by Joseph Flynn
“The program would be called Save Our Schools,” he said.
McGill saw where that was heading: “SOS.”
“Right,” Celsus said. “The program would be based on a cell-phone app. Send an anonymous text to a central database if you hear someone at your school is planning to do something dangerous: bring a weapon to school, attack someone before or after school, anything that could hurt or kill one or more members of a school community. The program will then inform the local cops.”
Celsus gestured for Zara to pick up the thread.
She said, “As with federal whistle-blowers, there will be monetary rewards. Not to individuals. But if a tip proves valid and harm is prevented, the school will receive a $5,000 grant to be used for the student body at large or it may be divided equally among five faculty or staff members, as decided by a vote of the student body.”
McGill played devil’s advocate. “Okay, but a lot of kids from middle-school on up can be really mean. Text in false accusations just to pick on some poor kid or get even with a rival.”
“Celsus thought of that,” Zara said.
“We’re going to use me as a spokesman for the program,” Celsus told McGill.
“You?” McGill asked.
“Yeah, I’m a scary-looking guy, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“So I go on YouTube, tell everyone I used to protect the president of the United States, and now I want to protect them. I tell the kiddies any legitimate message they send in will be held as absolutely anonymous. But if they try to prank us we’ll hunt them down like dogs. Or words to that effect. And when we expose them they’ll look like —”
“Assholes in front of all their friends,” Zara said with a smile.
“If they’re in high school, it’ll screw up their college applications, too,” Celsus said. “We’ll still get some wiseguys who think they can outsmart us or just don’t give a damn, but overall we think this idea could be helpful.”
Zara said, “I’m going to invest $5 million to get it rolling, Mr. McGill. The reason I’d like to speak with your son is to ask whether he and his friends would like to develop the app. I’d pay them for their time, of course.”
McGill took his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s give him a call right now.”
J.Edgar Hoover Building — Washington, DC
When DeWitt got back to his office his secretary handed him a message slip.
Please call VP at your convenience.
DeWitt asked his secretary, “Any VP in particular?”
“The one who’s a heartbeat away from the Oval Office.”
“Oh, that one. Did she say what she wants?”
“To take you to the prom.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“There’s a state dinner coming up at the White House.”
“There is?”
“The vice president is a single woman.”
“She doesn’t want to go stag?”
“You’ll have to ask her, but I don’t think so.”
“Is my tuxedo clean?”
“Not my job to know,” his secretary said.
DeWitt was saved from having to make an immediate call to the vice president by the arrival of Benjamin, who didn’t look to be in the mood for light banter. The two of them stepped into his office. DeWitt closed the door behind them.
Once they were both seated, he asked, “Did Rutledge lawyer up?”
Benjamin shook her head. “No. He’s a singing cowboy. He’s confessing right, left and up the middle. He’s given up six members of the House Armed Services Committee already. He’s writing a preliminary statement as we speak.”
DeWitt could feel another shoe was about to drop.
“What else?” he asked.
“Rutledge said there’s a corresponding group of senators making the thievery work on their side of Capitol Hill.”
“There have to be defense contractors involved, too,” DeWitt said.
Benjamin nodded. “Them and their lobbyists. This is shaping up as the biggest scandal ever to hit the country. But that’s not all.”
DeWitt asked, “What else could there be?”
“All the bad guys in the House? They’re GOP or True South. Rutledge doesn’t know if it’s the same in the Senate, but he suspects it is. How will it look for a Democratic president to go after a bunch of bad guys from the other side of the aisle? How will that play with the public?”
“It won’t be good. And there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Somewhere in this cabal is the SOB who hired Jerry Nerón to kill Jordan Gilford.”
“Better and better,” Benjamin said.
“Actually, it might be.”
“How’s that?”
DeWitt said, “We find the guy who arranged a murder for hire, that gives us an apolitical start to the investigation, reduces any public pressure on what follows by at least half and maybe more.”
Benjamin nodded. “That’s good, but how do we do that?”
“You remember who confirmed for us that Rutledge was part of this mess?”
“The so-called bar-girl in Zamboanga City.”
“She called the FBI at the behest of?” DeWitt asked.
“Tyler Busby.”
“Right. The spider who seems to be at the center of any number of webs. He might know who hired Nerón even if Nerón doesn’t. Catching Busby should be our first priority.”
The two of them took that notion to FBI Director Jeremiah Haskins.
