by Brown,Dick
His head was spinning, Eddie froze. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead in the seventy-degree air-conditioned office. What went wrong? He had given him enough cocaine to kill two people. There’s no way he could have survived the drugs and the wreck. Feeling dizzy, he collapsed backward into his executive chair.
Get a hold of yourself. Can’t sit here and wait for the next shoe to drop. With that thought, he sprang out of his chair and poked his head into his dad’s office on the way out of the building. “I’m not feeling well, Dad, I’m taking off the rest of the day. Andrew can take any calls I get until I come back.” He was out the front door before his dad could respond. A troubled look came over Reginald Winthrop’s face. His patience with his son was wearing thin.
Agent Garza’s radio crackled loudly, startling everyone in the conference room that had become an impromptu command center. “This is Garza, over.”
“The perp’s on the move. We’re in pursuit, over.”
“Don’t let him out of your sight, over.”
“Copy that, out.”
“Eddie’s on his way to the hospital. I need to notify Sheriff Daniels.” Agent Garza quickly changed frequencies on his radio and raised the sheriff. “Eddie is on his way to the hospital. Stay out of sight but keep an eye on him. Let hospital security handle him unless he becomes violent, then cuff him. I’m on my way, over.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, out.”
A silver Mercedes slowly worked its way through the parking lot toward the emergency entrance in the rear of the hospital. Eddie found an open parking place near the emergency entrance. He confidently walked through the double doors to the charge nurses’ desk.
“I am Edward Winthrop, attorney for Troy Blackmon. I understand he was brought in early this morning from the scene of an accident. I would like to confer with him. Which bay is he in, please?”
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s in ICU and isn’t allowed to have visitors at this time.”
“That’s ridiculous, I’m his attorney,” Eddie snapped at the nurse.
“I’m sorry. Those are the rules. Only family is allowed to see him.”
“What is his status? I have a right to that, if I am to represent him.” His voice could be heard down the hall, where Sheriff Daniels was watching and listening.
“I’ll just go check on him so I can report his condition to his family—they don’t have a car and have no way of getting to the hospital.” He turned before the nurse could reply and walked quickly toward the end of the hall where the ICU area was located.
The nurse rang the emergency bell for security. Before the hospital security could respond, Sheriff Daniels tackled Eddie and cuffed him. The sheriff, who weighed two hundred and thirty pounds, sat on Eddie face-down in the middle of the hallway.
“Edward Winthrop, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, drug trafficking, and anything else I can think of between here and the station.” He recited his Miranda rights before helping him to his feet.
“What the hell are you talking about? I came here to visit my client! Sheriff, you are making a really big mistake. This is obstruction of justice. When my father gets through with you, you’ll be lucky to find a job as a meter reader. Now take these damn handcuffs off of me right now!” Eddie screamed.
“Keep it up, Eddie, and I’ll add resisting arrest to my list. I’ve read you your rights. Now shut up and come along peacefully.”
“Oh man, are you going to regret this, Sheriff. I want to make a phone call.”
“Just as soon as we get you down to the station and you’re booked, then you can call your daddy. I don’t doubt that he will be able to bail you out, but you’re in a heap of trouble, son. So if I were you, I would cooperate and get in my squad car without any more outbursts. Are we clear, Eddie?”
As Sheriff Daniels led Eddie out of the building, the two FBI surveillance agents approached the emergency entrance. Special Agent Garza was right behind them.
“Good work, Sheriff. I think our work is done here until the trial. We appreciate your help and cooperation. We have enough evidence to send him away for a long time. How’s Mr. Blackmon doing?”
“His vitals are good and the surgeon upgraded him from the critical to stable. It’s just a matter of time now until he wakes up.”
“That’s good news. We’ll see you in court, young man,” Agent Garza said to Eddie.
“You are all going to be sorry for this! My dad will have me out and the charges dismissed before you get back to Dallas!” Eddie screamed at the agents as Sheriff Daniels pushed his head down and into the back seat of his squad car. He radioed, “Sheriff Daniels to dispatch. In transport with suspect in custody. TOA fifteen minutes. Find me a judge to book this perpetrator. Out.”
Chapter 72
The verdict
“I’m just glad to get that behind us,” Jack said, sitting with Rod and Cal Johnson at their favorite table at the country club after the sentencing. “Now maybe we can concentrate our full attention on getting the Saudi contract finished on time and on budget.”
Rod sat nodding in agreement after a pull on his Corona. “I knew Eddie hated me, but to go to the extremes he did and almost killed a second person in the process? It just blows my mind. He’s been sliding off the deep end for years. I guess he finally snapped. I was worried his temporary insanity plea might work. He sure was acting crazy. The guy really needs help and I’m not sure those prison shrinks will do the job.”
“Don’t worry, Rod,” Cal replied, “twenty years is a long time to work on it. He’s just lucky Troy didn’t die or he could have gotten life without parole.”
