Electing to Murder

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

The clock struck midnight as the group filed into the conference room near Mac’s desk. On the whiteboard was the investigation, with Mac’s notes, pictures of Stroudt and Montgomery and the timeline he and Lich were developing before the events of the night. Now Mac had a lot more to add and his mind was racing with where to take the investigation next.

There was no shortage of people willing to offer suggestions, whether it was Dixon, Wire, or any of the other higher ups that were starting to appear around the conference room. The Secret Service was on the scene now and was not shy about making their presence felt and word was the FBI would soon be in the building. The only one not causing a ruckus was Kate Shelby, who sat quietly curled up in a chair in the corner, her eyes watery. She had been through hell tonight and she was fraying in front of everyone’s eyes.

The room was altogether chaotic and Mac took one look at it and shook his head and turned his back to it and looked at his whiteboard and the case.

Charlie Flanagan recognized what was happening.

He put a stop to it.

The chief called everyone together: “This is McRyan’s investigation. If you want a role, then let him assign you one. Otherwise, shut the hell up.”

Charlie Flanagan was a man who had a presence and commanded respect.

The room went uncomfortably silent for a moment and then heads slowly nodded.

Mac loved the man.

Wire sauntered up beside McRyan and watched him write “To Do” on the right side of the whiteboard. Underneath he wrote, who is our killer and underneath he put the printed picture of the man captured on Wire’s cell phone. “If he is alive, we need to see if we can find him.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Wire asked.

“Where’s Double Frank?” Mac asked out loud, not looking away from the whiteboard.

“Right here, Mac,” Double Frank came into the conference room with three cups of coffee, one for him, and one each for Mac and Wire.

“You’re on finding this guy,” Mac pointed to the picture on the whiteboard and handed Franklin a copy of the picture of the killer from McCormick’s house. “If our theory is right and he’s not at the bottom of the river, then someone is taking care of him. Take this picture and get it to all the hospitals as quickly as possible. Then we need to check out ‘off-the-books’ doctors. This guy had three in his left upper chest from Ms. Wire here at close range. That takes some serious surgical intervention so the pool of people performing that work should be pretty small. See what you can find. Take as many guys as you need to help you out and keep me updated with what you’ve done.”

“You got it.”

Next was the van from the shootout. “Paddy, you out there?” Mac was calling for his cousin Patrick, a newly minted detective.

“Right here, cousin.”

“You know the traffic cameras on West Seventh around the pub?” Paddy nodded. “We need that footage. I want to see if we can track the panel van that was in the shootout. Get a plate for it, track it and see what we can find.”

“Done,” Paddy replied.

“Mac, Duffy’s here,” the chief reported from the doorway to the conference room.

Ed Duffy was the local agent-in-charge for the FBI. His history with the department had been long and somewhat checkered, mostly due to a long simmering feud with the chief. However, he worked with Mac and the rest of the Chief’s Boys on a double kidnapping sixteen months ago and in the process snuffed out an FBI traitor. Duffy was a bureau man through and through and appreciated the work done by Mac and his friends to smoke the man out. They’d done it in a not so by the book fashion and warned Duffy off while they did it. Duffy got the traitor and his fingers weren’t on any of the illegality in exposing him. Since that time Duffy had worked well with St. Paul and St. Paul with him, bygones were bygones. “Hey Mac,” Duffy said, extending his hand which Mac took.

“Special Agent Duffy, glad you’re here. Ed, I need you to tell me who this guy is,” Mac handed him a photo of the killer from McCormick’s house. “This man killed Sebastian McCormick, Adam Montgomery and I’m betting he killed Jason Stroudt on Tuesday. So he has for sure two and perhaps three bodies on him. I want him. We’re hunting for him at hospitals but whether we do or don’t find him, I need to know who he is. I’m betting he’s not local. He doesn’t look local.”

“No he doesn’t,” Duffy replied, soaking in the photo. “He looks European, French, maybe even Italian.”

