Read Online They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordon Greene
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the other end tried to figure out how to explain their call, “lead on a possible threat to Congressman Burr, who I’m sure you’re aware will be at the DNC meeting tomorrow. A David Russell…”
“Let me stop you right there,” Sean interrupted. “I think I know where this is going. Mr. Russell made some drunken calls to the Congressman’s office and then tried to use the same fits when he got pulled for drunk driving to try to get off easy. The man’s not right in the head. I’ve dealt with him in the past. He’ll say anything. He’s one of those conspiracy nuts who mixes his tin foil theories with too many drinks and too many guns.”
“I still…” Ethan started again, before Sean jumped in again.
“Look Shaw.” Leaning back against his desk, Sean put a firmness behind his voice. “I personally spoke to him once they got him sobered up last night. He didn’t know a thing after that. Passed a lie detector and everything. If you want to come on down and talk to him yourself that’s fine, but I’ve got most my agents tied up at the DNC meeting, so don’t expect anyone to chauffeur you around.”
Sean bit his lip as the last few words slipped out. He was too busy to deal with an agent gallivanting from up north.
“I’m sorry,” Sean tried again. “I don’t mean to be short with you, but I don’t have the spare manpower right now to help you out. You’re welcome to come down and talk to Russell, just don’t expect to find anything special with him. He’s not exactly the brightest individual.”
“Thank you, Agent Abrams,” Ethan replied without the least bit of hesitation. “I’ll be sure to pass on anything we find out.”
Sean scowled at the subtle understatement, that they had possibly missed something, or been careless. “Please do. Goodbye.”
The phone went silent and Sean replaced the receiver. Looking up at his screen filled with notes and reminders he huffed, “Here we go.”
CHAPTER 12
January 28 at 10:40 p.m. EST
Atlanta, Georgia
Ethan listened to the phone call, waiting for something of interest to their investigation. He and Jason had been listening to the audio recordings from David Russell’s phone for the past half-hour.
The hotel room was small and held an odd stench, something Ethan could not quite place. Dull, dark colors were strewn across the room. Dull red bed sheets, dark green window drapes. A loud heating unit sat under the window next to the entrance door.
Jason sat at a small wooden table by the heater, stripped down to a pair of old blue gym shorts he used as pajamas and a sleeveless t-shirt emblazoned with the Captain America shield. Ethan sat across from him in long black and red checkered flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt with an old-school Batman logo across the front. It was part of a long standing feud between the two about which was better, Marvel or DC. It was not a subject likely to be agreed upon soon.
They had begun their examination with the initial threat called in to the Congressman’s office. One-by-one they worked their way through the man's phone record over the last two weeks.
Russell had sounded worried, even hysterical, in his first call, maybe even a little drunk. When the Congressman’s aide answered, Russell interrupted her, his country accent crackling. He had frantically and repeatedly warned the Congressman not to come to Georgia.
“Don’t let Burr come down to Georgia, don’t let him. Please, don’t let him come.” Worry was evident in his voice, bordering on panic. When the aide tried to calm him down and ask what was going to happen, his response had been vague. “They don’t like him, they don’t want him here. Just don’t let him come to Georgia,” and the phone went silent.
The call had rattled the aide, but the Congressman and the police had written it off as another prank or idle threat. A drunk. Jason and Ethan were not convinced yet. Something told Ethan there was more to it. Something he
“Let me stop you right there,” Sean interrupted. “I think I know where this is going. Mr. Russell made some drunken calls to the Congressman’s office and then tried to use the same fits when he got pulled for drunk driving to try to get off easy. The man’s not right in the head. I’ve dealt with him in the past. He’ll say anything. He’s one of those conspiracy nuts who mixes his tin foil theories with too many drinks and too many guns.”
“I still…” Ethan started again, before Sean jumped in again.
“Look Shaw.” Leaning back against his desk, Sean put a firmness behind his voice. “I personally spoke to him once they got him sobered up last night. He didn’t know a thing after that. Passed a lie detector and everything. If you want to come on down and talk to him yourself that’s fine, but I’ve got most my agents tied up at the DNC meeting, so don’t expect anyone to chauffeur you around.”
Sean bit his lip as the last few words slipped out. He was too busy to deal with an agent gallivanting from up north.
“I’m sorry,” Sean tried again. “I don’t mean to be short with you, but I don’t have the spare manpower right now to help you out. You’re welcome to come down and talk to Russell, just don’t expect to find anything special with him. He’s not exactly the brightest individual.”
“Thank you, Agent Abrams,” Ethan replied without the least bit of hesitation. “I’ll be sure to pass on anything we find out.”
Sean scowled at the subtle understatement, that they had possibly missed something, or been careless. “Please do. Goodbye.”
The phone went silent and Sean replaced the receiver. Looking up at his screen filled with notes and reminders he huffed, “Here we go.”
CHAPTER 12
January 28 at 10:40 p.m. EST
Atlanta, Georgia
Ethan listened to the phone call, waiting for something of interest to their investigation. He and Jason had been listening to the audio recordings from David Russell’s phone for the past half-hour.
The hotel room was small and held an odd stench, something Ethan could not quite place. Dull, dark colors were strewn across the room. Dull red bed sheets, dark green window drapes. A loud heating unit sat under the window next to the entrance door.
Jason sat at a small wooden table by the heater, stripped down to a pair of old blue gym shorts he used as pajamas and a sleeveless t-shirt emblazoned with the Captain America shield. Ethan sat across from him in long black and red checkered flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt with an old-school Batman logo across the front. It was part of a long standing feud between the two about which was better, Marvel or DC. It was not a subject likely to be agreed upon soon.
They had begun their examination with the initial threat called in to the Congressman’s office. One-by-one they worked their way through the man's phone record over the last two weeks.
Russell had sounded worried, even hysterical, in his first call, maybe even a little drunk. When the Congressman’s aide answered, Russell interrupted her, his country accent crackling. He had frantically and repeatedly warned the Congressman not to come to Georgia.
“Don’t let Burr come down to Georgia, don’t let him. Please, don’t let him come.” Worry was evident in his voice, bordering on panic. When the aide tried to calm him down and ask what was going to happen, his response had been vague. “They don’t like him, they don’t want him here. Just don’t let him come to Georgia,” and the phone went silent.
The call had rattled the aide, but the Congressman and the police had written it off as another prank or idle threat. A drunk. Jason and Ethan were not convinced yet. Something told Ethan there was more to it. Something he
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