by Steve Richer
“If you’re interested, I could swing some CIA contracts your way. Might not be as high profile as this job but it’s good money.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Jasmine now reached them. Gervasi noticed she was still looking at McSweeney and the feeling of being the third wheel occurred to him.
“I’ll call you in a few months. I won’t take no for an answer.”
He smiled at both of them, climbed up the stairs, and disappeared inside the plane.
“Can you believe this guy?”
Jasmine nodded. “That must be where the CIA gets its reputation as warm and fuzzy.”
“Must be.”
“So you’re staying here, uh?” she said, taking his hand in hers.
He’d told her of his plan earlier in the day. It had actually surprised him to come to this conclusion.
“A few months for starters. It’s a beautiful country, I’d like to see the people live in peace for once. Why don’t you stay for a while?”
“I have an appointment with some bad guys.”
She would be busy in the near future. Captain Durham had told her who had actually killed Pablo Rodriguez so she needed to investigate this further and make the arrest. On top of that, there was the obvious case of Ward Wyatt.
He had to pay for overthrowing Katoga. The fact that he was one of the world’s richest men would make things more difficult as he would have connections and an army of lawyers. But it was a challenge she was looking forward to.
“Will you at least come visit?”
“It’s possible,” Jasmine whispered.
Preston moved forward and leaned in for a lingering kiss. He didn’t know exactly when she had warmed up to him. Perhaps she had never been cold to him at all, that it had been an act to stay focused on the mission at hand.
It didn’t matter, he didn’t care about the whys and wherefores. What was important was that at the moment she was kissing him back.
Her soft lips moved against his with complete harmony, as if they’d been meant for each other. He continued kissing her until lack of oxygen became an actual concern.
“Okay, I’ll definitely come visit.”
They kissed again but this time she was the one to cut it short. She backed away and only let go of his hand at the last possible moment. They barely broke eye contact as she climbed into the plane.
~ ~ ~ ~
Several days later, Preston leaned against the door frame of the presidential office inside the palace. He watched as a TV crew filmed a well-dressed Carver sitting behind the gigantic desk. The Katogan flag hung from a pole behind him.
“Katoga has seen its last coup d’état, my friends,” Carver said straight into the camera. “In the last few weeks, a tyrant was replaced by another and some people, including concerned citizens, took it upon themselves to provide peace and justice to a country which deserves it. This is not a revolution. There will not be widespread trials and witch hunts. It is a transition toward a more prosperous Katoga.”
He covertly glanced at Preston who nodded for him to go on.
“My name is William Carver. I am not your new leader, I am not your new president. I will be the chairman of the transition committee until elections can be held in six months.”
Preston was startled when Jammeh appeared next to him. The editor-in-chief of the national newspaper motioned for him to follow him out of the office.
Carver was oblivious to them. “Information meetings will be held in towns and villages around the country in the coming weeks and I assure you—”
~ ~ ~ ~
Jammeh led Preston into the ballroom.
The place was empty save for a few television sets which had been set up as an impromptu viewing room of sorts by Wyatt’s people. The TVs were on and broadcast Carver’s speech as well as images from different news networks such as CNN, Fox, and SkyNews.
“How do you feel about this new freedom of speech?” Preston asked as they walked further into the room.
“It’s a dream come true. But if Mr. Carver becomes like our other leaders, I will write bad things about him.”
Preston burst into laughter. “I certainly hope so.”
“I came to give you this.”
He fished an envelope from inside his jacket and handed it to the American.
“What is it?”
“Mr. Hewitt left it for you, in case something happened to him. I was sad to learn about his passing.”
“He was the true hero, Jammeh. Write something good about him, okay?”
Jammeh nodded solemnly and then spotted something on one of the TVs.
“Hey, look!”
On the CNN screen, Jasmine was escorting a handcuffed Ward Wyatt into the federal building. The caption read: Billionaire arrested for treason.
Good for her, Preston thought. The legal proceedings were only beginning but there was no doubt Jasmine had just made her career.
Jammeh watched the end of the report with him, waved goodbye, and left. Preston opened Hewitt’s envelope and read the note inside.
Good luck, lad. Cash it before the bank knows I’m dead.
Frowning, he opened the envelope further and found something else inside. It was a check and it was in the amount of $1 million.
~ ~ ~ ~
After his speech and the inevitable press conference, Carver made his way up to the residential portion of the palace. In the back was a rambling balcony and he intended to relax for a few minutes.
He found Preston already sitting on one of the fancy wicker chairs with a cooler full of beer by his side.
The young man grabbed a bottle and tossed it to him as he sat down. For long minutes, they did nothing but drink and enjoy the majestic view of the city. They could hear the distant urban rumble but from this high they could see parks and trees and the newest rising buildings. It was peaceful.
“You know,” Preston began. “This will look good on a résumé. You won’t have a problem being elected mayor now. The man who brought peace to Katoga.”
“Mayor? Kind of small potatoes after this, man. What do you think about senator?”
“Hell, I have some left over weapons, let’s take the White House.”
They shared a good-humored chortle and started on another bottle of beer.
“You know she’ll come back to you, uh?”
“She got her promotion in Washington,” Preston answered dismissively. “She’s kind of busy right now.”
“The US is gonna need an embassy here. She would be the perfect Homeland Security liaison. I could make a diplomatic request.”
Preston shook his head in disbelief but he didn’t say no. He knew that Carver was joking but still wondered if that was feasible. Jasmine had been gone just a couple of days but he already missed her terribly. Maybe she’d be open to a foreign posting.
In any case, he continued looking at the scenery before him. The sun was going down and shades of orange were gradually tinting the city.
“Geez, look at this view. Makes a guy want to take up painting again.”
They drank more beer and lost themselves staring at the gorgeous city. The peaceful city.
THE END
About the Author
Steve Richer is the bestselling author of the action thriller The President Killed His Wife. He went to law school and film school before considering becoming a sherpa, though he abandoned the idea upon discovering what a sherpa really was. Now he spends his days writing books.
He specializes in fun, over the top thrillers that read like action movies. He splits his time between Montreal and Miami.
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Also by Steve Richer
The President Killed His Wife (Rogan Bricks 1)
Counterblow (Rogan Bricks 2)
Terror Bounty
I'll Kill Her for You
The Kennedy Secret
The Gilded Treachery
The Atomic Eagle
Sigma Division
The Pope’s Suicide
Table of Contents
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
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
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
About the Author