Metro PD Headquarters — Washington, DC
McGill stopped in to visit Captain Rockelle Bullard as a courtesy call. To let her know about the arrest of Jerry Nerón in Falls Church. It never hurt to maintain good relations with the local cops, even if you lived at the White House. Rockelle had Detectives Meeker and Beemer sit in with her.
Meeker said, “Now wait just a minute. This Cuban dude from Miami, he killed one guy with a pair of scissors and was going to do in Auric Ludwig the same way? And you took him down with a flagpole?”
“Right at FirePower America,” Beemer added, “and nobody fires a shot?”
McGill said, “Ironic, I know, but that’s the way it worked out.”
“Your Secret Service man had to be armed,” Rockelle said.
“He was, but the president asked me to bring Nerón in alive,” McGill explained.
“Glad my wife don’t get involved in my work,” Beemer said.
“Glad I’m single,” Meeker added.
“That’s enough,” Rockelle told them. She said to McGill, “Sometimes I think these two are going to drive me into early retirement.”
Both detectives knew better than to smirk.
Rockelle continued, “Why do I think, Mr. McGill, that there’s more than good manners that brings you by to see us?”
“Well, that was my first impulse, but on the way over here I had an idea.”
“Man’s a thinker,” Meeker said.
Rockelle gave him a look, guaranteeing a moment of silence from the peanut gallery.
“What’s your idea, Mr. McGill?”
“Just that all of us were wondering how Nerón got away last time. We never did figure out how he did that, and now he’s back. We thought he was traveling alone before. My idea now is maybe he had help. Nerón was staying at the Four Seasons; maybe his accomplice, if he has one, checked in with him. If some sharp Metro detectives were to scoot over there quickly, they might actually find another bad guy. Somebody who hasn’t had time to think something’s gone wrong.”
Meeker and Beemer lit up with smiles.
“You musta been good police back there in Chicago,” Beemer said.
“I had my moments,” McGill admitted.
“Boss?” Meeker asked Rockelle.
She gave the two detectives a nod and they took off.
McGill told Rockelle, “I’ve got a few things to take care of, too.”
The captain stood and extended her hand to him.
>
She knew McGill didn’t have to cut her people in on the case.
Shaking his hand, she said, “You aren’t careful, Mr. McGill, you might give private investigators a good name around here.”
Wyman Consulting, LLP — Washington, DC
Former Vice President Mather Wyman, now a political consultant helping mostly public interest groups find their way along the paths of power in Washington, agreed to see McGill when he dropped in without an appointment. With McGill’s consent, Wyman had his niece and partner, Kira Fahey Yates, sit in on the meeting.
McGill told them of Tyler Busby implicating Representative Philip Brock in the conspiracy to assassinate the president at Inspiration Hall. He also mentioned that Brock had left Washington to travel to Costa Rica and might be planning to move on to one of three countries farther south. Quite possibly on a permanent basis.
Wyman and Kira shared a look.
They understood why McGill had brought this news to them.
The former VP said, “You know, Jim, if word of all this were to reach the Ohio legislature, they might not want to petition Congress to call a constitutional convention.”
McGill nodded. “Yes, and Pennsylvania and other states might want to withdraw their petitions, too. Avoid the taint of being connected in any way with Brock. You don’t win any votes being associated with a possible assassin, do you?”
Kira said, “It’ll be interesting to see if anyone backs Brock.”
“Oh, there will be some on the fringe,” Wyman said. “There always are. But I think a wholesale rewrite of the Constitution will be pushed back for the foreseeable future.”
“May I offer a suggestion?” McGill asked Wyman.
“Of course.”
“Only if you need some last-ditch help, you know who you might turn to?”
Both Wyman and Kira laughed, knowing just where McGill was going.
“The gun lobby,” Kira said.
Wyman nodded. “Right. They think they’ve got the Second Amendment interpreted just the way they want. They’d hate to take any chance with a rewrite.”
Playing the contrarian, Kira said, “Of course, if your new ideas start gaining traction, they might want to revisit that idea.”
McGill said, “We’ll pay the toll on that bridge when we come to it.”
Florida Avenue — Washington, DC
McGill found Putnam Shady sitting on the front steps of his townhouse reading a book titled Becoming the Dad You Always Wanted. McGill sat next to him. Told him everything that happened.
Then he asked, “How’s Margaret?”
“Turning the corner. Going to confession really helped. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“She’d have thought of it soon enough.”
“Yeah, but you knew enough to speed things up.”
