“I don’t care what it sounds like. It sounded like a good idea to you when it first came out of your mouth, and it sounds like an even better idea right now.”
“Mr. President, I—”
“Now, Dave, before you protest any more, let me ask you this: what was the outcome of the previous two Fullgood trials?”
“They both ended in convictions.”
Young nodded. “That’s right. And there’s no reason to think this one won’t end any differently. We all know what Harris was doing now. Let’s just spare the country the pain.”
“Sometimes the pain helps us grow,” Salisbury said. “It serves as a cautionary tale and maybe helps us figure out a better path forward.”
“I wish I could agree with you. But times have changed. Nobody is interested in working together; they’re only concerned with being on the ‘right side of history,’ whatever the hell that means. There is no nuance. There is no gray. And Harris’s trial will be viewed in the exact same manner as the previous two. Now, can you honestly tell me something good is going to come from this for our nation?”
“You never know where it will lead to. Bringing such darkness into the light might help ignite the fire in more patriots to become more involved in government and make sure this never happens again.”
Young broke into a chuckle. “You’re one optimistic sonofabitch.”
“I think you mentioned that was one of the traits you liked most about me when you hired me, sir.”
“And today, your optimism isn’t going to talk me out of doing what needs to be done for the sake of our country’s unity. Understand?”
Salisbury sighed and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now that we’ve got that squared away, I’ve got a phone call to make. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Salisbury said before scooping up Abe and heading toward the door. “But just remember that no country is worth losing your soul over.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Young said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As soon as Salibury exited, Young dug his secure burner phone out of his desk and placed a call. A few seconds later, a man answered.
“This is Hawk,” the man said.
“Agent Hawk, this is President Young. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“I’m all ears, Mr. President. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
CHAPTER 5
Washington, D.C.
J.D. BLUNT SCOWLED as he stabbed at the remnants of breakfast on his plate, his mind whirring as he considered the implications of what Congresswoman Dixon had just shown him. He put the last forkful of food into his mouth before dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
“Do you feel comfortable talking about this here?” he asked.
Dixon slapped enough money on the counter to cover both their meals and the tip. “Let’s step outside.”
Blunt hustled to keep up with Dixon’s long strides. Even in high heels, she glided effortlessly out of Lincoln’s Waffle Shop and onto the busy sidewalk. He noticed the extra-long glances directed at her from men who passed by them, proof that the former Miss Magnolia Pines still possessed traffic-stopping looks.
“Ask me what you want to know,” she said, fixing her gaze straight ahead.
“Perhaps we should start with the obvious question,” Blunt said.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said briskly. “I’m not sure there’s anything obvious that should emerge from that.”
Blunt sighed. “Is that really you?”
Dixon stopped and turned toward Blunt. She flashed a faint smile before answering. “See what I mean. That is not the question I thought you would ask first.”
“Well, it matters because—”
“Relax, J.D. I’m not upset. In fact, I’m quite flattered that you think I still look like that. I might be a former beauty queen, but I’m not a timeless goddess.”
“So, these have obviously been Photoshopped.”
Dixon nodded before resuming her walk. “I wouldn’t have shown them to you if they were real.”
Blunt dug into his coat pocket and fished out a cigar as he kept pace. “I figured as much, but I at least needed to know the lay of the land before proceeding.”
“You’re still using tobacco?” she asked, eyeing his cigar.
“Keeps my mind sharp,” he said, inspecting his stogie. “And I figure I’m going to need to stay as sharp as possible to help you out of this predicament.”
She sighed. “I was hoping you’d just make a phone call and make it all go away. You have no idea how stressful this is, especially as a woman.”
Blunt chuckled. “If anybody had naked pictures of me with another woman, it’d be immediately dismissed as fake. In fact, I might pay someone to put that out there just to give the illusion that I still possessed some charm.”
“Well, I’m glad you can find some humor in all of this, but I certainly don’t.”
“Look, I’m sorry. And I wish I could just call someone to clean this all up. But it doesn’t work that way.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that—”
“It’s okay. I’m only authorized to employ my people in situations of national security. Otherwise, I’d be nothing more than a mob boss.”
“Well, I feel like it’s got something to do with national security.”
He furrowed his brow. “Were there any accompanying demands? Or just those images?”
“Just pictures for now, but I think someone sent those to me as a warning.”
Blunt nodded. “Probably, but we can’t just make the assumption that it’s related to national security. I’ll have to do a little digging first. Since that's out of the way, let me ask you the next big question: have you told Phillip?”
“Not yet,” she said. “He’s tied up in recruiting, trying to make sure that Alabama gets the finest football players in the country next season. I won’t see him until signing day.”
“You should tell him in case this leaks out somehow. You don’t want him to get caught off guard by a scandal, real or contrived.”
