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  The four men entered a dark blue Lincoln Navigator. Kelly and Shear sat in the back seat and Becker and Stanton in the front, with Becker driving. They arrived at 935 Pennsylvania Ave in the underground parking garage. Kelly, Becker and Stanton escorted the Senator to the third floor. Shear never said a word.

  After being fingerprinted and strip searched, Shear was led to an office, where he had access to a phone, paper, pen, and an empty glass with a pitcher of ice water next to it. “You can make several phone calls, Senator. I would advise you to call your attorney first because you’re not getting out of here on any bail. We already have enough on you and the rest of your team to put you in prison and, possibly, get the death penalty.” Jim Kelly’s facial expression stayed hard and his eyes fixed on Shear’s startled face as he spoke. Shear stared back. His eyes sank into his head.

  “I want some privacy.” Shear spoke firmly, but again his words trailed off.

  “Okay, Senator. You have thirty minutes to make those phone calls. Enjoy them because it will be a cold, very cold, day before you get to use another phone.”

  The time was 1538 when he dialed the President’s oval office. Shear had the number of the President’s direct line stored in his head. The phone rang five times before the President answered with a hurried and out of breath response. “This is the President.” The President had been engaged in intercourse with one of Shear’s escort ladies, Brandi, when the phone rang.

  “Tony, this is Shear!”

  “Yes, Senator Shear. How are ya doing?” The President had a big shit-eatin’ grin on his face.

  “Not good, Mr. President!” Shear’s voice cracked on each word.

  “What’s the problem?” The President stood naked by his desk with Brandi next to him.

  “The FBI has my ass down here at the Hoover building on charges of being the brains behind the SAWWS Inc. killings.” Shear’s forehead and armpits were wet with perspiration.

  “Sterling, I’m sure you didn’t have anything to do with that.” The President looked at Brandi.

  “Absolutely not, this is totally absurd. I have an impeccable record. I need for you to call Kelly and get my ass out of here. I have a dinner party this evening.”

  “I’ll get right on it, Shear.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “Okay, Senator!” The President dropped the phone on the desk before he reached for the arms on his chair. He became blurry-eyed and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Brandi screamed at the top of her lungs, bringing the secret service men running.

  Hysterical, Brandi was about to go into shock when the secret service men entered the oval office. Briefly glancing at the naked escort lady, they went directly to the aide of the President. Agent Small touched the artery on the President’s neck and found a pulse. “He’s alive! Call Rosie. We need to get him to the hospital.” Rosie was the dispatcher for the Secret Service that day. The President, however, lay motionless, with his eyes closed. Agent Brown said, “He must have had a heart attack when he was having sex with what’s her face.”

  A helicopter transported the President to Walter Reed Hospital, where he was rushed into intensive care. Within two hours, the President was sitting up and talking with three doctors. The President suffered from low sugar and needed to eat regularly. His sexual encounter with Brandi, combined with not having eaten any lunch due to having to attend meetings with Iran’s and Iraq’s foreign ambassadors, caused his blood sugar to drop.

  The President rode back to the oval office by helicopter. He entered his office and had a message to call Senator Shear at the FBI headquarters. “Oh, shit! I have to call Kelly!”

  “Jim, this is the President!” Kelly twisted his mouth in disgust.

  “Yes, Mr. President what can I do for you?” Kelly made a fist.

  “Say, Jim, I need for you to release Senator Shear. There has to be some sort of mistake.”

  “No mistake, Mr. President! He is as guilty as I’m sitting here talking to you.”

  The President paused several seconds. “We have to keep this under wraps. We must not have the media find out. Christ almighty, it will bury this country if they found out Shear was behind this.”

  “I have officers from three drug companies, ten CIA agents, Travis Shear, the Senator’s son, and six officers of the Mallory, Pittman and Herrington law firm from New York City, who represent the drug companies. Shear is the brains behind the massacre. He was paid a billion dollars by the drug companies to destroy SAWWS Inc. Murdering all these people was their only means to end SAWWS Inc. manufacturing. I have signed confessions from twelve people already.”

