John Taylor had a sterling reputation as a state senator and Congressman. He had served six terms in Washington, D.C. representing the interests of the people of Oklahoma. They all loved and admired his honesty and homespun, Will Rogers-like personality and character. When he announced to the people that he would be backing Wendell Cartwright, well, they just naturally jumped on the bandwagon with him.
The election had been a landslide. The Cartwright/Taylor ticket had garnered ninety-seven percent of the vote and as a result, the former Blackhawk pilot was now in the pilots seat in the most powerful office in the state of Oklahoma.
When he heard that his old pilot, Major Andrew Ryan was practicing law in Tulsa he had called to offer him a judge’s bench in Tahlequah. Ryan had accepted.
So, when his secretary informed him that Judge Ryan was on the phone, he had taken the call without hesitation. He knew it had to be important.
He had no idea just how important until he heard the judge out. He had jumped aboard without hesitation.
Now, two weeks later, he still believed he had done the right thing. The man he owed his life to needed his assistance and he had given it, no questions asked. Without Tommy LeSade, he would have no life, much less a Governor’s seat to sit in.
Now, the judge was back on the line with more news. He assumed that LeSade had been sentenced and it was time to start the ball rolling from his end. He mentally reviewed their last conversation as if it were yesterday.
“Judge Ryan, how you doin’?” Wendell asked, pleasantly.
“I’m fine, Governor. How ‘bout yourself?”
“Fine, fine. Never a dull moment,” he answered.
“How’s Becky and the kids?”
“Oh, they’re fine. The kids are growing like weeds. Becky’s due any day with number four. We’re hoping it’s a boy, of course.”
“Well, good luck,” Ryan replied good naturedly. “Listen Governor, need a favor. It concerns Tommy LeSade. Remember him?”
“How could I ever forget the man who saved my life! Whatever it is, the answer is yes!”
“How about I fly up there so we can discuss it in private. It’s a very serious matter that I don’t feel needs to be put over the wire.”
“Sure, Judge. My door is always open to you. Day or night. Seven days a week. You show up, you’re in. Anytime,” the Governor assured him seriously.
“How about four thirty, five o’clock tomorrow afternoon?”
“That’ll be fine, Judge. I’ll tell Sandy to clear my appointments after four o’clock so we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Alright?”
“That’s fine. I appreciate it Governor.”
“No problem,” the Governor assured him.
“Give Becky and the kids my love. Tell them I’ll see them tomorrow.”
“Alright, Judge - Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
As Wendell remembered the conversation and the meeting of the day following, he still felt sure he was doing the right thing. Tommy LeSade, now Mistri, had saved his and Ryan’s life and in the end had lost his own, in a matter of speaking. So, anything he could do, he would.
“Governor, Mister Chambers is here for for his appointment,” Sandy’s sexy, bourbon and smoke voice, as he thought of it, said over the intercom.
“Very well, show him in,” the Governor replied with a sense of pending revenge.
When John Chambers was seated and sipping his coffee, Governor Cartwright asked him point blank, with no hesitation. “John do you want to be the Warden at Connors?”
“I’d like to some day be warden somewhere. It doesn’t have to be Connors,” he replied after considering the question for a second.
“You know Bill’s retiring?” Wendell said, referring to William Sterling. the current Warden of Connors.
“Yes sir, next month.”
“Correct,” the Governor agreed. “Now, I can place you in his position. But, I need a favor in return.”
“Name it,” Chambers said, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, his expression never betraying the hate he felt for the man behind the desk.
“Here before long a very good, personal friend of mine is going to be sent to Connors. His name is Tommy Mistri. He will need some, shall we say, ‘accommodations’, so to speak. Can you agree to that?”
“I don’t see why not. As long as it isn’t illegal.”
“Oh, I doubt anything illegal will be needed. But, let me tell you about Tommy Mistri...”
