Read Online Terminal Justice by Alton L. Gansky - Free Book Online

certain advantages, but, at least for him, they brought certain demands, not the least of which was the need for regular physical expression. Each morning at dawn, he would slip into his custom-fitted running suit and put in five miles. He wasn’t sure why, but he did his best thinking when he was sweating. He was happy with that connection.
    Fifteen minutes later A.J. exited the elevator that had conveyed him to the ground floor from the penthouse at the top of Barringston Tower. During the descent, he had begun his warmup stretches, working each muscle group. A few more minutes in the lobby and he’d be ready to take to the now empty downtown streets.
    The early morning August air was warm and felt good to A.J. as he relocked the lobby door and dropped the key into the zippered pocket of his jogging suit. Less than a minute later he was onthe sidewalk in a full jog, his long legs spanning about one and a half times what a man of average height could cover. Overhead the ever-present marine layer of clouds blocked out the moon and stars. The streetlights cast their eerie yellow glow on the ground in identical circles of illumination. A.J. ran through the washes of light and the spaces of darkness that lay outside their penumbra. From light to dark to light to dark again until the alternating hues seemed to flicker like an old movie. Soon he fell into an almost hypnotic pace, hearing only his breathing and the repetitive thumping of his running shoes on the concrete. He saw little except the empty way in front of him.
    He blocked out the scenery that he had seen a hundred times before, choosing to focus on the murder of Dr. Rhodes. It ate at him like an ulcer. It wasn’t right for noble people to be killed while helping others. It was a heinous sin; a sin that must be avenged. A.J. was determined that atonement be made.
    A.J. ran and thought, and the more he thought of Judith Rhodes and the
Sea Maid
, the angrier he became. That anger fueled his movement. He ran harder, increasing his stride with each step until he could feel every muscle in his legs strain and pull like massive elastic bands. His breathing became noisy as he forced the air from his lungs in explosive exhalation and then inhaled deeply. The noise of his footfalls echoed off the surrounding buildings and storefronts.
    He focused on the missing
Sea Maid
. Surely he could do something, but what? He had a great deal of wealth, power, and influence. But his wealth couldn’t provide the help he needed, and his power was equally useless. His influence, however, might be of some use. He had, over the years, carefully and judiciously supported candidates for congressional offices. He could call on a number of congressmen and senators any time of the day.
    “That’s it,” A.J. said to the empty air as he stopped his jogging. “Of course, I should have thought of this sooner.” Panting heavily he bent over, resting his arms on his legs. He had no idea how farhe had run or how long he had been jogging, nor did he care, for now he knew what he had to do. It may not help, but it was something. He would call Sen. Dean Toler who headed the Armed Services Committee and ask a favor. With the continuing stress in Iraq and Iran, there must certainly be at least one navy ship in the Indian Ocean, most likely there were several. They would have rescue technology that would surpass anything else in the world. Maybe Senator Toler could twist some arms and influence the navy to send out search-and-rescue crews. If they couldn’t find the
Sea Maid
, then no one could. The question was where would they find the ship? On the surface or on the bottom? The last thought sobered him.
    “Nice suit, man,” a heavily accented voice said behind him. A.J. turned to see three young Hispanic men approaching him. They were dressed in similar fashion, each wearing flannel shirts buttoned to the collar and baggy black pants. Their hair was cut almost to the scalp, and one wore a red