The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Page 18

  I didn’t have to wait long. Someone must have called it in because a cruiser soon rolled by. I waved it down and asked the officer to call Kate. I also reported the attack and the theft of my gun.

  Kate arrived almost an hour later with the spare key to the Maxima.

  “Here.” She tossed it to me. “How many more times, Harry? One of these days I’m gonna be shoving you into a body bag. What was it about this time?”

  “Same old, same old; just working the case, following a lead. I must have stepped on someone’s toe. This was a warning. I was told to drop it or else.”

  “Okay, so what do you have for me?”

  “Nothing concrete just yet,” I lied. “I need a few more days, and then I think I’m going to need your help.”

  She looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Don’t hang me out to dry, Harry. You understand?”

  I nodded. She nodded, and then she turned, got back in her car, and drove away on McCallie, heading downtown. Not a word of goodbye, kiss my ass, nothing. She was still pissed.

  Chapter 32

  Bob walked into my office just before ten the next morning, a big smile on his face. He was about to say something when he saw my face. I grinned up at him from my leather throne.

  “Looks nasty, huh?” The welt of the side of my head had already turned blue. “It’s not quite as bad as it looks, but I do have one hell of a headache.”

  I spent the next couple of minutes explaining what had happened, and what I had learned so far. When I finished, I asked him what he wanted.

  He perked up. “Here you go, Harry. Here’s your man. This is the guy who’s been tailing you.” He placed an eight by ten photo in front of me.

  It was grainy, taken at night, through a car window, but he was recognizable, just. I looked hard at the image. The ball cap was pulled down over his eyes, but I could tell he was white, and there was something familiar about the face.

  “Bob, I think I’ve seen this guy somewhere. I can’t quite grasp it, but.... How did you find him? Who did you hire for the tail?”

  “This one I decided to do myself. Come on, Harry. It’s what we do, right? I figured that if you were being followed, all I had to do was follow you, too. It took a little time. The guy knows what he’s doing. He’s not an amateur. I spotted him once, lost him almost immediately. Finally, I spotted him again on Lakeshore Lane.” He grinned at the look I gave him. “That’s right, Harry, right on your street.”

  “We need to find out who he is, Bob. See what you can do.” I handed him the photo. “Make me a copy of that, and let me have it back. Maybe something will come to me.”

  “I already have a copy.” He put the print down on my desk.

  “Okay, so what about Tree, and his people, and Harper?’

  “I hired a couple of ladies I’ve used in the past. You know them, Heidi and Selina.”

  I nodded. I knew both of them well. Both were pros, freelancers, though they worked mostly for one of my competitors. I wish I had room for them here, but I don’t.

  “Heidi stuck to Tree, but he left his office only to go home. The two soldiers never left his side. Harper was much the same. He was in his office all day, every day, and then at home each evening, except for last night when he had dinner at La Maison Ducat.” He smiled at me. “He left Ducat around ten-thirty and headed home. That’s about it.”

  “Hmmm. So he knows Ducat, eh? I thought he might. He wears a ring with the pendant motif on it. I wonder.... Is he a member of Mystica, or is he running it?”

  Bob shrugged. “We’ll never know unless somebody talks, or unless he does, and I don’t see either happening; not anytime soon.”

  He was right. Linda didn’t know. She hadn’t seen him there. She hadn’t even noticed his ring. Olivia Hansen didn’t mention Harper, and now I couldn’t ask her. Likewise Charlie Maxwell. I wonder... what about the others, Senator Wickham, Congresswoman Webster, and Congressman Studdington? Hmmm, it’s a thought. Maybe later, if I can’t figure it out some other way.

  “Any ideas, Bob?”

  “Nope, other than coming right out and asking him.”

  That brought a smile to my face. Now there’s a thought, but then... what the hell? Shock and awe is, after all, my preferred method of obtaining information. I figured it might be worth a try, but how?

