Excerpt
Excerpt
Dark Money: A Jack Bryant Thriller
one
Jack Bryant turned his old red Dodge Ram pickup into the driveway
of the Greek revival mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac in
Westover Hills, an exclusive neighborhood in Fort Worth. He
was amused to see Halloween ghosts and goblins hanging from
the two enormous live oaks that fronted the house. The driveway
led to wrought iron gates that permitted entry to the back. A
heavy set Hispanic man with a Poncho Villa mustache in a security
guard uniform stood beside the driveway near the gates,
clipboard in hand. He was unarmed.
Jack stopped beside him and lowered his window. “Afternoon,
officer. Fine autumn day, isn’t it?”
The guard sized up the old pick-up and the man wearing
jeans and a white T-shirt. “You here to make a delivery?”
Jack reached into his left rear pocket and retrieved his wallet
from which he extracted a laminated card. “No, sir. Name’s
Jackson Douglas Bryant. I’m a lawyer and a Tarrant County
Reserve Deputy. My friend, Walter Frazier, is part of the
Governor’s Protective Detail. Said Governor Lardner is attending
some big shindig here tomorrow night and asked me to lend
a hand in checking the place out before he hits town. My name
should be on that clipboard.”
The guard took the card, studied it closely and handed it back
to Jack. He flipped to the second page. “There it is. Let me open
the gates. Park down at the end of the driveway. You’ll see another
wall with a gate. Walk on through and you’ll find your way
to the ballroom where the party’s being held tomorrow. I’ll radio
Sergeant Frazier to let him know you’re on your way.”
The gates silently opened, and Jack drove slowly to the back,
admiring the house and grounds. The house had to be half a
football field in length. Giant arched windows were spaced every
ten feet with smaller ones above, apparently illuminating the
second floor. To Jack’s right was an eight foot wall. First security
issue. Not very hard to figure out a way to scale it. Fortunately,
cameras and lights were mounted on fifteen foot poles that appeared
to blanket the area.
Jack parked where he was directed and climbed from his
truck. Before shutting the door, he took his cane from behind
the driver’s seat. He flexed his left knee. It felt pretty good. He
might not even need the cane. Still, he usually carried it since he
never knew when he might take a step and have it buckle under
him. Better to carry the cane than to fall on his ass.
He found himself in front of another wall. He was studying it
when Walt came through the gate. Walt was ten years his junior,
six feet, two inches of solid muscle. He bounded across the driveway
to greet Jack. They first shook hands and then bear-hugged
each other like the old army buddies that they were.
Walt pulled back and looked at Jack. “Damn, it’s good to see
you. Been, what, about three years since you were in Austin for
some lawyer meeting?”
“Could have been four. I think I was practicing in Beaumont
then.”
“Still carrying the cane. That injury at the barracks causing
you more problems?”
“No worse, not any better. Every once in a while the damn
knee gives out with no warning. I may have to put an artificial
one in some day. Meantime, the cane does just fine. I’ve got a collection
of about twenty of them in an old whiskey barrel beside
the back door of my house. This one is my Bubba Stick. Picked it
up at a service station a while back.”
Walt’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Follow me into
the garden. There are some tables there. We can sit for a few minutes
while I explain what’s coming down.”
They walked through the gate. Beyond it was a garden, obviously
tended by loving hands. Cobblestone paths wound their
way through fall plantings of Yellow Copper Canyon Daises, Fall
Aster, Apricot-colored Angel’s Trumpet, Mexican Marigold and
the like. Walt led the way to a wrought iron table beside a fish
pond with a fountain in the middle, spraying water from the
mouth of a cherub’s statue. The two friends settled into chairs,
facing the pond.
“This is what the help call the little garden. In a minute we’ll
go around the house to the big garden and pool that fronts the
ballroom. You know whose house this is?”
“No idea.”
“Belongs to Oscar Hale. He and his brother, Edward, are the
two richest men in Fort Worth. Their daddy was one of the old
Texas wildcatters. The two brothers were worth a few hundred
million each, mainly from some old oil holdings down in South
Texas and out around Midland. Life must have been pretty good.
Then it got better about ten years ago when the oil boys started
fracking and horizontal drilling. Counting proven reserves still
in the ground, word is they’re worth eighty billion, well, maybe
just a little less now that we have an oil glut.”
“Edward still around?”
4 Larry D. Thompson
One of the servers in the kitchen had seen the two men and
brought two bottles of water on a silver tray.
“Thanks…Sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Sarah Jane, Walt. My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything
else.”
Walt took a sip from his bottle as Sarah Jane returned to the
house. “Yeah. His legal residence is still in Fort Worth, and I understand
he and his wife vote in this precinct, only they really
live in New York City. He always kept an apartment there. When
the oil money started gushing, he upgraded to a twenty room
penthouse that I hear overlooks Central Park. He’s big in the arts
scene up there, opera, ballet, you name it. He’s also building the
Hale Museum of Fine Art here in Fort Worth.”
Jack nodded his head. “Okay, I know who you’re talking
about. My girlfriend is thrilled about another museum in Fort
Worth. She’s into that kind of thing. When I moved here, she
took me to every damn one of them. The western art in the
Amon Carter museum was really all that interested me. So, the
Hales play with the big boys, and the governor’s coming. From
what I read, Governor Lardner travels all over the world. Never
seems to have a problem. What’s the big deal here?”
“Fundraiser. One of those damn PACs, Super PACs,
Leadership PACs, dark PACs. I can’t keep up with all of them.
