The Saylor Document

By Richard Pickard

For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every foul practice. James 3:14-16

Told through the observant eyes of White House Secret Service Agent Bill Jarnosky, and renowned investigative researcher Robert Saylor, this page-turning suspense thriller parallels the real world of conspiracy, greed, and co

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Dec 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781685157401

Richard Pickard

Richard Pickard is a crime analyst who has worked in the public sector for over 30 years. His knowledge of criminal behavior has been honed by his work in analyzing crime patterns and testifying in hundreds of civil cases.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE WHITE HOUSE

A

week later, from his meeting with Drake Lazaro and the cartel members, Senator Abel is sitting in a large waiting area outside the Oval Office. Abel is getting agitated for having to wait such a long time. Finally, the door to the Oval Office opens. Alice Rogers is filling in for the president's personal assistant, who has the day off. She comes out and greets the senator.

Senator Abel, will you please sign the presidential logbook?

Abel looks at Rogers and eyes her charm and beauty.

I haven’t seen you before, my dear.

No, senator, I am just filling in for Bea today. She has the day off for family matters.

Well, if I can ever do anything for you, please call me.

Abel gives her a long stare.

Alice feels like a snake has just crawled under her skin. She shifts a bit in her stance and then walks over to her desk. She feels uncomfortable as Abel continues to stare at her. She composes herself and notifies the president on the intercom that Senator Abel is waiting.

She then walks him to the Oval Office door and opens it.

As Abel walks into the Oval Office, he sees the president staring at him curiously.

What brings you here so early and without an appointment?

The president is seated in his chair and motions Abel to have a seat in front of his desk.

Abel does not waste any time.

Mr. President, as you know, my committee is charged with investigating environmental concerns and in the review of regulations regarding many of our largest campaign contributors. As a part of my responsibility, my office receives confidential data from various agencies that must be approved before venting to the public. After much deliberation, my committee feels that the data stored under the responsibility of the Office of the Surgeon General needs to be moved to our control so that it is readily available to us when we have certain committee hearings. It's a small matter but needs your approval. The actual data will remain in the computer banks of the surgeon general but would be under my committee's responsibility.

President Baine is curious about this seemingly small matter that brings Abel to see him without an appointment.

What is the data that you want under your control, senator?

The state-by-state detail reports of cancer cases.

Why is that data so important to you that you had to see me without an appointment?

Well, Mr. President, I think it is very important and especially to our major contributors.

You mentioned large contributors. Who are these large contributors you are concerned about, senator?

Mr. President, the chemical PACs, of course. But they are not really concerned. That was a poor choice of words on my behalf. My committee wants to make sure that only factual data can be released to the public so as not to cause them economic harm. That's all, Mr. President. Abel ends with a smile.

He is trying to assure the president that he is only interested in protecting this information from falling into the wrong hands. That misinformation could cause great harm to this great bunch of political supporters.

Senator Abel is spinning his web and does not divulge the true nature of his request.

The senator concludes by saying, Mr. President, you know that I am briefed on matters of national security, and there has never been a leak pointing to me or anyone on my staff. When you approve moving this data under my committee, I can assure you that it will be protected, and at the same time, allow complete access to the surgeon general and anyone he so authorizes. Mr. President, this is important to the chemical people that support our party, and they would be very generous in their continued political support of your agenda and re-election if you would agree to my request.

He has some convincing arguments, but the president is not buying into it.

President Baine is suspicious of Abel and is not in the mood to sign an executive order giving control to Abel and his powerful friends, and he just says, No.

Baine has never liked Abel. Abel is always trying to increase his power at the expense of others. Baine knows that Abel is up to something but would rather not try and figure it out. He just wants him out of his office.

Look, senator, I have more important things to do than to give you more control over data your friends in the chemical business want to keep private. The information stays where it is. If there is nothing else, then you can walk yourself out the same door you came in.

President Baine shows his agitation openly in his choice of words.

Abel is not giving up. Mr. President, you are aware of the large campaign contributions made to your campaign from our chemical friends. They would be very appreciative if you would grant this small favor.

Forget it, Abel. I’m not going to do it, says the president in a firm manner.

Abel continues in a friendly but firm voice, Well, Mr. President, there are some very powerful people that feel the same way I do, and it would be better for you and your re-election if you sign that executive order. If you don’t, well, you never know what could happen.

A veiled threat slips out.

President Baine leans back in his chair and looks sternly at Abel. He did not miss the threat.

Abel presses on. Look, Mr. President, this is a very small favor to people who have spent millions getting you elected. Let's not give them a reason to withhold their campaign contributions.

Look, senator, the answer is still no. The cancer data is fine, just where it is. It belongs under the surgeon general. Now, please excuse yourself.

Abel is feeling the invisible eyes of the chemical bosses on his neck.

