The Yellow Rose of Texas Ch. 01

"Anyway..." Cindy said, looking at my desk, "what are you working on, if I may ask?"

"You may, and I am working on the Sharples code." I said, taking out the anti-bugging device and activating it. "I'm thinking of what the first key might be."

"First key?" asked Cindy.

"Yes." I said, then began lecturing: "In general, cryptography that is of use to the likes of you and me falls into one of two categories. The first is what I'll call the 'one time pad'. That's a code transposition key that is used only one time, ever. The U.S. Government does things like record sounds of the wind in the upper atmosphere, which are about as random and unreproducible as one can get, and they make their keys out of that. One-time pads are virtually uncrackable; one would have to have the key to decode it. Once all copies of the key are destroyed, that's that."

"The second category," I said, "is what PGP (pretty good privacy) and two-tier codes are based upon. I saw lectures of this, one a non-calculus-based briefing, and the other a deeper, calculus-based treatment. There are two layers of encryption. One is done by the 'public' key, which could literally be printed in the newspaper. The second key is the 'private' key, which both sender and receiver have to have. Both are required to decrypt the code fully. One other way to say it is that the public key 'locks' the box, and the private key is required to 'unlock' it."

"We know that Westboro and Julie Newton were using a form of this, as we captured an app from her cellphone." I continued. "It was a digital variation of the 'Porlock' method described in Conan Doyle's The Valley of Fear: a book and a page were used to transpose words into numbers. The application's book storage was the private key, which was transmitted as part of the code. Satellite dishes work similarly: The digital stream contains the ID of the devices that are allowed to decrypt the signal with the key all the receivers have. Stated another way: I could send you a message and Teresa that same message, but your private keys would be different even though the public key is the same."

"So you hope that Sharples used that method instead of the one-time pad method." Cindy said.

"Oh, I'm sure he did do that." I said. "Sharples wants me to decode this, but he didn't want Westboro or Newton to be able to do it if they somehow got wind of this, nor the Oldeeds people, who I suspect Sharples's information will throw under the bus. Ergo, there has to be some key that he knows -I- could find, but others couldn't so easily."

"Something Police-related." Cindy said.

"Except that Julie Newton was a Detective here, as well." I said. "Also remember that this code was in Tim Burris's safe room. I suspect his parents, at least his father, left it there. So either they gave the code to Sharples and he just re-transmitted it to me via that letter, or they both had it and left it where we the Police might find it, but even if others did find it, it would be of no value to them."

"One other thing I found out," I said, "Tim Burris's father Thomas was a doctor, and one reason he became a doctor was because his mother had been struck blind by an illness... maybe Rubella. That would explain the Braille... Dr. Burris would probably have known or been familiar with Braille if his mother was using it."

"Cool." said Cindy. "If you do figure it out, what do you think you're going to find? Sharples could not have left this anywhere where someone could accidentally find it."

"True." I said. "Let me go you one further. Put yourself in his position. You need to hide something where it can't be stumbled upon, but can sit safely, even while you are in prison or dead. You don't even want to trust a lawyer with it. What would you do?"

"Well," Cindy says, "that eliminates hiding anything in his house, which might be sold off and the contents discovered. Ditto that for any car he owns. He could leave things with a lawyer, but you just said to not consider that. So the only thing I can think of is a safe deposit box at a bank, or hidden here in the Headquarters somewhere. Maybe in the Evidence Rooms?"

"Someone could stumble on it here at Headquarters." I said. "Sharples couldn't seal things like you or I could. I like your idea of a safe deposit box."

"So this code will lead you to where the key to the box is." Cindy exclaimed, getting a bit excited.

"Except hiding a key has the same problem as hiding the information." I said.

"Damn! that's right. Maybe a car left in a parking garage?" Cindy asked.

"Except in this day and age of Islamist Terrorism, things like that are investigated. Ditto that for bus station lockers."

"Okay, I give up. What do you think?"

"Oh, you got it right." I said. "Safe deposit box. Lawyer makes sure the bank gets paid every year, and it sits there. Maybe the fees are paid out of a trust. Lawyer has client-attorney privilege, as well; he cannot be forced to give up the information."

"But... you just said about the key..." Cindy said.

"Ahhhhh." I said. "And that is what Sharples knew. We are Police Officers. And I am the Police Commander. If we show probable cause to get a warrant, we don't need the key... we can have the lock drilled!"