“He could be Greek, Russian, Ethiopian, I don’t care, I just want to know who he is, and if possible, Ed, known associates and if we’re really lucky, an idea of who he might be working for.”

“We’re on it.”

Wire had backed away from McRyan and moved to stand with Sally Kennedy in the back of the room. She watched McRyan in action again and was impressed. The man knew how to take command and run an investigation. He moved quickly and decisively, putting people in action without bravado, just getting things done. In less than two minutes he’d assigned three pieces of the investigation and from what she could tell to three people he trusted.

“God, he’s in his element now,” Sally remarked.

“He appears to be,” Wire agreed. “He’s definitely taking charge.”

Sally laughed quietly. “That’s Mac. He’s not too good riding shotgun, he has to be the driver.”

“Control freak?”

“More than just a little,” Sally replied. “It leads to some interesting conversations at home to say the least.”

Wire caught Kennedy’s subtext, “You don’t strike me as the shrinking violet type. I imagine as a prosecutor, you like being in charge as well.”

“I do. Makes for some fun battles in everything,” and then Sally smiled mischievously and whispered, “and I mean in everything we do.”

Wire smiled herself, “I think I understand.” Kennedy was offering assistance, a little insight, and also letting Dara Wire, the other attractive woman in the room, know ever so gently, that the really good looking detective giving orders was not in play.

“I can just tell you want to help, and I can tell you like to be in control as well, so just thought you’d want to know what to expect,” Sally added.

Wire nodded and casually moved back around the table to join McRyan who was now going through the backpack.

Mac looked up as she approached, “You’re still hanging around, eh?”

“I was rather hoping I could help you,” Wire said, arms folded. “That is, if you need any help?”

Lich was at the hospital with a bullet hole in his shoulder, Riley and Rockford were working the McCormick crime scene and others Mac trusted were working other parts of the investigation. Mac was on his own at the moment.

“I don’t work for Dixon,” Mac stated.

Wire nodded. “I know, and I do. But I can still be helpful. I bring a certain insight to matters that could prove beneficial.”

“My case. My rules. I control it.”

“Your girlfriend told me that is the way it would be.”

“She did, huh?”

“Oh yeah. She said you like to be in charge. I’m good with that.”

Wire was obviously smart, an ex-cop, could clearly handle herself, personally motivated by the night’s events and Dixon trusted her, which spoke volumes. “Okay, Dara Wire. You want in, you’re in.”

“What’s next then?”

“Let’s work through this backpack. I’m betting there is something here.”

“Why?”

“When these guys killed Stroudt, they took whatever he had for luggage. He checked a bag for his flight here but there was nothing left in the motel room. We tracked down some airport footage, and he was carrying a backpack. Those were all gone from the room. These guys saw or knew something that was worth killing for. Maybe the answer is in this backpack.”

Inside the backpack there was a laptop, spiral notebook, a cell phone, camera and pictures. He started with the cell phone, flipping it open and scrolling through the calls.

“Burner phone,” Wire offered.

“Yup,” Mac agreed. “There aren’t many calls, although I recognize this one.”

Wire looked and nodded. In the call history, the last call was to McCormick.

“We’ll run the other numbers, you never know.”

Next he took a look at the laptop, a Dell. He flipped it open, turned it on and it was password protected. He was a good operator of a computer, but he was no hacker. Mac pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Wire asked.

“A computer genius.”

Wire looked at him skeptically.

“No, I’m serious,” Mac said. “This guy is a genius, this thing will be child’s play for him,” and then into the phone, “Jupiter, I need you down here pronto. My office. Right. See you in fifteen.”

“You were saying genius?”

“Yeah. Old college friend from the U named Jupiter Jones, he’s …”

“Jupiter Jones, as in Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators Jupiter Jones?”

“Yeah, exactly, you like those books too?”

Wire nodded. “How can you not.”

“Exactly,” Mac answered smiling. Anyone who liked Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators couldn’t be all bad. “His parents were big fans of the series. Anyway, I met him in college and after school he made millions with business intelligence software. He cashed in on that and then started doing some amazing stuff with video and photography. His skill set is pretty valuable and we’ve hired him to work with us on occasion.”