Mr. President, if you don’t do this small favor, you and your family could pay the consequences.

The president's eyes narrow at this remark. What in hell? Consequences? To my family?

Baine is incredulous. Are you threatening my family and me if I don’t agree to sign an executive order?

The president is standing up now, and he is staring directly down at Abel, who is still seated.

I don’t know what's up your sleeve, senator, but you have worn out your welcome here.

Abel now stands up and leans a bit forward over the president's desk, and stares hard back at the president. Mr. President, you don’t need enemies.

The president is outraged. Get out of my office, senator, before I have you thrown out! No one threatens my family or me with consequences. No one, do you understand?

I will ask you one more time, Mr. President, says Abel calmly. Will you sign an executive order, transferring the data of the surgeon general to me?

President Baine is staring at Abel as he comes around from behind his desk. He walks over to the Oval Office door and opens it, and in a loud voice shouts, Get your ass out of this office before I have you thrown out. Our conversation is over.

Alice Rogers hears the president shouting at Abel and turns around to see what is going on.

Abel walks towards the door and stops just short of the president. He leans over and whispers, You will regret this, and walks out.

CHAPTER 2

B

ob Saylor's letter arrives in the mail department along with thousands of others received daily. The mail boy dutifully looks it over and puts it in a basket that will be delivered to the 5th floor.

Since it was just before Columbus Day, a national government holiday, a sparse group of mainly temporary fill-ins were there to re-direct the mail to their final destinations. Most of the full-time staff left at noon on Friday to take advantage of this three-day holiday.

Saylor's letter is opened by Rhonda, a young temporary worker. After reading it quickly, she turns and calls out to her supervisor, who has a desk in the corner about 20 feet from her. Hey, Miss Dickson. Where do I send a letter wanting information about people diagnosed with cancer?

Miss Dickson is swamped with her own job. She is on the phone while handing out assignments to subordinates and new temporary workers standing around her desk. She hears the question but is too busy to respond.

Rhonda raises her voice. MISS DICKSON, WHERE DO I SEND. She is cut off in mid-stream. Yeah, yeah, yeah…I heard you…just forward it to that researcher guy in operations. Ted Nichol or Ted Nickel. just send it over.

OK, Miss Dickson. Thank you, she says with a disrespectful smirk.

The research operations area is mostly empty of full-time people. Those there are extremely busy and trying to meet their own deadlines before their bosses leave for the holiday.

Twenty-year-old Mitch, the internal mail boy, enters Ted Nichol's office and sees his disarrayed desk. Ted is the coordinator who distributes requests for information to get filled. Mitch grabs the bag of letters and dumps them on the desk.

Damn it, Mitch. How many times have I told you to leave the letters in the bag and not dump them on my desk?

Oh, yeah. Sorry, Mr. Nichol. I forgot. Won’t happen again, I promise.

That's what you always say. Thanks for nothing, comes Ted's agitated reply. Ted gathers up the letters and places them on a stack of other letters requesting information. Ted hates his job, and for the last 11 years, no promotion or job he applied for was given to him. He is an unhappy man that is stuck in a no-growth job. His frustration flares up into frequent outbursts throughout the workday. His exceptionally bad mood today is the result of having to work through the holiday. His request to be off to enjoy the holiday was rejected by his boss. He thinks to himself, I hate this job and everyone here!

Just then, Brenda, the new temp, arrives and stands in the doorway of Ted's office. Hi there, I’m Brenda. When Ted looks up, he can hardly believe his eyes.

She is a sight to behold. Brenda is twenty-something and has a pink tight-fitting tank top, a pink mini skirt, pink fingernails, and pink high-heeled shoes. The outfit, although loud, reveals her hourglass shape.

You’re my new temp? comes the surprising question from Ted.

Yeah, honey, you are a very lucky man. This beautiful package before your eyes is ready to work on whatever you need me to do. Brenda gives Ted a broad smile and a wink, and a little provocative wiggle for emphasis.

Ted looks at her in disbelief for a second. He thinks about sending her back from where she came from but finally says, Oh, what the hell. It's about time someone showed up. Your desk is over there. And you can start by getting rid of all these requests for information. He hands her the stack of mail that has been accumulating on his desk.

Sure, no problem, sweetie, comes her reply. Brenda takes the stack and walks slowly and seductively to her workstation. She rotates her hips to the maximum as she walks to her desk. Ted can’t help but notice.

Brenda stops just short of her desk and bends over just a little to give Ted a little more show and puts the stack of letters gently down.

Her short miniskirt rides up just enough. She turns her head back to catch Ted looking at her backside. She smiles at him. Ted sees her smiling at him and says, Quit that and go to work.

Brenda lets out a little giggle and proceeds to sit down at her desk.

Then, matter-of-factly, she says, You know I would have been here earlier, but my dog died this morning, and I had to bury her.