"Ohhhh... yeah, that's true." Cindy said. "But if Newton had figured it out..."

"That's just it." I said. "She could not get a warrant without Paulina or someone picking up the phone and calling me and saying 'Why is your Detective trying to get a warrant for a safe deposit box without you or the Chief signing off on it?'. And of course I was watching Newton like a hawk back in those days."

"Okay, here's another sticking point, if I may act as your foil on this." Cindy said.

"That's why we're talking about it; you help me clarify things." I replied.

"Glad to know I'm useful." she said acerbically. "Anyway, it's very doubtful Tim Burris or his father even knew Julie Newton. And Sharples likely didn't until he got here, which was more recent than when Tim's parents put that code in Braille in the safe room."

"True." I said. "That assumes it was Tim Burris's parents that put the code in the safe room, but let's just say it was them that did. So what happened?"

Cindy thought about it. Then she started meditating on it. Whatever works...

Finally, she opened her eyes and said "Try this on for size: the parents got something solid on the Oldeeds Organization. But in doing so, their cover was blown. So they opened the safe deposit box, put the info in it. Then they were killed."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"The Second National Bank was a Westboro stronghold, what with Mr. Harkins there until he went into hiding." Cindy replied. "And if Sharples went into the J.P. Goldman bank, you'd have heard about it in ten minutes flat."

"And the County Regional Bank? Or the one in Coltrane County? Or Nextdoor County?" I asked.

"Anything out of this County would've raised suspicion if Sharples had tried that." Cindy said. "County Regional might also say something to you, seeing as we busted the Silverfish there."

"I happen to agree with you." I said, "though it's a thin foundation. But go on, what's next?"

"Well, the parents were killed." said Cindy. "Then you gave Sharples the assignment to keep looking into the Oldeeds child trafficking situation. That safe room might not be the only place they left a code, and Sharples found it in another place. He may never have intended to turn over what he knew to you, keeping it as insurance. But once it was over for him, his lawyer sent you the note. Revenge, perhaps."

"Good." I said. "Excellent, even. Pretty parallel to what I'm thinking."

"What did I miss?" Cindy asked.

"Nothing." I said. "Nothing at all. I might add a few things that my fertile little imagination came up with. First, to my original premise: it has to be in my jurisdiction, so I can get the warrant as Police Commander. Yes, we have SBI and FBI credentials for when we need them, but I suspect Sharples did not want to go out of this jurisdiction, and like you said, it raises suspicions to open bank accounts or rent deposit boxes outside of one's home area."

"So," I continued, "that means a bank in the area. You were on the right track, but I'll go further and say Westboro would've known about Sharples renting a box at any bank in the County. Ergo, Sharples opened no bank accounts; ergo, it was the Burris parents that did, and probably before Sharples got here. Westboro probably would not have paid attention to a doctor and a political activist opening an account and renting a box, especially if they did so before they went into the Oldeeds Organization."

"So, we got to the same place by different routes." Cindy said. Not really, I thought to myself, but I moved on.

"You're trying to do in ten minutes what I've been thinking about for days on end." I said. "And you're doing pretty well. But we're in a good place: we're looking for information in a safe deposit box that Sharples knew existed but didn't know which box. He managed to find the Braille code, and possibly by getting to know the Burris's son, Tim. Tim tells Sharples about the Braille code, maybe shows it to him, Sharples translates the Braille and puts the code in a letter to be given to me when all hope for him to solve the case is done."

"So even if Tim Burris had not died," Cindy said, "you still have the code."

"Yes." I said. "But it helps to know that the Braille code was there. And that brings me to another point: who trashed the Burris house?"

Cindy thought a minute, and said "You said at the victory dinner it was likely Ferrell and Brighton."

"And maybe more associates of theirs." I replied. "What starts to make sense is motive for tearing the house apart, and also proves Ferrell's stupidity: they sabotage the power station to force Tim into the shelter. Tanya had it right when she said Ferrell wasn't looking for Tim to be dead; in fact, he probably wanted Tim to be alive, so Ferrell could torture out of Tim whatever he was looking for. He gets to the house, and Jeffrey is gone, and Ferrell couldn't find the safe room. So he tears up the house, looking for the keys to the code or the code itself, and I don't think he found it."