“That’s why I came to you first. I don’t want anyone even suggesting this is real.”
“Things okay between you two?” Blunt asked.
“It’s been a little bit stressful lately,” she said. “Between my re-election campaign starting up and his coaching duties, we haven’t seen much of each other lately and it’s taken a toll on our marriage. I’m afraid this might push him over the edge. Not to mention, this isn’t the kind of thing the people in the great state of Alabama are going to just forgive me for. Even if I prove that it was all a lie, some people will still hold it against me.”
“Okay,” Blunt said. “If I get a digital forensics expert to verify that this is fake, will you promise me you’ll tell Phillip?”
Dixon pursed her lips. “Fine, but I don’t want you to stop there.”
“I won’t. But your marriage needs to be prioritized over everything else. And I share that wisdom with you because it’s borne out of all the pain I endured through my divorces.”
“So, what are you thinking after that?”
“I’ll submit those pictures for inspection and then I want you to tell me of anyone who might like to see you removed from office and why. If this is related to national security, I might be able to employ more persuasive means to handle this threat. But as my daddy used to say, ‘We don’t need a backhoe to dig a post hole when a shovel will suffice.’”
“That sounds like a note in a Texas fortune cookie,” she said with a smile.
“When you grow up in west Texas, you hear a lot of sayings related to ranch life. So, you got any leads for me off the top of your head or any other ideas that could be related to someone attempting to blackmail or extort you for a vote?”
Dixon stopped as they approached a crosswalk. Traffic rushed past them as they waited for the signal to change.
Blunt eyed her
closely, her gaze distant. “Anyone come to mind?”
“There is one guy who’s been a pain in my rear for a while now.”
“Just one?” Blunt asked.
She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t have time to rattle off all their names, but only one that I can think of right away who would have the resources and the gall to attempt something like this.”
“His name?”
“Earl Cunningham,” Dixon said. “He’s a developer who’s very active in my district.”
“And why would he want to control you?”
“I’ve been an outspoken advocate for keeping Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery from getting shut down.”
“So, it’s full of prime real estate?”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” she said. “The base is located on the banks of the Alabama River. Plenty of waterfront property close to the center of the city. And if it was his to develop, it’d make millions. And honestly, he’s probably one of only a handful of investors in the southeast who would have the capital to buy it and develop it.”
“Has he given you trouble before?”
“Cunningham has tried to woo me over to his side, promising me plenty of perks, including a custom-built home on the property deeded to me after I leave office if I acquiesce to his demands,” she said. “But I’ve rebuffed him every time.”
“So, now he’s changing his approach.”
The light turned green and Dixon and Blunt joined the throng of pedestrians heading to their offices.
“If it’s him who’s doing this, it’s a stark departure from how he’s handled me up to this point. But I wouldn’t put anything past him. He didn’t become one of the best developers in the state by winning awards for his congeniality.”
“And as I recall, you didn’t win many of those either during your pageant days.”
She smiled wryly. “I’m not a pushover, that much is well documented. Miss Louisiana can attest to that. But I’m also not going to claim victimhood in this instance, even though that’s clearly what’s happening to me.”
“Now that I know more specifically what you want, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll pay this Cunningham guy a visit and try to get a feel for what he’s really about.”
She led him out of the flow of traffic and against the side of a building. “Thank you, J.D. You know I wouldn’t ask you for a favor like this unless it was really important.”
Blunt nodded. “I know. I’ll do my best to figure out who’s behind this and why—all before they attempt to extort you again.”
“You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Blunt’s gaze met hers. “Tell your husband now. You’ll thank me for it later.”
“I’ll try.”
Blunt patted her arm before walking in the opposite direction. He was fond of Dixon but also wasn’t sure she was telling the truth.
And there was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER 6
Vaya, Russia
TITUS BLACK REACHED inside his coat pocket and produced the documents requested by the officer. While Black understood there was no guarantee that the policeman would accept the papers, they upheld scrutiny at immigration, which applied the most rigorous validation test utilized by the Russians. If Black got into the country, it stood to reason that he’d survive a cursory inspection by a small town officer.
Black gripped the steering wheel as he awaited a response.
“Yuri, I’m going to need you to step out of the car,” the officer said.
Yuri Fadeev was the name on Black’s passport, a Moldovan businessman who sold fertilizer to small farmers in Russia and other eastern European countries for Ovchem Industries. The company was a legitimate one, organized and set up by the CIA three decades ago to also serve as a way to move assets around the region. And since Ovchem had maintained a presence in the area for years, the officer wasn’t likely to suspect anything.
“You’re selling fertilizer at this time of year?” he asked.
Black nodded as he exited his vehicle, keeping the motor still running. “Spring will be here before you blink. You can never be too prepared.”