“Tell her not to worry about coming back to work until she’s ready.”
“Will do. I’ll let her know as soon as she wakes up.”
McGill gave Putnam a look. “Kind of early to turn in, isn’t it?”
“We picked up Maxi from school. The two of them are napping together.”
“God bless our children.”
“Amen,” Putnam said.
The Oval Office — The White House
McGill was on his way to the White House when he got a call from Edwina Byington.
“Mr. McGill, the president would like to see you at soon as possible.”
Edwina’s voice was appropriate to a simple business message.
Nonetheless, a chill passed through McGill.
He felt sure that something bad had happened.
“Is everyone all right, Edwina?”
“Family and friends are well. Politically … I don’t have specific information, sir, but I think things are anything but right.”
Leo hit the lights and siren again and made short work of getting to the White House.
McGill was equally quick getting to the Oval Office. Patti sat behind her desk looking pale. Jean Morrissey and Galia were the other two present. Their expressions were grim. McGill closed the door behind him.
He looked at Patti and asked, “What is it?”
She told him, “FBI Director Haskins and Deputy Director DeWitt have informed me of Congressman Rutledge’s confession to looting various Pentagon projects for several years now. He has implicated colleagues in the House and says there more accomplices in the Senate. The FBI has advised me the first step should be to step up the hunt for Tyler Busby, as he has shown to have knowledge of and is likely involved in this series of crimes.”
“But?” McGill asked.
“But we’ve just received word from the police in South Carolina that Congressman Wesley Tilden, one of Congressman Rutledge’s alleged partners in crime, was found shot to death outside his home.”
McGill said, “That’s probably why Rutledge is cooperating. He thinks it’s his best chance to save his skin. The other members of the House that Rutledge fingered —”
“They’re safe, too,” the president said. “The attorney general has decided that Rutledge’s confession constitutes sufficient grounds for them to be arrested, and the FBI has taken them into custody.”
“Well, at least they’re out of physical danger,” McGill said. “That’s good.”
“Their incarceration was not universally appreciated,” the president said. “Galia has told me that a majority of the House has already expressed its disapproval of me.”
“With what? A resolution?”
The president shook her head. “No.”
McGill waited a beat and then asked, “What else did Galia tell you?”
The president said, “That I’m going to be impeached.
About the Author
Joseph Flynn has been published both traditionally — Signet Books, Bantam Books and Variance Publishing — and through his own imprint, Stray Dog Press, Inc. Both major media reviews and reader reviews have praised his work. Booklist said, “Flynn is an excellent storyteller.” The Chicago Tribune said, “Flynn [is] a master of high-octane plotting.” The most repeated reader comment is: Write faster, we want more.
Contact Joe at Hey Joe on his website: www.josephflynn.com
All of Joe’s books are available for the Kindle or free Kindle app through www.amazon.com.
The Jim McGill Series
The President’s Henchman, A Jim McGill Novel [#1]
The Hangman’s Companion, A JimMcGill Novel [#2]
The K Street Killer A JimMcGill Novel [#3]
Part 1: The Last Ballot Cast, A JimMcGill Novel [#4 Part 1]
Part 2: The Last Ballot Cast, A JimMcGill Novel [#4 Part 2]
The Devil on the Doorstep, A Jim McGill Novel [#5]
The Good Guy with a Gun, A Jim McGill Novel [#6]
McGill’s Short Cases 1-3
The Ron Ketchum Mystery Series
Nailed, A Ron Ketchum Mystery [#1]
Defiled, A Ron Ketchum Mystery Featuring John Tall Wolf [#2]
Impaled, A Ron Ketchum Mystery [#3]
The John Tall Wolf Series
Tall Man in Ray-Bans, A John Tall Wolf Novel [#1]
War Party, A John Tall Wolf Novel [#2]
Super Chief, a John Tall Wolf Novel [#3]
The Zeke Edison Series
Kill Me Twice [#1]
Stand Alone Titles
The Concrete Inquisition
Digger
The Next President
Hot Type
Farewell Performance
Gasoline, Texas
Round Robin, A Love Story of Epic Proportions
One False Step
Blood Street Punx
Still Coming
Still Coming Expanded Edition
Hangman — A Western Novella
Pointy Teeth: Twelve Bite-Sized Stories
You may read free excerpts of Joe’s books by visiting his website at: www.josephflynn.com.
uy with a Gun (Jim McGill series Book 6)