John Sandford - Silken Prey

“The governor tells me you didn’t do it,” Lucas said.

“Of course I didn’t,” Smalls snapped, his glasses glittering in the sun. “For one thing, I’m not damn fool enough to leave a bunch of kiddie porn on an office computer, with all kinds of people walking in and out. The idea that I’d do that . . . that’s insulting. ”

“We talked about that,” Lucas said. “The governor and I.”

“And that rattlesnake Mitford, no doubt,” Smalls said.

Monica came out with a bottle of Diet Coke and a glass with ice. She’d overheard the last part of the conversation, and said, “I promise you, Mr. Davenport, Dad’s not a damn fool.”

Lucas poured some Coke, took a sip, said “Thanks” to Monica and asked Smalls, “What do you know about this volunteer? Has she got anything against you? Did you have any kind of personal involvement with her?”

“No. That’s another thing I’m not damn fool enough to do. Not since Clinton. If I were going to play around, there are lots of good-looking, smart, discreet adult women available. I really wouldn’t have a problem.”

“People sometimes get entangled—”

“Not me,” Smalls said. He started to say something more, but then looked up at his daughter and grinned and said, “Monica, could you get me a beer? Or wait, no. I don’t want a beer. This talk could get embarrassing, so . . . sweetie . . . could you just go away?”

“You sure you want to be by yourself, with a cop?” Monica asked.

“I think I can handle it,” Smalls said. She patted him on the shoulder and walked back into his house, and down the stairs. When she was gone, Smalls said, “She’s a lawyer, too. A pretty good one, actually.” They both thought about that for a second, then Smalls said, “Look: I’ve done some fooling around. Got caught, too. Not by the morality police. It was worse than that: the old lady walked in on me.”

“Ouch.”

“Twice. The last time, she had her lawyer with her.”

“Ahh . . .”

“So I can be a fool, but not the kind of damn fool I’d have to be if I were guilty of this kiddie porn stuff,” Smalls said. “I think before I jump. The women I’ve been involved with, they’re pretty good gals, for the most part. They knew what they were getting into, and so did I. That sort of thing, for a guy at my level, is okay. Elmer couldn’t get away with it, anymore, but I’m not quite as visible as the governor. The other thing is, political people are pretty social, and they knew what the situation was between Brenda and me. So, looking outside was considered okay, as long as it was discreet.”

“I get that,” Lucas said. “I guess.”

“But some things are not okay,” Smalls said. “Going after volunteers—the young ones—is not okay. A relationship with a lobbyist is not okay. I wouldn’t look at kiddie porn, even if I were bent that way, which I’m not. If I were interested in drugs, which I’m not, I wouldn’t snort cocaine or smoke pot around witnesses, at a party. I wouldn’t chisel money from my expense accounts. You know why I wouldn’t do any of that? Because I’m not stupid. I’m not stupid, and I’ve seen all that stuff done by people who were supposedly smart, and they got caught, and some of them even went to jail. If I were to do any of that, and get caught, I’d feel like an absolute moron. That’s one thing I won’t tolerate in myself. Moronic behavior.”

“All right,” Lucas said. “So this volunteer . . .”

“To tell you the truth . . .” Smalls was already shaking his head. “I believe her. I think she’s telling the truth.”

“Yes?”

“Yup. It sort of baffles me, but I believe her,” Smalls said. “I’m not a hundred percent sure of her, but mostly, I think somebody planted that porn on my computer. People are always going in and out of my office. I think somebody went in there, called it up, and walked back out. Then she walked in . . .”

“But how’d they know she’d toss the files on the keyboard?”

“How do we know this was the only time they tried it?” Smalls asked. “Maybe they did this ten times, just waiting for somebody to touch the keyboard. But the thing is, her story is too stupid. I keep coming back to stupidity, and whoever did this to me isn’t entirely stupid. But the way she says it happened, this volunteer, this girl . . . it’s too stupid. If she’s the one who did it, I’d think she would have made up a better story.”

Lucas shook his head. “Unless your office is a lot more public than I think it is—”

Smalls held up a hand: “Stop right there. Wrong thinking. The thing is, it is public,” he said. “It’s a temporary campaign office, full of rented chairs and desks and office equipment. I hardly ever go there, but technically, it’s mine. I have another office, the Senate office. In that office, my secretary would monitor people coming and going. Nobody would get in the private office without her knowing, and watching them every minute. There’s classified stuff in there. In the campaign office, there are staff people going in and out all the time.”

“You think a staff person might have been involved?” Lucas asked.

“Had to be. There are undoubtedly a couple of devoted Democrats around—just as . . . and this is off the record . . . just as there are a couple of pretty devoted Republicans over in Taryn Grant’s campaign staff.”

“Spies.”

“If you want to be rude about it,” Smalls said. “So you get a couple of young people as spies, and some of them are a little fanatical about their status, and about helping one party or the other win. So, yeah, somebody on the staff. That’s a good possibility. A probability.”

“The computer didn’t have any password protection?”

“Yes, of course it did. Want to know what it was? It was ‘Smallscampaign.’”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

Lucas asked, “Do you know what happened to it? Your computer?”

“The St. Paul police have it,” Smalls said.

“You think you could get access to it?” Lucas asked.

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know if I could get to the computer itself, but we should be able to get a duplicate of the hard drive, which would give you everything relevant,” Smalls said.

Lucas nodded. “Okay. You’re innocent, right?”

“Yes.”

“So: call your attorney,” Lucas said. “Today. Right now, on Sunday. Tell him that you want to duplicate the hard drive to start preparing a defense. Take it to court if you have to, but get the hard drive for me. If you have to go to court, you argue that you will be irreparably harmed, with only a week to the election, if you’re not allowed to see what you’re accused of. You’ll get it. When they give you access, call me, and I’ll send somebody down to monitor the copy process.”

“Somebody from your company?”

“No. It’ll be a computer expert named Ingrid Caroline Eccols—everybody calls her ICE, for her initials,” Lucas said. “She’s an independent contractor, and she knows this kind of thing, inside and out.”

“A hacker?”

“Not exactly,” Lucas said. “She does a little bit of everything. She’s worked for law enforcement agencies, from time to time, and the St. Paul crime lab folks know her. I think she may have worked on the other side, too. I do trust her, when she says she’ll take a job. The key thing is, when it comes to copying the drive, she won’t miss anything. There won’t be any games. She’ll get everything there is to get.”

“John Shelton is my attorney,” Smalls said. “I’ll get him going. You get this ICE.”

“Another thing: I need a list of everybody who works for and around the committee. Send it to my personal e-mail.” Lucas took out a business card and a pen, wrote his e-mail address on the back of it, and handed it to Smalls.