enforcement, and he trusts in the criminal justice system to ensure justice is done. No press conference, just issue the statement through the usual channels.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very vigorous defense to me,” Harry said. “You sure we want to be that blasé about these allegations?”
“I’m certain we don’t want to overstate our case. I don’t expect we’re going to be on this one much longer, and I don’t want to put Hanson’s firm in a box by promising something no one’s going to be able to deliver. Farah’s exact words were ‘do no harm.’ She’s telling us she’s ready to move on from the not-so-honorable Buster Jenkins. We’re here for triage and that’s it.”
“Such a shame,” Harry said. “I love a good kiddie porn case, said no one ever.”
“Once the statement’s out, let’s go full tilt on opposition research for Farah,” Rook said. “I want to know every little, itty, bitty thing anyone has on her. We’ve got one month before she has to file and our job is to clear a path. Understood?”
The three of them nodded, and she knew she could count on them to make miracles happen. “Eric, can I see you in my office in five?”
“Sure, boss.”
She left the group to their work and walked back to her office, waving off Lacy who tried to waylay her at the door. “I need a few minutes alone. Let Eric in in five.”
Lacy looked at her watch and nodded.
Rook shut the door and paced in front of the windows that looked out over the courtyard in the center of her building. The offices of the Daniels’s Agency occupied the entire three floors of the historic New Orleans style brownstone, choice real estate she’d purchased several years ago. She and her team didn’t need an entire building, but she’d steadfastly refused to parcel out the spacious offices despite the enormous financial benefit she could reap from renting out the extra space. Her clients expected privacy, and being the only occupant of the building afforded them that. Besides, she was a firm believer that the appearance of success attracted more of it. Since they’d relocated from their smaller offices in Arlington, the caliber of their clientele had grown exponentially.
Farah had been one of her first clients, and her needs had been simple back then. Opposition research to help Farah’s young, handsome, but not the brightest guy, husband get elected to the House of Representatives. Rook had found a few murmurs of office flings, but nothing anyone was willing to substantiate at the time. She’d given all the information to Farah and let her and Buster make the call about whether to risk the rumors turning into prime time news stories. One woman came forward and told her local news affiliate she’d slept with Buster in exchange for promises of career advancement, but she quickly retracted her story when Rook visited her to discuss her frequent use of cocaine at campaign parties, a tale her associates had been only too happy to tell. Rook hadn’t threatened or bribed. She’d merely pointed out that if Jenkins really was a philanderer, the news outlets would find out as easily as she had been able to find out about the woman’s drug use. She wasn’t particularly proud of the method, but in the end she figured she saved the woman from an embarrassing public ordeal.
“Eric’s at the door,” Lacy’s voice boomed through the intercom. “You ready?”
“Yes, send him in.”
Eric, dressed in skinny jeans, a tweed vest, and a vintage tie with a full Windsor, was not your typical Mountain Dew sipping, basement dwelling hacker, but no one was better at busting through secure systems than he was.
“Diamond Credit,” Rook said without preamble. “I met with their president today.”
“Last I heard, almost a quarter of a million accounts compromised.”
“They think it might be twice that. The FDIC is all over them, and they need some cover. Only thing I can think of is to find out who did the hacking so we can start pointing fingers in their direction. Maybe even file a lawsuit.”
“I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere with that. Whoever did it is probably sipping ice cold shots of vodka and posting videos of a shirtless Putin on the dark net.”
“Exactly. We don’t want or need a real lawsuit. That’ll just drag things out forever and the only people who’ll win are the thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyers. We just need someone to blame who isn’t our guy.” She handed him a jump drive. “Here’s your front door access to their system. Get in the back door and see whose trail you’re following. Can you do that?”
He laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I’ll get right on it. Anything else?”
“Not right now, but stay close. I don’t know what else might blow up on this Jenkins thing.”
“Can I just say how much I hate these cases? We need a juicy political scandal, not more of these ‘who cheated on who’ deals.”
Rook laughed. “When the guy who cheats is a congressman, it is a political scandal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do and I totally agree, but these things are our bread and butter. I promise I’ll do some networking and see if I can drum up something more to your liking.”
“That’s why you’re the boss.” Eric started toward the door. “I’ll call you when I find something.”
Rook sank into her desk chair. She hated domestics as much as Eric, but when you specialized in the people business, they couldn’t be helped. The Diamond Credit thing was more up her alley—much easier to advise a corporate entity devoid of emotion than two individuals watching their relationship destruct, especially when one of them turns out to be a sex offender.
But working with people sometimes had its benefits. Her mind wandered back to earlier in the week when she’d helped Zoey Granger escape the clutches of the press. The brass at the Pentagon should have taken better care of their star witness—at the very minimum making sure she got off the plane without being mobbed—and if she’d been advising them she would’ve told them so. Rook had caught some of the coverage of the hearings, and although Zoey was generally unflappable, it was clear from her occasional expressions of shock when asked a probing personal question that had nothing to do with the investigation, this was her first time being caught in the cross fire between the military might and the elected officials that funded them. The paper said her testimony was wrapping up today, and Rook wondered if she was headed back to her base. Images of Zoey’s long, sculpted legs appeared in her head, and Rook knew her musings were about more than Zoey’s case.
Lacy’s voice buzzed through the intercom. “Lyra’s school play is tonight so I’m headed out for the day. I bought that crazy expensive bottle of Scotch for you to take to Addison Riley’s birthday party and it’s on your bar along with the invite. You need anything else?”
“No, I’m good. Tell Lyra to break a leg.”
Rook looked over at the Scotch. She hadn’t talked to Julia all week and she’d already forgotten about the party. After a week in the public eye, she’d rather spend the weekend in the office, catching up on work, but maybe a little socializing would be good for business. An image of Zoey Granger’s legs popped into her head again. Maybe good for some relaxation too.