“Selling shit in Russian winter,” the officer said with a chuckle. “And I thought my job was bad.”
Black watched the man’s hands, waiting for him to return the passport. “Did I do something wrong, officer?”
“Open your trunk.”
Black reached inside the vehicle and released the lever for the trunk. It popped open and the officer peered inside. As Black walked around toward the back of the vehicle, he held his breath, unsure of what might be hidden inside. He prepared to concoct a cover story on the spot if an interrogation arose.
“Hockey sticks and boxes of vitamins,” the officer said. “These are unusual items for a traveling salesman.”
Black shrugged. “What can I say? I work hard to stay healthy and keep up my passion for hockey, even while I’m on the road.”
The policeman eyed Black for a moment. He remained calm, confident that he could take the officer if it came to that.
“Very well, Mr.—” the officer said before pausing.
“Fadeev,” Black said. “Yuri Fadeev.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Fadeev. Be careful out there. The roads are getting very slick.”
Black nodded and returned to his car. He waited for the officer to drive off before resuming his search for Kozlov.
“Okay,” Black said over the coms, “I’m ready for more directions.”
“I thought you were a goner when he asked to look in the trunk,” Shields said.
“Never underestimate my ability to bullshit in a pinch.”
She chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”
Black followed her directions, leading him well off the paved streets of Vaya and onto the rural dirt roads, which were covered with snow and ice. After a few minutes, Black reached the apex of a hill and slowed to a halt. His headlights appeared to be shining into the abyss of snow. Meanwhile, the road was nowhere to be seen.
“Are you sure about this, Shields?” he asked as he leaned forward to look for the ground.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, it looks like I’m about to drive off a cliff. There’s no road here.”
“There’s one on my map,” she said.
“And I don’t see a bridge there either. Could your map be wrong?”
“I guess it’s possible, but not likely. You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”
Black wanted to get out and inspect the situation further, but he was afraid the car might roll in either direction, both of which would be disastrous to his survival chances, let alone catching Kozlov. He took a deep breath and eased off the brake.
“Here goes nothin’.”
The car began to move forward, finding the road to be a steep embankment. In an instant, the vehicle lost all traction and started to slide toward the bottom. After a few seconds, Black lost control as the Aleko broke into a spin. He let out a string of expletives as he fought to right the car. But round and round the Aleko went, somehow managing to stay on the road. However, when it reached the bottom and started to travel up another incline, the car’s momentum slowed and eventually stopped altogether before sliding back down. In a matter of seconds, the ordeal ended with the vehicle still running and Black still able to operate it.
“Everything all right?” Shields asked.
“I almost died, but other than that, I’m good,” Black said.
“Almost died as in you’re barely alive now? Or almost died as in you experienced a brush with a potentially deadly situation?”
“Why parse sentences now?” Black said. “The fact of the matter is—”
“The second one,” she said. “Good to know that you’re fine and don’t require immediate medical attention.”
“These roads will be the death of me before the Russians will,” Black said.
“Just keep going. You’re almost
there.”
“Define almost.”
She chuckled. “Another five hundred meters over the ridge and you’ll be at the target’s new location.”
“Forget it,” Black said. “I’m walking.”
“It’ll take you five times as long,” she said, raising her vigorous protest.
“If it means I’ll actually make it there, then that’s fine by me. Unlike you, I can handle the cold.”
Black rolled the car off to the side of the road and then struck off across a nearby field. Shields warned him that she couldn’t promise him anything about the route that he chose, albeit a more direct one. But he was more comfortable in the open than trying to drive up an icy road in a Russian vehicle well past its prime.
Black’s jaunt across the field was rather uneventful, aside from leaping over a small creek twice. After fifteen minutes, he stopped and knelt behind a large rock about thirty meters from the house.
“Are you still locked in on my location?” Black asked.
“Roger that.”
“And you can confirm the cabin in front of me is where the snowmobile stopped?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell if there are any more heat signatures in the house?”
“It’s difficult to tell at this point,” she said. “But there don’t appear to be any others.”
“All right,” he said. “Wish me luck.”
Black crept up to the house. He stealthily maneuvered up the porch steps and tried to turn the knob. As he anticipated, the door was locked. He then hustled around to the back and tried that door, which was also secured shut.
Black found the bathroom window to be slightly ajar. After opening it, he hoisted himself up and into the house. He put the toilet seat down and waited for Kozlov to appear. A half-hour passed before Kozlov entered the bathroom.
When his eyes met Black’s, Kozlov jumped back and shrieked. He hit his head against the wall, dazing him for a few seconds. By the time he'd regained his wits, Black had a death grip on Kozlov’s arm and was leading him to the living room.
“Please, sir, don’t kill me,” Kozlov pleaded in Russian. “Take anything you want. Just leave me alone.”
Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7) Page 3
