Gordon Ryan - State of Rebellion

“Bureaucracy. It can be our friend as well as our enemy. I’d better move, John Henry. I’ve got a long drive to reach Bakersfield by morning.”

“Hold on. There’s another issue.”

Wolff paused and waited.

“It has come to my attention that our newest Director of Elections, Stevenson, has a shadow. A federal shadow.”

Wolff considered the thought for a moment and nodded. “Not unexpected. The previous two directors have met with unfortunate circumstances.”

“Just keep close tabs on him, Jean. He could still upset the applecart. And by the way, how did Shaw get on with the Rawlings fellow?”

“He distrusts him. Thinks he’s still opposed to the secession.”

“But he’s writing the new California constitution, with the help of my high-priced lawyers, no less.”

Wolff nodded agreement. “Possibly he’s a camel in the tent, as the Arabs would say.”

Franklin took several steps across the room and picked up a thick manila folder, waving it at Wolff. “This is the document I expect to get out of Rawlings’ office, with his endorsement.” He slammed the folder down on the desktop. “If it doesn’t look like this version will become part of the new constitution-and I mean soon-California will be looking for another assemblyman from the Eighth District. Do you understand me?”

“Completely.”

“Good. Now see to Cordoba.”

California Legislature

Sacramento, California

Dan was just shutting down his computer terminal when his private line rang. He logged off and reached for the handset. “Dan Rawlings.”

“Hi, Dan,” Nicole said. “I’m in Sacramento, and I need some help.”

“Are you a voter in the Eighth Legislative District?” he teased.

“Not yet, but I spend so much time here, I’m beginning to feel like I qualify. Seriously, can you meet me at your apartment in about thirty minutes?”

“Sure. Want some dinner first?”

“No, we’ll have to eat on the way. I’ll explain later, but I haven’t got time to go home first, so will you find some warm outdoor clothing for me? I’ve got boots in the trunk of my car, but I’ll need a jacket, gloves, and probably a rain slicker, if the weather report is right.”

“Are we going to a football game?”

“No, but plan to be out most of the evening. It sounds hokey, Dan, but something’s come up.”

“Actually, it sounds great. An unknown date with a mysterious woman.”

“Mysterious, all right. Oh, and find a shovel if you can.”

“A shovel ?”

“Just trust me. I’ll pick up some hamburgers and see you in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. See you then,” he said, hanging up, grabbing his jacket, and turning off the lights before exiting his office and entering the elevator to go down to the garage. Once home, he changed into jeans, a Stanford sweatshirt, and hiking boots, then rummaged through his outdoor gear in the garage and found some hiking gear his sister had worn years earlier, still wondering where Nicole was taking them. Not too stylish, he thought, but then, she didn’t ask for fashion. Nicole arrived just as he reentered the apartment.

“Hi,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “Let’s take your Blazer. We might need four-wheel drive.”

Grabbing his gear and hers, Dan followed Nicole outside, where they transferred some of her gear to his vehicle. “And where might we be headed, Secret Agent Bentley?”

Nicole smiled at him. “Make fun if you will, Assemblyman Rawlings, but this is, in fact, a very important trip. Care for a burger?” she asked, climbing into the passenger seat in his car.

“Sure. Directions, please.”

“Up the canyon. Take 16 to 20, then toward Lower Clear Lake.”

Dan looked at her quizzically and backed out of the driveway. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t break the speed limit or get pulled over, but time is important.”

“Give me more specifics, and maybe I can save us some time.”

She pulled a small notebook from her pocket. “He said follow State Road 16 to 20, and then go west toward Clear Lake. Then take 53 south to a side road near Lower Clear Lake.”

“Right,” Dan replied. “If you’re game for some bumps, I can save us about forty-five minutes by following a forest service trail over the foothills above Rumsey.”

“It’s your home ground. Lead the way,” she said, handing him some French fries and putting a drink in the cup holder in the middle console.

By the time they’d reached the straight run on Highway 113 from Davis to Woodland, Dan had finished his hamburger, and he glanced at Nicole. “Is this a ‘need-to-know’ only mission?” He grinned.

“No-well, maybe, but in your case, you do need to know. Is the name Richard Clarke Stevenson familiar to you?”

Dan thought a moment before responding. “I don’t think so. Who is he?”

“He was recently appointed Director of Elections in the California Elections Office. He was deputy to Ann Macintosh. She’s the former director who was murdered. Anyway, he held the acting post for awhile and then received the appointment. We’ve had him under surveillance.”

“A suspect?”

“No, but in light of the previous deaths in that office, we thought it best to keep an eye on him. We discovered that the brigade has occasionally kept an eye on him, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Not steadily, but on occasion, as if they wanted to make sure that he was still in place. They’ve discreetly entered his apartment.”

Dan looked questioningly at Nicole.

“All right, Counselor, we’ve got a mike in his place. It happens, and it’s legal. Anyway, the Shasta boys have had him under surveillance, probably to determine if he has any knowledge of the past elections.”

“And?”

“And they haven’t found anything.” She paused for a moment, taking a sip of Coke. “But we have. We finally contacted him directly several days ago, outside his office, of course. He’s scared, Dan. Very scared. He knows he’s being watched, although I don’t think he knows it’s us as well as the brigade. Over the past six months, he’s been to the Missouri and Oregon elections offices to obtain election data from their prior election results, especially from the Home Telephone Voting System. What he’s turned up has scared him, and after what happened to Macintosh, and Phelps before her, he didn’t know who he could trust.”

After filling up with fuel and clearing Woodland, Dan headed up Highway 16, driving through a concentration of almond orchards and eventually passing the small airport located near the Yolo Country Club golf course, where Dan’s thoughts flitted through the recent ambush. It was full dark by eight-thirty, and they encountered only an occasional car on the road.

“How did you convince Stevenson to trust you?”

“He was out of options. I told him we’d been keeping a watch on him, and he was even more confused. I didn’t tell him about the brigade. He wants out of California and out of the whole problem. We said the bureau would help relocate him-if he agreed to assist with the case. That’s when he told me about the disks.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Ah, secret disks.”

“It’s not quite James Bond, but if they contain what he says, they’re what we’re looking for, all right. He said that during the last general election, he’d stayed through the night, making complete backups every hour. That’s not the standard procedure, and he did it without permission. The interim tally printouts, which he burned, bore absolutely no resemblance to the final election results. But the last backup-now get this-taken just over an hour after the polls closed, showed a whole different set of numbers. The tally wasn’t even close to what had been happening and there was no record of the previous results.”