“Right. By the way, how is Troy doing?”
“The doctor says he’ll recover, but has some damage to his heart,” Cal said. “With physical therapy, he will be able to return to work. Thanks for letting him come back to work after he finishes therapy. I think he learned his lesson.”
“His testimony was crucial in getting the maximum sentence for Eddie. It was a fair trade, his testimony for getting his job back. He was as much a victim as you, Rod,” Jack said as he drained his bourbon glass. “That deal Eddie made with the judge gave him complete control over a young man desperate to stay out of jail, along with the bonus of a good job. He was forced to do Eddie’s dirty work or go to jail. Eddie really played that for all it was worth.” Jack leaned forward to make a point. “I don’t think twenty years is long enough for what he did and what he planned to do to you and the company.”
Leaning back in his chair, Jack said through a stifled yawn, “Well, gentlemen, I think it’s time for me to go home. Lawyers and courtrooms tire me out and I’ve got cows to feed. I want to thank you both for your good work on this case. Homer Jones paid a high price for the small amount of money he made, and his helpers will soon have their day in court. Their high-powered union lawyer has his work cut out for him. But after all the evidence that came out in Eddie’s trial, I think it will be a slam-dunk even if they don’t plead guilty. I bid you a good evening and will see you at the office bright and early in the morning.”
Chapter 73
Political shakeup
Rod entered his house with the top button of his shirt undone, his tie loosened, and his coat thrown over his shoulder.
Cass’s voice called from the kitchen, “Are you hungry? I’ve got a great salad fixed, it’s about the only thing I can eat that doesn’t go straight to my hips.”
“That’s sounds good. I only had a beer with Jack and Cal at the club after the sentencing.”
Tossing her vegetable concoction in a huge walnut salad bowl, Cass looked up at Rod. “I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with that bastard. Please tell me he got at least a hundred years in Huntsville.”
“Not quite that long, but long enough we won’t see his face around her
e for a long time.”
Cass cocked her head and gave Rod her what-the-hell-do-you-mean look. “Just how long is a long time?”
“Twenty years.”
“Are you serious?” she asked. “For all he did that’s all he got? He’ll be out in twelve and harassing us again, mark my words.”
Before Rod could respond the phone rang. Cass snapped, “You answer it. I’m busy here.”
Rod took his time getting the phone to his ear. “This is Rod . . . Hi, Earl, what’s up?”
“I’ve got a real problem. Can you meet me at the club in fifteen minutes?”
“I just got home from there. Jack, Cal, and I stopped off after the sentencing. Eddie got twenty years. Cass and I are having dinner. Can I call you back?”
“I’m in some serious shit here, Rod. I really need your help.”
“Look, come on out to the house, we can talk here. Give me a half hour to wolf down some of Cass’s deluxe California salad, okay?”
“See you in a half hour, thanks, man.”
Rod put the phone back in its cradle slowly, looking worried.
“Are you okay? What was that all about?”
“I’m not sure, but Earl sounded upset. I’m sure it has something to do with the information I gave him on his campaign organization. They aren’t exactly the kind of guys you want calling the shots. Most of them have priors. I’m almost afraid to follow the money trail. It has dirty money written all over it.” He returned to the kitchen table, dug into the salad bowl with the serving tongs, and loaded his plate. “Let’s enjoy your wonderful salad, shall we? He’ll be here in half an hour. Then we’ll know what it’s all about.”
Rod stood on the front porch waiting for Earl after he saw headlights turn into the long driveway leading to their secluded house in a grove of pin oaks.
“Good to see you,” Rod called as Earl unfolded, climbing out of his almost invisible black Maserati Bora.
“Thanks for seeing me on short notice.”
“No problem, but you might want to get something a little more conservative to drive. Taxpayers are suspicious of congressmen who drive expensive cars,” Rod said.
The two long-time friends hugged and entered the house. They settled on the couch facing the walk-in fireplace. It was cool enough for a fire and gave the serious meeting a more relaxing atmosphere.
Cass waddled into the large western-themed den from the kitchen with her big belly straining at the buttons of one of Rod’s long-sleeve dress shirts. She was glad to be coming down the home stretch of her pregnancy.
“Hi, Earl, would you like coffee, tea or something stronger?”
“Coffee, please, black.” When he turned to greet her, he was surprised. “Wow, Cass, it’s been a while, you really look great.”
“If a beached whale looks great, then thanks,” she retorted.
“I’ll have a beer,” Rod said.
“Sorry, coffee for you, too. Your belly’s starting to look like mine,” she said, padding back to the kitchen in her comfy slippers.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Rod asked.
“You remember the conversation we had at the country club a while back about the Black Panthers?”
“Sure, has anything changed?”
“No, the information you sent me confirmed my worst fears. But even worse than that, this morning the Dallas Herald had a front-page story exposing the latest tactics of the Black Panthers for recruiting candidates for public office—and my name was listed as one of them. That will kill any chance I have of winning, especially running against a well-financed bigot like Bubba McGee.