"All in all, Ferrell was trying to stop the information from being found, just as he tried to hinder our investigation of Jonas Oldeeds's shooting all those years ago." I said. "I think he somehow found out about this, and all of a sudden is trying to nip it in the bud. However, there's time enough to consider those things. Right now, the issue is decoding this."

OCDCK TBHAE QFEQP [WEJI HIDTW SXFT1 QMAFI VTQIT QIXOT

"The Dancing Men." said Cindy. "That was the Conan Doyle story where Sherlock Holmes solved the code."

"Yes, but we're going to need a lot more luck than Sherlock Holmes did." I replied.

"Have you talked to the FBI about this? Or have your wife talk to the CIA's crypto-analysts?"

"No, not yet." I replied. "I trust Jack Muscone and Lindy Linares and that team, but I don't want anyone else in the FBI knowing about this. And I definitely don't want the CIA to get a shot at this code before I give it a bit more effort."

"Okay, I gotta go do some work." Cindy said. As she was leaving, she turned back and said "By the way, the red crowbar that will defeat me again... has not been forged."

I lowered my voice to as deep as I could get it and replied "I find your lack of faith in the Force... disturrrrbing..."

Part 4 - Lessons In Leadership

Friday night, May 12th. The Cop Bar was busy. Cindy and Teresa were on the patio deck, and had a fire going in the big fire pot. It was actually a gas fire, but was 'just right' for this time of year and for this conversation.

"The Chief and the Commander knew Coldiron was up for this," said Cindy, taking a swig from her beer bottle, "and didn't say a word to me. And now, I've got a massive void on my hands, that I have to figure out how to fill."

"Let me ask you this." said Teresa. "If you had known three months ago, would anything have been any different?"

Well... yes!" Cindy said, sounding exasperated. "I'd have already been looking for a replacement for Masters. I'd have been talking to people, getting some candidates listed..."

"What I meant was," said Teresa, "is there anyone that was qualified then that is not qualified now? Would it not have been the same then as now, having the spot to fill and not knowing how to fill it?"

Cindy sighed. "Yeah, I guess. But that just goes to show I didn't plan ahead for this."

"No, it doesn't." said Teresa. "It's not being held against you. Look, we've known forever that we are an extremely young Police Force. I talk with my Precinct Captains and Precinct Lieutenants about this all the time. We're lucky we're getting some very bright people from the Police Academy, and that they want to come here before going to other places. But they're young."

"Yes, but we're talking about a Lieutenant position, actually two: I'm thinking we should fill the MCD Lieutenant slot, as well." Cindy replied.


"That'll be the day." said Teresa. As Cindy looked at her in shock, she said: "The Commander has that situation exactly where he wants it. You in charge, and four very good Detectives that are lucky as hell to have three of the best trainers in the world looking over them: Chief Moynahan, Chief Griswold, and Commander Troy. That part is settled, so count it as a blessing."

"I do. Okay, what about Vice?" Cindy asked. "I have to delegate that. Even Don struggled to run both sections when he was first put over the Detectives after Captain Malone left. Don needed to delegate, and he did. But now you're promoted, and rightly so. So we've got a hole there, and my body can't fill it and MCD at the same time... and we don't have anyone with time-in-grade or experience."

"Yes we do." said Teresa. "And they'll show up. You know... I was thinking about Army Officers... they take frickin' kids out of West Point and ROTC units, twenty-two year old kids, and when they commission them, those kids, those Second Lieutenants, outrank 80% or so of the entire Army... they outrank all the Enlisted men, even Sergeants Major with 20 to 30 years of experience. That sounds almost crazy... but it works. They bring in good candidates to start with, train the hell out of them, then they get OJT."

"But they don't make those 22 year old kids Lieutenant Colonels, or Generals." Cindy said.

"What rank was George Custer? The 'Little Big Horn' guy?" Teresa asked.

"Uh... I'm not sure. He was a General, wasn't he?" Cindy said.

"He was brevetted a General in the Civil War." said Teresa. "But he was practically a kid. I think he was in his twenties. When the War was over, he returned to his original rank, of Army Captain. At Little Big Horn, he was a Lieutenant Colonel."

After a pause, Teresa said "I have heard word from time to time that there was deep resentment when Don went from Supervisor, to underage Lieutenant, then straight to Police Commander. We have Sergeants with years of time in grade, Lieutenants and Captains that have been here a while... yet Chief Griswold put Don ahead of all of them at barely over 30 years old. Now... not a soul says that was the wrong thing to do."

