Read Online Allegiance: A Jackson Quick Adventure by Tom Abrahams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tom Abrahams
Tags: Politics, UT, Texas, president, Assassination, Houston, Election, Health Care, Environment, David Baldacci, austin, alternative energy, Nanotechnology, texas aggies, income taxes, second amendment, brad thor, oil, texas chl, tom abrahams, gubernatorial, petrochemicals, post hill press, big oil, rice university, bill of rights, aggies, living presidents, texas politics, healthcare, george h w bush, texas am, taxes, transcanada, obamacare, wendy davis, gun control, rice owls, campaign, george bush, texas governor, ted cruz, rick perry, 2nd amendment, right to bear arms, vince flynn, keystone pipeline, chl, keystone xl, longhorns, phones, clean fuel, ipods, university of texas
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windows. I don’t find one. I’m startled when the bus releases its air brakes. I can’t believe this is my life. I take a deep breath and lower the cap on my head as I approach Townsend.
He’s taller than I expected. Thinner too. He’s wearing tan suit pants and a white dress shirt with French cuffs. His shoes are worn, brown leather loafers. It reminds me reporters always have horrible shoes. He has a cell phone in his left hand and offers his right as I approach him. I grip his hand with the little strength I can find and look him in the eyes, searching for signs of skepticism. He blinks and smiles.
“I’m George.” He shakes my hand up and down a couple of times and lets go. “I’m glad you made it here. I’m really interested in what you have to share with me.”
“I bet,” I chuckle at his honesty. “Aren’t you underdressed? I mean, no suit today?”
He shrugs and glances down at his clothes “I’m not on the air today. I’m part of the investigative team, so I’m not on the air every day.”
“He gestures to the passenger’s side of his car and turns to open the driver’s door. “So,” he says, “let’s hit the road.” He’s acting as though this is a Sunday drive, like I’m not some hit man’s target and he could be in danger now too. I’ll let him doubt me for now. He’ll find out I’m for real soon enough. I hope he doesn’t run when he does, or even worse, come to the realization the instant before two bullets rip through his head.
I slide into the car, toss my backpack into the back of the SUV, and am hit with the smell of cigarette smoke. The air is stale and sour and I can feel it in the back of my throat. There’s a half empty pack of Winston’s and an open can of Dr. Pepper in the center console. Everybody drinks Dr. Pepper. It’s the national drink of Texas or something.
“Who’s trying to kill you?” he asks me without any hint of disbelief in his voice. It catches me off guard.
“I don’t know, but it’s obviously got something to do with Don Carlos Buell and Ripley.”
“What’s your connection to them?” “I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” I say. “Let’s wait until we get to where we’re going.”
“Okay,” Townsend sounds frustrated. He has his arm around the back of my seat as he backs up, brakes, and pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street. He purses his lips as he merges into the left lane of traffic. “This seems to be a one way deal right now.”
“But I do have a question for you. What can you tell me about Buell?” I ignore his complaint. “I mean, what do you know about his background?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s he into? People like him aren’t wealthy because they’re good people. They all have things in their past.” I can feel the congestion building in my nose from the latent cigarette smoke. I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I turn around and look out the rear window. Nobody is following us.
“I thought you worked for the Governor.”
“And?” We’re not getting off to a productive start.
“And,” he says, “I would think you would know your opponent’s baggage.”
“I know spin,” I admit as I check the passenger side rear view mirror. “I don’t necessarily know the truth. Remember, everything I know comes from politicians. How trustworthy can that information be? I want to know what you know.”
I don’t want to tell him I’m increasingly aware I’ve been played somehow. I am not some trusted confidant for the Governor; I’m a tool. For a confident twenty-something with the ego I have, it’s not an easy self-admission to make.
“Fair enough,” he spins the steering wheel to the left. “Well, we know he’s into energy. He’s always worked hand in hand with fuel exploration companies and end-user energy providers. Kind of a collusion to keep everybody happy.”
“How’s that?”
“He invested heavily in exploitive energy. His
He’s taller than I expected. Thinner too. He’s wearing tan suit pants and a white dress shirt with French cuffs. His shoes are worn, brown leather loafers. It reminds me reporters always have horrible shoes. He has a cell phone in his left hand and offers his right as I approach him. I grip his hand with the little strength I can find and look him in the eyes, searching for signs of skepticism. He blinks and smiles.
“I’m George.” He shakes my hand up and down a couple of times and lets go. “I’m glad you made it here. I’m really interested in what you have to share with me.”
“I bet,” I chuckle at his honesty. “Aren’t you underdressed? I mean, no suit today?”
He shrugs and glances down at his clothes “I’m not on the air today. I’m part of the investigative team, so I’m not on the air every day.”
“He gestures to the passenger’s side of his car and turns to open the driver’s door. “So,” he says, “let’s hit the road.” He’s acting as though this is a Sunday drive, like I’m not some hit man’s target and he could be in danger now too. I’ll let him doubt me for now. He’ll find out I’m for real soon enough. I hope he doesn’t run when he does, or even worse, come to the realization the instant before two bullets rip through his head.
I slide into the car, toss my backpack into the back of the SUV, and am hit with the smell of cigarette smoke. The air is stale and sour and I can feel it in the back of my throat. There’s a half empty pack of Winston’s and an open can of Dr. Pepper in the center console. Everybody drinks Dr. Pepper. It’s the national drink of Texas or something.
“Who’s trying to kill you?” he asks me without any hint of disbelief in his voice. It catches me off guard.
“I don’t know, but it’s obviously got something to do with Don Carlos Buell and Ripley.”
“What’s your connection to them?” “I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” I say. “Let’s wait until we get to where we’re going.”
“Okay,” Townsend sounds frustrated. He has his arm around the back of my seat as he backs up, brakes, and pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street. He purses his lips as he merges into the left lane of traffic. “This seems to be a one way deal right now.”
“But I do have a question for you. What can you tell me about Buell?” I ignore his complaint. “I mean, what do you know about his background?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s he into? People like him aren’t wealthy because they’re good people. They all have things in their past.” I can feel the congestion building in my nose from the latent cigarette smoke. I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I turn around and look out the rear window. Nobody is following us.
“I thought you worked for the Governor.”
“And?” We’re not getting off to a productive start.
“And,” he says, “I would think you would know your opponent’s baggage.”
“I know spin,” I admit as I check the passenger side rear view mirror. “I don’t necessarily know the truth. Remember, everything I know comes from politicians. How trustworthy can that information be? I want to know what you know.”
I don’t want to tell him I’m increasingly aware I’ve been played somehow. I am not some trusted confidant for the Governor; I’m a tool. For a confident twenty-something with the ego I have, it’s not an easy self-admission to make.
“Fair enough,” he spins the steering wheel to the left. “Well, we know he’s into energy. He’s always worked hand in hand with fuel exploration companies and end-user energy providers. Kind of a collusion to keep everybody happy.”
“How’s that?”
“He invested heavily in exploitive energy. His
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