  “Kelly, I don’t give a damn what you have or how you got it. I don’t want the media or anyone else finding out a damn thing. This country will absolutely shit if they know Shear and members of the CIA are involved. Jesus Christ, if this isn’t a mess. Abbott is still alive, isn’t he?” The President stalled before he spoke again. “I want you and Jim Brewer in my office in one hour. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Kelly responded, as his jaw tightened.

  The President called Brewer’s office immediately after hanging up with Kelly.

  Chapter 38

  MEETING WITH THE PRESIDENT

  Jim Kelly was the first person to reach the oval office. The President’s secretary, Sandy, had him wait until Jim Brewer from the CIA arrived. Jim got there eighteen minutes later.

  Ten minutes after both men had met outside the President’s oval office, Sandy’s phone beeped. “Yes, Mr. President.” She tried to smile, but failed. “Mr. Kelly and Mr. Brewer, you may step into the oval office.”

  Both Brewer and Kelly smiled and entered the office. They sat in front of the President’s desk in two ornate cherry chairs. “Okay, I want to hear everything you have—from the beginning.”

  Brewer told his story about the Director of the CIA, John Conrad. After sharing this information with Jim Kelly, Kelly then ordered his agents to investigate the disappearance of the employees of SAWWS Inc. After both men had finished, the President appeared shocked. He slumped back in his chair, looked at both men, and sprang forward, laying his arms on his desk.

  “We have one hell of a problem here.” The President pondered for a minute, rubbing his hands and playing with some papers on his desk. “We must not, in any way, let this information leak to anyone, especially the media. Why, if the media caught wind of this, the American people would go crazy. We have here three of the biggest drug companies, the CIA and a prominent Senator involved. Shear has done more for this country than all the other Senators combined. He has taken the poorest State in the union, Mississippi, and turned it into one of the union’s strongest States, not only economically, but educationally as well. He has done wonders. People, black and white, worship this man, not only in Mississippi, but across this fine nation of ours.”

  The President got up and walked around the oval office. “Just think about all the wonderful people who take drugs from these drug companies. If they find out, it will ruin this nation.” He spun around. Wringing his moist hands, he continued. “This will destroy, destroy this ____.” The President sat down in his chair, quickly, and thought for a few seconds about: If the media were to print any of this—the two hour sex marathon he had had with Brandi earlier that day. His stomach lay in the devil’s fire. He needed a drink—NOW. He wiped his red face with his sweaty hand and blurted out, with his finger pointed at both Kelly and Brewer, “You make damn sure this never reaches the media.” The President then collapsed back in his chair; his face turned ashen.

  Jim Kelly’s lips moved as he stirred in his ornate char, but no sound came out. Finally, when the President stopped, he opened up. “Mr. President, your great Senator, Sterling Shear, was not only the brains, but the financial strength behind this massacre. He also is and has been for many, many years a large financial supporter of the Klu Klux Klan in Mississippi.”

  “But, he has helped more blacks in this country than anybody, including
the damn NAACP,” said the President, his eyes widening like saucers, voice cracking on each word. The President’s mouth fell open and his fingers on his right hand covered his opened mouth. He was aghast.

  “The great Senator Shear has over five hundred million dollars that we know about, in European banks, most of which in Swiss banks. We are still digging, Mr. President, and have been for several months.”

  “You can chalk up another useless death because of that Goddamn Shear,” barked, Jim Brewer. “John Conrad would be here today if it weren’t for this rotten son-of-a-bitch. I want this bastard to fry and I want the public to know what a corrupt weasel he is. He has everyone snowed, especially those in the State of Mississippi. I hate it that eleven of my men were involved in this brutal crime. Money and sex talk, Mr. President. This is how Shear has gained his popularity, success, and made his money.”

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen! I don’t want Senator Shear prosecuted for these murders. I want him released from your office immediately. This will have to cool down and that may take months. I will talk to Senator Shear, personally. He will be asked to resign his Senate seat due to poor health. We will move his ass to maybe some third world country and the media will print that he died a horrible death from cancer. I don’t want any person you have in custody brought to justice. I want these people destroyed and Brewer, you have ways of doing that.” The President spoke with slobber rolling off his lips.