“What are you going to have him do?”

“Two things I can think of. First, get that computer up and running so we can go through it. Second …” Mac picked up the photo of the younger blond man holding something in his hand that was squared on the end. “Jupiter is a magician when it comes to blowing photos up and that may help us identify what this guy is holding in his hand or maybe there’s something else in the photos that might prove helpful.”

Wire nodded and then asked, “What are you going to do while he’s working on that?”

“I was going to start working through these spiral notebooks to see if anything pops.”

“I’ll help with that,” Wire offered. Mac slid two of the four books over to her.

Judge Dixon was in the corner of the room, on his cell phone. He hung up and approached Mac. He looked anxious and jumpy. “Mac, are you done with me? I know politics aren’t your thing, but they are mine. I just got off the phone with the governor and we need to start getting in front of all this.”

Mac happened to catch Sally’s eye as the Judge spoke. Her look said let the man go and do his job. The Secret Service was now on the scene in force, at least ten agents were hanging around. The Judge would be secure.

“Okay, Judge. I understand what’s at stake. But I have one condition.”

“Which is?”

“If I call, you answer.”

“Understood.”

The Judge turned to leave and Mac felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Sally. “I’m going too,” she said.

“I don’t know …” Mac started with concern but Sally put her fingers to his lips.

“I’ll be fine,” Sally answered. “The Secret Service is on this and from what I can tell, it looks like at least Battalion strength. The safest place for me now, other than right here, is with the Judge.”

Dixon heard her and said: “Mac, two things. I need Sally.” Dixon looked over to the corner and Kate Shelby shriveled up in the chair. “Kate is out of commission and Sebastian is gone. I need Sally.”

“What’s No. 2?” Mac asked.

“She doesn’t leave my side and that’s a promise. She will have Secret Service protection around the clock. She couldn’t be safer.”

Mac nodded. It wasn’t like he’d really be able to stop her. She was a stubborn, fiery and determined Irish woman and he could argue with her about it, but that would only delay the inevitable.

Sally smiled, pecked him on the lips and left.

* * *

The Judge and Kennedy waited at the front doors of the Department of Public Safety. A Secret Service detail had already taken Kate Shelby to the Judge’s house where she would be under constant guard from the Service and St. Paul Police and under the care of the Judge’s wife.

The task in front of the Judge was a daunting one in the last few days of the election and he would be without who his two right-hand people. He glanced over to Sally Kennedy.

“You ready, young lady?”

Kennedy looked up to the Judge and replied simply, “Yup.”

Dixon chuckled. She was either cool as a cucumber or putting on a good front. He’d find out in the next three days.

A Secret Service man stepped inside the glass doors and said, “Let’s go.”

The two walked out the front door with agents in front, to the side and behind them. A rather sizable uniform police force was present as well and there was a well-armored motorcade awaiting them.

“So where to, Judge?” Sally asked.

“Campaign Headquarters,” Dixon replied. “We need to get to work on this.”

“What did the governor have to say?” she asked.

“That he’s on his way.”

“To where?”

“Here.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Politically, his deputy campaign manager was murdered tonight. His campaign manager, another deputy and that deputy’s assistant were nearly killed. He needs to be on the scene and in command because this is a crisis and a political leader needs to lead during a crisis. If he didn’t come back, the media would be all over him.”

“Oh,” Sally answered with a wisp of disappointment in her voice.

“In a personal sense,” the Judge continued, “his trusted political advisor and friend was murdered. The governor is devastated. Sebastian meant quite a bit to him as he did to all of us. On top of Sebastian, his close friend, yours truly, was nearly killed. Two of his closest advisors, you and Kate, people he’s leaned on heavily for the past few months, were nearly killed. He’s worried as hell about everybody and he wants to make sure everyone is safe and protected, and he won’t feel comfortable until he assesses the security situation personally.”