For the next hour Wendell told him an abbreviated version of the story. He also outlined the accommodations he would be required to provide during Tommy’s stay in the custody of the State of Oklahoma.
“Now, if you can agree to what I’ve said. I can agree to put you in the Warden’s chair. Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t see why not, Governor. I am concerned, though, that this man may kill or injure one of my staff.”
“Oh, he will. Never doubt that. Tommy is the deadliest man I’ve ever known; with his hands, or his feet! But, I also know that he only kills in self-defense, or the defense of his friends. If you allow your officers or staff to provoke him, they are asking for trouble. So, if they don’t bother him, he won’t bother them. I’ll guarantee it.”
“Well Governor, I’ll take your word on that. So, I guess we have a deal.”
“Good. Tommy will be there in a couple of months or so. I was informed earlier that he has been sentenced, but has been released to tie up some loose ends in his personal life. So, I’m counting on you to take care of him for me. I won’t forget it,” Wendell said, offering his hand across the desk.
“I will, Governor,” Chambers promised as he shook hands. “Tommy will be in good hands. I promise,” he added seriously, feeling as if he were shaking hands with a snake. Or a dead fish.
“Okay Warden, take care of yourself,” Wendell said with a sincere politician’s smile, thinking about how he would love to tear the bastard’s head off and shit down his neck.
“You too, Governor,” Chambers said, then stood, walked to the door and left the office.
When Chambers left, Cartwright sat behind his desk recalling Tommy LeSade. As his memories surfaced a smile spread across his face remembering the young Captain on the day the sniper had saved his and Ryan’s life.
* * * * *
Tommy stood at attention before Judge Ryan. He had never lost his military bearing. His attorney stood beside him shifting restlessly.
“Mister Mistri, in as much as the jury has found you guilty of first degree assault, do you have anything to say in your defense that may sway this court into imposing a lesser sentence than it otherwise will?”
“Your honor,” Tommy said gravely. “It is with great regret that I find myself standing before this court this morning. I have always tried to conduct myself honorably.
“In every situation I have ever found myself, I have tried to bear in mind my abilities and control my impulses. Mister Morgan however, and I do sincerely regret his comatose state, would not let the matter, as presented before the court in detail, rest. He continuously provoked my patience by slashing the tires on my vehicle, painting anti-war slogans on my vehicle, residence and driveway. And finally, made the mistake of attempting to attack me with a Louisville Slugger, with the full intention of causing me serious and permanent bodily injury. I, as any citizen would have, defended myself to the best of my ability. And again, I do sincerely regret the man’s current state.”
“If this court sees fit to take into consideration all the evidence presented concerning my military career, my private life and my business dealings with the public, I believe this court may better serve the public by suspending any sentence imposed upon me. That is all your honor,” Tommy concluded, repeating verbatim what he, the Governor and Judge Ryan had agreed upon two weeks earlier.
Judge Ryan listened intently and solemnly to every word Tommy said, as agreed. Then shifting to one side slightly and straightening his body to sit e
rect, he shuffled the papers around on his bench in deep thought. Or so it appeared to the public.
“Mister Mistri, this court appreciates your forthrightness and candor in this grave matter before the court. However, assault that leaves another human being in a vegetative state can hardly be taken lightly, even if by accident."
This court would assume that someone with your training and ability could have chosen another, less violent, way of handling your problem with Mister Morgan. That is what the police are for...”
“I ain’t no rat!” Tommy interrupted angrily. “The police would be the last people on earth I would call for assistance...”
“Order, Mister Mistri. Or I’ll find you in contempt!” Judge Ryan shouted. Then continued after a few seconds of silence. He and Tommy stared defiantly into each other’s eyes. Then Ryan continued, “You chose to leave the police out of this equation and chose to handle it on your own. As a result of your decision a man lies in a comatose state and may never recover. Even if it was accidental, as you claim, he is no less clinging to life by a thread. And should he die as a result of this assault, you shall be changed with his murder.
