Saint kept walking and Hayes stopped for a minute and swallowed. As they entered the convention center, they asked where the designated meeting space was located and were directed to a room on the third floor.
There was no doubt that the Vice President was there. Secret service was everywhere.
“We’re here to see…”
“We know, sirs,” said the man. “We were notified that you were coming and they sent up your photos from downstairs.”
“Nice,” smirked Saint. “I hope they got my good side.” The agent never cracked a smile.
“They didn’t.”
Hayes chuckled as they followed the man down another long corridor toward a group of meeting rooms. They were all empty except one. The Vice President was seated at a large round table with several of his aides around him. They seemed to be reviewing notes for an upcoming speech.
“Ah! The gentlemen from Legacy,” he smiled. “Please have a seat. Henry we’ll go over this again in a few minutes. Go ahead and grab something for everyone to eat.”
“Yes, sir.” The young man nodded and left the room, promising to return with food.
“Michael said that you have an email that I allegedly sent,” he said staring at the two men.
“Yes, sir,” said Hayes pulling it up on the tablet. “It appears to come from the random mailbox used to conceal secure messages from your office.”
The Vice President looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“I would normally ask how in the hell you know that but considering who I’m talking to, I won’t ask that stupid question.” He read the message, frowning as he showed to another aid standing behind him. He shook his head. “This was not me. Not even close and to my knowledge, that’s not my secure e-mail box.”
Hayes frowned at the Vice President, turning to look at Saint.
“Sir, there are at least three-hundred messages that have been sent from the mailbox, some of which were directed to our own team from you.”
“May I see them?” he asked. Hayes tapped his comms and spoke softly to AJ and Hiro. Again, the VP raised his brows at the two men before him. Within seconds, the messages scrolled through, each one different than the last.
“Are you saying you wrote none of those messages?” asked Saint. “Not even the ones regarding Bolivia or our recent adventure in Niger?”
“None,” he frowned leaning back in the chair. “Gentlemen, normally I wouldn’t have these discussions with people outside of my circle, but I feel certain that you are more in my circle, than out. For some time now I’ve had the feeling that I’m being used as a scapegoat by the POTUS. Messages crossed, e-mails sent, letters sent, even directive to my own team.
“Fortunately, most of it was relatively benign and I have a very loyal team that brings them to me. But I’ve been concerned and quite frankly, have nowhere to turn. This woman, Margaret that was killed, what was it about?”
“We’re investigating an extremely rich vein of oil that we believe runs from Argentina all the way north to the Dakotas. A group of farmers called us asking for assistance because their crops had been vandalized and they were being pressured by real estate developers to sell their farms.
“Now, these farms aren’t the kind that have cute roadside stands. These folks are the ones putting the food on our tables every night. When we got out there, we discovered that the Mayor, Sheriff and others were involved. And Santori.”
“Jesus,” muttered the Vice President. “Santori? He’s been a pain in my ass for years.”
Hayes and Saint stared at him for a moment, then he realized he needed to explain further.
“Probably before your time, maybe in your fathers’ time. I led my own unit of Marines. Spent almost all of my twelve years in the jungles of South America fighting drug lords. Santori was at the top of the list every damn time.”
“Well, his nephew has exposed a problem for him. It seems Santori got hold of the nephew when he was young and impressionable. He had him bringing truckloads of illegal aliens across the border and leaving them to die in the desert heat. When they were all dead, he was told to burn the bodies and bury the ashes as far from the location as possible,” said Hayes.
“Don’t tell me. He buried them in Nebraska.”
“Yes, sir. There and other locations. We were doing soil samples to try and figure out why the developers were so hell-bent on those particular farms. Turns out, it’s where the bodies are literally buried and Santori knew that someone would come and discover that if they were drilling,” said Saint.
“And you believe the POTUS knows this and is working with Santori?” asked the Vice President.
“Sir, we are not in a position to point fingers at the POTUS but the evidence does seem to lean in that direction,” said Hayes.
“You’re being kind,” smirked the older man. “It fucking does point fingers at him. If what you say is true, this would give Santori and the POTUS control of the vast amounts of oil that could control not only the U.S., but South America, Central America, and even Canada.”
