The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (17 page)

Donne looked directly into the camera. “So any of you watching
this, by all means use the link on our website, __________.gov, and
send in your ideas, okay?

“Time for one more. Yes?”

“Keira ____, _____. Regarding the national debt, do you blame
Bush or Obama more for that?”

“That's a sandbox-on-the-Titanic question, a political one, and
I'm not going to get into it. I will only say that both parties and
both presidents share blame. We'll be going after the wrongdoers
over the next few months, and you'll know about that when it happens.
And no, I'm not going to go into any details now.

“But I took this challenge on as it exists, and my focus is on
fixing what's wrong and going forward more effectively, and that's
just what I'm going to be doing.

“Okay, folks, that's all the time we have now. Thank you for
coming, and mea culpa for the interruptions. But I think they were
worth it. Oh, the press release has been posted and distributed.”

At that, Donne left the press room, followed by his retinue, ignoring
the many questions that were shouted after him.

In Bonita Springs, Paul, Gayle and the three kids were driving back
to their hotel from the beach, Cindy “Call Me Montana”
still riding shotgun and the other two children sound asleep in the
back seat, Skyler with her head on Gayle's lap and Jordan with his
head against the window. So Paul wasn't able to watch the last
segment of the press conference. But Cindy laughed out loud as she
saw that the white stencils had also been painted in the eastbound
right lane.

* * * * * *

The top stories on the major networks that evening and in the morning
newspapers were “Donne Refuses to Release Tax Returns: What
Could He Be Hiding?,” “Donne Guts Regulators,”
“Donne Encourages Smokers,” “Donne Defends Hedge
Fund Background,” “Donne Calls Tea Party 'Too Extreme,'”
“Donne Likes Robots in Capitol,” “Donne/Gaddafi
Connection? Donne Holding $40 Billion of Libya's Money,”
“Donne Accusations: Heartless, Ruthless, Hates Women,
Minorities, Unions, Churches, the Unborn and the Disabled,” but
the news on the Al Qaeda operations was only covered by one lone
newspaper in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and then got only three paragraphs
on Page 8, surrounded by large ads for a local supermarket, two
dentists and three urologists. Donne's news on businesses pledging
to move or build plants and create jobs in the US went totally
unreported.

Sound bites on the major networks included, “It's easy to see
things in black and white,” “It's easy to want to limit
other people's freedom of choice,” “Democracy can lead
to tyranny,” “I've sent the black helicopters for them
all,” “Mea culpa” and “Smoke 'em if you got
'em.”

-26-

Five Months Earlier

Thursday, July 7, 2011

4:30 p.m.

Bonita Beach, FL

Jake's eyes slowly opened to a bedroom even darker than it had been
earlier in the day. Sunset was still four hours away, but the clouds
were so black that almost no light came in his doors and windows.
There was no wind and only a gentle sprizzle of rain, part sprinkle,
part drizzle.

Jake reached under his pillow, stretching the stitches on his right
shoulder slightly, so he glanced at the alarm box, saw the red light
and pulled his arm back. He stumbled into the bathroom, splashed
some cold water on his face and neck, brushed his teeth, gargled and
began to feel almost human.

He popped another couple of OTC painkillers, got dressed in a sweat
suit and slippers and meandered down the stairs with his laptop and
notebook, only remembering to avoid the ninth step at the last
minute, and nearly tumbling down the stairs when he did.

He retrieved the power cord from the sideboard, walked into his
study, plugged in his PC and booted it up. He closed the curtains
and turned on the lights, then out to the kitchen, where he made a
quick meatball sub, nuked it, brought it back to his study and
started munching.

Once the PC finished booting, Jake checked his email and found one
from Pamela93, sent earlier that morning: “Hi, Jake. I was
down in Bonita this past weekend, looked for you on the beach,
couldn't find you; hope you're okay. I'll be back this coming
weekend and I'd like to meet with you again. Got some news that I
think you'll like to hear; might help you relax some. Please call or
email if you can find some time to chat. Pam.”

