El of a Thing - Cover

El of a Thing

Copyright© 2010 by Ol'Mac

Chapter 16

THURSDAY 8:20 P. M.
Residence of Director Ainsworth, Pilot's Grove, MD

There are three character elements needed for a successful political career: One: An ego the size of Yellow Stone National Park.
Two: A sense of ethics that would fit inside a thimble.
Three: A killer instinct that is 'never' put on the back burner.

Up until ten minutes ago, Glen Ainsworth had possessed all three of these things in abundance. Right now, he was having great difficulty trying to decide whether it was safe to breathe. Being in fear for your life will do that to you. The phrase, 'Be Careful What You Wish For', kept running through his mind like an out of control mantra.

The sardonic thought then bloomed full blown in his mind, 'Well, you wanted power. Too bad it just jumped up and bit seven-eights of your ass off, huh?' This train of thought was followed by the caboose, 'Better play this one straight for the first time in your life, or you're a dead man.'

The shuddering just would not quit and Glen knew instinctively, that even the twenty-four year old Bushmils, would not really help. Besides, he would have to pour it and was fairly confident he would spill about three-quarters of it on the floor.


FRIDAY 7:30 A. M.
NSA Headquarters, Fort Meade, MD

Ret Col. Davidson was sitting down at his desk to begin another exciting day of Email reading when his eye happened to catch the updated 'hard copy' on the Chicago saga,. "Holy Crap!" came his succinct exclamation. The report, when read in detail, stated that the same 'phone-linkup' had happened again in Illinois and this time it was linked to a cell on the DC to Chicago express, plus the HS Director's private cell. 'Well, that's not real surprising. Though giving the agent in transit a direct link to the Director made, whoever it was, a real 'player', not a 'go-for'.'

Looking farther down the details page, Davidson finally found the activation time stamps and just about had to change pants. 'Illinois had begun the sequence! They had called the cell on the aircraft and five minutes later the Director's cell had come on. Now that put a completely different light on this whole picture.' He thought. His analytical mind then bent to the task of listing the questions this new Intel raised: '1: How did the IL group know the HS fast mover's Cell number?' ... By the time he hit question fifty-three, he found himself bemoaning the fact that his NSA division had no 'boots-on-the-ground', and never would. NSA was based on SIGINT, not HUMINT. 'God, what I wouldn't give for some 'on-the-scene' reports. Who do I know that 'owes' me, or that I can cull for data ... hum? Well, that just might work, and if I remember correctly that asset is already 'on site'. What the heck, it's worth a try, and the worst case is I just come up empty.'

He then hit the transmit button and this report joined the hundreds of others he had sent over the years. He didn't know where they went, and frankly, didn't care. It was just part of the job.


FRIDAY 8:30 A. M

Down the Rabbit Hole, Washington, DC

"Hey, look at this latest from K. E. O. T. C." Art said to John. "Looks like Davidson might actually be on to something this time. Should we pull the plug, or let him run with it?"

"Nah." John shot back, "Let him stretch out that chain a bit more. There's no quicker way to kill initiative than jerking on your dog's leash. Apparent autonomy is one of the greatest motivators ever invented."

Of course, his name was not John, anymore than the other's was Art.

This place didn't exist, just ask anyone.


FRIDAY 8:30 A. M.

Surveillance Point Alpha, Chicago, IL

As Collins parked their transport in the alley he glanced at Altman one more time, thinking, 'What is it about her that has my attention this morning? She's just 'glowing'. Then, 'Oh no, I do not want to know that. I really, really don't#! Come on Dan, she's your partner, not your wife or girl. How she spends her 'off' hours is no business, 'what-so-ever', of yours.' But, of course, he couldn't completely suppress the grin and Altman, being female, caught it like a champion center fielder.

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