To Patton, it wasn’t as much wanting to win as it was the stress of the ramifications if he lost. He knew that Asher and Charlie Henry were going to crank up the pain if they retained power. It was the weight of this that had been pressing down on him, especially since Mike was killed. It was these fears that prevented him from sleep. Patton decided to take a hot bath and watch a movie. He began to feel tired and made his way to his bed, where he finally had some fitful sleep. At 4 AM, Patton finally gave up. He went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. Almost as a reflex, he opened up his campaign schedule in his iPad. He was shocked to see empty slots.
The sparsity of his calendar further drove into him the dread and pressure of losing. There was one spark of hope, however. He’d been working on a side project—one that was possibly more desperate than running for political office. This project was mostly out of his hands, however. His friend Wildcat, the man who’d given Patton background on Charlie Henry, was trying to track down Travis. He was the only person who could connect David Asher and Charlie Henry. Patton also suspected that the young brunette was involved, but wasn’t sure how. Travis was the key and Patton was sure that Wildcat would eventually find him.
That was Patton’s “Alamo” however. He needed to win this election and stem the progressive tide. Otherwise, he was going to have to resort to more drastic measures.
Election Day saw overcast skies and threatening rain. So-called experts on TV and radio argued both ways of how the weather might affect voter turnout and how voter turnout would affect the three campaigns. What it was going to ultimately come down to, though, was how much of the vote Tyler Redding was going to skim from Patton Larsen.
As in previous elections, the polls opened at two in the afternoon and closed at seven. All indications were that turnout was going to be low, much lower than the first recall election. Early exit polls showed a very tight three-way race and neither TV station was willing to call the election either way until a much larger number of the polling stations reported their vote count.
When the polls closed at seven, all three campaign headquarters were buzzing. By nine, Asher and Larsen were still in a tight race with Redding slowly falling behind. His numbers were strong enough, however, that Patton’s people began to be nervous that Redding was going to push the election towards the incumbent.
At eleven, one of Blue Creek’s TV stations called the election for David Asher, projecting that he was going to win with forty-four percent of the vote, followed by Patton at forty-one, and Travis Redding with fifteen percent. Thirty minutes later the second of Blue Creek’s TV stations did the same.
By midnight, the vote count was complete. David Asher was going to retain his office as governor of Blue Creek. His plan, at least for the moment, was to do everything he could to maintain his power.
A dejected Patton took a swig of beer and looked across the dinner table at his wife. She had tears in her eyes, but was trying to be strong for him.
“What’s next?” she asked with a smile, trying to cheer him. Little did she know that what was next was already in motion.
“I don’t know,” he said sullenly. “I guess we’ll just get back to work with the business.”
Jennifer knew that Patton’s heart had been set on winning and avenging his friend’s death, but that was over now. The next election wasn’t for another year and he would not run for City Council or any other political office. It was going to be this office or nothing.
“Come on, Honey, I know you’re thinking something here. What is it?”
He took a bite of chicken, took another swig of beer, and then looked at her. He shook his head as if to say ‘no, I don’t,’ but she knew him, possibly better than he knew himself.
“Well, we have the money. We can buy our way out of this whole thing and go home.” He looked down at his plate again, knowing that she would be ashamed of him—of him becoming a quitter.
She stood and walked around the table to kneel in front of him. She grabbed his hands and he finally looked at her. “I know you wanted to win, Honey. And I know why you wanted to win. You feel like it’s up to you to save these people from what’s going on.”
With tears forming in the corner of his eyes, he nodded. She was right. He was trying to play the hero and he failed. Being called out for his delusions of grandeur embarrassed him.
“But Honey,” she continued, “if anyone could save these people and this place it’s you, Patton. You’ve seen what’s been going on and you’ve fought against it. You lost but that doesn’t mean you can’t still fight.”
He nodded and was tempted to tell her that he was already working on that. Instead, he stood and took her in his arms and kissed her. He was tired of talking about it. He took his wife’s hand and led her to their bedroom.
CHAPTER
22
The man exited the plane feeling fresh and ready to get right to work. The flight from LAX to Salt Lake City took less than two hours and he’d flown first class. He made his way through the concourse to the baggage pickup. Although he wasn’t planning to stay in Utah long, there were things he needed for this trip that he couldn’t fit into a carry-on. He rented a luggage cart and grabbed his two large suitcases off of the belt. He checked his watch. It was past ten in the evening. He had a rental car and hotel already reserved. He would spend the night in the city and then make his way to Blue Creek the next evening. Nightfall was supposed to be before 5:30 that evening and he would use the darkness to help him slip into town unnoticed.
When he got to his hotel room he pulled out his iPhone and texted his old friend Patton.
“Here. ETA 1900 tomorrow.”
He flipped the TV on for the noise, laid back and closed his eyes. This was far from his first time in a hotel room the night before a mission. His phone buzzed. He opened it to find a return text from Patton.
