With a megawatt smile, Thurman waved and waited for the applause to die down. He put his hands up to quiet the crowd before he began.
“Tonight I have the privilege of getting to introduce to you one of the finest men our country has ever had in the White House. He’s the right man at the right time. And I couldn’t be prouder to serve under him as a member of Congress.”
Thurman had grown accustomed to lying. The more he did it, the easier it became. Five years ago, his statement would’ve been completely true. But it wasn’t any more. Thurman and Young had done more than drift apart—they’d almost become adversarial. However, no one would’ve known it judging from their warm embrace on stage as Thurman welcomed Young to speak.
Like most rising stars in the senate, Thurman made his presidential ambitions public. As a former Marine, author of dozens of high-profile bills, and member of esteemed senate committees, he checked all the political boxes when it came to the kind of candidate both parties wanted to put forth in a general election. Then there was the matter of Thurman’s rugged good looks and charming personality. In one sense, he was almost too good to be true. But there were some downsides.
Two nasty and very public divorces along with a scuffle on the senate floor in which he decked a representative from the opposing party that made Thurman radioactive. But Young never stood up for Thurman when he was being assaulted by the press. However, the big blow came when Young reneged on his promise to appoint Thurman as the secretary of state. Thurman had seen that position as the final feather in his proverbial political cap. He would have experience in diplomacy as well as legislation, giving him the broad perspective he needed to govern more effectively. At least, that’s how the pundits would’ve seen it. But a broken pledge led to a severed relationship. Publicly, the two men still appeared to be in each other’s good graces. But that was only because such a move was politically expedient for both of them. A fractured party was the last thing either of them wanted, even more so than cutting ties with a former friend who was either viewed as a liability or a backstabber.
Thurman had wisely kept the slight to himself, but he hadn’t forgotten.
While Young droned on about how the nation could come together and experience a much-needed healing of divisions under the leadership of someone like Fuentes, Thurman slipped off to a quiet corner backstage to make a phone call.
“How are things going?” Thurman asked.
“They’re going fine at the moment,” the man on the other line said. “I tracked them down and captured the woman. They flew to Cuba just like you suspected.”
“And the man?”
“He’s still on the lam.”
“You better be careful,” Thurman said. “He’s dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to use her as bait. They won’t interfere with your other plans for this evening; that much I’m sure of.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
Thurman hung up and rushed toward his three staffers. He furrowed his brow as he approached them.
“What is it?” one of the women asked.
“Is everything okay?” another inquired.
Thurman nodded subtly. “I need to get out of here right now.”
“What’s going on?” another staffer asked.
“They found the man who murdered my son,” Thurman said. “I need to get back to our hotel so I can get fully briefed.”
“Absolutely,” one of the staffers said. “I’ll run and get your stuff right now.”
“Thank you,” Thurman said. “I appreciate it. Just please move as quickly as you can. I’m anxious to find out the full extent of what happened and who the scumbag is who did this to Thaxton.”
“Of course, sir,” one of the staffers said.
Less than two minutes later, Thurman was in an SUV, wearing a faint smile as the car sped away from the stadium.
CHAPTER 23
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT STOOD AT THE BACK entrance to The Phoenix Foundation and waited for Rebecca Paris to arrive. Even though it was well after regular business hours, he didn’t want to risk any stragglers see her enter the building.
When she arrived at the door, Blunt pushed it open and waved her inside.
“We’re going to go up the back stairwell,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Paris shook her head. “Fine with me.”
She was wearing a black knee-length skirt with a white blouse and three-inch heels. Blunt noted how she was almost eye-level with him.
“What’s going on?” she asked as they trudged up the steps.
“Let’s wait until we get upstairs before we discuss this any further.” Blunt led her inside his team’s suite and escorted her to his office. “Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
She eased into the chair and crossed her legs.
“You have me really curious now,” Rebecca said, leaning forward.
Blunt leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers and placing them behind his head. “Everything I’m about to show you and tell you about his highly classified, but I trust that you won’t print or share anything you see here today. Can I have your word on that?”
She nodded. “So what exactly did Lee stumble upon?”
“What I found—he didn’t stumble onto it. The information on the flash drive that I took from the locker had to be gleaned from an in-depth investigation, perhaps over several years.”
“Can I take a look at it myself?” she asked.
“Sure,” Blunt said. He jammed the flash drive into his laptop and hammered on the keyboard. He opened up a few files and spun the computer around so she could see it.
“What am I looking at?” she asked.
“It’s a list of names and affiliations from key leaders, influential business people, and