  Brewer stood up quickly and replied, “I will not destroy these men. They will be brought to trial. That is the American way. If you stand in my way, I will turn in my resignation right now. I want to run a tight ship, just as John Conrad had done for the years he was Director.”

  “I can replace you right now, Brewer. I’m the President and I’ll tell you when, where and how much, anytime I wish. Do you understand that?” The President’s face turned red as a ripe tomato.

  Brewer thought about his kids in college and having very little money in savings due to his wife’s spending sprees. “Yes, Sir, I understand that. But, do you understand what will happen if the media ever gets hold of any inkling that you knew about Shear and you let him walk?”

  Brewer walked across the floor of the oval office. “Furthermore, Mr. President, did you know that Shear has more call girls on his payroll than there are nuns in D.C.?”

  “Between Kelly and me, we have enough to put Shear away for a thousand years.”

  “I don’t care. I want him moved to a third world country next month and send that slut, Rhonda Jones, with him.” The President had first-hand knowledge of Ms. Jones.

  “Are you going to let Shear keep all his money?” Brewer shot back.

  “Yes! Why not? It’s his money, regardless of how he earned it.”

  “Several hundred million would help a lot of young people further their education,” Kelly chimed in.

  “I had to earn my money to go to school. They can, too.”

  “How soon do you want this asshole sent away?” Brewer asked.

  “Give Sterling a month to be diagnosed with some sort of terminal cancer.” The President shuffled papers on his desk and then laid them back down again.

  “What are we going to do with the others?” Brewer asked.

  “Shoot them, drown them, run over them, I don’t give a damn. Just eliminate them.”

  “What are you going to do about SAWWS Inc.?” Kelly asked.

  “Where is Abbott? Why haven’t you found him? You need to find him before he causes us problems.” The President’s face was in stroke readiness. His blood pressure far exceeded its limits, even with medication. He opened his desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of blood pressure pills, putting a tablet in his mouth. He managed to swallow it without any water.

  “We have some good leads, but we now know he is innocent,” Kelly said.

  “Innocent, or not, I want him out of the picture. With him around, the lid is still open. I want the lid slammed shut, ASAP. Is that clear gentlemen? I want Abbott dead before the end of the week,” the President shouted.

  “Yes, it is clear, Mr. President!” Brewer said. Kelly nodded. They both rose from their ornate chairs and walked toward the door.

  Before leaving, Kelly turned and said, “You never mentioned what you wanted done with SAWWS Inc.”

  “I don’t know. Just leave it alone,” the President responded as sweat dripped from his face.

  Brewer and Kelly left the oval office. The President’s thoughts were spinning around in his head: If Shear is prosecuted, he will drag many senators, congressmen and me into his web. We would all go down the drain. He must be destroyed, along with Abbott.

  Chapter 39

  THE JOURNEY

  We left the hotel with all bills paid, a different car, new names, new clothes, a credit card, new driver licenses, and directions to someplace neither of us had ever been to before. All my employees were confirmed dead, either poisoned by toxic gases or brutally beaten and dismembered, with Jennifer being the only one identified by DNA. Right now, my body is running on hate, revenge, and unanswered questions as to who is responsible. Jo seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. We can’t go to any doctors or pharmacies for fear of being caught. We will be staying with people we never met. We wondered every second when we might be stopped by the law, or if we will be on the run forever.

  We drove down I-55 from Chicago toward St Louis, Missouri. It’s 10:55 am and ten days have passed since I had talked to Jennifer and Virginia. Now, they are dead. I am on the run and trying to keep my body from exploding into a million pieces. The buildup inside me makes me nauseous; my head pounds at my temples. The tightness in my neck and shoulders causes numbness down to my fingertips and scrambled thoughts. I have trouble breathing. I flipped on the A/C to cool me down. We have been on this road for two hours and just passed Bloomington, Illinois’ last exit.

