“That’s actually pretty accurate,” Hawk said. “Fortunately, this is a ruse, is it not? Because you’d take all the money in my pocket and the shirt off my back if we were betting on a round of golf.”
“It’s all right,” Young said. “We’ll probably only need the time it takes to play three holes to discuss this. And you’re up first.”
Hawk shook his head. “You’re really gonna make me play, aren’t you?”
“Purely for entertainment purposes only. It would bring me great personal satisfaction to know that there’s at least one physical activity I can do better than Brady Hawk.”
Hawk chuckled as he shoved his tee into the ground and balanced a ball on top. After a few swings to loosen up, he prepared to take his first shot.
“This hole plays long,” Young said. “Don’t think about trying to lay up around that pond there.”
Hawk shot Young a sideways glance before recoiling and unleashing a blistering shot. The ball whistled over the pond on the par four hole, landing less than fifty yards from the green.
Hawk winked at Young as they passed near the base of the tee box.
“You’re a golf shark,” Young said. “And to think I was very close to falling for it.”
Hawk shrugged. “I got decent at golf on Uncle Sam’s dime while waiting for training school to get started. They called it casual status. Make a few pots of coffee in the morning and play loads of golf in the afternoon.”
Young grunted as he set up his ball. He barely got the ball over the pond, but he remained in good shape for his next shot.
“It’s not how you start but how you finish,” Young said.
They both climbed into the same cart with driving privileges taken by Young.
“I guess it’s time to get down to the real meaning for this golf outing,” Hawk said.
Young adjusted his sunglasses and tugged at the sleeves on his jacket. “I appreciate you coming out because I’ve got a real problem, Hawk. We have a real problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“Someone recorded Michaels’s dying moments, and there’s a guy who’s essentially blackmailing me over it.”
“Blackmailing you? That takes some guts. Do you know who he is?”
“Not sure yet, but his identity isn’t what has me worried—it’s what he plans to do with the footage if I don’t tell the American people what really happened with Michaels.”
“There’s a reason we never told anyone in the first place.”
“I know,” Young said as he averted a jarring pothole. “I tried to tell him that. We didn’t want Michaels to lose his dignity in death. He was going crazy. The office of the President would've been forever tarnished. Once that video goes public, it’ll forever be in the public sphere, available on the Internet for all of time. We obviously didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues, but I still wouldn’t want Michaels disparaged like that. Besides, he didn't really kill himself.”
“What were this mystery man’s demands?”
“I need to tell the truth or he’s going to take the footage public.”
“Do you believe him?”
Young threw his head back, scratching underneath his chin. “He seemed pretty intent on following through.”
“And he didn’t ask for money?”
“No, which was strange. So, I guess it’s not technically a blackmail when we’re looking at it from a legal perspective.”
“He’s still coercing you to do something against your will. And that’s technically blackmail.”
Young furrowed his brow as he turned toward Hawk. “Were you also a lawyer and I’m just now finding out about this?”
Hawk stared off in the distance. “No, but I know all about blackmail. Just don’t ask me how, okay?”
“If you insist.”
Hawk put a tee in his mouth and gnawed on the sharp end for a moment before continuing the conversation.
“Let me ask you,” Hawk began, “what are you afraid will happen if this man releases the footage?”
“I’ve seen it, and it certainly looks like he took his own life.”
“Yeah, but what are you afraid of personally? Losing the election?”
Young thought for a moment. The question made him uncomfortable. Perhaps he was being selfish and using Michaels’s dignity and the integrity of the office as shields.
“I know what you’re getting at,” Young said. “The reason not to tell should be for the protection of others, not myself.”
“Exactly. If the public perceives that you refused to tell the truth because you cared more about winning your office, it’ll come back to haunt you. Besides, what are the latest polls showing? Aren’t you up by a considerable amount?”
Young nodded. “It’s hard to lose to a man whose son is a known traitor and attempted to assist a terrorist organization in attacking us on our own soil. I daresay that everyone in my campaign office thinks this election will be a cakewalk.”
“At this point, the result seems like a foregone conclusion.”
“And that’s what I’m afraid of, if I’m being honest. That this easy victory will vanish and I’ll be scrapping for my life the moment this news goes public.”
“Better to get out in front of it than let it run you over.”
Young eased onto the brakes. They squeaked as the cart halted just shy of his ball. With silent precision, he pulled out his eight iron and ripped a shot that landed less than a foot from the hole.
“Nice shot,” Hawk said. “You’ve got some nerves of steel. I bet you can spin this story in a way that turns out to your advantage.”
Young released the brake and sped toward Hawk’s ball.
“You’re probably right. I need to get over my fear and do it before I end up paying a steeper price for the backlash.”
Hawk jumped out of the cart and watched his shot skip onto the green and roll to a stop five feet from the pin. He threw his club in the bag and climbed back inside the vehicle.
“But just in case things don’t go the way I want them to go, I was wondering if you could do me a favor,”
