In the main room of a suite in the La Tremoille hotel in Paris, Chuck stood by the windows while he punched in a phone number into his cell phone. He waited a few seconds.
“Caller unavailable” was displayed as a message when he called Grant’s cell phone.
He quickly made another phone call. “Caller unavailable” was displayed as a message when he called Kirby’s cell phone.
“What the hell are they doing?” Chuck yelled out, pissed that those two were not at his beck and call. He quickly made another phone call.
“Frank, what the hell is going on? I can’t get in touch with Grant or Kirby. I want to know about our two high-risk items,” Chuck said into his cell phone.
“I don’t know, sir. But I’ll find out and give you a call,” Frank replied from Chuck’s cell phone, then disconnected the call.
Chuck’s cell phone rang, and he quickly looked at the viewfinder. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” he yelled into his cell phone.
“Sorry, sir, I was in the bathroom and consider it rude to talk in there,” Kirby answered.
“Whatever. Now, where the hell is Grant? He didn’t answer my call?” Chuck yelled.
“He’s up in the helicopter looking for those two in the desert,” Kirby replied.
“I better get some news soon that they’re buzzard meat,” Chuck said with a serious tone.
“You will. Don’t worry about that,” Kirby replied with confidence.
Chuck disconnected the call, then walked over to the bar and poured some more scotch into a glass. He gulped it down in hopes it would calm his nerves.
Back in Nevada, Henry drove his car southeast down State Road 95. All he could think about was that burning wreckage in the desert.
Henry spotted a Nevada Highway Patrol car heading northwest in search of Albert and Britney. Henry flashed his headlights, stuck his left arm out his window, and waved the trooper’s car down.
The Highway Patrol car slowed down while Henry stopped his car on the road.
The Highway Patrol car stopped next to Henry’s car. The trooper rolled down his door window. “Something wrong, sir?” the male trooper asked.
“There’s burning wreckage of some type of aircraft about fifteen minutes down the road,” Henry told the trooper and pointed northwest.
“Follow me,” the trooper instructed Henry, then turned on his lights, and his tires screeched when he took off.
Henry turned his car around and raced after the trooper’s car.
Henry loved the feeling of speeding down the road with the approval of the Nevada Highway Patrol.
Ten minutes passed, and the Nevada trooper screeched his car to a stop when he saw the black smoke of the burning wreckage of the Huey three hundred feet from the road.
Henry stopped his car behind the trooper’s car.
“Dispatch, unit seventy-nine. There’s burning wreckage of an aircraft about twenty miles northwest of Vegas on State Road Ninety-Five. Not known if there are any survivors,” the trooper said into his microphone.
The trooper got out of his car and walked toward the wreckage.
Curiosity got the best of Henry, so he got out of his car and followed the trooper.
When they got closer to the wreckage, the smell of burning flesh was overwhelming.
The trooper knew precisely what that smell was.
Henry didn’t have a clue at first. But he knew the second he saw Grant’s charred, dead body in the desert. He looked at the burnt body and immediately dropped to his knees and vomited.
The trooper rushed over to the wreckage and saw it was a helicopter.
The trooper looked around it and saw the two dead pilots still strapped in their seats.
The trooper rushed back to his car.
Henry got up and saw the trooper while he rushed back to his car.
Henry ran after the trooper, having dry heaves over the stench of burnt flesh.
Thirty minutes later, in his room in the Sam’s Town casino, Kirby made another scotch on the rocks drink to calm his nerves.
Kirby turned on the room TV and sat down in the room chair. He sipped his drink when his cell phone rang. “Yeah,” he answered the call.
“You better turn on the channel eight news,” Gino quickly replied from the cell phone.
Kirby grabbed the remote, turned the channels, and stopped at the Channel 8 news station.
“We’re about twenty miles northwest of Las Vegas on State Road Ninety-Five. The Nevada Highway Patrol just reported the finding of the wreckage of a helicopter in the desert. The NHP stated that there were no markings to identify the helicopter. All three aboard died in the crash. One passenger was found in the desert, burnt beyond identification,” Channel 8 Reporter Nancy Markerson said into the camera with the wreckage of the burnt helicopter in the background behind her.
Kirby turned off the TV and got up. “SHIT!” he yelled out while he paced around his room. “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” he yelled out while he frantically walked around the room, scared their plan was falling apart.
Kirby looked at his cell phone on his bed. He regretted making the call, but knew that if he waited any longer, Chuck would be even more irate.
