In the suite in the La Tremoille hotel in Paris. Chuck walked out of the bedroom. He wore nothing but white boxers. His potbelly drooped way over the band of his underwear. And his skinny, pale, white legs were not appealing.
Chuck walked up to the bar and poured some scotch into a glass, took a sip.
A young, beautiful, high-class French escort, named Chantal, around thirty years old, walked naked out of the bedroom with Chuck’s cell phone in her hand. It was ringing.
“You have a call,” she said in English with a sexy French accent.
Chuck smiled at the sight of her naked body while she walked up to him with his ringing cell phone.
She handed him his cell phone, then snatched his glass from his hand.
She gulped down his scotch while he opened his cell phone, then handed Chuck the empty glass.
“Hello, Frank,” he answered then glanced at her tight and smooth ass cheeks while she walked back into the bedroom.
“I tried calling Grant, but couldn’t reach him. Taylor and my agent were spotted at a gas station just off Interstate Five in Stockton,” Frank told Chuck from the cell phone.
“Finally, some progress. Did the police arrest them?” Chuck replied.
“No, but I’ll have the California Highway Patrol beef up their search on the Interstate. And, I’m having more media attention, so hopefully more civilians will be on the lookout for the pair,” Frank replied.
“Okay, thanks for the update, Frank, and call me the second you get some more good news. Also, I’m curious if you told Grant and Kirby know about this?” said Chuck while he walked over to the small bar in his room.
“Yes, sir, right away,” Frank replied.
“I wonder how long it will take for them to tell me,” Chuck said, then frowned. “Those two are such losers. Well, thanks for keeping me informed, Frank,” Chuck said, then disconnected the call.
While he poured more scotch into his glass, the French escort walked out of the bedroom in a sleek red dress and red high heels. She tucked the Eurodollars Chuck left on the dresser into her small purse. She walked up to Chuck and gave him a light kiss on his cheek.
“Can you come back in three nights?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied with a smile, making another one thousand and two hundred Eurodollars for an hour’s work on her back, then on her hands and knees.
“Good, I’ll see you then,” he said, then sipped his scotch and watched while she walked to the door.
Chuck sat down on the couch in his room and set his cell phone on the coffee table.
Chuck relaxed with a fresh glass of scotch, gulped it down, and worried about Albert and Brittney still on the loose.
Chuck set his empty glass on the coffee table. He kicked his feet up on the table and closed his eyes.
Thirty minutes later, his cell phone rang while he dozed off on the couch.
He looked at the viewfinder and wondered what took him so long. “What?” Chuck answered his call, knowing it was Grant and knowing why he called.
For the next couple of minutes, Chuck listened as Grant gave the same update that Frank had given earlier.
Thirty minutes passed. The lady with the other blue Prius left the Centro Mart parking lot. She drove to the Sherwood Mall, located off Pacific Avenue. She wanted to do some shopping at Macy’s before going home.
A young mother, around twenty-eight years old, listened to the radio broadcast about the FBI search for Taylor and Britney. She saw the old lady’s Prius in the parking lot five minutes after the lady walked into Macy’s.
She saw the tag number and immediately called 911 to report her findings. She waited, hoping there would be reward money.
In the main room of a suite in the La Tremoille hotel in Paris, Chuck walked out of his bedroom and wore an expensive Italian suit. He was on his way out for dinner when his cell phone rang, and he looked at the viewfinder. Chuck smiled, seeing Frank was calling.
“That was quick,” he answered the call.
“I know. We just got a call that Taylor’s Prius was spotted in a mall in Stockton by a woman. The Stockton Police are on their way,” Frank said from the cell phone.
“I want you there to confiscate that laptop. I don’t trust Kirby or Grant, as they’ll probably screw this up,” Chuck replied a little concerned.
“Yes, sir,” Frank replied.
“Call the Stockton police and tell them not to touch the laptop as it’s believed to contain stolen classified government files,” Chuck added.
“I’ll let you know the second they’re arrested and behind bars,” Frank said.
“Good. Then I’ll have someone bail them out and dispose of our threat,” Chuck replied, then disconnected the call and dropped his cell phone into his suit pocket.
Chuck left his hotel room smiling.
Back in his office in San Francisco, Frank thought about the one-million-dollar payment he would receive for his involvement in this plot.