“Therefore the court sees no alternative, if it is to encourage respect for the law and deterrence against citizens taking the law into their own hands, but to sentence you to the maximum allowable by law. Therefore, this court sentences you Mister Mistri, to serve five years in the Department of Corrections for the State of Oklahoma at McAlester and recommend that you serve your sentence at the Connors Unit.
“You are hereby remanded to the Sheriff’s office of Cherokee County to await transportation to that facility at their convenience.
“Now,” Judge Ryan continued, looking at some other papers. “We have some other business to conclude here today concerning Mister Mistri’s arrest. Is the court to assume that the parties involved have reached a mutual agreement?”
“We have, Your Honor,” the District Attorney said as he stood up behind the prosecutor’s table.
“Would you care to enlighten the court as to the terms of this ‘mutual agreement’, Mister Prosecutor?” Ryan asked sarcastically, as if he knew in advance that Tommy was going to get the short end of the stick, again.
“Your Honor,” the Prosecutor said. “In light of a certain video tape recording, the Sheriff’s Office and the Prosecutor’s Office feel that a settlement of...ten thousand dollars...”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Tommy’ defense counsel erupted, jumping angrily to his feet. “Ten thousand dollars was not the agreed upon settlement!” he added in exasperated disbelief.
“What do you believe it to be, Mister Bass?” Ryan asked.
“Your Honor, the agreed upon settlement was set at seventy five thousand dollars, not a paltry ten! That’s ridiculous considering the near fatal beating my client endured, while being handcuffed and prone on the floor, at the hands of the Sheriff’s Deputies!”
“Mister Prosecutor, is that amount correct?” Ryan asked.
“Originally, Your Honor. But, we have since been informed that the Sheriff’s Department can only afford ten thousand dollars.”
Ryan studied the Prosecutor in total disbelief that he would try such a stunt in his courtroom before he said, “Mister Prosecutor, in my courtroom I seek only two things; the truth and justice. Everything else is to be kept outside these four walls. I will not tolerate misconduct by officers of the court. I will not tolerate trickery or deception to any degree. It will absolutely not be tolerated!
“I will take a fifteen minute recess and review this tape you mentioned. I will allow two people from the defense and two people from the prosecution to view it with me. Among the five viewers we will decide the settlement; sort of an arbitration committee. Our decision will be final, beyond appeal. Now, pick two people, yourselves excluded. Defense, pick two, yourselves excluded, and we will be back in fifteen minutes or so.”
There was a few minutes of confused chaos as their representatives were chosen. Their elected representatives gathered in a group before the bench. They looked up at the judge expectantly.
“Gentlemen and Lady, please join me in my chambers,” Ryan said, as he rose, turned and in a swirl of black silk robes entered his chambers. The four people chosen to join him followed.
The courtroom remained semi-silent for the next fifteen minutes. The only sounds above the air-conditioning blowers was whispered conversation and the rustle of papers. It was almost as if a time bomb was ticking away the seconds one by one. Most of the conversations were not about the case at bar.
Exactly twenty-five minutes later the door of the Judge’s Chambers opened and the five people filed out. The judge took his seat and the four others resumed their seats. Judge Ryan cleared his throat and began, “After reviewing the tape in question. We find that at all times Mister Mistri conducted himself with both courtesy and respect toward the deputies. We also concluded that he was both candid and honest with them. We further found that the officers in question provoked the incident in a bullying manner with both threatened and implied aggression.
“Furthermore, after the initial incident was concluded and Mister Mistri was on the floor and handcuffed, and in custody, other officers from the Sheriff’s Department launched an additional attack on Mister Mistri. This assault was a direct violation of Mister Mistri’s Civil and several Constitutional Rights as well, and will not go unpunished.
“Therefore, we concluded that in the interests of justice and to deter future repeat performances by deputies of the Sheriff’s Department, an award of one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars is adequate. There is no appeal, as per our agreement. And the funds shall be transferred to Mister Mistri by close of business today. Failure to satisfy this order will attach an additional ten thousand dollars a day for each day this award goes unsettled.
