FALLOUT ZONE (Joe Brennan Trilogy Book 3) by Powers Sam

Author:Powers, Sam [Powers, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: J.I. Loome
Published: 2015-04-17T04:00:00+00:00

The crowd was greener than usual, college kids out to prove that the youth of America still knew what it meant to champion the little guy, Sen. John Younger figured. He needed some good news, after a week of taking shots from pro-gay rights groups for refusing to disavow a long-time friend and associate; it was a touchy subject and he hated it.

He’d spoken for twenty minutes on immigration, decrying Addison March’s call for a massively increased border presence. Many of the students in the crowd were Mexican or Mexican-American, and it had gone over predictably well. But he couldn’t help shake the feeling that he hadn’t inspired them, particularly; they’d cheered in the appropriate doses at the appropriate junctures; but a lot of the applause was polite, deferential in the way you’d expect from a family member who has to be there.

The media scrum after the event was a snoozer, as a consequence, local yokel outlets that would get more play on the wires and national TV from his visit than they would at pretty much any other time during the next four years.

After he was done and was being led off stage, his assistant road manager took him to one side in the VIP area, roped off from the rest of the park with colorful little flags and string, a white tent in the back corner providing shade and refreshments.

“Sir, we’ve got a request from the West Coast Bureau of News Now Magazine for an exclusive sit down.”

“So? Let Stacy in communications handle it…”

“Sir, they want to do it right here and now. The writer says it’s urgent.”

It had to be something major. Where the hell was Stacy? He wondered if she was off charming the local print reporters again. She was a great PR flack, that kid, the best he’d had since the eighties and his time in state politics. But right at that second he needed her to screen for him.

Ah, hell… “Okay, but five minutes.”

The handler smiled and gave him thumbs up. In short order, a middle-aged guy with jowls and a narrow-hipped thinness to him entered the tent, tape recorder in his left hand. He extended the right to shake. “Paul Berehowsky, News Now.”

“Good to meet you, Paul,” the senator said as genuinely as possible. “Did you drive up? I didn’t see you on the bus…”

“I’m actually just the go-between, I guess,” Berehowsky said, sounding unimpressed. “I’m passing you over to Alex Malone in Washington.” He handed the senator his phone.

“Senator? I wasn’t sure you’d agree to a quick phoner and I need to talk to you rather desperately,” Malone said. “We have a developing story…” She filled him in on the details of the case. “And so it falls to you, sir, to comment on the new links between the March campaign and extremist organizations.”

It was the kind of question that could excite any candidate; but with March gaining ground and the election just a few months away, it was exactly the news Younger needed to hear.

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