Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) (15 page)

He rehearsed his shot sequence several times without pulling the trigger. He practiced until the movements were precise.

"Hold the tablecloth up in front of me," he said. "Block my view."

Smythe and Sheryl held the sides of the tablecloth and moved it into position. Aaron couldn't see the bones anymore. He had to aim from memory alone.

He fired three times without hesitation, putting three holes in the plastic. Smythe and Sheryl dropped the tablecloth to reveal three broken ribs.

The stunned audience was silent. Even the
legionnaires
looked impressed, although they were trying to be cool. Aaron claimed the money for the wager, and nobody complained.

Olaf came over. "That was un-fucking-believable."

"Thanks," Aaron said.

"I thought I was a sharp shooter, but you made me look like a chump."

"Sorry."

"It's OK." Olaf pounded Aaron on the back. "I can't stay mad at a guy who might buy a lot of hardware from me." Olaf laughed out loud.

"I'll check out your store next chance I get," Aaron said.

Smythe and Sheryl hovered at the edge of the conversation. They were listening.

"I just wish I could put my guns to proper use," Aaron added bitterly.

"Like what?" Olaf said.

"President Haley. A lynching is too good for him."

Aaron watched Olaf's reaction. There was the smug satisfaction of a man who was keeping a juicy secret. Olaf also glanced to the sides in a blatantly conspiratorial manner.

"You're right," he said. "We should do something about that crook."

"He's a crook?"

"Everybody knows he embezzled state money when he was the governor of North Carolina."

"Oh." Aaron nodded. "Right."

A man arrived at the party very late. His red hair was cut in an ugly mullet. He wore a blue T-shirt.

"'Scuse me," Olaf said immediately. He hustled over to greet the newcomer with obvious excitement.

Aaron moved closer to Smythe and Sheryl while still keeping an eye on Olaf.

"That asshole is up to no good," Aaron murmured.

"I agree, sir," Smythe said. "By the way, that was an amazing trick, even by your standards."

Sheryl nodded vigorously.

"Thanks," Aaron said.

Olaf and the new arrival were standing very close together and speaking in low voices. Both men kept looking around in a suspicious manner.

"Sheryl," Aaron said, "pick the pocket of Mr. Mullet over there. Snatch his wallet. I want to know who he is."

"Right now, sir?" Sheryl said.

"Yes. Smythe, provide a distraction."

She walked directly over to Olaf and his friend with a cheery smile on her face. The men didn't seem to want her company but didn't send her away. A beautiful woman like Sheryl rarely had to face rejection. She introduced herself enthusiastically.

Smythe went to a barrel full of iced beers and pulled out a can. He walked over to the barbecue pit, crouched down, and poured beer onto the meat. A cloud of hot steam, cinders, and smoke hit him square in the face.

"Ah!" he yelled. "Shit! Damn it!" He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Except for Aaron, everybody at the party looked at Smythe. Aaron observed Sheryl pluck a wallet from the back pocket of the man with the mullet. Her long, thin fingers were precision instruments.

She returned to Aaron and slipped the wallet into his hands. She whispered, "They were talking about getting something from a guy named Jed."

He flipped the wallet open. The most interesting item was a business card for "Command Performance Theatrical Engineering." He showed it to Sheryl.

Her eyes widened. "Those are the technicians who are setting up the sound and lighting in the arena. We saw several of their trucks over there."

Aaron felt a tingle of excitement. This investigation was finally gaining traction. He moved to a quiet spot, took out his phone, and called Perry.

"Sir?" Perry said.

"I need a quick background check." Aaron read the name and driver's license number from the wallet.

After a moment, Perry said, "Lighting technician. Union member. Gun enthusiast. Several arrests for assault and battery but only one conviction. He has an apartment in Romeoville."

"Also, a member of Pure America. I want to know more about this guy. Keep digging."

"Yes, sir," Perry said.

Aaron hung up and called Norbert. "See the man in blue with the hideous mullet?"

Norbert and Tawni were still hiding in the weeds nearby. They were doing a good job of being invisible. Aaron had spotted them only a few times.