Sally nodded. “That sounds better. You should use that with the press.”

“I just might,” Dixon replied. “The governor will be back on the road tomorrow before you know it, but his first concern was his people. Once he knew everyone was okay, that the Secret Service was on the scene, he went into political mode about getting a handle on this.”

“So how do we do that?”

“I’m taking care of that as soon as we get back to headquarters. I’m going on camera and we’re going to get control of this situation.”

“What are you going to say, Judge?”

“I’ve got a few things in mind but one thing I won’t be doing—at least yet is …”

“Pointing the finger at the other side,” Sally finished nodding. “Too soon yet.”

“That’s right, Madam Prosecutor. You know as well as I do, we don’t have a case at this point. Now politics ain’t court, the standard isn’t as high, I don’t need proof beyond a reasonable doubt or even a preponderance of evidence, but we don’t have enough yet to go public about it, at least not for my comfort. So I won’t be mentioning Connolly—at least not right now. We need to let the investigation play out more and see what Mac gets us.”

“When does the FBI get involved?”

“The bureau may need to take a bigger role soon just because they have greater resources, but I’m more than comfortable with Mac handling things right now.”

“Because the other side will underestimate what he can do, a St. Paul cop investigating a multiple murder concocted by mercenaries,” Sally replied with a knowing smile. “I know better. Mac is very dangerous right now.”

“I’m counting on it,” the Judge replied.

* * *

Mac and Wire quietly worked through the contents of the notebooks. A few minutes into their review, Mac looked up to Wire and said, “I’m still bothered by one thing.”

“Just one thing?”

Mac chuckled, “Well, not just one thing but the one thing bugging me at the moment is how were you tracked to the pub?”

Wire sat back in her chair. “That’s been gnawing at me too. Originally, I was thinking it might have been through you guys somehow. Not you, Detective, but maybe someone is tapped into the police dispatch system or something along those lines.”

“Except,” Mac answered, “nobody knew about the call other than me, the chief, a couple of detectives I trust back at McCormick’s house and my uncle, who I called on the way to tell him I was coming. It never went through dispatch.”

“At least not that you’re aware of,” Wire cautioned.

Mac thought for a second and then shrugged, “No, you’re right. I need to check that.” He reached for his cell phone and called into dispatch and talked with them for a minute. “Really? Who called that in? And what exactly did he say? Okay. Thanks.”

Wire raised her eyebrows.

“I left the scene and that was called into dispatch by the chief. He said I was on my way to McRyan’s Pub and Pat Riley was the detective on scene at McCormick’s. That’s it.”

“So they could be tapped into your system.”

“Possible,” but then a skeptical look overtook McRyan’s face. “But I’m dubious that’s the case. The call into dispatch didn’t indicate who I was meeting with, merely that I was going to the pub. I could have been going to meet anyone.”

“Probably not a secret you’re on this case.”

“No it’s not, but for someone who is always interested in reaches in logic, this one stretches pretty far. I still think it was something about Montgomery or you.”

There was a light knock on the conference room door. “Interesting conversation you two were having.”

“How much did you hear, Jupe?” Mac asked, turning to face his friend.

“Just a little about being tracked. Sounds fascinating.” Jupiter Jones appeared professionally attired for a computer geek, dressed in a gray University of Minnesota hoodie, weathered blue jeans and black and white Chucky T’s. He strolled over to the closed laptop. “This it?”

“It is.”

“Piece of cake. I’m going to grab another conference room and go to work on this.”

“Take this as well,” Mac handed him the burner phone. “Since you’re so fascinated, see if they were using this burner phone to somehow track Ms. Wire and her friends here, and after you’re done with that I need you to go to work on some photos.”

Mac took a look at his coffee cup, empty, as was Wire’s. “Let’s take five and grab a cup.”

Wire walked with Mac to the break room. The pots were empty so McRyan started brewing a new one and the two of them watched the impromptu news conference unfolding in front of Thomson Campaign Headquarters, with the Judge speaking to the media. Sally stood right behind him.

