by David Perry
“We showed him the documents and reports Pettigrew had gathered, along with the video of Fairing in the Colonial picking up the empty prescription bag. He seemed quite embarrassed by the fact that they’d been so sloppy. He muttered something Arabic. My guess is they simply missed it.”
Jason nodded slowly. “They’d planned this thing for three years, and something as simple as forgetting to forge a signature helped bring it all down?”
“Sometimes the smallest details can cause the biggest problem,” Peter chimed in.
“Getting back to Winstead,” Broadhurst began again, “Fairing mentioned that he was being paid very well to deliver the prescriptions. We checked his accounts and his house, but came up with nothing. An empty cubbyhole was found in his house in the living-room floor. Any of you happen to know what happened to the money?”
Jason looked nervously about the cabin. The money was lying safely wrapped in a plastic bag stuff ed inside a half-full bag of grass seed in his shed. He would make certain it would wind up helping Winstead’s daughter, Charlie, in Georgia.
The mention of the money sparked a myriad of memories. Thomas, Winstead, and the attempts on each of their lives. Being framed for murder. There was still a deputy somewhere in Williamsburg who’d been part of the attempt on his life in jail. He felt no sense of urgency, but at some point, Jason knew he would be paying the man a visit.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. They were beginning their descent.
* * *
They disembarked, bundled against a stiff winter breeze.
“Where are we?” Jason asked as they walked toward another black SUV.
“Andrews Air Force Base,” Broadhurst replied.
Thirty minutes later, the vehicle pulled to a gate in a wrought-iron fence. Jason, Peter, and Christine peered at the world’s most famous residence through the safety glass of the vehicle. The driver radioed that they had arrived. “Bring him to the door,” he instructed.
“Holy shit,” Peter muttered.
Broadhurst smiled at the driver, but said nothing.
Jason said, “Why are we pulling up to the White House?”
Christine squeezed his hand in anticipation.
The vehicle circled up the drive, stopping under the tall portico overlooking the south lawn. Three suited men were standing outside near the curb. Two were dressed in dark suits. The third was shorter.
“Is that who I think it is?” Jason asked.
Broadhurst smiled. “It is.”
Standing on the curb, waiting for Jason, Peter, and Christine, was President Gary Hope.
Broadhurst turned toward the stunned faces of his three passengers in the backseat and smiled. “Someone would like to thank you!”
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Part Two
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Part Three
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Epilogue