McKean S04 The Re-Election Plot Page 3

  “There’s more,” Nagumo said. “We fished the gunman’s body out of the Sound. According to his ID his name is Matt Ebersold. Found a piece of paper in his pocket with an interesting name and phone number on it: Fred Altmeier. Turns out to be a mucky-muck with a certain political party. Ran the re-election campaign for Texas Congressman Jeb Walker.”

  “Jeb Walker!” McKean exclaimed. “He’s one of the most influential political figures in Washington DC.”

  “Sure is,” Nagumo agreed. “Comes from a district in Texas where Halladay Corporation is headquartered. You know, the maker of Predator drone and cruise missile engines and guidance systems.”

  “Aha,” McKean crooned with new light in his eyes. “A company standing to benefit greatly from continued hostilities in the Mideast.”

  “Thought you’d be interested in that,” Nagumo replied. “And this Altmeier fellow’s got more interesting history. Used to be an oil company lobbyist, then joined the re-election committee as a public relations man, producing video materials and attack commercials against Walker’s political opponents. Lately he’s been more obscure. Retired to a fabulous estate in the Maryland countryside right after the ‘04 election. Plays a lot of golf nowadays, drawing on a big offshore bank account. Our D.C. office sent some people around to see him for an interview. No arrest yet.’

  “Can they charge him with anything?”

  “They’ll squeeze him first and see if he lets on anything useful before they arrest him. Meanwhile, we’ve got Ebersold’s comments on your audio recording, Peyton, which clearly imply that someone is guilty of election tampering, although who’s responsible is not nailed down just yet.”

  “Any sign of the Yamanis?”

  “Yeah. A Washington State Patrol Officer in Blaine spotted them at a gas station near the Canadian border. Having seen our all-points bulletin on Yamani two days ago, he arrested them. They’re in our custody now and they’re talking to us pretty openly. Yamani’s willing to testify in return for immunity and a witness protection deal that’s already been okayed by headquarters. But the big catch is going to be Fred Altmeier. Looks like, thanks to you guys, we’ve flushed out a rat that threw the 2004 election in favor of the incumbents, from the President on down.”

  “I also interviewed Congressman Feebus. He’s not implicated in any wrongdoing. Sometimes you can tell right away. He just played the role of a passive conduit, sending Yamani’s tape to the Congressional Elections Oversight Committee, the FBI and the CIA.”

  McKean tugged at his chin. “No telling who might have a copy now.”

  “Exactly,” Nagumo agreed. “And that’s too bad, in a way. We’d like to round up everybody who participated the election scheme, but we’ll probably never trace the route to the bad guys though so many agencies. At least we know Altmeier was in the loop. He’s going to see a lot of the FBI until we identify the responsible parties.”

  After Nagumo left us I said, “Peyton, I’m amazed how much hell I go through every time I get near you. It’s like Iraq all over again. How could writing a story about molecular modeling lead to all this?”

  “The connection is quite logical,” McKean asserted.

  “It is?”

  “It’s the ability to portray the un-seeable. Molecules can never actually be seen, because they’re smaller than the visual system trying to see them, namely, the human eye. So every time a protein is modeled it is in a certain sense a fake.”

  McKean held up a long finger. “Exactly the same is true for the bin Laden video. Consider that bin Laden lived his last years in hiding, using only one trusted courier to get messages out. His seclusion made him all but un-seeable. Cowering in his hideout, he became an almost non-existent entity, except through the dark magic of computer modeling. Kyle Smith had the misfortune to tread the common ground between molecular modeling and terrorist modeling. He saw and understood too much for his own good. Watch the 2004 election video with your illusions stripped away and you’ll see what Smith saw: the footage is smooth but simplistic. Nothing moves on bin Laden except his mouth and his finger-waving hand. Heaven knows, Hollywood does much more sophisticated animations with talking babies, pigs and dogs. Modern computer graphic programs like Smith’s are double-edged swords, forces for good or evil. Whether used to animate molecules or terrorists, they are merely complex machines that do the bidding of fallible human beings.”

  “From Hollywood to Jihad,” I reflected. “What a monstrous concept.”

  “Worse,” McKean elaborated. “From Hollywood, to Jihad, to American elections; a diabolical duping of the voters of the most powerful nation on earth in the interest of perpetuating political careers, a war, and the manufacture and sale of war machines, all done with computer graphics.”

  The phone rang and McKean put it on speaker. Vince Nagumo was back at his office. “Bad news from D.C.,” he said. “Altmeier’s dead.”

  “Not such bad news,” I responded. “He was an evil one.”

  “True,” Nagumo agreed, “but now we’ve got no leads to trace other people’s involvement.”

  “How did he die?” McKean asked.

  “Gunshot to the temple, at home in his study. Looks like suicide, because he realized the jig was up for him. The pistol lay on the floor at his side.”

  “So that’s where it ends,” I sighed. “We’ll never know if he was working for a higher-up.”

  Peyton added, “We’ll never know if it was suicide, either.”

  “Good point,” Nagumo affirmed. “Anyone above him would want things covered up and the best guarantee would be to murder Altmeier. But I doubt we’ll ever get to the bottom of it.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I’m already getting pressure to stop this investigation and leave it on Altmeier’s head.”

  “Pressure from whom?” I asked. “I’ll bet it’s from Altmeier’s boss.”

  “No, it’s from FBI headquarters in D.C. But I can’t be sure who’s the originator of the pressure.”

  A chilly thought struck me. “If there is someone else responsible at a higher level, they might send someone to kill Peyton McKean and me.”

  “No, my friend,” Nagumo rejoined. “After what you published, for you to turn up dead would bring a congressional inquiry. Probably sweep the entire re-election committee and everyone else related to Altmeier into the whole mess. I don’t think anyone wants to go there. On the other hand, with Altmeier fingered and unable to implicate anyone else, you can say what you will, publish what you like, but no one you can name will ever admit being involved. You’re no real threat to anyone if you don’t pursue this matter further.”

  McKean said, “Yamani’s the one who should watch out. His voiceprint is living proof of the fake.”

  “True,” Nagumo replied. “But even if Yamani testifies that he made the voice, there’s no way to finger anyone except Fred Altmeier. Besides, Yamani’s word is not strictly that of an honest man, even if you and I know he’s not faking anything this time.”

  After the call ended, McKean asked me, “Are you comfortable with how things have turned out, Fin?”

  “About as comfortable as every day I spent serving in Iraq.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I saw a lot of action on the ground. I was a Medical Corpsman. Went into some firefights after wounded, heard a lot of shots fired. Never got hit. Don’t really want to talk about it, though. This doesn’t seem any more threatening than that.”

  “I suppose not,” McKean mused. “I don’t fear for our safety, but the condition of our democracy has me worried if such election fakery should become the norm.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “I suppose there’s very little to be done, Fin, except be glad the cruise missiles are on our side.”

 

 

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