Read Allegiance: A Jackson Quick Adventure Online
Authors: Tom Abrahams
Tags: #income taxes, #second amendment, #brad thor, #ut, #oil, #austin, #texas chl, #nanotechnology, #tom abrahams, #gubernatorial, #petrochemicals, #post hill press, #big oil, #rice university, #bill of rights, #aggies, #living presidents, #texas politics, #healthcare, #george h w bush, #texas am, #texas aggies, #taxes, #transcanada, #obamacare, #wendy davis, #gun control, #assassination, #rice owls, #campaign, #politics, #george bush, #texas governor, #ted cruz, #rick perry, #2nd amendment, #right to bear arms, #vince flynn, #alternative energy, #keystone pipeline, #chl, #election, #keystone xl, #longhorns, #phones, #david baldacci, #houston, #texas, #clean fuel, #ipods, #university of texas, #president, #health care, #environment
“
Swings
like
this
are
not
unprecedented
,”
said
longtime
University
of
Houston
political
science
professor
and
pollster
Bob
Murray
. “
They
generally
indicate
previously
undecided
voters
have
made
up
their
minds
.
We’re
not
talking
about
many
voters
flipping
their
votes
from
one
candidate
to
the
other
.”
Buell’s
lead
is
outside
the
margin
of
error
for
each
of
the
polls
used
in
the
RCP
.
com
index
.
It
is
not
the
kind
of
momentum
the
current
Governor’s
campaign
expected
to
have
at
this
point
in
the
election
cycle
.
“
We’re
aware
of
the
apparent
shift
in
sentiment
after
the
unfortunate
attempt
on
our
opponent’s
life
,”
said
campaign
spokesperson
M
.
Wiley
Helms
. “
We
also
believe
Texas
voters
are
smart
enough
to
vote
with
their
heads
and
not
their
hearts
.
Sound
economics
,
staying
on
the
path
of
making
Texas
stronger
,
and
a
realistic
vision
for
our
collective
future
as
Texans
,
is
what
we
think
guides
every
voter’s
decision
come
election
day
.
People
can
feel
sorry
for
a
candidate
without
having
to
vote
for
him
.”
So Buell is seeing a bump from the shooting. He’s benefitting from almost getting killed. It’s similar to the movie
Bob
Roberts
, where an upstart senate candidate sails to an unlikely victory after being shot and supposedly paralyzed.
He benefits.
I’m
on the run.
Why did The Saint want me to see this? It’s no coincidence. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something about the shooting without really telling me.
I’ve got to get to West Texas.
***
The George Bush Monument is on the west bank of Buffalo Bayou, the stream of brown water that runs through the city and empties into the Houston Ship Channel and Galveston Bay. The monument is on an elevated hill near Bagby and Franklin Streets, hidden from the streets by oaks and pines. I’ve been to Houston countless times and never seen it before.
At the center of the monument is an eight-foot tall bronze sculpture of the forty-first president. He’s wearing a two-button suit and has his right hand in his pants pocket. His right knee is bent and there’s a Mona Lisa smile on his face. It’s impressive up close.
Surrounding the statue is a semicircular wall depicting the four stages of the president’s life, highlighting various events from his birth to the inauguration of his son, George W. Bush, as forty-third President of the United States. I’m reading some of the bullet points when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
I spin around, swinging my arm at whoever it is behind me.
“Hey,” George Townsend says, “it’s me.” He backs a couple of steps away from me.
“Sorry,” I say. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me.”
“Okay,” he says. “I don’t want to call much attention to us so I didn’t call out your name.”
I look around to see if there are any obvious snoops nearby. I don’t see anything.
“Look,” George says. He steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “Whoever this is wants you dead.”
“And? Tell me something I don’t know. Is
that
your breaking news?”
George frowns. “I don’t need the attitude. You dragged me into this.”
“Sorry,” I apologize. I take a deep breath to reset. “Let’s start over.”
