Read Online They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene - Free Book Online
Authors: Jordon Greene
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looking for other threats to the Congressman. He stopped near the back of the pile and read a few lines, then pulled a sheet from the stack and placed it on the table.
“Looks like the Capitol Police didn’t think much of it,” Ethan wrinkled his brow, pointing to the report he had placed in front of Jason. “Their report only mentions that the Congressman was told not to come to Georgia by our Mr. Russell. They didn’t investigate any further.”
“How about I send for a warrant to get his recent calls?” Jason said.
Ethan grinned, seeing that Jason was on the same wavelength, nearly reading his mind.
“Pack your bags, too. We’re going to Atlanta tonight,” Ethan informed him with a smirk on his face.
“Huh? Why not let the Atlanta Field Office handle it, Ethan?” Jason asked. He was unlikely to win, but he tried. Tomorrow was to be father-daughter night, or at least he had planned, or – well, he had thought about it. They would do whatever Kallie wanted. It hit him suddenly that he really did not know what that might be.
“This may be related to our cases, Jason. And the Congressman is a Virginian. We owe it to him. It’s our job,” Ethan rationalized, trying to tie the thin strings together.
Jason huffed, but did not argue. Deep inside he wanted to go; it was what he was bred to do. Investigate, follow the scent. It may be part of the case, maybe even a break in the case. Then again, it could be nothing, as it usually was. But if there was a chance it might amount to something, they could not afford to miss the opportunity.
“Just promise me we’ll be back in Norfolk by tomorrow evening,” Jason asserted, his voice a little more annoyed sounding than he had intended.
“Deal,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll give the Atlanta Police a call to make sure they don’t release our witness. You want to get the plane tickets?”
“Sure, I’ll get them,” Jason acquiesced, hoping that this would be quick.
CHAPTER 11
January 28 at 3:55 p.m. EST
Atlanta, Georgia
The office held its usual buzz. Agents busied themselves about the open space just outside Agent Sean Abrams’ office. He ignored the noises as he prepared for security at tomorrow’s Democratic National Committee meeting down at the World Congress Center.
Sean’s pale blue eyes barely shone in his reflection on the computer monitor as he scanned last-minute placements on a blueprint of the Center. It was his job to keep the delegates and visiting officials safe during the two days of high-strung talks and squabbling over party affairs.
“Ah” Sean grumbled, taking another sip from the thirty-two ounce gas station cup next to him. So many times he had considered transferring to D.C., New York or some other field office. Atlanta was massive but it did not hold the excitement he craved.
Instead, he frequented the nearby amusement parks and paintball teams for his adrenaline fixes. Being hunted down by another person was, albeit with a paint gun, exciting. He needed it; otherwise he was sure he would end up punching his partner before the end of the week.
Maybe it was the orphan in him, the sour upbringing, the years of constantly trying to escape. Or, maybe it was the usual drear of adult life. He was not sure, just guesses.
Ring… Ring…
“Dammit,” he scolded the phone. Probably another call from some nameless DNC rep fretting over some last-minute change to security placements. Still, he picked up the phone.
“Agent Sean Abrams, Atlanta Field Office,” he repeated.
“Agent Abrams,” an unfamiliar voice came over the line. The voice seemed too familiar with calling the FBI to be from the DNC. “I’m Agent Ethan Shaw from the Norfolk Field Office. I was told to talk to you about security for the DNC meeting.”
Dammit. Maybe it was about security placement.
“Yes, that would be me,” Sean tried not to sound irritated, “What can I do for you, Agent Shaw?”
“Well, I have a…” Sean listened as the voice on
“Looks like the Capitol Police didn’t think much of it,” Ethan wrinkled his brow, pointing to the report he had placed in front of Jason. “Their report only mentions that the Congressman was told not to come to Georgia by our Mr. Russell. They didn’t investigate any further.”
“How about I send for a warrant to get his recent calls?” Jason said.
Ethan grinned, seeing that Jason was on the same wavelength, nearly reading his mind.
“Pack your bags, too. We’re going to Atlanta tonight,” Ethan informed him with a smirk on his face.
“Huh? Why not let the Atlanta Field Office handle it, Ethan?” Jason asked. He was unlikely to win, but he tried. Tomorrow was to be father-daughter night, or at least he had planned, or – well, he had thought about it. They would do whatever Kallie wanted. It hit him suddenly that he really did not know what that might be.
“This may be related to our cases, Jason. And the Congressman is a Virginian. We owe it to him. It’s our job,” Ethan rationalized, trying to tie the thin strings together.
Jason huffed, but did not argue. Deep inside he wanted to go; it was what he was bred to do. Investigate, follow the scent. It may be part of the case, maybe even a break in the case. Then again, it could be nothing, as it usually was. But if there was a chance it might amount to something, they could not afford to miss the opportunity.
“Just promise me we’ll be back in Norfolk by tomorrow evening,” Jason asserted, his voice a little more annoyed sounding than he had intended.
“Deal,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll give the Atlanta Police a call to make sure they don’t release our witness. You want to get the plane tickets?”
“Sure, I’ll get them,” Jason acquiesced, hoping that this would be quick.
CHAPTER 11
January 28 at 3:55 p.m. EST
Atlanta, Georgia
The office held its usual buzz. Agents busied themselves about the open space just outside Agent Sean Abrams’ office. He ignored the noises as he prepared for security at tomorrow’s Democratic National Committee meeting down at the World Congress Center.
Sean’s pale blue eyes barely shone in his reflection on the computer monitor as he scanned last-minute placements on a blueprint of the Center. It was his job to keep the delegates and visiting officials safe during the two days of high-strung talks and squabbling over party affairs.
“Ah” Sean grumbled, taking another sip from the thirty-two ounce gas station cup next to him. So many times he had considered transferring to D.C., New York or some other field office. Atlanta was massive but it did not hold the excitement he craved.
Instead, he frequented the nearby amusement parks and paintball teams for his adrenaline fixes. Being hunted down by another person was, albeit with a paint gun, exciting. He needed it; otherwise he was sure he would end up punching his partner before the end of the week.
Maybe it was the orphan in him, the sour upbringing, the years of constantly trying to escape. Or, maybe it was the usual drear of adult life. He was not sure, just guesses.
Ring… Ring…
“Dammit,” he scolded the phone. Probably another call from some nameless DNC rep fretting over some last-minute change to security placements. Still, he picked up the phone.
“Agent Sean Abrams, Atlanta Field Office,” he repeated.
“Agent Abrams,” an unfamiliar voice came over the line. The voice seemed too familiar with calling the FBI to be from the DNC. “I’m Agent Ethan Shaw from the Norfolk Field Office. I was told to talk to you about security for the DNC meeting.”
Dammit. Maybe it was about security placement.
“Yes, that would be me,” Sean tried not to sound irritated, “What can I do for you, Agent Shaw?”
“Well, I have a…” Sean listened as the voice on
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