  After Bob left, I flicked through some much needed paperwork — that was according to Jacque — but my heart wasn’t in it. I looked at my watch, noon. Linda’d still be tied up in the senate, so I couldn’t call her. Dammit.

  I went out to lunch, by myself, at the Deli, ate a sandwich and then returned to the office. When I finally flopped down in my chair, it was just after two o’clock.

  Idly, almost without thinking about it, I picked up the eight by ten Bob had taken of my tail. Something had been nagging me, something at the back of my mind. I was sure I knew this guy. I stared at it, put it down, picked it up again, and then it hit me, and I smiled to myself. Got you, you bastard.

  Chapter 32

  I called my players into work the next day. It was Saturday, and I was well aware that it was an imposition, but it couldn’t be helped. We had to figure out what the next play would be. I was now almost certain that Harper was the key to both Mystica and the three killings. How I was going to prove it was another matter. I was hoping the emails from Charlie Maxwell would cast a little light on the subject.

  We met in the conference room, me, Jacque, Bob, Ronnie, Tim and Mike. I’d thought about inviting Kate, but nixed the idea. At this point, I really didn’t have any reason to do so. Besides, I was still in the doghouse, and a person of interest in the Hansen killing. Funny, but she never did call back to get my alibi for the night Charlie was murdered.

  The second email from Charlie had arrived late on Thursday afternoon. I’d forwarded it to Tim, and I hadn’t heard a word from him since. God help us if it was all a stupid ruse.

  It wasn’t.

  We sat down together around the table. At the far end of it, someone had set up a white dry-erase board. Tim had taken the seat in front of it and was sitting there, patiently sipping on a large black coffee.

  “Okay, people,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “It’s crunch time. What do we have? Tim, was that email from Charlie Maxwell what you needed?”

  “It was. The email contained the key to the photo, and it was easy enough to figure once I had it. The photo contained three pieces of information: the name of a secret Dropbox account, the user name for that account, and the password. In the Dropbox were several files. Two Microsoft Excel files and a Word file.

  “The word file was a letter from Charlie to you, Mr. Starke.” He handed it to me. It was short and only took a couple of minutes to read.

  Dear Harry,

  If you are reading this note, I have truly screwed up, and I am probably dead. I planned it so that the two files you now have in your possession would be my insurance, my safety net if things went wrong. The files are the keys to all of Congressman Harper’s financial dealings. He is, to put it bluntly, a crook. The files were given to me by Tabitha, who got them from Michael. You already know what happened to them. My idea was to email them to you, delayed delivery. The first was scheduled to arrive in two days, the second, two days after the first. I could stop them and reschedule them anytime I wanted to, unless of course, something happened to me. Obviously, it did. Good Hunting, Harry Starke. We could have had good times together, you and I.

  Love,

  Charlie

  I looked up. They were all staring at me. I couldn’t speak. I folded the note and put it in the inside pocket of my jacket. It wasn’t something I wanted to share, at least not then. Tim, I knew would have read it, but I also knew he wouldn’t have shared it. We would keep Charlie Maxwell’s confidence... until it might be needed as evidence.

  “What else, Tim? Tell me about the files.”

  “The first one is a list of names, complete with personal details. I’m pretty sure it’s a list
of members, and potential members, of Mystica. Some are starred, some have question marks beside their names. Harry, Olivia and George Hansen are on the list, and so is....”

  “Senator Michaels, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn, that alone could cause her embarrassment.”

  “I don’t think so, Harry. The list also includes eleven congressmen and five more senators. I have a feeling that the Feds will lock it away; I don’t think they will allow the government to be compromised by what really amounts to nothing more than a few minor sexual distractions.”

  “Okay, what about the other file?”

  “Ronnie,” Tim said. “This is your field. You tell him.”