“This is unusual,” Wire said.

“What is?” Mac asked.

“The Judge going on camera.”

“Really?”

“For all of his political skill and prowess, the man is not a fan of the bright lights. It’s one of the reasons Sebastian ended up taking a lot of the media interviews and shows at night. He loved it and was really good at it. The Judge,” Wire shook her head, “not so much.”

“Dixon’s a throwback,” Mac answered. “He’s an old school political power player who likes backroom deals, handshakes and arm twisting.”

“Exactly, he wasn’t made for this era of nightly political shows and the twenty-four-hour news cycle.”

“New era,” Mac replied. “But he has Governor Thomson within days of the White House.”

“Times change, but politics is politics,” Wire replied in kind. “And when it comes to politics, the Judge is the Gold Standard.”

* * *

There was no podium or even a stand of microphones. Judge Dixon was kicking this one old school. He stood in front of the cameras, his hands in his trench coat pockets, his tie loose at the neck. It could have been a press conference of thirty years ago. Judge Dixon looked worn, tired, sad and pissed off all at the same time. It was an iconic image.

“It is my sad duty to report that Sebastian McCormick was brutally murdered in his St. Paul home tonight. He was shot two times in the chest. His death is a tragedy to his family and to those of us on this campaign who worked closely with him every day. Sebastian was a fine young man, wonderful student and good friend. We will all miss him terribly.”

“Judge, can you tell us what happened?” CNN asked.

“I don’t know all what happened. I do know that a man came in the back door of his home and shot him. The killer also shot another man who was visiting Sebastian. That man was shot in the head. This was a cold and calculated murder.”

“Who is the other man?” CNN pressed.

“The St. Paul Police Department will have to release his name once his family has been contacted. I will not do that.”

“But you know who it is?” Local Channel Seven asked.

“I do.”

“Does this have anything to do with the death of Jason Stroudt of The Congressional Page who we are now learning was found murdered here in St. Paul two days ago?” ABC News inquired, making a leap that was dead on.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“So you’re saying yes?”

“I think my answer speaks for itself.”

“Judge, we’re hearing you were involved in a shooting in downtown St. Paul not long after McCormick was murdered. Is that true?” Fox News inquired.

“It is. I was going to meet up with St. Paul Police Detective Michael McRyan outside of McRyan’s Pub. Detective McRyan is one of the detectives investigating Sebastian’s murder and he needed to speak with me. A panel van and a SUV rolled up along West Seventh and opened fire drive-by shooting style on me, Kate Shelby and Sally Kennedy, along with Detective McRyan and a few others as we stood on the sidewalk in front of McRyan’s Pub. I am alive as are a few others because of the heroic actions of Detective McRyan and his fellow St. Paul police officers in thwarting that attempt on us. Unfortunately, one officer was wounded in the shooting but I am pleased that he is doing well and I am hopeful he will recover fully.”

“Why were you meeting with this detective … did you say McRyan?” MSNBC asked.

“Mac McRyan, yes. I’m not at liberty to say at the moment other than he thought I may have some information about Sebastian that could prove helpful.”

“Is your campaign under attack? And if so, by whom?” CBS News asked.

“Sure feels like it. Listen, folks, you know as well as I do, that in a campaign you’re constantly under attack from any number of directions, your opponent, the news media and in this election cycle by independent groups with massive amounts of money to spend,” the Judge answered plainly, but then some emotion seeped into his voice. “But what we have experienced tonight is something completely different. It is an escalation of violence in our politics that is unacceptable in a country as great as ours. We do not live in Libya, Syria or Iran. We live in the United States of America. We have disagreements, we have political differences, but I’m here to tell you that whether Vice President Wellesley or Governor Thomson is elected president, the world will not come to an end for the other side. This is getting out of hand. We need to seriously examine how it is someone has come so completely off the rails in this country to take a step so dramatic and tragic as this. Sebastian was murdered tonight. Jason Stroudt was murdered two days ago and another man was murdered tonight and I and a few others were nearly murdered. The rest of the world is watching. This has to stop.”