Kirby walked over to his bed and picked up his cell phone. He took a couple of deep breaths of courage, then punched in Chuck’s phone number.
“Give it to me,” Chuck answered the call.
Kirby hesitated for a few seconds.
“Hurry up, I don’t have all night,” Chuck yelled from Kirby’s cell phone.
“Grant was killed when his helicopter crashed in the desert,” Kirby quickly blurted out, then cringed while he waited for Chuck’s yelling.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU MORONS DOING? HOW THE HELL DID THAT DIP SHIT’S HELICOPTER CRASH?” Grant screamed from Kirby’s cell phone.
“I don’t know, sir,” Kirby replied while he paced around the room.
“It happens tonight, and I’m getting extremely nervous. Extremely nervous! If this falls through, consider yourself out of luck. There won’t be a rock on this planet that you can hide under. Do you understand?” Chuck said with a deadly serious tone.
“Yes, sir, and I’ll make sure this goes off without a hitch,” Kirby replied, then disconnected the call.
Kirby tossed his cell phone on his bed, then paced around his room. His eyes widened, and he ran to his bathroom. He vomited into the toilet.
Back at the White House lawn, the Marine One helicopter lifted off with President Barrow, the First Lady, and Kristen.
It ascended into the sky and headed toward Andrews Air Force Base so they could board Air Force One bound for Las Vegas.
Kristen was all excited about singing along with her President grandfather with the famous singer Andy Fig.
In the main room of a suite in the La Tremoille hotel in Paris, Chuck paced around the room in his bathrobe. He looked scared for the first time in his life.
There was a knock on his room door that startled him. Then he remembered his commitment.
Chuck walked over to the door and opened it, and saw Felice, a twenty-eight-year-old escort with shoulder-length black hair. She was an escort from the same agency as the other two escorts and was hot. Chuck could not get an erection even though he took a Viagra before he received the bad news.
“Listen, baby, I’m going to have to cancel. Some business emergency crap just came up,” he said. At the same time, he reached into his robe pocket and handed her payment of one thousand and five hundred Eurodollars.
She gladly accepted the money. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said while she tucked the cash into her small purse. “Call us again,” she added, then walked off down the hallway, but in reality, she was happy she didn’t have to have that fat slob heaving and puffing on top of her to earn her money.
Chuck closed the door and paced around the room.
He walked to the windows and stared out at the city of Paris, where the Eiffel Tower was visible.
Back in Kirby’s hotel room at the Sam’s Town Casino, he paced around his room while he pondered his dilemma.
Kirby walked over to his bed and picked up his cell phone. He found the number he needed. “Viper, it’s Scorpio. Taylor and the FBI agent are still at large. If you see them, you’ll get an extra two hundred thousand dollar bonus if you eliminate this risk,” Kirby typed as his text message.
After a few seconds, his cell phone buzzed when Viper’s reply appeared.
“I accept,” Viper’s text message responded.
Kirby closed his cell phone and tossed it on his bed. He walked over to the dresser where he had the bottle of scotch and a glass. He poured a stiff drink to calm his nerves, which were starting to cause his hands to shake.
Way high in the sky, Air Force One was halfway on its trek to Vegas.
Inside a private cabin of the 747, President Barrow, the First Lady, and Kristen relaxed on a couch.
“Are you nervous, darling?” President Barrow asked Kristen.
“A little. But I’ll have you by my side, so I’m okay,” she replied.
He placed his arm around her.
“You’re going to do great, sweetheart,” the First Lady said.
President Barrow kissed her on her forehead. She looked up at him.
“And so will you, Grandpa,” she replied with a loving smile and blew him a kiss.
The First Lady smiled. “Don’t let the media get a glimpse of a beautiful young girl blowing a kiss at the President,” she jokingly said.
The President chuckled. Kristen didn’t get the humor. There was a knock on the cabin door.
“Come in,” President Barrow called out.
The door opened, and Jason entered. “We’ll be in Vegas in a couple of hours,” he said while he stood in the doorway.
“Thank you, Jason,” the President replied.
Jason left and closed the door behind him.
President Barrow looked down at Kristen. “Why don’t you take a little nap? We have a long night ahead,” he told her.
“Okay,” she replied, then got up from the couch and ran over and jumped on the bed. She closed her eyes.
The President and the First Lady relaxed on the couch.
At the MGM Grand in Vegas, everybody was busy preparing for tonight’s special event.
Andy Fig arrived at the casino a little while ago and was in his suite, relaxing for tonight’s show.