  “The big one, is actually a sort of balance sheet; no, it’s more of a worksheet. A company’s balance sheet reports the dollar amounts of a company’s assets, liabilities, and owner’s equity, or stockholders’ equity, as of a predetermined date. This one is dated Wednesday, January 14, twenty-four days ago, and two days before Michael Falk was killed. Significant, right?”

  No one answered.

  “All righty then. I shall continue. Assets listed on a for profit balance sheet usually include cash, accounts receivable, inventory, investments, land, buildings, equipment, some intangible assets, and anything else of value that the company might own. This type of balance sheet is prepared for use by management as a tool, and also for use by stockholders, generally as part of the company’s annual report. It will list liabilities as well as assets, including loans payable, accounts payable, warranty obligations, taxes payable, and the list goes on. The balance sheet allows us to easily determine a company’s working capital, and whether or not it is highly leveraged.

  “A nonprofit foundation’s balance sheet reports the dollar amounts of its assets, liabilities, and fund balances, or what most people refer to as its equity. The foundation can use the income generated from its assets to make legitimate charitable contributions and investments. Taxes are paid where they are required and all is above board. This type of balance sheet is available and open to public scrutiny.

  “The one we have here, this... worksheet, however, is slightly different.”

  Again, Ronnie looked around the table.

  “Questions, anybody?”

  “Okay, smart ass,” I said. “I’ll bite. How is it different?

  Ronnie grinned. “This worksheet is, in fact, a second set of books for the Harper Foundation and Harper’s financial dealings, and is only available to Harper himself, and maybe a couple of selected cronies. There are no liabilities listed, only assets, and they are huge, solely funded by unrestricted fund balances. As the controller of the fund, Harper has vast amounts of cash and assets at his disposal, all available for him to use to exert his influence. There are no checks and balances to prevent him from doing whatever he wants.

  “Harper is into all sorts of shady dealings: blackmail, extortion, money laundering, influence peddling, you name it, it’s all documented here. The Harper Foundation is just the beginning of Harper’s financial empire; it’s where the huge amounts of cash needed to fund his other less transparent projects, his ‘investments,’ are generated. Still with me?”

  "Go on, Ronnie."

  “The cash is generated mostly through influence peddling. Donations are made to the Harper Foundation by for profit entities: defense contractors, foreign powers, companies in financial trouble looking for a helping hand, even individuals. In return, they get something they want from Congress, usually in the form of lucrative contracts, government-backed loans, or large grants. For instance, in October of 2014, WorldWide Solar made a donation to the Harper Foundation of $1.5 million. Three weeks later, they received a contract from the government worth an estimated $110 million. I have documented at least fifteen such instances over the past eighteen months of potential quid pro quo involving the Harper Foundation. Donations total more than $41 million. Government contracts and grants awarded soon thereafter total more than a billion dollars, and I’m finding more by the day.”

  He paused and took a drink of water. Hell I need a drink, too, and not water.

  “All of his shady deals are listed here in this worksheet. The Harper Foundation’s investments are in the public record, but the money, once it’s invested, disappears into a multiverse of shell and offshore companies, including companies like Nickajack and Goodwin. Harper is then able to take out loans from those companies; essentially, he borrows his own money and he doesn’t have to pay it back. Loans are not taxable income. According to this worksheet, he’s taken out hundreds of such loans totaling hundreds of millions of dollars, most of them for small amounts, some not so small.... That’s about it.”

  “That’s all good stuff, Ronnie, but can we tie it to Harper? If we can’t, it’s useless. Well, not exactly, but you get my meaning. I need hard evidence. If that’s Harper’s crooked financial empire, we need to be able to prove it.... What? What are you laughing at, Ronnie?”

  “You have the proof. It’s in the file itself. The metadata.”

  “Metadata? I thought that was for photographs.”

  “It is, but metadata is also used for all sorts of other types of files, including Word files and... Excel files.”

  I stared hard at him. “Go on, Ronnie.”