“Okay,” George looks over his shoulder and inches towards me. He’s whispering. “The plates on the car that crashed into us came back to a private security company. My assignment desk looked into it.”
“And…”
“And,” he pauses for effect as if he’s announcing the lowest vote getter on
American
Idol
, “they do a lot of work for Don Carlos Buell.”
“I knew it.”
“They also do a lot of work for the Governor,” he adds. I’m not sure what to make of it. ““I didn’t see that coming. I mean, what does that
mean
?”
“It means, powerful people, regardless of who they are, don’t want you around anymore.”
“Okay.” I nod, trying to process this new information. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” George looks over his shoulder again, clearly nervous.
“This doesn’t change anything. We still need to get to West Texas and talk to Ripley. We still need to know what this is about. Are you in?”
“I don’t know…” he backs away a step.
“Is work the problem? Do they need you at the station?”
“No. They gave me a couple of days off because of the accident. And I don’t have anything on air until next week anyhow.”
“George, if I’m in danger, you are too. You have to figure out what’s going on here too.”
George looks at me and down at his feet. He shifts his weight and covers his face with his hands. He lets out a sigh and a frustrated grunt.
“What?”
“Okay,” he relents. “But we can’t fly there together. We need to travel separately.”
“Whatever you say.” I don’t care how we get to West Texas as long as he goes with me.
“I’ll fly out of Hobby on Southwest,” he informs me. “There’s a flight that leaves in two hours. You take United out of Intercontinental. It leaves in two and a half hours, but we’ll get in about the same time. I’ll meet you at the Dollar Car Rental counter.”
“What city?”
“Midland. And, by the way, I’ve got your backpack. You left it in my car when we wrecked. I’ll get it to you at the airport in Midland.”
“I thought you were backing out? Why would you already know about flights and rental cars if you were going to back out?”
“I’m a reporter,” he says. “I cover my bases. I didn’t know what I was going to say when I got here. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I needed to be prepared in the event the story got the better of me.”
I smile at him. He knew what he was doing all along.
George turns to leave the park and I pull my cell phone out of my pocket.
“I’ll see you there.”
I wave at him and dial Charlie to tell her I need a ride to the airport.
***
“You’ve completely lost it,” Charlie says as I buckle into the passenger seat of her Jetta. “I don’t understand what this is about. People are chasing you? You’re going to go where?”
“I can’t really explain. I don’t want you getting into any trouble.”
“Are you sure your head injuries aren’t more serious than the doctor let on?” She glances in the rear view mirror before looking at me. “I mean, seriously Jackson, you’re scaring me.”
I take a deep breath and put my left hand on her thigh, turning my body toward hers. I can only imagine how confusing and frightening this must be for her.
She’s a smart woman with experience in political circles, but she has no experience with espionage or treason or whatever my cloak and dagger life has instantaneously become.
I can only imagine what’s running through her head. She must be terrified. I mean, she’s outwardly tough, she can hold her own in a bar or on the floor of the State House, but this is totally different.
Time for the truth. At least a little of it. Maybe that will help ease her mind a little bit.
“Look, this is real,” I explain. “I’ve somehow mixed myself up in something bigger than I knew, and not it’s all coming home to roost.”
We pass the intersection for the north loop. Charlie’s in the fast lane, pushing 75 miles per hour.
“What do you mean?” she asks without looking at me, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed.
“I was doing some favors for some people, political fav—”
“What people?” She cuts me off and steers into an interior lane. The car in front of us in the fast lane is moving at a considerably slower speed. Charlie passes him on the right and shifts back to the left, picking up speed again.
“I can’t get into that. If I tell you too much, I’ll put you in danger.”
“You’ve already put me in danger, Jackson. I mean, you asked me to drive you here to Houston this morning.” She glances into the rear view mirror again. “Wasn’t that putting me in danger?”
