“Who’s going to clean up this mess?” Jennifer said to Patton as they sat on the edge of the stage.
Patton looked around the large, open area and smiled. At the moment he didn’t care how the place looked. They won. It was all that mattered.
“I’ll call a cleaning service tomorrow,” he said, grinning like a little boy. It was the happiest she’d seen him since their wedding.
She smiled back at him and said, “Good, because I don’t want to have anything to do with it.” She kicked at an empty plastic cup that was on the floor. “You did it,” she said, cutting him off from his attempt to be humble. “No. You know you were the one who made this all happen. Don’t try to be humble with me right now because I’m your wife. I know better.”
He smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Okay, I’ll let you say it just this one time.”
CHAPTER 19
The Governor-elect woke up in a great mood. He was so happy he didn’t even have a hangover. He’d polished off a whole bottle of champagne by himself and God only knew how many shots of tequila, not to mention all the beer. The euphoria of victory must have pushed the alcohol right through his system. Mike felt a stir and remembered the woman and how fun the post celebration celebration had been. He was lying in bed, completely relieved and relaxed. The Asher administration was over and the campaign was now in the history books.
Never one to relax for too long, Mike began to think of his day. It would be a light day—hell, anything compared to the last two weeks of the campaign was light. He had a planning meeting with Patton in the afternoon and a TV interview that evening. Mike turned and looked at the lovely brunette lying there. She was sound asleep. He lifted the sheet and looked at her beautiful body. A debate between his head, his heart, and another part of his body began. It wasn’t much of a debate.
Asher was physically ill. It had been a tough campaign. His people, particularly Anna, had pulled out all the stops. Still, he’d lost to the Texas hick Mike Wilson. He shook his head in disbelief. The motion made him feel like a billiards ball rolling around his skull. He groaned and touched the side of his head. Unlike his foe, he did have a hangover. Like his foe, however, he woke up to a mess and a naked woman in his bed. Anna stirred at the sound of his groan but didn’t wake. He turned to her and sneered. ‘How the hell could she sleep right now?’ he thought. They’d lost and he was blaming her. If anyone else had been there he would have blamed them too.
Asher sat up and his head started to throb. His goal was to make it into the bathroom for some Excedrin and a shower. Asher looked to his right and saw a glass of water on his nightstand. He reached out for it and nearly knocked it over. He tilted his head back and gulped the water greedily, spilling huge drops all over his bare chest. In a sudden fit of anger, he threw the glass against the far wall, punctuated with a violent curse. Water and glass exploded all over the room. A piece of it even landed at the foot of the bed. Anna jumped up to her knees from her prone position when she heard the crash of glass.
“What the hell!” she groaned. Apparently his headache was contagious because she was rubbing her forehead, her eyes clamped shut.
Asher didn’t respond. Instead, he threw the sheets off the bed, stood, and made his way to the bathroom.
“What time is it?” Anna groaned.
“I don’t know,” he croaked through his parched throat. He walked across the bathroom and turned the shower on. “I don’t care,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
He stepped into the shower and let the warm water massage his head. It cascaded down and the tension seemed to wash away with it. He was enjoying the water so much he didn’t notice that Anna had gotten in with him until he felt her chest on his back and her arms reach around his stomach. She kissed his back and nestled her cheek against him.
“It’s going to work out. We’re just going to have to push things faster than we wanted to,” she said, trying to reassure him.
She felt him nod.
“Before you know it you’ll be right back on top with more power than you had before.”
He turned around to face her, her hands now clasped at the small of his back.
“You think it’ll work?”
She leaned her head back so she could meet his gaze. “I know it will,” she said with her eyes now closed, letting the warm water massage her aching head. “They’re getting ready to go as we speak.”
In a small house on the outskirts of town, a seven-person team was gearing up. All seven of them—five men and two women—wore all black, including their bullet proof vests. All were equipped with wireless radio earpieces that would allow them to communicate with one another. Once they were ready, they split into two teams.
The leader was Brian White. Like Travis Snedley, he was a former combat veteran recruited by David Asher. White served two years in the Army before washing out. After his dishonorable discharge, he joined an anarchist group that hired its services out to various Leftist groups, including the Democratic Party. Realizing there was money to be made in the business of mayhem, White advertised his services in the violent Leftist underground. He was contacted through one of Asher’s friends back home. He’d arrived in Blue Creek a month earlier.
“Everyone ready?” White said over his radio, slamming a full magazine into his .50 caliber Desert Eagle. He loved this pistol because of its unique shape. When people had it held to their head they tended to give him what he wanted. He slid the pistol into his thigh holster and Velcroed it in. In turn, the other members of the team communicated their readiness. White then signaled for the driver to get going. Two cars pulled away from the small house. The first made its way towards downtown while the second paused at a stop sign. Two minutes later, it finally followed the lead car to the destination.
Patton was smiling. The TV was on but the sound was muted. In just a few minutes, Mike Wilson was going to be on with the much hated and biased reporter Sharia Jackson.
“Honey, it’s about to start!” he yelled to Jennifer, who was in the kitchen preparing them a snack.
She finished and walked into the living room, handing Patton another beer as she plopped down beside him on the couch.
“I’m so excited!” she said, nearly squealing.
Patton looked at her and smiled. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Letting out a deep sigh.
The first team arrived, their van skidding to a halt behind the one-level brick building that housed one of Blue Creek’s two television studios. They would have to cross a small patch of grass and the studio’s parking lot. All told it was about fifty feet of open ground. They each cautiously scanned the area before exiting the vehicle. They all pulled on a black ski masks, quickly surveyed their surroundings again, and then exited the vehicle.
The three intruders closed the distance between the street and the back door of the studio in less than ten seconds. Crouching at the back door, the man in front grabbed the handle and pulled the glass door open. They entered the hallway in a crouch and then ducked into a small office.