What? Your dog died? This catches Ted off guard. The embarrassment of her catching him looking at her booty forces him to reply. Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. How did your dog die?

Well, sweetie, she died from a fall from my balcony window.

This surprises Ted. Really? Your dog accidentally fell through the window?

Well, not really. She kinda committed assisted suicide.

Assisted suicide? repeats Ted quizzically. What do you mean?

"Well, I warned the dear little thing to stop pooping in my apartment. This morning when I got dressed and put on these VERY shoes, what do you think my toes found themselves wiggling in? That's right, PRINCESS POOP. So, I grabbed Princess and threw her little ass out the window of my balcony."

Ted shakes his head in disbelief. You threw your dog out the window? Geez, Louise, that's a shitty thing to do to a dumb animal.

You’re right about the shitty and dumb part, sweetie, comes her snappy reply.

Ted just rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Just then, the vision of her toes in dog poop causes a little private laughter to escape his lips.

Brenda looks his way and wonders what he is giggling about. She shrugs her shoulders and pulls her chair close to her computer terminal and begins to look through the stack of mail. She brought along her iPod and puts in her earbuds. As she opens the mail, she begins to sing a little, Who let the dogs out…who, who, who, who let the dogs out.

Ted thinks, What a piece of work. Now I have to listen to her singing!

Ted's mood, already bad, grows worse at this new agitation. Of course, Brenda is oblivious and begins to sway from side to side as the music moves her. She pulls out her pink reading glasses, and since Saylor's letter is on the top of the pile, she reads it first.

Let's see what this guy wants. Reports of cancer by city…geez…that's a lot of cities he wants.

Brenda avoids work whenever she can and wonders how she can get this done quickly.

She looks over to Ted and pulls one of the earpieces out of her ear, and says, Hey sweetie, this guy wants cancer by certain cities and certain states. That's a lot of work to get all that stuff. Do I just print the information for each state and city and send it to him? This is gonna take hours.

Ted's mood is almost to the breaking point. With anger in his voice, he replies, Even for a temp, you ask dumb questions. It takes too much damn time to print a state-by-state and city-by-city report. Just dump the whole damn thing onto CDs and send it. The guy can ferret out the information he needs. Geez, don’t you temps know anything?

Ted is mad, and Brenda does not like the way he shouted at her and misses the last thing Ted said. Don’t forget to check the box for Public Record Request on your computer. It is very important!

She puts the earpiece back in and begins singing to herself again.

What a grouch, she thought. Sorry sweetie, just trying to do my job, comes Brenda's reply. With another line of who let the dogs out, she dutifully turns to her computer screen to access the cancer database. Sweetie, do I single-click or double-click my mouse for the master files?

Ted ignores her. He thinks to himself, If she asks me one more thing, I will avenge the death of her dog by throwing her ass out the window.

Never mind, sweetie, I got it, comes a cheerful response.

But in her haste, when the menu screen comes alive, she checks the Master File Internal box instead of the Public Records Request box. A code access screen pops up asking for her security clearance number. This was a built-in security validation so that unauthorized personnel could not access specific files. Brenda looks at the screen for a second and thinks to herself, Well, well, it's you again. I remember you.

She worked as a temp before in various government offices and found that most full-time workers kept such codes on a sheet of paper in their desks. So, Brenda opens the right top desk draw, and sure enough, there is a sheet of paper with various numbers written on it. As Brenda suspected, the full-time data clerk had dutifully written down all the needed codes before going on holiday. Although this is strictly against policy, she has discovered that most full-timers keep the codes handy on sheets of paper.

There it is, comes Brenda's happy reply. She types in the numbers and is immediately given access to the restricted data.

In front of her are all the detailed records of every cancer case reported throughout the United States over the past 10 years

After a few clicks on her mouse, she begins copying the data onto CDs. Within 40 minutes, she has downloaded the entire master database for the entire United States. After she downloads the last CD, a screen pops up, which says, "Your RC600C report is complete. A copy must be sent to the Office of Senator Harry Abel."

"Hey sweetie, how do I send this RC600C report to Senator Abel?" asks Brenda.

Ted is beyond control now. His patience is at an end. His agitation is full-blown. He turns to the pink lady and says, LOOK, PINK LADY! Didn’t they teach you anything? Do you want me to do your job, too? You probably can’t find your butt with both hands without directions. Geez. Don’t send the whole file. Just send the first-page information to the damn print file. To printer S4. That's the senator's office printer.

Because of Ted's anger, it never dawns on him that the RC600C is a highly restricted file and could only be sent to a few people in the government. Brenda gives him a dirty look and says sarcastically, I bet you don’t get along with women, do you, sweetie?