“Roger,” is all it read.
He set the phone on the nightstand and laid back again. He tried to focus his mind on what he had to do the next night. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d done this so many times he’d lost count. While he would usually charge tens of thousands of dollars for his services, he offered his friend to do this one for free. It would be his pleasure.
Travis was taking the night off. No Asher. No Anna. No Charlie. Now that the election was over, he just wanted to spend time with his friends at his favorite bar, get drunk, get high, and maybe get laid. His night was on track. One of his friends had brought some primo weed to their little party and he’d drunk more than he had in months. The girl he’d been set up with seemed to be into him, so he was beginning to feel like all of his goals were going to be met.
“Hey dude,” he said to his friend, “you got any more papers?”
Travis’s friend shook his head no. Feigning anger at his friend, Travis stood and said, “I’ve got some in my car. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Travis exited the bar, fumbling in his pants pocket for his car keys. The weather had recently warmed some, so the street was slushy rather than icy. He reached his vehicle and was finally able to pull out his car keys. While fumbling to unlock his car, he didn’t notice the large twelve-passenger van pull up beside him. Had he been fully aware of his surroundings, he probably wouldn’t have felt the tiny pinprick on his back. Either way, four strong hands pulled him into the van.
Travis woke to find two angry faces leering over him. He felt both groggy and nauseous. Whatever happened to him, the effects were still lingering. He tried to bring events into focus but his thoughts remained blurry. Even these people’s voices, whoever the hell they were, sounded as if they were under water. His “Where am I?” and “Who are you?” questions came out as mush-mouthed nonsense.
One of the figures moved out of his field of vision and then he could feel a tiny stinging sensation in his arm. Suddenly he felt himself becoming more awake and aware and he saw that Patton Larsen
was standing in front of him. Not smiling. Not angry. Just lingering there, hovering over him like a ghost. When Travis tried to speak his mouth actually worked.
“What’s going on?” he asked, still somewhat groggy.
No answer.
He heard a small whirring sound, like a small motor working. Then he could feel himself being raised up. Patton moved his head and now there was a bright light shining directly into his eyes. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but straps held his hands down to some sort of gurney. He tried to kick his feet but the result was the same. He was completely incapacitated.
“Hey!” he screamed. “What’s going on here!” he yelled, both angry and frightened now.
Still no answer. He sensed some movement behind him and then felt another prick in his arm. His world went black again.
When he woke up again, he noticed that an IV had been started on his left wrist, which was still restrained. He tried to move his head to look around but the movement made him nauseous. He wanted to throw up, but instead, he closed his eyes and went still. Travis, who was usually a very calm individual, wanted to kick and punch and claw his way out, but there was no way. The feeling of helplessness caused a wave of fear to come upon him.
“Okay guys, I’ll stay calm I promise. Just tell me what’s going on!”
There was silence for a moment, but then he heard Patton’s voice.
“You’re being taken out of the game, Travis,” Patton said coldly. “We know you’ve been acting as Charlie Henry’s go between. You’ve gotten away with it until now but those days are over. You’re done.”
“What are you talking about?” Travis asked stupidly.
Patton moved around the chair so Travis could see him. He leaned in close, leering at him viciously.
“What I’m talking about is that you’re the little cockroach that’s been helping Charlie and his little whore and Asher. Don’t play stupid or we’re going to make your life a living hell.”
Travis felt a pang of nervousness, but he tried to regain his bravado. “You can’t do anything to me,” he said, more calmly than he felt.
Patton scoffed and looked at the other man, who was also coming into Travis’s field of view. He was a big man. Not fat, but with huge arms and shoulders. He looked like a bodybuilder. The man was also wearing a baseball cap. A large, bushy beard covered most of his face. He was holding something in his hands, but Travis was still too groggy and too nervous to focus.
“We already have, Travis,” the man said in a soft voice that contrasted greatly with his appearance. “We’ve done something to you that can’t be taken back.” The man turned behind him and grabbed something. He turned back and thrust his hand into Travis’s face. At first Travis couldn’t see it because it was very small, but his eyes finally focused onto a little brown ball, about half the size of a bb.
“See this?” the man asked. “You now have one of these in your brain. This tiny little thing, believe it or not, is an explosive device that can be controlled by this.” He showed Travis his other hand, which held a sleek cellphone.
Travis shook his head defiantly. Part of him knew these guys were serious. They wouldn’t have him here as a joke. Travis closed his eyes again and swallowed hard. He had cottonmouth and couldn’t produce enough saliva.
“Okay. So what am I doing here? What do you want with me?”
It was Patton who responded.
“I already told you that, Travis. You’re done. You’re gone. You’re going to leave and never come back here. I know you killed that family and I know it was you that came out to my house to kill me. Now you’ve been running back and forth between Charlie Henry and Anna and Asher and that little ass wipe Tyler Redding. Now what you’re going to do is admit it all on tape.”