"But Don had military experience with the MPs." said Cindy.

"Still," said Teresa, "Don's a special case. The man has a gift from God to be able to solve cases that none of us would've had a prayer to solve. Because of Don, Westboro is dead instead of killing off all of us and ruling this County like Boss Hogg on that television program. And Don shows nothing but confidence and no fear when he leads people, and he's mostly right, though no one's perfect."

Teresa then craftily smiled as she said: "And then Don comes in and puts this young Canadian bitch in charge of all the Detectives, little girl barely 30 years old now. At least I have ALL those years of extra experience that you don't."

Cindy laughed, knowing Teresa was teasing her. "Yeah, right. And your father, love him or hate him, was a great military leader, and now rightfully has the Medal of Honor for it. You inherited that ability, and you lead Police Officers like he did soldiers. And you're not exactly over the hill like Briscoe and Briggs are. You inherited some of what you've got, just as Don inherited his powers from his mom. Me? I dunno what I've inherited... except a mess in my Vice branch."

"You inherited a hell of a lot from your father." Teresa replied. "Strong with the Force you are. Use it, Luke. Anyway, you'll find the right people for the right jobs, and it'll all work out. So don't stress on it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I'm telling ya, it's just not right."

Press Relations Captain 'Brick' Briscoe and Precinct Captain Holsom 'Hal' Briggs were in the back of the back room of the Cop Bar, which had been opened to handle the overflow crowd. Senior Officers tended to go back there while the younger Officers and Firefighters stayed in the front room. Briggs had consumed plenty of beer and a few shots as well, and his tongue was loose.

He expanded on his statement: "I've been in the Town Police Force over 25 years, and I still haven't made full Captain."

"I've been here almost as long." said Briscoe. "And the only way I made it was to take this Press Relations job, which sucks like you won't believe."

"And now I've got 'Teresa Cunt' as my boss." drawled Briggs. "Full Captain, and not even 36 years old yet, like the old rules said someone had to be. And she puts Irwin, who is just a fucking kid, in as Precinct Lieutenant. And I'm sure he's snitching to her on anything I do."

"And Ross..." said Briscoe. "She's now Captain of Detectives, once the most prestigious position on the Police Force. Malone's position. Griswold's position before they forced him to become Chief. Then Griswold puts Troy in there while a Lieutenant... and underaged at the time, as well. Then they promote Troy to the vacant Commander spot."

"And he would be Police Chief now, if he'd wanted it." said Briggs.

"Well, I can understand." said Briscoe. "Commander Troy, you just look at him and you know he's got what it takes. His eyes just look at me, or anyone else, and I just know he's not missing a thing."

"He should've been an Army Officer in World War 2." said Briggs.

"Maybe he was." said Briscoe. "General Patton believed in reincarnation, believed he'd been in every big war over time. Maybe Troy's reincarnated, too."

"I don't believe in that stuff." said Briggs. "But Troy, I can understand. Ross... she's a great martial artist, but she's overmatched for the job she is in. If it weren't for Troy, she'd be floundering."

"We're going to find out." said Briscoe. "She's losing Masters in Vice. Captain Malone, he knew how to run Vice, control it and the people in it. Ross? Harrumph."

"Mind if I join you?"

The men looked up to see Deputy Chief Della Harlow, who had asked the question.

"Sure." said Briggs, his speech slurring slightly, "but all ranks are off at our table."

"Sure." said Della. She sat down and the waitress brought another pitcher of beer. Briggs reached out to pour, but Della stopped him before he spilled the pitcher, and poured herself. Briggs drank heavily from his mug.

"What's got you two so heavy into the philosophy of beer?" Della asked.

"We were talking about these young kids in high positions." said Briscoe. "Now you don't count, ma'am: you earned your place trudging in Accounting all those years. But Holloway already a Lieutenant? Ross and Croyle Captains?"

"And me sitting here not a Captain yet." said Briggs.

"Why haven't you retired, Hal?" asked Della. "Get your pension, go make a lot more money somewhere else?" She did not mention that that is what the Commander and Chief were waiting for; Briggs had no future and would never make Captain in the TCPD while they were in their positions over him. He was considered to be 'low energy'... just nice words for 'too lazy'.