“What should I buy?” Frank thought, while glancing at a website for Piper aircraft, where he checked out a new Archer single-engine plane that costs around $309,000. He smiled at the thought of owning his own plane and getting out of the hassle of renting old planes.
Frank closed that website and opened another one for a restored red with red interior 1957 Chevy for sale for $74,000.
He made a call on his cell phone. “Chief Bronson, Agent Frank Foley with the FBI in San Francisco,” he said while he walked to his office door.
“Yes, sir, I have three units at the Sherwood Mall waiting for your suspects to come out of the mall. I also have four undercover officers probing the inside of the mall as we speak,” Chief Bronson replied from Frank’s cell phone.
“That’s great. Listen, I was just informed that those two suspects might be carrying a stolen government laptop with classified Secret files. I’m on my way to retrieve it,” Frank told Chief Bronson.
“I’ll instruct my officers to leave it alone,” Chief Bronson replied.
“Great, can you have one of your units pick me up at Stockton airport?” Frank asked.
“No problem, sir,” Chief Bronson replied, then Frank disconnected his call and left his office.
Meanwhile, back at the Sherwood Mall, three Stockton police cars were stationed in the parking lot after they spoke with the young woman and verified the location of the suspected blue Prius.
It wasn’t long before Frank boarded a Bell Jet Ranger and ascended to Stockton.
An hour later, one of the officers saw the blue Prius while it backed out of the parking spot.
All of the police cars converged and blocked the Prius in the lane.
“Get out with your hands in the air,” one of the officers yelled from his loudspeaker in his squad car.
Seventy-three-year-old Alice Stone was stunned and dazed when she saw the police cars that suddenly blocked her lane. She froze in fear.
“I said, get out with your hands in the air,” the officer yelled again from the car’s loudspeaker.
Alice’s hand trembled while she opened the door. She stepped out and raised her arms in the air.
“Step away from your vehicle,” the officer yelled from his loudspeaker.
From inside the police car, Officer Billy Adamson looked at a frightened old lady who shook with fear ten feet from her Prius. “That doesn’t look like one of our suspects,” Billy told his partner, Jake Dally, while he showed them the pictures they had of Albert and Britney.
“You’re right,” Jake said, looking at Britney’s picture and then at Alice.
They opened up their doors and stepped out of their squad car.
At the other end of the parking lot, two other officers stepped out of their car and provided backup.
Billy and Jake had their hands on their revolvers as they cautiously walked toward Alice, who had just urinated, and the urine was running down her leg.
The second, Billy and Jake got within five feet of Alice; she fainted and fell to the ground in the parking lot.
They rushed over to her.
Billy checked to make sure Alice was okay while Jake checked inside her purse for some identification.
Jake removed her driver’s license and frowned.
Jake went over to the passenger side, opened the door, reached inside, opened the glove box, and then rummaged through it.
Jake removed the registration, then walked back and checked it against the tag, and frowned again.
“Dispatch, unit thirty needs an ambulance at the Sherwood Mall for an elderly woman who passed out in the parking lot. And the report of the blue Prius being the murder suspects, Albert Taylor and Brittney Cooper, is false. They apparently switched license plates with another similar car,” Jake stated in his microphone.
Another Stockton police car rushed through the parking lot and stopped by the arrest scene.
Chief Bronson and Frank got out of the car, and they rushed over to Billy.
“This is FBI agent Frank Foley from San Francisco,” Chief Bronson said while they walked up to Billy and Jake.
Frank looked at the other police cars for Albert and Britney. “Did you arrest my suspects?” he asked, a little concerned when he couldn’t see them.
“No, sir. The tags matched the Prius of the suspects, but the woman driving is Alice Stone,” Billy said while he pointed to her on the asphalt.
“I believe your suspects switched tags with this woman’s car,” Jake added.
Alice stirred, then came to and sat up. She looked dazed and confused when she saw the officers and Frank.
Frank walked away, pissed, and removed his cell phone when he was twenty feet away. “Chuck, it’s Frank. I have more bad news,” Frank said while he walked away to inform Chuck of the news he really didn’t want to tell.
Back in the Half Moon airport, Kirby and Grant walked to their waiting jet. They looked happy.