She has a point. I’d risked her life the second I knocked on the door of her apartment after my kidnapping. I was being selfish, true, but I’d wanted to see her. Asking her to drive me here to Houston was another selfish move. In retrospect, it was dangerous too. It certainly was for Bobby. Now, to have her drive me to the airport, I’m endangering her again.
Thinking of others, since my parents’ deaths, has not been my strong suit. My world revolves around me, and that revolution is clearly spinning out of control. I have to think about others losing their balance while I try to maintain mine.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I’m really sorry.” She’s cruising at close to 80 miles per hour. To the right of the freeway is Gallery Furniture, its big LED sign proclaiming delivery TODAY!!! It stands apart from the seemingly endless blur of strip malls, power lines, and car dealerships that line Houston’s roads.
She’s clearly irritated with me. “You need to tell me everything. Start with where you’re flying.”
“West Texas.”
“More specific,” she says, pushing the accelerator to move past a lumbering 18-wheeler.
“Odessa.”
“Why?” Charlie checks her rear view again, looks past me, and slides over two lanes to the right. We’re getting close to the beltway and the exit for the airport.
“There’s someone there who can help me.”
“Who?” Charlie spins the wheel to the right as she decelerates into the exit lane. She glances at me only momentarily. She’s focused and deadly serious. There is no hint of expression her face. This is not a side of my girlfriend I’ve seen. Somehow she flipped a switch.
“Doesn’t matter.” “The hell it doesn’t,” she says and fingers her turn signal to indicate we’re exiting to the north beltway eastbound. Once she’s headed east, she glares at me. “You dragged me into this. I deserve answers.”
I’m not sure where the switch flipped, but Charlie went from concerned, to agitated, to angry in the span of a few lane changes.
“I’ll call you when I get there,” I say vaguely, trying to avoid the question. “That way you know I’m okay. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think so,” she says. She yanks the wheel to the right, cutting off a small pickup truck, and exits onto the feeder road.
“What are you doing?” I ask, bracing myself against the dashboard to avoid falling into her lap.
Charlie doesn’t answer me. Instead, she pulls over into the parking lot of a gas station, squeals into a parking space, and turns off the engine. She unlatches her seatbelt and turns in her seat to look at me.
“Look, I don’t mean to snap at you.” She reaches for my hand. “I am really worried. I don’t understand why you can’t tell me what is happening to you. Maybe I can help. We’re supposed to be a couple, you know.”
“I get it, but your Jekyll and Hyde routine is freaking
me
out a little bit.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She pulls her hand away.
“Just that. You were a little intense there a minute ago. Going all, ‘I don’t think so!’ and ‘The hell it doesn’t!’” I mimic her serious face and wait for her reaction.
Her face relaxes into a smile. She giggles.
“It’s the adrenaline,” she says. “It got the better of me. I’m scared.”
“I know.” I take her hand this time. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got to figure this out, then we can go back to normal.” I’m not sure I believe what I’m telling her. I hope she does.
“Promise?”
I nod and lean in to kiss her gently on her lips. She puts her hand on the back of my head and runs her fingers up my hair before I pull back.
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I’m gonna run in here since we’ve stopped.”
I turn to pull on the door handle and step out of the car. She laughs and I turn back to look at her checking herself in the mirror.
“Good idea,” she says. “It’s a long drive from Odessa to the observatory.”
“I bet it is,” I laugh and stand to shut the car door.
An electronic chime rings when I slide through the gas station door. At the back of the small building and, past the beer cooler, there’s the bathroom door, marked with a plastic sign that reads, ‘Customers Only.’
Once in the bathroom, I flip on the light and turn to the toilet.
There’s blood everywhere. On the walls. On the floor. On my hands. I close my eyes and open them again. The blood is gone. The sight of Bobby, dead in my arms, is not. I take a deep breath and turn to lock the door when it hits me:
It’s
a
long
drive
from
Odessa
to
the
observatory
.