Far as I’m concerned, they’re just ways for the super-rich to buy
themselves a politician. Both parties have so many, nobody can
keep track. The one tomorrow night is a 501 (c)(4), something
like that. Name is Stepper Official Strategies, SOS for short. It’s
what they call a dark money organization. It can even take unlimited
money from any damn billionaire, even from big corporations.
Lardner is the keynote speaker, only the money
doesn’t go directly to him. There’s a guy named Kevin O’Connell
who runs SOS and its sister Stepper PAC. It’s all hush-hush.
O’Connell doesn’t even have to disclose who contributes. That
kind of lid on who contributes makes those big corporations
and billionaires very happy. With another presidential election
just over the horizon, I hear he’s expecting pledges in excess of a
hundred million tomorrow.”
“So,” Jack said, “must be that you’ve got a few of those new oil
billionaires coming.”
Walt nodded. “Guest list of two hundred and fifty.”
“What’s your security?”
“I’m the team leader of five detail members. Technically, I’m
called the lead advance, but I call all the shots. You’ve seen they
have a few rent-a-cops. And three off duty Fort Worth officers
are lined up. Pretty standard for an event like this.”
“You expecting trouble?”
“No, but there will be a lot of politicians here along with all
these rich folks, even a United States Senator. Just being cautious.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Another pair of eyes to make sure I haven’t missed anything.
You had an eye for spotting problems in Desert Storm.
Remember that sniper on the road to Dhahran? Since you’re living
in Fort Worth, I wanted you to take a look-see. Let’s head
over to the ballroom.”
The two men walked through the garden and turned the corner
of the house. Jack now understood why where they had been
sitting was called the little garden. The one they walked through
was four times the size of the other with an Olympic size pool in
the middle and a waterfall cascading from one end. Ten double
French doors were open to the autumn air as people swarmed
inside and out to make ready for the party. Jack pointed to the
wall. “You see the problem there, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Easy to climb. I’ll have one of the security guards out
here all evening. And, I have given orders that these doors are to
remain locked. You know what’s beyond the wall?”
Jack turned around slowly to get his bearings. “Yeah. Woods
on the other side, some type of nature preserve. Shady Oaks
Country Club is on down the hill.”
Walt motioned Jack into the ballroom. Jack surveyed it for a
moment. He estimated it was a hundred by forty feet. Carpenters
were constructing a stage at the end farthest away from the main
house, right in front of the ballroom delivery entrance. On the
other end there were three double doors that permitted entry
through a screened and covered breezeway from the house. A
second floor balcony surrounded the ballroom, displaying what
Jack presumed were very expensive paintings. Even from the
main level he recognized a Rembrandt, a Picasso and several
Remington and Russell western classics. He figured that Colby,
his girlfriend, could probably have named most of the rest without
a program.
“You going to be able to secure the balcony? I’m sure that
Hale would like to show off his collection, but I’d recommend
against it.”
“I’ve made that request. That’s all I can do.”
Jack studied the four sides of the balcony, the doors and the
giant windows. “Big room but a helluva lot of people. I’d put
some of your folks up on the balcony. I guess you’ll be with the
governor up on the stage once things kick off.”
“Yeah, me and two of my detail. I’ll have one more at the back
of the room.”
“Thought you said you had five?”
“You’re right, only we always leave the limo driver out by the
governor’s Suburban. It and the follow car will be parked just
out the delivery entrance behind the stage. And there’s one more
thing. This is a Halloween fundraiser. Everyone is required to
come in costume. Masks are encouraged. O’Connell wants to emphasize
that no one has to reveal himself or herself after showing
credentials and the invitation at the front door.”
Jack stared at Walt, not sure what to say at first. “Shit, Walt.
Everybody in Halloween costumes with, I presume, fake guns
and knives and swords. Your metal detectors will be working
overtime at the door.”
Walt shook his head. “No metal detectors. Governor’s a strong
right-to-carry guy. He even demanded that people with a permit
can carry their guns into the state capitol a while back. Someone
has a permit, he wants them to know that guns are okay around
him. Hell, he’ll even be armed himself. I gotta tell you, the whole
set-up has me a little spooked.” He smiled sheepishly. “No pun
intended.”
“It’s Hale’s house. Couldn’t he overrule the governor?”
“Could, but won’t. He believes in the Second Amendment
just as much as the governor. He is going to permit security at
the entrance to ask if a guest has a concealed handgun. That’s it.
We can write down a name, but can’t even ask to see the weapon.”
Jack grabbed a chair from a worker who was wheeling a stack
by the two men and sat in the middle of the ballroom, letting it
all sink in. “Look, I’m not saying anything is going to happen.
Probably everything will go off like clockwork, but you’re looking
at potential trouble. Did you try to talk the governor out
of attending? Couldn’t you have him on closed circuit on a big
screen?”
“I tried. He and his staff wouldn’t hear of it. Staff said there
would be too many big money boys here. He needs to shake their
hands in person. It’s one of the most frustrating parts of this job.
I get into arguments all the time with his staff about the risks
he’s exposing himself to. Waste of time. Security always loses to
politics. Hell, he’s even wearing a Lone Ranger outfit and carrying
six-shooters on a belt around his waist. And he’s making all
of us wear masks and six shooters, too. They’re all real, even the
governor’s. I’ve told the detail to still carry their Sigs in shoulder
holsters just for good measure. I’ve got an extra mask. You want
to attend?”
“Hell, no.” Jack shook his head. “We plaintiff lawyers are
Democrats. I wouldn’t be caught dead around your governor and
all those fat cat Republicans. Give me a call in a couple of days
and let me know how it went.”
