Prologue

A Chapter by Joe Porrazzo

Alex Porte finds himself teamed with the very person hired to kill him. Do not miss the nonstop action…the deception is deliberate and the results are deadly.

What if the shooting of a Congresswoman on the streets of Tucson by a deranged young man; an event related to seemingly random murders, and financed by a multi-million dollar raffle fraud, is actually a sinister plot to lure and assassinate the President of the United States?

PROLOGUE

Tucson, Arizona

December 13

Monday, 9:20 am

“Damn it Beede, this better be important!” the executive barked as he slammed his fist down on the custom-made Parnian desk.

From the outer office, Steve Woods’s secretary scurried up to the open office door. While addressing her boss, she glared at Beede with disdain, “Sir, I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She shifted her fearful eyes and hesitantly met those of her angry boss.

Woods raised his hand to silence his secretary and to wave her off. He glared at Beede awkwardly standing in the doorway. Woods told his subordinates seated at the large conference table to give him a few minutes. As the employees skittered out of the plush suite, Woods ordered his executive officer to stay. Les Goodman obliged with a slight head nod and sat back down.

Woods nodded his head toward the door, and Beede quickly closed it before turning to face the two men.

“Sir, I wouldn’t even think about bothering you if this matter wasn’t so important.” Caleb Beede said. He wondered why he ever thought this intrusion was a good idea, as he stole a glance at the state-of-the-art and stylishly designed surroundings. He had never been here before, and he certainly knew better than to show up unannounced into the office of the Senior Executive Vice President and Chief Financial Officer. Junior associates in the computer analysis department did not routinely circumvent four levels of the chain-of-command--not if they wanted to remain a part of that organization.

“But...” Woods, his cheeks flushed, plopped into his chair behind the desk. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at Beede.

Beede took the cue. “Sir, I created that webpage like you asked, but there was a problem.”

“What kind of a problem?” Woods challenged.

Beede nervously licked his lips and played with the tip of his tie that was three inches above his belt buckle. “Well, I, ah, might have accidentally uploaded the file to... to the server.”

Woods turned and locked eyes with Goodman, who quickly stood.

The clock on the desk nosily ticked the seconds, taunting Beede.

The CFO slowly turned his stare back to the young analyst, and in a barely controlled voice, he gritted, “Exactly what are you saying? Are you telling me that you posted a draft page to the company’s live website?”

Beede involuntarily took a few steps back. “Yes…sir,” he stammered. “But, I�"I removed it as soon as I realized what had happened.”

Goodman interrupted before the CFO could erupt. “Caleb, how long was the draft up there?”

Beede drew a shaky breath. “Approximately six hours, perhaps fewer.”

Woods leaped from his chair and stepped toward Beede, but Goodman was faster and jumped between the two men.

“Okay Caleb,” Goodman’s tone was calm as he focused on damage control. “Obviously, that was a huge mistake. Have you run an analysis on the situation?”

“Yes sir, I worked on it all weekend. I know exactly who accessed the page and when. And honestly, I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Les Goodman cringed. Beede should have informed them immediately.

“You idiot,” thundered Woods, “I’m just hearing about this now?” Having returned to his desk, he leaned on it with white knuckled fists. “This could put the three of us behind bars for twenty years! How’s that for a problem?”

Before Beede could respond, Goodman voiced a disturbing thought. “Do you know how many people accessed the site?”

Beads of sweat were forming on Beede’s forehead and upper lip. He had expected the question and hesitated slightly before responding.

“Ah, five people accessed the draft page. One time only, and I did some checking, they all live here in Southern Arizona.”

Woods crossed his arms again and stared at Beede, daring him to continue.

When he did not, Goodman continued his questioning. “How do you know they didn’t download the page? And worse, how do you know that they didn’t forward it to someone?”

Beede stood a little straighter. He was glad he had been thorough. The long overtime hours spent on damage control and covering his tracks had paid off.

“I checked and double checked to make sure it was just five people. I even traced their IP addresses.” Beede caught Woods’s disapproving glare. The CFO did not understand this technical speak; he didn’t have to, it was what he paid Beede for. “That’s their locations through their Internet providers.” Beede inserted. “I went one step farther and downloaded spyware on their systems.” He looked at Woods for approval but came up empty. “I know more about them and their families than they do. I also hacked into their email accounts,” he bragged, visibly pleased with his computer-nerd prowess. “I’m tracking their incoming and outgoing email in real-time, as well as their Internet traffic patterns.” Beede smiled. “I can view every website they visit, how long they stay, and what they search for…none of them pursued it. I can assure you those five people probably didn’t even realize what they saw, and they’ve already forgotten about it.”

“No, that’s not good enough.” Woods said uncharacteristically calm given the circumstances.

“Excuse me?” Beede whispered, looking perplexed.

Woods ignored Beede and addressed Goodman.

“I cannot have five witnesses wandering around out there. Any one of them could destroy everything we have accomplished. There’s too much riding on this project.”

“What... what do you mean?” Beede was dumbfounded and his throat was suddenly bone dry. He thought he knew exactly what Woods meant, but the words would not compute in his brain.

Goodman quickly put his hand on Beede’s shoulder and guided him to the door.

“Caleb, let me have a word with Mr. Woods. Why don’t you go back to your office and put all the details together in a report?” His tone softened as he opened the door. “Oh, and Caleb…make sure you cover all your tracks.”

“Yes, okay.” Beede hesitated and then turned around nervously raising a finger but not making eye contact. “You know, we knew this was wrong. I should have never agreed to be a part of this!”

As Goodman was closing the door, Beede’s foot stopped it. “This…is, is it,” he stuttered. “This is as far…as far as I go. I refuse to be a part of anything else illegal and if that means jail time...”

Goodman used his foot edge Beede’s out of the way and the door closed with a quiet click.

Beede stood staring at the closed door barely inches from his face.

“That f*****g chicken s**t,” boomed the CFO’s voice from inside the office. “He’s been overpaid for his part in this…how dare he get self-righteous on us now!”

Beede heard enough. He turned and scurried out.

Steve Woods slumped in his oversized leather executive chair and released an aggravated sigh. His heart raced as he reflected on Beede’s comment about jail time. Prison was the least of their worries if this thing spiraled out of control. If The Phoenix caught wind of this, their lives wouldn’t be worth a wooden nickel.

He glanced at Goodman.

Les just shrugged�"implying once again what he had told his boss on more than one occasion. Beede is a weasel, but we need his technical expertise on this project. The last thing Woods wanted now was an, I told you so. Les knew the man well enough to know that he did not suffer fools gladly.

“What do we do now?” Woods asked begrudgingly.

Goodman did not hesitate. “We’ve come too far and have too many investors depending on us for this to stop now. Do you know what The Phoenix would do to us if the plan were to be compromised before it even got off the ground? Trust me; we do not want to piss him off. Failure is not an option, not if we want to survive this. Beede screwed up, but a stupid mistake does not have to be a fatal one. Five people are acceptable collateral damage.”

“I agree.” Woods studied Goodman’s face for a moment, and then motioned for his underling to leave his office. “Get hold of Diggs and get this mess cleaned up fast.”

“All five people will be taken care of immediately.” Goodman confirmed, as he headed for the door.

“And Les,” Woods called out. “Tell Diggs to make them look like accidents.”

www.joeporrazzo.com