"You mean the one Sheryl just pick-pocketed?" Norbert said.

"Yes. When he leaves, follow him. He could be our assassin. Perry is already doing a full background check."

"Yes, sir," Norbert responded enthusiastically.

Aaron closed his phone. He walked over to Smythe who was still rubbing his eyes. Soot marked his face. Sheryl was already there with a very worried expression. Several other people had gathered to offer unwanted, useless medical advice.

"You OK?" Aaron said.

"Stings," Smythe said, "but I'll be fine."

Aaron wasn't actually concerned. He could tell Smythe was just acting hurt.

Aaron pushed the stolen wallet into Sheryl's hand and whispered, "Put it back."

She nodded slightly.

Aaron walked over to Olaf and the lighting technician. They were murmuring to each other like a couple of spies. As Aaron approached, the technician abruptly left and went to the tables with the food.

"How is your cousin?" Olaf said.

"Fine," Aaron said. "Just a little smoke in his eyes."

"Good."

"Hey, you want to go shooting after this party is over?"

Olaf shook his head. "I was planning on drinking with the boys tonight."

He sounded sincere. This response comforted Aaron because it meant Pure America wasn't going to try anything tonight at the convention. There was enough time for a careful investigation.

"How about tomorrow morning?" Aaron said. "I'll bring a special toy."

Olaf raised his eyebrows. "What kind of toy?"

"That would spoil the surprise, but I guarantee you've never fired one before. You've probably only seen them in movies."

Olaf's eyes widened.

"I know an old aircraft hangar," Aaron said. "It was abandoned twenty years ago. Nobody will bother us there. Do you have some kind of e-mail or text number? I'll send you directions. The place is hard to find."

"I'm just [email protected]."

"That's easy. Check your e-mail when you get home. I want to do this real early in the morning when the cops are still drinking coffee and eating donuts. We're going to make a lot of noise."

Olaf nodded. "That sounds smart. Six AM?"

"Perfect." Aaron smiled. "See you then."

He walked off.

He looked for Sheryl. She was at the food table with the lighting technician.

She dropped his wallet at his feet when he was looking the other way. She called his attention to the wallet on the ground. He picked it up and thanked her for noticing. Obviously, he assumed it had just fallen out of his pocket.

She's a natural,
Aaron thought.

He signaled for her and Smythe to join him.

When the team was together, Aaron said, "It's time to go. The show begins in the United Center in two hours, and we have to be there."

"Why, sir?" Sheryl said.

"Just in case."

They started walking back to the car.

Aaron took out his phone to call the legate. It was time to give her an update.

She didn't answer. Her phone didn't even ring, which meant it was turned off or destroyed. Aaron's heart started beating faster. He quickly dialed Boreas' number.

The bodyguard answered immediately, "Hello?"

"This is Aaron. I'm trying to reach the legate."

"She disappeared."

"What?" Aaron said in too loud a voice. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I don't think she's in danger. She had a tender moment with Haley on the cruise ship and then freaked out. I haven't seen her since. I assume she's hiding until she calms down."

"What kind of tender moment?"

Boreas hesitated. "It's possible she's falling in love with him."

This news stunned Aaron. "That would explain Wesley's mysterious comment on the phone."

"If she shows up, I'll tell her to call you. I'm still with the President. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just keep him safe in her absence. Smythe, Sheryl, and I will be at the convention tonight. If a situation develops, we'll be right on top of it."

"I'll look for you," Boreas said.

Aaron closed his phone.

"What's happening, sir?" Smythe said. "A problem with the legate?"

"She might be in love with the President," Aaron replied softly. "I'm not sure if I should be happy, amused, or afraid. Either way, she's not handling it well."

Smythe and Sheryl stared in obvious disbelief.

Chapter Eight

Tawni felt a bug crawling across the back of her leg. She silently brushed it off. She couldn't do anything about the sun beating down on her head though. She hated working outdoors. Why couldn't the bad guys stick to air-conditioned offices?