“Just when I’m getting good traction with voters buying into my ideas and the goals I will take to Congress. The more my poll numbers went up, the more Black Panther stuff DeAndre kept slipping into my speeches. Little things about black power and a new order in Washington. When I refused to use it, he reminded me who holds the purse strings. It’s dirty money coming in from radicals, drugs, and God knows where else. I can’t support his views. They’re against everything I believe in. When I delete his inputs before giving a speech, he gets really pissed. He threatens to cut the funds he’s raised. It’s about ninety percent of the war chest. That would put me out of the race.”
“He won’t do that. His life depends on the promises he made to his organization to put you in Congress, and they’ll hold him to it.”
“I hope you’re right. I shouldn’t have trusted him in the first place. Maybe I’m too naïve for this. I honestly believed I could make a difference. Now I don’t know what to do. If I quit the race, it will just hand the seat over Bubba McGee. What are my options?”
“You still have time before the primary. We just have to come up with a plan to get you out from under DeAndre and his thugs before that piece in the Herald drags you down.”
Cass brought their coffee in and made a suggestion. “Maybe Gramps and some of his business friends will form a PAC to support you. The campaign office is already in his building with his employee manning the phone. We need to recruit a new campaign manager. Then all you have to do is fire the crooks who are trying to manipulate you. Simple!”
“A good idea, but not so simple,” Rod said, pondering his wife’s plan. “Do you think your granddad would do that?”
“How many times have you heard Gramps say no to me?”
“Good point. Would you talk to him about it? I mean like tomorrow.”
“Sure, no problem. It will be harder to recruit a new campaign manager than for me to squeeze money out of Gramps and his rich friends. The new campaign manager will be up to you two. But you had better move fast. Gramps likes things organized. Got anybody in mind?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Rod answered. “Jack would make a great campaign manager. He took a little three-aircraft transport business and turned it into a multimillion dollar industry leader.”
Earl shook his head. “Yeah, but will he get involved in a campaign this late in the game?”
“His best friend is Senator Langtree, Chairman of the Senate Armed Forces Committee. Jack was a big part of getting him elected.”
“Sure, but you said after he got Senator Langtree elected, Jack refused to go to Washington to work for him.”
“Yes I did, that’s why he would be great. He would never leave the company and go to Washington as part of your staff. He hated living there while he was stationed at the Pentagon. When his enlistment was up, he beat it back to Texas as fast as he could. If I can convince him to sign on as campaign manager, the rest will be easy. I think he’ll be in favor of starting a PAC at the company. If we make it broad enough to include other candidates, he’ll go for it.”
“Excuse me,” Earl said, “but you sound like the campaign manager I need. How about it, Rod, I could really use someone like you watching my back. You know me better than anyone else. We would make a great team.”
Cass rejoined the conversation. “I think it’s a great idea. Anybody who can survive a Russian POW camp can surely survive a political campaign. I say go for it. You need some time away from your day job and I can help organize the women’s vote,” Cass said in hopes of having more time together.
“What’s this we stuff? You’re going to be delivering a baby any time now. Are you out of your mind?”
“Sounds great to me, Cass.” Earl said.
“You’re both nuts. My idea was for me to run the company while Jack runs the campaign. What’s wrong with that?”
Her excitement was growing by the second. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that,” she said from the chair she had pulled up close to the couch. “In the first place, Jack won’t do it. Secondly, you are a people person with a steel-trap mind for names and details. And third, I want you to do it. I’ve been bored out of my skull being a workaholic’s widow
during all the problems at the company and the trial. You’ve been having all the fun, and I want to be a part of this. It excites me like nothing has for a long time. I’m in, Earl, and so is Rod. We’ve got your back. There, that settles it.” Cass said with a broad smile and brought the two most important men in her life into a group hug.
“Don’t I get a vote?” Rod’s muffled voice fell on deaf ears.
Ignoring him, she said, “I’ll have lunch with Mom, Dad, and Gramps tomorrow and make my pitch. I’ll have an answer tomorrow evening. Rod, you talk to Jack and explain the situation Earl is in. Tell him you want to take over the campaign with financial support from the new Bois D’Arc political action committee—BDAPAC. While you’re at it, get his support for a RJ Systems employees PAC—RJSPAC.”
“Enough with the alphabet-soup labels,” Rod said.
“Can you think of anything else we need?” Earl asked.
“Yeah,” Rod said, “a miracle.”
Chapter 74
The next day
Unaware of Cass’s desire to involve them in Earl’s political campaign, the Worthington family gathered for lunch with Cass. While Essie served lunch, there was small talk about the coming baby. Cass wouldn’t tell the names they’d picked out. Their only concern was to have a healthy baby, boy or girl. They’d opted to be surprised.
Everyone had finished Essie’s to-die-for banana split with two scoops of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream, drowned in chocolate syrup with cherries on top.