“Let’s go home,” nodded Nine. “I must be getting old. I’m tired and I want my own bed.”
The echoes of ‘me too’ made them all laugh. In the end, there was one less evil soul to worry about. A few dozen if you counted Santori’s men. It was their philosophy.
Eliminate one evil at a time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
With the chamber filled to capacity and whispers of what was to come, the men of Legacy sat in the balcony beside the Vice President’s wife and family. Below, in the front row by the men and women in uniform, was Michael Bodwick.
When the doors at the back of the chamber opened and the POTUS walked in, members stood in respect but most did not applaud. His face was screwed into a tight, pinched expression, knowing that something was wrong.
As he passed the joint chiefs, he noticed a familiar face. One that did not give him ease but instead fear and consternation. He walked toward Michael with a smile plastered on his face.
“Mr. President,” he grinned. Michael shook his outstretched hand and nodded.
“Mr. President.”
“Strange seeing you here,” he said trying to smile for the crowd and the cameras.
“Not so strange, Mr. President. As you know, the world is a winding, whirling place and changes are happening constantly. You just never know when your country will need you again.” The POTUS stared at Michael, looking him up and down.
“You’re looking awfully good for your age, Michael. Tell me, what’s your secret? Injections? The knife?”
“Good, clean, honest living, Mr. President,” he said without a smile. “You should try it sometime.”
The POTUS was guided toward the dais where he stood behind the podium. He stared at the faces and could feel he beads of sweat rolling down his neck and back.
No, no. No. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Looking up, he waited for the teleprompter to begin but it was black. He looked down at his notes but realized that they were not his notes. They were e-mails. His e-mails. His and Santori’s.
Stepping to the side, he leaned down to speak to an aide in front of him.
“What the fuck is this?” he growled behind his hand. “Where the fuck are my notes?”
“I don’t know, Mr. President. Those were placed there by the Vice President,” said the young man. He turned, glaring at the Vice President.
“You want to tell me what this is about?” he asked covering the microphone.
“It’s quite simple, Mr. President. We have evidence to prove your involvement in the conspiracy around the drilling of the largest oil find in American history. We have further evidence of you conspiring with Felix Santori, known drug and human trafficker, and you ordering the death of a federal employee.”
“You have nothing,” he growled. The Vice President stood, slamming his fist on the desk bringing the room to absolute silence.
“I have everything.” He gripped the microphone and spoke. “If you will forgive the change of agenda, ladies and gentlemen. I have invited former President Michael Bodwick to speak to the chamber and the American people.”
“You can’t do this,” grimaced the POTUS. “It’s my show!”
“In case you missed it, sir. This isn’t a show. It’s real life, real lives, real consequences.”
Michael pushed his way to the podium and began speaking. He was always eloquent but with age came wisdom and calm. A sense of knowing with the kind of peace that knowledge and age brings to you.
He spoke of the vein and how it had been found. He spoke of the dead victims, their cremated remains in their possession now. He spoke of Santori and his conspiracy with the President and before he finished, he spoke of the evidence.
“At this time, you are being handed packets of documents containing communication between the president and the man in question, Felix Santori, as well as mercenaries, and other unsavory characters.”
The president tried to leave the chambers but was held firmly in place by the joint chiefs and security. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Ham and Gator watched and listened as Michael spoke. Behind them were Jak, Chief, and the others waiting to speak should they be asked. They heard shuffling, then Jak spoke.
