Recipes for Disaster by Josie Brown Read Free Book Online

‘Chateau Fleming’ looks like the ruins of Pompeii. When will the renovation be completed?”
    He furrows his brow. “Not to worry, my dear. I’ve been cracking the whip on my team of master craftsmen. They are working on it, day and night.”
    I envision such a whip, but in my fantasy, it is cracked over Dominic’s backside.
     I’m just about to let him know that my next warning will come from a cat-o-nine-tails when Ryan comes bounding into the room. “Glad to see you’re all here, and accounted for, people.” He nods in my direction, just to let me know that my tardiness was duly noted. I take a chair, and burrow down deep.
    “We’ve got two new clients: the Democratic National Committee and the Republican National Committee. From now until Election Day, we’ll be working them in tandem.”
    Emma raises her hand. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
    Ryan shakes his head. “In fact, they approached us together. As you know through recent media coverage, as we enter the last few weeks of the primary season, both the Republican and Democratic primary races are running neck-to-neck horse races, with delegates split between three candidates in each party. While choice is great for the American people, the candidates’ one-ups-manship and political posturing has hit an all-time high. And now one candidate has refused to accept a Secret Service security detail, claiming it’s ‘a waste of taxpayer dollars.' Not to look like sissies or spendthrifts on the nation’s dime, the other candidates have followed suit.”
    “So, Acme has been hired to be their private bodyguards?” Jack asks.
    Ryan nods. “The NSA has detected a high threat level throughout the primary season, but nowhere higher than right here, in California, where the word ‘assassination’ appears in every cipher. It’s inevitable that several, if not all, of the candidates will be visiting our fair state at least once more prior to the final delegate vote at the conventions, which are just a few weeks away. They’re here not only to press some flesh, but to refill their campaign coffers. Keep in mind, one-eighth of all U.S. citizens live in the state. It’s also one of the three wealthiest in the nation, what with its key industries: high tech, entertainment, and financial management.” 
    He hits a button that sends a file to our personal iPads. When I click it open, I find dossiers on the now very-familiar candidates in question. 
    “Not only has Acme assigned a specific team to each candidate, as with other of our metro-based assets, we’re sending in your team whenever one of them is on the West Coast,” Ryan continues. “You’ll be acting as a ‘ghost squad,’—that is, working the crowds in plain clothes. Since we don’t know if it’s an inside job, some of you will be working within the candidate’s entourage, while others will be assessing the surrounding area. At all times, you’re to think like the shooter.”
    “Will the candidate know about us?”
    “Certainly. One of you will always be in the candidate’s inner circle. Only the candidate and one key staffer will know your true function.” He clicks the computer screen, and a familiar face appears. “Our first candidate is Senator Franklin Percy. He’s due tomorrow by private jet, landing at Long Beach.”
    “A GOP two-termer hailing from Florida, right?” Jack asks.
    Ryan nods. “The very same. The party positions him as a hero during the US invasion of Panama, in '89. Retired Marine Corps Major General. He sits on several Senate committees, including Defense and Finance. As you can imagine, he is a strong hawk.”
    “What do we know about him, personally?” I ask.
    “He’s been married to the same woman for thirty years—Addie Franks Percy. They’re childless.”
    “Any known enemies, or possible threats?” Abu asks.
    “The other day, an untraceable note was delivered to his house.” A photo of the letter appears on the screen. The message