Travis’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t a rat. He was loyal to those who hired his services. “You’re high if you think that,” he said, his calm beginning to give way to panic.
The big guy smiled.
“I was hoping you would say that,” he said. He lifted a little shelf in front of Travis’s face—the kind that dentists use when they’re operating on a patient. He took the little brown ball and clamped a wire to it, screwing the other end onto the remote control. “Stand back Patton,” Wildcat said with all the drama he could muster, then pushed a button on the phone.
There was a loud crack, causing Travis’s ears to ring loudly. Worse than that, he had burn marks all over his face and part of his eyebrows had been singed off.
“Damn! You trying to kill me?” Travis screamed.
Patton and the big man started laughing at the younger man’s discomfort. Then Patton turned serious.
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, Travis, if you don’t do what we tell you to.”
Travis gulped audibly. He was tough, but these guys had the upper hand and they seemed willing to do whatever it took to get him to cooperate. To punctuate the point, Patton put his face close to Travis’s, almost to the point where their noses were touching.
“We will kill you Travis,” Patton said blandly, letting his words hang ominously in the air. “It would be the just thing to do. You’re behind a lot of the stuff that’s happened. Now you’re going to fess up to it.”
Travis hung his head. He had no more cards to play. Hadn’t he just been complaining to himself about Asher and Anna and this whole mess? Wasn’t he looking for a way out? What better way to do that than to be forced out? To run away and never come back?
He raised his eyes to meet Patton’s gaze and nodded.
It was the third time he’d tried calling the number, but Asher kept getting a ‘disconnected’ notice. Asher blew off their meeting two nights before, but he knew Travis would never hold a grudge—at least not this long. He was tempted to call Anna and ask her if she’d seen or talked to Travis, but they’d made a deal—no more direct contact.
But he didn’t need Travis to talk to Anna. He needed a direct line to Travis. As far as he was concerned, Governor David Asher no longer needed Anna or her pet monkey, Charlie Henry. They’d accomplished what they’d set out to do. What were they going to do if he struck out on his own? If they lost him they would lose their connection to power in this community. Before Asher could close the book on the entire enterprise, though, he needed Travis one more time. He opened his phone and dialed the number again.
“Is he gone?” Patton asked his old friend Wildcat, who was driving back to the airport.
“You could say that,” the man said cryptically.
Patton’s interest piqued, but he was pretty sure what his friend and old comrade meant.
“Was there a problem?” he asked, almost wanting to not know the answer to his own question.
“You could say that,” Wildcat said again, laughing this time. “Okay, sorry. Our friend had a nasty nose bleed and I had to take care of him.”
Patton’s thoughts were confirmed.
“Okay, so it’s done then?” Patton asked hopefully.
“Done and done.”
Travis’s phone didn’t even go to voicemail when Asher dialed the number. Asher hit the “End” button and thrust his phone angrily into his pocket.
Asher wondered if he’d left town again. If he had, who told him to do so? Was Charlie behind this? A ball of nerves formed in Asher’s gut and he began to wonder if something was about to happen to him. Without Travis, he had no real connection to the others. He and Anna were basically finished. He suddenly thought of one other person who he could talk to, he just needed to find a way to contact him.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the most powerful person in town? Despite having the office and title, Asher felt powerless now, like an island out in the middle of the ocean. Never the type of person to take things lying down, Asher started to concoct his plan.
Bao slid the trays into the compartments on the side of his
delivery truck, slammed the doors closed, and blew in his hands to warm them. He was finishing up a long day that started when it was dark and was now going home in the dark. He just wanted to get home, take a long, hot bath, drink some tea and play some computer games. Canceling out the euphoria of his completed workday was the fact that somebody had been following him.
Bao was technically a spy, but of the corporate variety. He’d never gone through specialized training in either surveillance or counter surveillance. Despite that, he was a street-smart kid who knew when he was being watched and followed. Whoever it was apparently didn’t watch many movies, he thought. They’d been in the same vehicle all day and had rarely been cautious enough to lag behind him in traffic.
There they were, though, sitting in their car, apparently waiting to follow him home. Not knowing what else to do, Bao decided to do what they thought he would do—he returned his delivery truck to his small warehouse and then drove home in his personal vehicle. And just as he’d thought, the dark red sedan had followed him there.
After his bath, Bao looked for the car out his front window. He saw it sitting across the street. He checked again before heading to bed, but to his relief, the car was no longer there. Not taking any chances, or let doubt about his instincts creep into his mind, Bao sat at his computer and typed out an encrypted report.
Bao’s instinct to ask if other agents were reporting being followed had been brilliant, his superiors thought. He was the fourth agent to report such suspicious activity. Had there been a breach? Why would someone follow their agents? How did they even know that Insight had spies in Blue Creek? He was worried that something dangerous was happening and the issue quickly became Insight Resources, Inc.’s CEO, Michael Varner’s number one priority.
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