The Pure America barbecue was finally winding down. Aaron, Smythe, and Sheryl had left hours ago. Norbert and Tawni had stayed behind to watch a bunch of racist bastards get drunk. She wanted to kill them in the worst possible way.

Finally, the lighting technician with the mullet started walking to his car. Norbert and Tawni had already attached a tracking device to the frame. Perry had provided a description and a license plate number, so finding the right car had been trivial.

"Let's move," Norbert said.

Tawni followed him through the brush in a crouched position. They went down the road, dashing from cover to cover, until they reached their own car. It was a brown sedan with rust spots on the bottoms of the panels. It looked like crap, but the brand new engine was a turbocharged V-8.

Norbert sat behind the wheel and Tawni rode shotgun. She pulled out the receiver for the tracking device from under the seat.

"We got a clear signal," she said. "The target is moving. Drive east."

He started the car and drove. The oversized engine purred like a lion.

"Those crackers didn't impress me," she said. "They seemed kind of stupid. It's hard to believe they can get to the President."

He glanced at her. "When you use racist language, you lower yourself to their level."

"Excuse me. Those rural Caucasian gentlemen were most unremarkable in regards to their perspicacity. It seems improbable that they would have the wherewithal to penetrate the Secret Service bulwark that envelops Mr. Haley."

"Indubitably. Nonetheless, our commander's mandate was unequivocal. We must persevere in our assignment."

She gave him a dirty look. He smiled smugly.

"For such a humble guy," she said, "you can be awful proud sometimes."

His smile vanished.

They followed the lighting technician back towards Chicago. He turned off the highway in a thinly populated suburb south-west of the city. After several turns, they arrived at a white apartment building which looked like it had only four apartments. Exterior stairs provided access to the upper story. Norbert parked across the street.

Tawni called Perry on her phone.

"Hello, ma'am," he answered.

"We followed the technician to an apartment building in Romeoville." Tawni gave the address.

"He lives there."

"We sweated in the stinking weeds for hours just to watch a guy go home?"

"Yes," Perry said.

She snapped her phone closed.

"We need to search his apartment," Norbert said. "It's a shame we didn't do it earlier when he wasn't here."

"Why does that matter?" Tawni said. "Let's just go in there, tie him up, and take the damn place apart."

"Which would tell Pure America they're in big trouble and possibly ruin the operation. That's not acceptable. I'm sure Aaron would agree with me."

She wrinkled her nose in frustration. He was right. Sometimes, having an experienced partner was a great annoyance.

"We'll wait for him to go to bed," she said slowly. "We'll sneak in there and give him a drug to keep him asleep. Then we'll search the place carefully without making a mess. When he wakes up in the morning, he won't know anything happened."

He nodded. "That's a good plan. Let's have dinner while we wait. I'm starving. We should also drop by headquarters, change our clothes, and pick up whatever we'll need for this job."

* * *

Aaron was sitting on a steel beam in the United Center. His feet were hanging over a hundred vertical feet of empty space, and the floor below was packed with people. Falling from this height would kill him and maybe one or two innocent bystanders besides.

He could see nearly everything from up here. He was using a pair of binoculars to scan the sea of excited faces. The arena could hold twenty thousand people, and it was full tonight. Delegates occupied about a quarter of the seating and were closest to the main stage. The Democratic Party faithful filled the rest. The excited buzz reminded him of a rock concert.

A sniper rifle was on the beam beside Aaron. The weapon fired .338 Lapua Magnum rounds which were powerful enough to take down large game and accurate at distances beyond a kilometer. In the relatively close quarters of the arena, he could literally shoot a button off a man's shirt.

Aaron located Smythe and Sheryl. The
legionnaires
were dressed as FBI agents. They had their backs against the main stage and were facing the audience. They seemed attentive but a little bored.

Aaron was sympathetic. He didn't expect much to happen tonight. The President wasn't scheduled to appear on stage until tomorrow and then only briefly. Opening night was reserved for lesser political lights so they could have their shining moment before the big boys took over. Haley would dominate the final day. His handsome face would be the last thing the audience saw and their strongest memory from the convention. If Aaron were an assassin trying to make a bold statement, he would strike then.