Jake leaned back to think, but bumped his butt where he'd gotten the
shot and leaned forward quickly, gritting his teeth. He got a pillow
from one of the guest bedrooms and put it on his chair, sat down
carefully and sighed with relief. Then he started a reply to Pam.

“Hey, Pam. Sorry I missed you, but sure, I'd be happy to see
you this weekend. I had to get some stitches (klutz!) and can't go
in the water, so no beach for me for awhile; too hot on shore. How
about we meet at the Seafood Shack on BBR, about a mile east of the
beach, out on the covered lanai? My schedule is pretty open, so let
me know what time works for you. Maybe lunch Sat? Jake.”

He sent it and then composed and sent several emails with attachments
to several separate recipients, using several anonymous mail servers
scattered around the world.

He then settled in to work on the timeline for Donne's tenure as
owner, finishing his sandwich when he got to the spring of 2012.

Half an hour later, as he was listing some likely candidates for the
many assassination plots, his PC pinged, indicating a new email,
which turned out to be Pam's reply: “Lunch Sat at the Seafood
Shack works for me. Noon? Pam.”

Jake replied: “Noon Sat. See ya then. Jake.” He went
back to his list of assassination plotter prospects, adding lawyers,
human traffickers and drug cartels to the list.

-27-

Thursday, December 15, 2011

1:30 p.m.

The Oval Office

Washington, DC

Donne, in jeans and another tropical shirt, got up from his desk and
welcomed Jim Ferguson, head of Health and Human Services' Office of
the Inspector General (HHS-OIG), with a big smile and a hearty
handshake, guiding him to one of the couches in the center of the
room, and taking his own seat on the opposite one. There was a
clipboard on the coffee table between them, which Donne picked up and
set to his side.

“Jim, I'm glad to meet you. Kathleen tells me you're damned
good at what you do.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, relax, Jim. I want us to be totally informal here, since
you and I will be working pretty closely for a good long time.”

“I look forward to that, sir.”

“Okay. First, let's cut the 'sir' shit. Just call me Gordy,
okay?”

“I'll try, si- – Gordy.”

“Good, good. Now, one of your primary missions Is to track
down Medicare fraudsters, catch them and shut them down, right?”

“Medicaid fraud, too. And build cases for prosecution.”

“Right.

“What's the most frustrating part of your job, Jim?”

“Seeing them right back in business within days of our making a
bust, especially if they're mob-related, and a lot of them are.”

“And why does that happen, do you think?”

“Lawyers, and our system doesn't usually let us keep them in
custody; they make bond and go right back to work. Or they close
down in one location and open up again in another.”

“Right. But now you've got some new tools to use.”

“That Al Capone tax you announced Friday?”

“Exactly. Now you can hit 'em where it hurts, in their
wallets. With IRS cooperation, you can arrest them twelve hours
after they receive a payment, seize all their property and possibly
hold them indefinitely. And you'll know when they're getting a
payment, because their account will be flagged as soon as you have
probable cause from your investigations.”

“So we just do the investigations and turn it over to the IRS?”

“Oh, no, no; it's cooperative. See, we're freeing up thousands
of IRS agents, since they won't be looking at all those Schedule D
trades anymore, and we'll be assigning many of those thousands to
work with you, help your accounting folks out, running
fraud-discovery algorithms and all that stuff. And since those
fraudsters now have not only fraud charges against them, with all
that innocent-until-proven-guilty BS, they ALSO have tax evasion
charges, and there the burden of proof is reversed. Not only that,
but their lawyers can't charge them more than 200 bucks an hour in
federal court, so attorneys will be less motivated to work for those
folks … or ANY folks, for that matter. Not as much of a cash
cow as it has been for those shysters.”

“Wait, please. I'm trying to get my head around all that.”

“Take your time, Jim.”

After a long pause, Jim asked, “Maybe if you could just run me
through an operation and explain how the IRS is involved, that would
help.”

“No problem.

“Right now, you gather some evidence to reach probable cause
and then go for arrest and search warrants, right?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Once a judge grants those, you set up an armed arrest op, with
some other agencies and local police?”

“Secret Service, FBI and locals, right.”