The Secret Service was making its last-minute security checks in the building.
In another MGM conference room, Gino and Sal had the attention of all the security guards who worked for the MGM Grand.
“This just arrived. Be on the lookout for Albert Taylor and Britney Cooper,” Gino addressed the other guards.
Sal handed out flyers to all the guards who had the driver’s license pictures of Albert and Britney.
“These two are wanted for the murder of a woman in San Francisco and for assisting in the escape of the terrorist assassin Abdul Shia-Agil. They are believed to be in Las Vegas and might enter the MGM for a potential assassination attempt against the President,” Gino told everybody.
“Fucking bastards,” one of the security guards said out loud while he looked at his flyer.
The other guards near him nodded in agreement.
“Contact me the second these two step inside the casino. My code name is Bronto,” he told the guards.
The security guards studied the flyer.
“Does everybody understand?” he asked the guards. They all nodded in agreement and were ready to take down these two criminals, the second they were spotted.
Meanwhile, in the hot and dry Mojave Desert, Albert and Britney walked toward Vegas, only ten miles away. They’re hot and tired.
“I need to rest,” he said while he stopped and sat down in the dirt.
“Okay,” she replied, then sat down next to him.
After a few minutes, she stood up. “I need to go use the little girl’s room,” she said jokingly.
He realized he had an opportunity. “I’m going to see if I can get more information from that database,” he said.
She nodded in agreement, then walked off toward a rock big enough to hide behind that was twenty feet away.
Albert quickly opened up the laptop bag and removed the laptop. It mysteriously powered up, and the Heavenly Chat website appeared.
“Ginger. I need to talk to you,” he whispered at the monitor.
“I see that you’re still alive. Good shooting at that helicopter,” Angel 12978 replied.
“I didn’t want to kill anybody,” he replied.
“You didn’t have a choice. It was self-defense, and besides, Grant was an assassin earlier in his career,” Angel 12978 said.
“I’m sorry about kissing Britney’s forehead. I hope you’re not mad,” he said with a guilty tone in his voice.
“Mad? I’m glad. You need to move on, Albee. Do you like her?” Angel 12978 asked.
Albert looked at the rock where Britney hid behind to go to the bathroom.
“I do, but she’s nothing like you,” he said.
“I think in due time, you’ll find she’s better than me,” Angel 12978 replied.
“Why would you say that, Ginger?” he asked, a little hurt that she wanted to get rid of him. “Nobody’s better than you. Nobody,” he said, and looked hurt.
“Ah...Albert...help! And bring a gun,” Britney cried out in a panic from behind the rock.
“You better hurry, Albee, she’s in danger,” Angel 12978.
Albert unzipped the laptop bag, grabbed a revolver, and ran over to the rock.
Albert reached the rock and saw Britney, her pantsuit down around her ankles, in a squatting position. Then he heard a rattlesnake about ten feet away poised to strike.
Albert didn’t know what to do for a split second.
Then he realized he had the revolver in his hand, aimed at the rattlesnake, and fired a round. He struck the snake. He fired two more bullets into the snake. It was dead.
Britney sighed a sigh of relief. “Now, if you could allow a lady to finish her business,” she said.
Albert got embarrassed when he saw her butt cheeks. He quickly covered his eyes with his other hand. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, then rushed away to the laptop.
When he returned to the laptop, the Heavenly Chat website was still visible.
“Nice job, Albee,” Angel 12978 said proudly.
“Thank you,” he replied with a smile. “Now, I need to know exactly where and what time this assassination attempt will take place,” he said.
“In due time, if you leave this program running,” Angel 12978 replied, then the Password Detective program appeared by itself and started to run.
Britney walked back to Albert. “Thank you,” she replied, then tripped over a small rock and fell flat on her face.
Albert set the laptop down and ran over to her. “You okay?” he asked while he helped her up on her feet.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
He noticed dirt on her face and wiped it off with his hand.
She smiled, then gave him a light kiss on his lips. “Thank you for saving me from that slithering demon,” she replied, then gave him another kiss on his lips.
Albert loved the feeling of her lips, and for once, he didn’t feel a bit guilty.
She noticed the laptop was powered up. “What were you doing on the laptop?” she asked.
“Trying to run that password detective program so we could break into that part of the database that contains the information we need,” he replied.
“Good. Now we’d better get into Vegas,” she said, then walked over to the laptop.
Albert picked up the laptop and put it in the bag so that the monitor stuck out of the bag.
They walked off into the desert heading toward Vegas.