The Return of Elliott Eastman by Ignatius Ryan Read Free Book Online

millions of customers away from you unless you act first. You will do this, correct?”
    Crawford reached down, grasped the CEO by his hair and nodded his head up and down for him.
    “Great, I thought you’d agree. You’re going to do right by the American people and stop charging them usurious rates. If you don’t, then these and many other photos are going to be sent anonymously to your wife. If that doesn’t work, you will see me again. It doesn’t matter where. Maybe on a moped in the street or in the lobby of an office building or maybe we’ll have breakfast together again. The point is I can get close to you. Then all it takes is a slight pin prick, something you’ll hardly even feel, and you’ll be dead in thirty seconds. Do you understand?”
    “Settle down tiger,” Crawford said. “Remember he can’t move.”
    Silas stood for a moment looking down at the CEO while Steve Crawford moved off across the lawn. “I’m tempted to give you a few broken ribs, but I won’t kick a man when he’s down. Remember, if you don’t do as you’ve been told you’re a dead man, and that’s a guarantee.”

Chapter Eleven
     
    Elliott’s chauffer held the door for him as he climbed in.
    “Where to sir?” the immaculately attired chauffer asked.
    “Ninety nine eighty eight Fort Hunt Road, Alexandria, the home of General Bob Gates.”
    “Yes sir.”
    Elliott leaned back in his seat as the limousine eased away from the curb and thought about the meeting with the President. It had been thorough and clear cut. Elliott knew the President. He was a consummate politician and he wanted desperately to be re-elected. If he refused the proposal it would mean he was held under the sway of the banking industry to a greater degree than Elliott believed. On the other hand, if he agreed to the proposal it was tantamount to declaring war on the banking industry. Elliott sighed. He was glad he wasn’t the President. On the other hand, if Paul White chose the proper course, Elliott stood ready to throw his considerable weight behind him. Elliott felt he knew Paul well. They had come up through the congressional ranks together and had fought very similar battles on the way up. Paul was a good man whose conscience often weighed heavily in his decision making. Elliott hoped such was the case again.
    Suddenly a sharp stab of pain pierced the Master Sergeant’s lower right side. He winced and gasped in pain. The chauffer noted the contorted expression on the former senator’s face and asked, “Is everything okay sir?”
    “Yes,” Elliott replied weakly, “it’s just indigestion.”
    Twenty minutes later the limo pulled up in front of a large stately two story colonial home with a fine view of the Potomac. A widow’s walk ran across the length of the roof and a covered balcony stood over the front door. The home had been built during World War I to house Naval Commander Admiral Fightin’ Joe Johnson and his family. After Joe’s death his heirs neglected it, and the grand mansion had fallen into a state of disrepair. Then Robert Gates bought the property and began a project to lovingly restore the building to its former grandeur.
    The front door opened and General Robert Gates stepped out, briefcase in hand and a heavy coat over one arm. A stiff breeze blew in from the sea.
    Once seated inside the car the old friends shook hands, greeting each other warmly.
    “Good to see you again Bob,” Elliott said. “Ready to go to war again?”
    “Yes, from what you mentioned over the phone I must admit I’m quite intrigued.”
    The two men had often sided together, with Bob Gates as the Secretary of Defense and Elliott as a ranking member of the Senate, to fight military cost overruns and waste as well as attempting to eliminate costly and outdated military programs.
    “This time were going to go for the whole enchilada,” Elliott said. “Along with other efforts that have been initiated, we could have this country back on track in