“And you go in heavy and make the arrests and do the searches,
right?”

“Right.”

“Well, three changes so far. First, some of the IRS agents
work side by side with your accounting folks to find and build the
evidence for the warrants. Second, when you get the warrants and go
in for the arrest, you've got notice of their receipt of funds, so
you go in twelve hours after that. And third, you've got some armed
IRS agents with you, and they make a second arrest, this one for tax
evasion, of the Al Capone tax, unless they can prove that they paid
that within twelve hours of receipt of the funds. And they won't be
able to do that, because they didn't.

“Then, since the penalty for that kind of tax evasion can range
from the tax due up to immediate seizure of ALL the evaders' assets,
they have the authority right then and there to seize everything.”

“Okayyyyy,” Jim said hesitantly. “I think I get
that.”

“So then, in order to try to get their property back, they have
to go into Tax Court and prove that their activities were NOT
criminal, but the judges will normally delay that trial until the
conclusion of the criminal fraud trial, which is back in your
bailiwick, with the DOJ, as it is now. But now they have an
incentive to get that trial concluded quickly, and your side can ask
for continuance after continuance. Meanwhile, they have no assets;
the IRS has them. And if they do try to go back into the business,
you and the IRS just go after them again and again, using the Al
Capone tax as the basis.

“Now, I know that's an oversimplification, but I think you've
got the idea.”

“Yup, I think I do. And I like it.”

“Now, one warning. Be VERY careful about abusing those powers
you've got. And I'll be telling the IRS director the same thing.
It's a very powerful law, and it'll be tempting to abuse it. Don't.”

“No, sir.”

“Gordy.”

“Gordy.”

“We're on the same side here, Jim.”

“Yes, si- – I mean, you bet, Gordy.”

“Good. Any questions?”

“Let me think.”

“Take your time. Oh, you can also have a DVD of this chat
we've just had, if you want.”

“DVD?”

“Yup. We record all of these conversations. You can take it
with you when you leave and show it to your whole team, or even put
it on the web, if you want. I have no problem if the bad guys see
it; that'll put them on notice.”

“Hmm. I'll show it to my team, but I'll have to think about
putting it out to the public.”

“Well, after your next high-profile case, that should give them
enough notice … I don't mean legal notice, of course. I just
want some alarm bells to go off in that community.”

“Deterrence.”

“Exactly.”

“So what do I do now?”

“I'll be seeing the IRS director later this afternoon, and I'll
have her or one of her people contact you and y'all can figure out
just how you want to coordinate and get this ball rolling …
quickly.”

“Good.”

“Check with Emily on your way out for a copy of the DVD.”

“Will do … oh, I do have one question.”

“Sure.”

“Will we be able to get a budget increase?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Worth asking, though, wasn't it?”

“I guess so,” Jim said hesitantly.

“Ah, but we'll also be making some of the military available to
you when you need extra manpower.”

“But I thought they weren't allowed to operate inside the US to
make arrests. Posse comitatus and all?”

“As of last Friday, that's gone, and they're now allowed, but
with extremely limited authority. Check out Directives 83 through
88.”

“I'll do that.”

“You're a good man, Jim. Keep it going.”

“Will do.”

“And feel free to get in touch with me or Emily, Taylor, Alex
or Maria whenever you have any questions or concerns.”

“Will do … Gordy.”

“Good.” They stood and shook hands. Ferguson headed out
the door and Donne returned to his desk, leaving the unused clipboard
on the coffee table. He continued with the papers in his overflowing
inbox, laying them in one of two piles when he had finished with
them. The smaller pile was for the ones he'd approved, and the far
larger one was for those he'd denied or disapproved.

-28-

Five Months Earlier

Saturday, July 9, 2011

11:10 a.m.

Bonita Springs, FL

Jake arrived early at the Seafood Shack and did a quick but thorough
parking lot check before he parked. He walked through the patio,
noticing nothing that seemed hinky, and went on in to the covered
lanai, sitting (tenderly) at the table at the far end, his back to
the corner, and carefully checking out the half-dozen or so other
early customers. Again, nothing suspicious.