“This court is in recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Court adjourned!” Ryan said, as he stood, whacked his gavel on the bench and then turned to enter his chambers.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon. By three o’clock that afternoon one hundred and fifty thousand dollars had been transferred into Tommy’s bank account, just down the street.
Judge Ryan gave explicit orders to the Sheriff in person concerning Tommy Mistri’s transfer to McAlester. The Sheriff then relayed them to the deputy assigned to transport Tommy to prison; to wit: if one hair on his body was disturbed en route to prison, then, the deputy could count on being the next prisoner to be transported in that direction. There was no guarantee that he would make the trip in one piece! Or even three! Leave Tommy Mistri alone!
The entire ride to McAlester was made in silence. Tommy and the Sheriff’s Office were no longer on speaking terms. It was very personal. And no one minded in the least. That was just the way it was. Actually, the way they preferred it.
Tommy spent his time on the ride thinking about the past five years and the mental hell he had gone through. The heart shattering news that his Angel, Lindsey, had been killed by a sniper’s bullet. That bullet, unknown to the world, had started Major Tommy LeSade, U.S.A. Ret., on a mission of revenge, and the world would be a far different place when the debts were paid and the dust settled.
Colonel Austin Lake’s email informing him that, quote: ‘no such secret mission had ever been authorized by the U.S. Government,’ unquote. And that Cramer had disappeared. Assumed killed, or captured and then killed. Lindsey Tremmel had been investigating. General Hawk had retired and gone back to the states. Reportedly living large in Malibu. The unit had suffered heavy losses. No ‘old timers’ left, just new recruits. Hope you’ve recovered. Stay in touch. Take care.
Later emails confirmed all his worse fears. Lindsey had been killed by a NATO round; 5.56mm. Cramer had been seen in Pakistan. Hawk a billionaire - never on military retirement.
Tommy had started his own clandestine investigation on Hawk. He figured there was only one way a one star general could become a billionaire overnight; steal it!
&nbs
p; His investigation had led him through a world wide web investigation. It seemed Hawk was getting millions from over two-hundred foreign banks in which he held accounts.
Tommy had then set about writing a software program to back track all the banking transactions for the past two years on Hawk. He had been amazed that they had all began their journey in Pakistan and from one single account held by a corporation called CLEAN SWEEP. The name of the mission he was sent on.
Learning this Tommy had then began writing his program to ‘sweep clean’ CLEAN SWEEP and General Hawk. Thus, taking their ill gotten gains as retribution for them taking his Angel, his career and his peace of mind.
He had kept Judge Ryan fully informed of his discoveries and the Judge had helped him design a fool-proof alibi for himself. If he was in prison at the time he could have had nothing to do with the disappearance of hundreds of billions of dollars in foreign banks, no matter what the investigation discovered in the end.
Tommy did not tell the Judge about the other features of the program. Such as, it would install back doors in every major government computer system in the world, undetected. It repaired its infiltration as it entered. It did not disturb, in any way, the existing programs and it would lay dormant until the last word of the code was entered, that no one on earth could decode except him. And why, after all the hard work he had invested, would he want to do that?
Now, he had to figure a way onto a web connected computer in prison, in less than one year. It would be a daunting task as far as he knew. Prisoners were not allowed anywhere close to ‘online’ computers. It was true some prisons had computer programs for prisoners. But, were they connected? He didn’t know. But, he would soon find out.
The slowing and breaking of the car brought him back to the present.
They had arrived at the state prison in McAlester. He assumed it was McAlester. It was hard to tell, they were still out in the countryside, not in the town per se.
In the distance up the road they traveled, he saw the razor wire strewn fences and knew that he was about to enter a totally foreign world. He was mentally prepared for what he was about to face. He hoped.