Red Chaos by Edwin Fuller

Author:Edwin Fuller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beaufort Books
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

42

WASHINGTON, D.C.

This time, Sherwood Baker was at the medical building rendezvous before Moakley Davidson. The senator pulled up next to him and rolled down his dark-tinted window. He looked past the reporter and around the general area.

“Good evening, Senator.”

“No titles. No names.”

“Oh, right. I wouldn’t want to sully your reputation just as you move up the ladder.”

“You called. Tell me what the fuck you found. Then this will be the last time. Like you said, I’m moving up.”

The Hill reporter smiled. “Loose pieces. A bit of a jigsaw puzzle, but if I put it all together, it might reveal an interesting picture.”

Davidson said nothing.

“It’s still forming, but I see two men,” Baker continued.

Davidson gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

“But here’s my dilemma,” the reporter said coldly. “I could get a Pulitzer if I did some serious due diligence.”

“A dilemma has two horns,” Davidson said coldly. “What’s the second?”

“You could find a way for me to consider taking an early retirement. A big oil guy like you has enormous resources. That’s one story I’ve never written.”

There was an unsaid but at the end of the sentence. Baker laughed. Davidson didn’t.

“When I break it down, it’s a pretty easy dilemma to solve. You get the file, and I get a condo in South Beach, work on my tan, and maybe teach a journalism ethics course.”

Davidson looked into Baker’s car. He saw nothing. “Let me see what you have.”

“First, I’d like to know what direction you’re leaning.” He didn’t hold back, adding, “Mr. presumptive Vice President.”

Davidson blew out an angry breath and shook his head. “All right, forget what I said before. I’ll feed you stories from inside! You’ll be my go-to guy.”

“I already have sources in the White House,” Baker replied. “I’m thinking Pulitzer and a big raise or a condo on the beach before the Atlantic gets too high.”

“What do you have?” Davidson was insistent.

“It’s such an easy choice for you to make.”

“Jesus, Baker. We have history.”

“History is overrated. I’m looking toward the future.”

Davidson loosened his grip and slowly smiled. “Well, change is good. Looking forward to my own. But I don’t see you in Miami. You’re more of a Chicago guy. The Cubs, pizza, and beer.”

“You could be right. Maybe a combo. Chicago in the summer, Miami Beach in the winter.”

He removed a sealed manila envelope from between his seat and the door and brought it up chest level, but no further.

Moakley Davidson hated being manipulated. Not in business. Not in Congress. Certainly not now as his own future looked remarkably bright. When people tried to play him, he doubled down and found ways to raise the stakes. Sometimes those stakes created life decisions for the people who crossed him.

A thought flashed before him. He slowly slid back the lid of the compartment between the two front seats. His fingers grazed the barrel of his Heckler & Koch 9mm P30 pistol and ended on the grip. He had a concealed carry license, though it wasn’t allowed on the floor of the Senate.

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