  “So, all Excel files contain information other than that for which the file was created. It’s hidden from general view as metadata, unless some wiz deletes it, but that didn’t happen here. Most operators, and when I say most, I’m talking about people like you, Harry, and Jacque, Bob, Mike. Most people don’t even know such metadata is present. Accountants, auditors and so on are familiar with it, but they bother with it only in rare circumstances. Metadata is the realm of the IRS, IT experts, and analysts. It incorporates a wealth of information about the given file, including the author’s name, the date when the file was created and by whom, the date the file was last modified and by whom, and the date it was last saved. This can all be found within the file itself under the properties tag, but unless you know where to find it, it’s not easy to access.

  “And there’s more. If you mouse over the file name in Windows Explorer, and then hit Properties, you get even more metadata that includes everything I’ve already mentioned, plus it also shows the name and email address of the administrator, in this case Gordon Harper.

  “Harry, all of this is hard evidence. It shows the originator, and the authorized users. We now know not only exactly what it contains, but who put it there.”

  “Can metadata be changed?” Bob asked.

  “Some of it can; some of it can’t. Some of it can also be wiped; some of it can’t. The statistics tab that includes the date the file was created, when it was last modified, and by whom, cannot be changed or wiped. The only way to get rid of that information is to save the file under a different name. That would create a whole new set of statistics and metadata, but that hasn’t happened here.”

  “So, what we have is an Excel file with its metadata intact?” I asked.

  He nodded. “That we do. The file was originally created on April 15, 2012 and was last saved on Wednesday, January 14 this year. We have the author of the file, Jesper Hogstrum; the administrator, Gordon Harper, and one other authorized user, Jackson Hope.”

  So now I had it, so I thought. All I had to do now was to get Harper to commit.

  I had the rest of the weekend to think it over.

  Monday was going to be ‘H’ day.

  Chapter 33

  I woke early on Monday morning. It had been raining for most of the night. By seven o’clock, I was driving into the city amid a downpour, a torrent the wipers could barely cope with; it was going to be a hell of a day.

  I arrived at the office at seven-thirty; I was the last one to arrive. Everyone was nervous. The word was out. This was the day when we would bring down one of the country’s most prominent political figures. No wonder they were all tense.

  “Okay, everyone,” I said, as I breezed i
n. “Great to see you all so bright and early. Let’s get some coffee and go over it one more time.”

  At eight-thirty, I made the call.

  “Congressman Harper. This is Harry Starke. I’d like to make an appointment to see you. It’s urgent. Can we do it early this morning?”

  “I don’t want to see you, Starke. I told you before, I know nothing about what happened to Falk. That should be the end of it.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you about Falk.”

  “Then what?”

  “Not over the phone, Congressman. You know better than that. Let’s just say that I have something of interest, something you need to know.”

  “There’s nothing you can say that will interest me, Starke—”

  “Are you sure?” I interrupted him. “Are you absolutely sure?” He didn’t answer. I have him.

  “Five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes. Not a damned second more, and it had better be good. Be here at... ten. If you’re late, forget it.” He slammed the phone down.

  Okay. It was on. I called Kate and filled her in as best I could on what I’d learned. Then I told her what I planned to do.

  “I’m going in alone. I have a listening device. What? No, it’s not a wire. It’s a wristwatch, with video and audio transmission. I’m told the range of the thing is about a half mile. There’s also a receiver unit with a digital recorder. I’ve tested it. It seems to work fine, and I’ve been assured that it will do the job. And the Secret Service should know. You’ll know exactly what’s going on in that office at all times.”

  “Harry. You can’t do this. Harper is not stupid. He’s not going to give you what you want. If they are what you think they are, and they figure out what you’re up to, you could wind up dead.”

  “You’re right. It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to have to jerk his chain a little. The receiver is small, about the size of a box of chocolates. It has a built-in speaker, but earbuds would work just as well. It records whatever it picks up onto a flash drive. The thing is, though, if everything works out the way I hope, we won’t need it. What about it? Will you do it?”