WASHINGTON, DC
1:30 PM
“WOULDN’T YOU SAY YOU PUSHED DALEY TO THE MAX?” GREEN asked Stephanie.
She and Cassiopeia were riding in Green’s limousine, the rear compartment soundproofed from the front seat by a sheet of Plexiglas. Green had picked them up downtown after they’d left Daley’s house.
“He wouldn’t have come after us. Heather might have been able to wear his clothes, but not his shoes. I doubt she’d be chasing us barefoot and unarmed.”
Green did not seemed convinced. “I assume there’s a purpose for letting Daley know you were there?”
“I’d be interested to hear that one, too,” Cassiopeia added. “We could have been out without him ever knowing.”
“And I’d still be in the crosshairs. This way he has to be careful. I have something he wants. And if nothing else, Daley’s a dealer.”
Green pointed at the copy of Hardball. “What’s so vital?”
Stephanie reached for the laptop she’d told Green to bring. She slid one of the flash drives into an empty port and typed AUNT B’S into the space for a password.
“Your girl learn that, too?” Cassiopeia asked.
She nodded. “An eatery out in Maryland. Daley goes there a lot on weekends. Country-style food. One of his favorites. Struck me as odd-I considered Daley a five-star-restaurant connoisseur.”
The screen displayed a list of files, each labeled with one-word identifiers.
“Congress,” she said.
She clicked on one.
“I learned that Daley is a master of dates and times. When he squeezes a member for a vote, he has precise information about every cash contribution ever sent that member’s way. It’s odd, because he never funnels money directly. Instead lobbyists who like the idea that they’re currying favor with the White House do the dirty work. That led me to think he keeps records. Nobody’s memory is that good.” She pointed at the screen. “Here’s an example.” She counted. “Fourteen payments to this guy totaling a hundred eighty-seven thousand dollars over a six-year period. Here’s the date, place, and time of each payment.” She shook her head. “Nothing frightens a politician more than details.”
“We’re talking bribes?” Green asked.
She nodded. “Cash payments. Pocket money. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to keep the lines of communication open. Simple and sweet, but it’s the kind of political capital Daley accumulates. The kind this White House uses. They’ve managed to pass some pretty sweet legislation.”
Green stared at the screen. “Must be a hundred or more House members.”
“He’s effective. I’ll give him that. The money is spread around. Both sides of the aisle.”
She clicked another file, which displayed a list of senators. Thirty or so. “He also has a cadre of federal judges. They get into financial trouble, just like everybody else, and he has people right there to help out. I found one in Michigan who talked. He was on the verge of bankruptcy until one of his friends appeared with money. His conscience finally got to him, especially after Daley wanted him to rule a particular way. Seems a lawyer in a case before him was a big party contributor and needed a little guarantee on victory.”
“Federal courts are a hotbed of corruption,” Green muttered. “I’ve said that for years. Give somebody a lifetime appointment and you’re asking for trouble. Too much power, too little oversight.”
She grabbed another of the flash drives. “One of these is enough to indict several of those turkey buzzards.”
“Such an eloquent description.”
“It’s the black robes. They look just like buzzards, perched on a limb, waiting to pick a carcass clean.”
“Such little respect for our judiciary,” he said with a grin.
“Respect is earned.”
“Might I interject something,” Cassiopeia said. “Why don’t we just go public? Draw attention. Not the way I usually handle things, but it seems like it would work here.”
Green shook his head. “As you noted earlier, I don’t know much about the Israelis. And you don’t understand the PR machine of this administration. It’s a master of spin. They’d cloud the issue to the point of obscurity, and we’d lose Daley and the traitor.”
“He’s right,” Stephanie said. “That won’t work. We have to do this ourselves.”
Traffic stopped the car and Green’s cell phone rang a soft chime. He reached into his suit pocket and removed the unit, studying the LCD. “This should prove interesting.” He pressed two buttons and talked into the speakerphone. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Bet you have,” Daley said.
“Seems I might not make it to that box in Vermont after all.”
“That’s the thing about chess, Brent. Every move is an adventure. Okay, I’ll give you credit, yours was a good one.”
“You have to give Stephanie credit for that.”
“I’m sure she’s there, so well done, Stephanie.”
“Anytime, Larry.”
“This changes little,” Daley made clear. “Those elements I mentioned are still agitated.”
“You need to calm them down,” Stephanie said.
“Do you want to talk?” Daley asked.
Stephanie started to speak, but Green held up his hand. “And the benefit of that?”
“Could be great. There’s a lot at stake.”
She couldn’t resist. “More than your ass?”
“Much more.”
“You lied when you said you knew nothing about the Alexandria Link, didn’t you?” Green asked.
“Lie is such a harsh word. More that I concealed facts in the interest of national security. That the price I’m going to have to pay?”
“I think it’s reasonable, considering.”
Stephanie knew Daley would realize they could disseminate his secrets at will. Both she and Green possessed contacts in the media, ones that would love to dirty this administration.
“All right.” Resignation filled Daley’s tone. “How do you want to do this?”
Stephanie knew the answer. “Public. Lots of people.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s the only way we’re going to do it.”
The speaker was quiet for a moment before Daley said, “Tell me where and when.”