The Voting Machine

Exit Strategy

As Chet finished his statement, reporters began shouting. The first questions focused on the death of Gina Hill, but Chet refused to offer more detail, stating he had provided everything he knew to law enforcement agencies and did not want to say anything that might compromise their investigation. After a while, they gave up on the line of inquiry and tried to find out more about Passion's shady clients and business partners: Chen, Los Empresarios and The Messengers of God. Once again, Chet held firm. He'd teased them perfectly to get the news cycle going full throttle. I was in a daze and didn't bounce back into focus until one reporter mentioned my name.

"What do you think of Temo McCarthy?"

Chet wiped his forehead and gazed sternly into the camera. "I think we don't have the full story. I haven't seen any evidence that he's involved in any of the Las Vegas killings. I believe he hasn't turned himself in because he's afraid that he might be held captive with no chance for a fair, public trial. Look at what happened to Abdul Shahabi, who was abducted by FBI officials from his mosque and hasn't been seen since. The FBI would have us believe that Shahabi, a middle-aged businessman in poor health, somehow escaped their custody. You can believe that if you want but I think there's something they're not telling us. If I were Temo I'd be very afraid to turn myself until there is more clarity on what happened to Mr. Shahabi. After all, Temo worked with Gina when Davis was the CEO and it's possible she shared information with him. If that's the case then Marcus Davis and his allies would have every reason to eliminate him."

"Are you questioning the integrity of the FBI? Are you saying they are complicit in conspiracy with Chen and Davis?"

"I applaud the efforts of all our government agencies involved in anti-terrorism and crime prevention. But I do believe we'd seen instances in the past where they made mistakes, where innocent people on the watch list were captured, tortured and imprisoned without the opportunity for an open trial. I do believe it's possible that some specific individuals within the FBI are unduly influence by Chen and Davis. After all, the FBI is one of many Homeland Security agencies that hired Secure Strategic to conduct background checks and security clearance. It's possible that some FBI agents owe their jobs to the company founded by Chen and Davis. Let's just say there are enough open questions that I believe it is important to view the case against Temo with an open mind. I would like the whole world to hear what he has to say."

Chet abruptly finished his press conference and I turned off the television. The calls of the Chinese Consulate General were already loud with frantic shouting. When I went up from the basement to the ground floor, the consulate officials and Chen's entourage were scrambling around

The press conference finished and halls of the consulate general were loud with frantic Chinese. Chen and his entourage rushed to a large room where reporters were already gathering to hear the response to Chet's accusations.

Slip away through the chaos. I'll have a car waiting at Wilshire and Vermont.

There was a fire exit in the back of the first floor. I slipped through an alley behind the Consulate General. Then I jogged south several blocks to Wilshire Boulevard where I blended into the foot traffic near Koreatown. A black limousine with tinted windows was waiting on the far side of the Vermont intersection. I approached and Larry Vincent opened the door, helping me move briskly into the back seat out of view.

A couple of Chet's thousand-dollar-per-day bodyguards sat in the back of the limo with us, one on my left, the other across from me. They introduced themselves as Dean and Alistair, two tall, muscular guys in dark suits with double-magazine pistols.

"We're picking up your wife and daughter," Larry explained. "Another pair of Chet's men have been watching the apartment and we believe they're inside right now."

"Is Davis with them?"

"Every reason to believe he's in there with them."

"He won't give them up without a fight."

"That's why we got Dean and Alistair here. We go in expecting the worst. These guys went through Special Ops missions in Falluja and Mogadishu. I think they can handle whatever we're going to find in your apartment."

The limousine drove east on Wilshire towards the 110 Freeway that would take us south into the Harbor Gateway area. The traffic was slow and grinding until we passed the exits around USC. Then it was smooth sailing until we reached the Carson exit.

We arrived at my old apartment behind Carson, stopping the limo in the street outside the entrance to my lot. There was a black SUV parked below the staircase to the second floor, the surveillance car keeping tabs on my wife and daughter inside the building. The driver's side window was cracked. Dean and Alistair got out, weapons drawn, and opened the surveillance car door to find their colleagues slumped over with shots to the head.

I heard my wife screaming in the apartment. I rose to get out of the car.

"Don't go in there Temo," Larry said, holding me down. "It could be a trap. Let Dean and Alistair check it out first."

I struggled against Larry who held me back with both arms as Dean and Alistair jogged the staircase and barreled through the entrance weapons drawn.

"You're not going to stop me," I said, still trying to get away from my stronger friend.

"I can't let you get killed in there."

"Some things are worse than dying."

Finally I broke free, spilling out of the back seat of the limo onto the pavement. I scrambled away before Larry could grab me, dashing through the apartment lot, climbing the steps into my old home where everything seemed eerily familiar, like true memories seeping into a fantastic nightmare. Only this was the other way around, the memories were from my dreams of coming home and the nightmare was real.

Dean held Suzy in the entrance hall. She continued to scream hysterically.

I tried to hug her. She buried her face in my arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Where's Reina?" I whispered.

I turned toward the bed room where the crib was.

"Don't go in there," Dean cautioned.

"No!" I cried.

I turned away from Suzy and bolted into the bedroom. Davis was sprawled on his back below the crib. His throat was sliced open, blood flowing like a scarlet waterfall into the carpet.

"He was dead when we got here," Alistair explained. "Whoever killed our guys outside must've killed him too. And then they took your daughter."

"I know who it was."

The only thing left in Reina's crib was a thin, silver chain dangling on the mobile. It was linked to a small statuette of Santa Muerte.