“So Judge, you don’t think this was some random break-in at McCormick’s home tonight? You’re suggesting that McCormick’s murder tonight was politically motivated?” CNN asked.

“Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not at the moment.”

“But soon?”

“I hope to.”

“Do you think the Wellesley campaign is behind this?” MSNBC asked. The liberal network would like nothing more than that to be the case.

The Judge chose his words carefully, he knew some things that would send the media into an even bigger frenzy but he wasn’t yet ready to launch that. The investigation needed to build that case before he could unleash it. “I’ve known Vice President Wellesley for a number of years and he is a man of integrity and honor. He has already called the governor and called me personally just a few minutes ago, offering his condolences and his assistance. He was shocked and dismayed by the events of tonight and if he were standing with me right now, I think he’d echo the things I’ve had to say. The vice president himself has nothing to do with this, end of story.”

“How about his campaign?” FOX News asked, separating the candidate from the campaign.

The Judge paused and answered a little more quietly, “I hope not.”

“But you think this is political?”

“No question.”

“So who is behind it?” ABC News asked.

“I aim to find out,” the Judge answered. “And God help whoever is behind this if and when I do. Good night.” The Judge turned and walked away.

* * *

“Thanks a lot, Judge,” Mac said while CNN switched back to Anderson Cooper, who was working overtime anchoring their breaking coverage of the night’s events.

“What he said was true,” Wire noted.

“Not disagreeing, but with that little presser right there the media is going to be all over this thing.”

“They were going to be anyway.”

“I know, but now doing our job got just a little harder. They’re going to be all over me and that makes my job harder.”

Wire had gotten the ten-minute skinny on McRyan from the Judge. One thing the Judge said and chuckled as he said it was how much McRyan hated the media. “But Dara,” the Judge said, “McRyan’s good at manipulating and talking to the media when and if it suits his needs.”

“Mac!”

“Yeah, Paddy.”

“I found the panel van.”

“Atta boy! Where?” Mac asked excitedly.

“Easy, cuz. I found it at the bottom of the Mississippi down South St. Paul way, near the old stockyards.”

“By bottom, you mean under water?”

Paddy nodded. “I pulled the traffic cameras and pulled the plate. The van was rented from Right-Way Car Rental. I got the GPS for the van and on the map its last position was at the edge of the river based on its history but it wasn’t giving a position update any longer which we thought was suspicious. I went down to the location and there was no van but there are tire tracks leading into the water. I’m betting it’s in the river. The county will get it out of the river but they’re going to wait for sunlight here in a couple of hours. We might get something off of it but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Mac!!”

McRyan and Wire turned to see Riley and Rockford stalking into the detective’s bullpen. Mac had left them behind to work the McCormick scene. “I could use some good news. You two find anything more?”

“Not a ton,” Riles answered. “My guess is you and Ms. Wire have walked through everything from the shooting, right?”

“We have,” Mac answered.

“Well, we can skip that, I guess,” Riles answered. “We canvassed. A lot of people heard the evening’s festivities but nobody saw much, other than the neighbor who had his fence rearranged. He saw the Suburban pull away. As we understand it that Suburban was barbequed on Smith Avenue not long after, so that isn’t new. The neighbor who saw the Suburban couldn’t give us a description of anyone inside the truck.”

“Buuuut,” Rock added, “we did figure out how Montgomery got up here to St. Paul at least.”

“Which was how?” Wire asked.

“Montgomery borrowed a car from a second cousin in St. Louis,” Rockford replied. “The car was a 2001 white Honda Accord registered to David Reeves. We made a phone call and the car was Reeves’s kid’s car and he loaned it to Montgomery. The second cousin said Montgomery needed to hide from someone for a few days and was trying to stay off of the radar.”

“Yeah, Montgomery told him he was onto a big political story and he needed some time to get the story together without anyone knowing what he was up to.”

“What story?” Mac asked, looking to Wire in particular. “What the hell did these two guys see?”