Grant’s cell phone rang. He looked at the viewfinder and smiled. “It’s Frank with good news, I bet,” he told Kirby, who stopped at the stairs of the jet.
“Did you get them?” he asked with a smile.
There were a few seconds of silence. “No,” Frank replied from Grant’s cell phone.
“What the hell do you mean, no?” Grant asked, pissed. Kirby frowned, as he knew this was bad news again.
“Well, it appeared they switched license plates with another blue Prius. It belongs to some old lady,” Frank replied from the cell phone.
“Shit!” Grant yelled out while he closed his cell phone.
“Now what?” Kirby asked, a little fearful of the news.
“They apparently switched license plates with another Prius,” he told Kirby.
“Shit,” Kirby said while he walked up the stairs and got inside the jet.
Grant opened up his cell phone and made another phone call. “Chuck, I have some more bad news,” he said into his cell phone, cringing as he informed Chuck of the latest development regarding the capture of Albert and Britney. But Chuck already knew what had happened.
Grant climbed up the stairs and went inside the jet.
The door closed, and the engines of the jet started immediately up with a whine.
Ten minutes later, the Cessna jet took off and headed back to the Redlands Municipal Airport.
Meanwhile, Britney drove the Prius east on State Road 4, and they drove through the beautiful countryside, just past the leaning barn at Vallecito.
Albert glanced down at the laptop bag and itched to chat with Ginger. However, he was actually feeling guilty for enjoying his time with Britney.
At the MGM Grand in Vegas, Secret Service agents used bomb-sniffing dogs and searched the garden arena.
Other Secret Service agents checked out all doors and other areas of the arena.
Gino and Sal walked around the casino at the MGM Grand in their Security Guard uniforms. They monitored all the activity designed to ensure the President’s visit was safe. Gino’s cell phone rang.
“Yes,” he answered.
“How are things going?” Grant asked for Gino’s cell phone.
“The Secret Service is doing their thing,” Gino replied while he scanned the area over.
“Good. No capture with our high risk, so be on the alert for them. I’ll send their pictures, so you don’t forget,” Grant replied.
“Yes, sir,” Gino replied, then disconnected their call. He opened up his inbox and waited.
A few seconds later, an email arrived from Grant. Gino quickly opened it up and saw the driver’s license photos of Albert and Britney attached. “Make sure you memorize our high risk,” Gino told Sal while he showed him the viewfinder.
“Got it,” Sal replied while he stared at the two photos.
Gino put his cell phone away and walked through the casino, taking it all in.
Over at Washington, D.C., in the White House, President Barrow practiced his trumpet in his bedroom and worked on some Carmine Caruso exercises.
The bedroom door opened, and Kristen rushed inside with a limp.
He saw her and stopped midstream in an exercise.
“You sound great, grandpa,” she said while she rushed up to him.
“Have you been practicing?” he asked while he placed his trumpet on its stand.
“Yes!” Kristen sang out with her beautiful voice.
President Barrow smiled at Kristen, incredibly proud of her.
Someone knocked on his bedroom door.
“Come in,” President Barrow responded.
Jason opened the door and entered the room. “Sir, you have a meeting in twenty minutes,” Jason stated while standing by the open door.
“Okay, Jason,” he said, then thought about something.
“Oh, is everything set for playing with Andy Fig?” he asked Jason.
“It’s all set,” Jason replied.
“And Kristen will also sing?” President Barrow asked.
“Yes, sir, she’ll also be singing with Mister Fig after she does a solo,” Jason replied.
“Great,” he replied, then winked at Kristen, who winked back. “Thanks, Jason,” he added while he picked up his trumpet off the stand.
“My pleasure, sir,” Jason said, then turned around and left, closing the door behind him.
“I need to go do my President stuff, honey. Get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, then kissed her cheek.
The First Lady opened the door and stepped inside the room.
“Come on, Kristen, let’s go get a snack in the kitchen.
Kristen walked up to President Barrow and gave him a hug while he was seated in his chair. “I love you, Mister President,” she said.
“I love you, too,” he replied, then kissed Kristen’s cheek.
The First Lady walked Kristen out of the room.
President Barrow stood up and walked over to his bed to his open trumpet case. He placed his trumpet in the case and then headed toward the door.