Wicked Prey
“At five o’clock Sunday morning, when the phone started ringing, Lucas had been asleep for four hours. Because of the convention, he got up and staggered out through the living room to the nearest portable and looked at the caller ID. Nothing but a number, but he recognized the number.
“Yeah.”
“Can you come down to my office?”
“Right now?”
“That’d be good.”
“Half hour?”
“Okay.”
* * *“WHO WAS THAT?” Weather asked. Sunday was her day to sleep in.
“Neil Mitford.” Mitford was Governor Elmer Henderso...n’s executive assistant, chief weasel, confidant, fixer, and maybe bagman. He’d been in Washington for the fight over the Homeland Security arrests.
“What’d he want?”
“Dunno,” Lucas said.
She went back to sleep and Lucas stared in the bathroom mirror for a couple of minutes, trying to get his eyes open, then shaved, brushed his teeth, stood in the shower and let hot water beat on the back of his neck. Toweled off, he got dressed: jeans, a blue T-shirt, walking shoes, sport coat, Colt Gold Cup .45.MoreLess
“Yeah.”
“Can you come down to my office?”
“Right now?”
“That’d be good.”
“Half hour?”
“Okay.”
* * *“WHO WAS THAT?” Weather asked. Sunday was her day to sleep in.
“Neil Mitford.” Mitford was Governor Elmer Henderso...n’s executive assistant, chief weasel, confidant, fixer, and maybe bagman. He’d been in Washington for the fight over the Homeland Security arrests.
“What’d he want?”
“Dunno,” Lucas said.
She went back to sleep and Lucas stared in the bathroom mirror for a couple of minutes, trying to get his eyes open, then shaved, brushed his teeth, stood in the shower and let hot water beat on the back of his neck. Toweled off, he got dressed: jeans, a blue T-shirt, walking shoes, sport coat, Colt Gold Cup .45.MoreLess
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