Gavin Pemberton was about to lose his mind. He had been trying to get ahold of Alex Smith for three hours now. Had she not seen the interviews Walker had done on Fox and CNN? Did she not know that the whole plan he had been working toward was falling apart before his very eyes? He was so mad he could feel a vein in his neck pulsating.
He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed during that interview. He’d kick the TV and break it, if he hadn’t shot it with a twelve-gauge twenty minutes ago. Everything Joe had accomplished over the last two days…the support of the people, Congress calling for Walker to bring Joe in, the news media calling for Walker’s head on a platter…it was all going so perfectly. And then those idiots at Fox and CNN decided to give Walker airtime. He had personally spoken with both CEOs of those networks. They had assured him they wanted Walker out, too. That they weren’t planning on doing anything but trashing Walker and making Joe the hero.
That gave him a thought. He reached for the phone again and grabbed his little address book. He thumbed through the pages until he found the number he wanted and dialed. Jonas Shillings was about to get an earful.
“Hello?”
“Shillings, what are you people doing up there? I ask you to do one simple thing and you give me this?”
“Now, hold on a minute, Gavin. I haven’t done anything. How dare you call me at home and disturb my family like this?”
“How dare I? How dare I? Shillings, have you forgotten about the pictures that I have in my possession? Have you forgotten about the taped phone conversations I have with you and a certain underage young lady? I bet your boy Larson would love to get ahold of those. Maybe he could find someone other than the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES TO INTERVIEW!”
“Gavin, you need to calm down. Right now. You need to understand that when the president of the United States calls you personally and says he’s coming to your network to do an interview—not asks, tells you he’s coming—there’s not much you can do about it. Larson is the toughest, most indignant, disrespectful journalist on the planet. I would think that you would be thanking me for not letting someone like Janice Winters do the interview.”
Shillings had a point there. Winters was the complete and total opposite of Larson. She would have probably tried to help Walker make his case.
“I can’t help it,” Shillings continued, “if this man who calls himself the Prophet decided to call in and turn everything upside down.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to call in if your man had better sense than to demand that Walker present him to the American people.”
Shillings was quiet after that.
“Tell you what, Jonas, I’m going to do you a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to give you the opportunity to have Joe on tomorrow to start bad-mouthing this Prophet. And you better make him look good.”
Shillings clicked his tongue. “I’ve already spoken with him. He’ll be here tomorrow at five o’clock.”
Pemberton hung up the phone. He was still furious. And why hadn’t Smith called him back? This was ridiculous! He decided to go pack a bag. He was going to Washington.
He was in the bedroom when the phone rang. He hurried back out into the living room and snatched up the receiver. “This is Pemberton.”
“It’s Alex Smith.”
He had to control himself. He wanted to scream into the phone like he had with Shillings. But Alex Smith was not someone he figured he needed to make angry. “Yes, Ms. Smith. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. I was actually calling to tell you some good news.”
He could use some right about now. “Really? What’s that?”
“Your order came in today. And actually, I was able to get you a buy-one-get-one-free promotion.”
His order? Buy one, get one free? What the heck was she talking about? Then it clicked. She was talking in code. And that meant that Sykes was dead. And so was someone else. But who? Not Walker. He knew that. “Can you elaborate?”
“On the free item, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Sure. It’s a company promotion.”
Company? He thought for a minute. Suddenly, he knew. Jennings! “Really? A Company promotion, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pemberton was so excited, he almost forgot about Walker and this whole business with the Prophet. But then it came back to him. And now he had another idea. “Listen, Ms. Smith, I’m going to be traveling to where you are located. I’ll be arriving tomorrow morning. I’d actually like to sit down and place another order with you. Can we meet?”
“Let me know when you get into town. I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“Good. Then I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
The line went dead.
Sykes was dead. And so was Jennings. He didn’t know whether to laugh for his good fortune or cry because of Shillings’s stupidity. It didn’t matter. Either way, he needed a drink.
He walked to the bar against the wall and poured three fingers of twenty-year-old scotch. He sat back down in his chair and looked at the shot-out TV. He laughed out loud. His third wife had bought that TV. He hated it then. It was too big. Seventy-inch plasma screen…bah! Who needed something that big?
For a second he was frustrated that he was going to have to go buy a new one. Joe was going to be on CNN tomorrow. But then he remembered. He had just decided to go to Washington. He didn’t need a new TV. He was going to be there in person. And he was going to be there when the Prophet gave his little speech, too. He wanted to make sure he had a front-row seat when Alex Smith put a bullet in the Prophet’s head.