The Voting Machine

Eavesdropping

It was a terrible feeling to be eavesdropping on a private conversation between two murdered men. When I found out David and Zeke were dead, it changed the way I thought about them. Now this recording transformed my image of both men once more.

In life, both men seemed so determined, as if age, wisdom, and experience led them to complete certainty in their convictions.

On the tape, both men sounded confused. Was it possible we really didn't learn all that much with age? Was wisdom really an illusion? Would life seem as chaotic and meaningless when I was seventy as it did when I was seventeen?

Zeke, the rich, right-wing tough guy was weeping quietly on the tape like the frightened mother of a missing baby. David, the fearless, uncompromising liberal seemed tired and irritable as he deflected Zeke's questions about the secret list.

I thought about David's final request to Zeke. He wanted his lifelong political adversary to remember his kindness. He was preparing for his own death by trying to ensure he would live on in the memories of other people, just like Gina.

It was as if David could distribute little pieces of his soul, which would remain intact long after his body had decomposed into dust.

"Now I get your question about the list," I said to Special Agent in Charge Stevens.

"That's right," he said. "You can tell David's referring to something very specific. Not a random list of voters from your database. He talks about Shahabi being on the list. He mentions someone else, someone close to Zeke."

"Does he mention Zeke's contact by name?"

"We only know it's someone he loves."

"A girlfriend?"

Stevens shrugged.

"We believe David found a group of people who were connected to this. A plot to attack the election takes months to plan. But it can't happen too far in advance. It's not like skyscrapers, airports, or train stations where the target is there forever. The infrastructure around a national election only comes together every few years for a very small window of time. That's why it's been so hard for the FBI to crack election crimes in the past. Elections are short term events and every single one happens under different conditions."

"So you think David had discovered a ring of people tied to his own murder? You think these people are behind a plot to disrupt the vote?"

"Nobody was closer to all the different aspects of elections here in Las Vegas. David knew the organizations, he knew the local donors, he knew the officials from the Secretary of State's office, he knew the volunteers who checked-in voters at the polling centers."

"Well if that's your theory, that David was investigating some conspiracy, then why didn't he go to the police?"

"Obviously, we don't know," Stevens said. "You can hear on the tape he was pretty scared. He didn't trust e-mail or computers. He thought someone would find out about his research project. David was an ex-hippie. The FBI even had a file on him during the Vietnam War. In his younger days, he was pretty paranoid about law enforcement. Maybe he didn't trust the police. Maybe he felt like he needed to figure this out on his own."

"I am not sure who you are expecting to be on this list," I said. "If Islamic terrorists are behind this, it should be all Arab names, right? Yet David says on the tape that Shahabi is the only Muslim on the list."

"If the Messengers of God are behind this, they probably understood that Middle Eastern operatives would draw too much attention. So they might use American citizens, people with names and faces that wouldn't attract suspicion. The people might not even know that they were a part of the plot."

"But you still think this is some Middle Eastern terrorist cell?"

"That's not the only possibility. We told you earlier about the theory around Los Empresarios, the drug cartel. It could be a combination of different organizations that are united in their goal of damaging this country and our voting system."

"Well, I am sorry," I said. "David never told me about any list of names. He could be very secretive sometimes. He talked about being an open book but there were some things he would take great effort to hide."

"We realize that," Stevens said. "Still, we have to ask you different things because we believe he trusted you as one of his closest confidants."

'You can keep asking me whatever you want."

Stevens smiled and squinted, stretching the shape of the scar on his forehead. I was still curious what happened to him. I had decided it wasn't a gunshot wound. And it didn't have the sharp contours of a knife cut. I concluded that he must have been injured in some kind of explosion.

"Temo, you must be starving," Stevens said.

I was.

He turned to Weisbein. "Why don't you go get our guest something to eat? Maybe a pizza and a salad?"

Weisbein left the room on his assignment. The special agent in charge gave me a hard stare.

"Temo, did David ever mention the name Shiro?"

"Shiro? Is that a person's name?" I said. It was so out of the blue.

"I think so," he replied. Stevens was fishing.

"First name? Last name? Man? Woman?"

Stevens shook his head. "We're not sure."

"Sorry, David never told me about someone named Shiro."

Stevens frowned and the scar changed shape again, like a cloud getting reshaped constantly by the forces of his emotions. "Your lunch will be here shortly," he said and then he left the room.