  The telephone poles fly by; cars and trucks pass us. We were told to stay under the posted speed limit of 70 mph. I looked down at the speedometer and it read 66 mph. My hands gripped the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I tried to relax, but thoughts ran through my head faster than the speed of sound. I looked straight ahead and saw red lights flashing on our side of the road. Traffic slowed. Jo had her eyes shut, possibly asleep. It looked like a road block. “Shit!” I tapped the brake pedal to slow my momentum until we were under 25mph. Jo’s eyes remained closed. “What now?” I tried to peer over the cars in front of me to see what was happening. Before I knew why or what, a large lawman dressed in an Illinois State Trooper uniform flagged me down. He motioned me over to the shoulder, where several cars were parked in various directions. I was petrified. Jo awoke, saw the flashing lights and screamed—screams filled with panic, fright, and pent-up emotion. The trooper looked in my side window. He drew his gun, as did three other troopers. Traffic was now stopped. Four more troopers arrived on the scene and circled our car. “Shit! David, where are you? I need you David.” Jo was hysterical. I laid my hand on her left thigh, trying to slow the madness escaping from within her trembling body.

  “Unlock your doors!” shouted the largest trooper, standing a few feet from my door.

  I fumbled with the locks on the door panel, unlocking them, locking them and finally, unlocking them. Two troopers flung open both the driver’s door and the front passenger’s door, simultaneously. “GET OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

  I tried to move, but my seat belt clamped me to my seat. Jo had gone into shock or had passed out from fright. My body stiffened. My hands were cold. My eyes saw Jennifer in front of the car. She smiled and then put an elbow of her sunglasses between her lips. My eyes watered. I closed them and opened them, but she was still there.

  My eyes burned from tears, tears of joy. Just then, large hands gripped my shirt at my shoulder and drug me out of the car. I was still focused on Jennifer, as my knees slammed onto the cement pavement. The pain shot up to my shoulders. I felt a large knee press hard between my shoulder blades, slamming my face onto t
he highway. Jennifer was still smiling.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 40

  NEW ZEALAND

  I woke up with a cold sweat oozing from my naked body, in a bed with a body lying next to me. My palms were clammy. My eyes opened wide, staring at a ceiling not familiar to me. The body lying next to me was covered and faced the other way. The room was bright enough to see, even though there were no lights on, just a ray of light from outside seeping through the drapes. It looked like Jennifer’s hair. I sat up immediately and put my right hand on the body. My heart was ready to jump out from under my rib cage after hearing the body moan. “It’s alive,” I whispered. Seconds later the body moved, turning on its back to give me a full view of her face. It was Jennifer. “OH, MY GOD!” I blinked. It was a dream. No, it was a damn nightmare, a nightmare from hell. I shook, tears ran down my cheeks and I couldn’t move. I shook my head trying to clear the insanity of my nightmare.

  I glanced at the clock on the night stand and read the illuminated red numbers facing me: 3:45 am. Where am I? I looked around the room and then it struck me—is this our room in Auckland, New Zealand? Should I tell Jennifer? Should I make sure and peak outside the curtains. I gently walked to the window with legs like straw, so weak I could barely move. I looked down at the street lights below watching a few cars and trucks going down the wrong side of the road. I must be in New Zealand.

  I turned away from the window and looked at Jennifer lying in the bed, breathing in rhythm. I was stunned, paralyzed, and could hardly breathe. My chest tightened; my mouth parched. I went to the bathroom and ran cold water from the tap into a glass I had taken from the vanity. I gulped it down and ran another glassful, and another, until my mouth had enough saliva to move my tongue. I glanced in the mirror after turning on the light switch, and saw Sam Abbott. The real Sam Abbott, not Trevor. “Jo, OH MY GOD! Who! Why! How!” Her partially naked body entered my head. I turned abruptly, looking back at Jennifer. “I won’t tell Jennifer about my nightmare. It isn’t necessary! I want to forget it. I hope I can forget it.” I looked back at the mirror to make sure I saw Sam.