CHAPTER 3

T

he downtown office of Bob Saylor showcases his highly acclaimed books and the many awards received on environmental and health issues in the U.S. He and his wife Katie live in Cypress, Texas, which is 20 miles to the northwest of Houston, Texas. The area has a rural feel, although it is filled with your typical urban stores and restaurants. Their large and spacious one-story house, nestled along with huge pine trees, dominates the other houses in the cul-de-sac. It stands out with its white brick, red clay roofing, and well-kept yard. The overall design has a Spanish flavor to it. Once inside, a wonderful clean fragrance is evident in each room. Natural light illuminates the rooms through sparkling clean windows. The Spanish tile floors in the entryway give way to beautiful oak floors in the living room. A large kitchen with oak cabinets lining the walls provides a warm feeling of home. Katie and Bob are excellent gourmet Chefs and use their kitchen often to prepare delicious meals. One only has to see the well-worn Wolfgang Puck cookware hanging down from the center kitchen island as proof of their love of cooking.

They decided to live in this area to avoid the noise emanating from the freeways and the pollution caused by the large number of chemicals plants located along the Intracoastal Waterway on the eastern side of the county. The Canal, as it is affectionately called by locals, is a 3,000-mile waterway along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts of the United States. Some lengths consist of natural inlets, salt-water rivers, bays, and sounds; others are man-made canals. It provides a navigable route along its length without many of the hazards of open sea travel. The huge Port of Houston, along with the Canal, provides the ingredients to make this a world-class shipping area with hundreds of chemical plants lining both sides of the Canal.

A high-profile environmental group called POE, short for Protectors of the Earth, recently hired Saylor. Cancer cases in the United States have increased dramatically especially along the Canal areas. POE wants to know if there is a cause and effect in those cities, which have large chemical companies operating in proximity to the Canal. And, of course, such companies are abundant all along the Gulf Coast area.

POE is looking for a provable statistical link between people living near these large chemical companies along the Gulf Coast and the increase in reported cancer cases. The research into a possible connection would be valuable to POE and further their cause in the upcoming Congressional hearing scheduled on the subject in the Fall of the following year. They need someone with high national exposure, like Bob Saylor, to gather the data and assemble it into a report that focuses on this issue. When POE offered him the job, he took it with enthusiasm.

Saylor was recently nominated for the Pulitzer Prize for his highly regarded work entitled Environmental Health Is Not Optional. His hiring by POE to research the increases in cancer along the Canal would add the needed credibility to the group's cause if he can find a provable link. The limited research to date has suggested a link, but more detailed data is needed.

Saylor has also won several national awards for research into environmental issues. His well-documented reports aided in the legislation leading to the cleanup of many toxic waste sites across America. He knows the high stakes-poker involved and the amount of money big corporations spend on politicians to buy their silence. He is also especially knowledgeable about the danger involved in bringing high-profile issues to light regarding big business. At 56 years old, he has seen a number of his colleagues come up short against big business. Some lost their jobs, and a few lost their lives in suspicious accidents. Nothing was found by investigators to prove murder in these mysterious deaths, but his instincts told him otherwise.

Saylor's wife, Katie, is 20 years younger. At 36 years old, Katie is very supportive of her husband's work. She is deeply involved in political lobbying to protect the environment. She regularly appears on major news programs, advocating legislation that positively impacts the environment. Her many articles about corrupt politicians in Newsweek, Health, Earthvision, and others, give her great influence across America. Her beautifully toned body is the result of her daily workouts. Each morning at 5am, she wakes, dresses in her workout clothes, and puts in 1 hour of cardio. After a quick shower, she often jumps back in bed to snuggle with her husband until he wakes up. She relishes these intimate moments and the sensual feel of their bare skin together. This morning, she crawls into bed quietly and snuggles up close to her sleepy husband. She feels his warmth and closes her eyes. Bob begins to wake up and turns around to greet his wife with a good morning kiss and hug. She lets her hand rest on his chest for a moment. Then slowly moves it down further. Her boldness eventually rewards both of them with soft and gentle lovemaking.

The afterglow reflects on Katie. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is still a bit labored. A smile crosses her lips as her body continues to feel the small after-shocks. She feels secure in Bob's arms and loves the way Bob cuddles with her after their lovemaking.

Katie whispers in his ear, Mmmm… That was good, darling. Bob looks at his beautiful wife and kisses her softly on the lips. I love the way you wake me up, Katie. Me too, comes Katie's mischievous reply.

Katie belongs to many influential groups around Washington who are friends of the earth. They are made up of both members in Congress and in the News media. These give her huge support on environmental issues. Katie is someone that politicians better not cross. If you did, she could and would make their political life quite miserable. Many politicians know of her dedication and hard-driving, no-nonsense approach and respectfully stay out of her way. Those who don’t usually find themselves named in newspaper articles in non-endearing terms. Katie earned a reputation for facts and friends in high