EXCERPT
“Mansfield knows about ‘Flamingo.’” Talbot abhorred making eye contact with anyone, but this time, so that Smith would have no misunderstanding about his anxiety over the issue, he made sure to meet the other man’s eyes in the rear view mirror when he broke that bit of news.
Nothing. Smith’s eyes did not go wide, nor did they narrow. He didn’t even blink, let alone give the limo’s steering wheel an involuntary smack in frustration. If there was any reaction at all, perhaps it was the ghost of a smile that, for just one brief second, shadowed his lips.
Then again, maybe Talbot imagined that.
Usually he was impressed with Smith’s nonchalance under stress. This time, though, there was too much at stake, and he wanted Smith to commiserate with him; to feel his pain, so to speak. Hell, for once—just once!— he wished the man would act like a human being, not the cold, calculating sociopathic killer he was. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
Smith kept his eyes on Talbot, ostensibly as reassurance that he was all ears, but actually so that the vice president wouldn’t notice his finger slipping behind the rear view mirror. Talbot had heaved himself into the car and blurted it out so fast that for once, Smith hadn’t had time to activate the digital recorder first. “That depends. How do you know for sure that Mansfield knows anything?”
“That twerp, Paul Twist. He’s angling for U.S. Attorney General, once I get elected. Thinks I owe it to him, considering his Judas routine.” Talbot shook his head in disgust.
“His stuff has been pretty reliable thus far. Go ahead and string him along until I can track down his source.” Frankly Smith hoped Talbot would grant the kid his wish. It gave him a hard-on just thinking he could have one over on the head honcho in the Justice Department, particularly one who obviously had his own mole buried somewhere within the bowels of the Pentagon. “It means there’s a leak in your organization.”
“What makes you think the leak is on my side? It could be one of your cutthroats.”
“My ‘cutthroats’ are pros who know how to keep their mouths shut. It’s power players like you who feel the need to let someone know what you’re up to, if only to stroke your own egos—or to save your own asses.” Smith let that sink in. “In any event, I guess we have a little problem.”
“What’s this ‘we’ shit? It’s your problem, not mine.” Talbot poked Smith’s headrest to make his point. “And it’s fucking humongous. So fix it. And fast. I don’t doubt for a second that Mansfield plans to use it against me. Against all of us. Besides losing the nomination, I can be tried for treason! Just remember—if the old men and I go down, so do you.”
“Are you ordering me to exterminate Mansfield?”
“What, do I have to spell it out for you?” Talbot’s shout certainly left no doubt of his intentions, either live or digitized. “You know, accidents happen to everyone. Even presidential candidates. Only don’t make it a public assassination. The goal is to get rid of the problem, not make the man a martyr.”
© 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Author.
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