Free Prey by William W. Johnstone

Hutton and Cliff Madison were on opposite sides of nearly every issue, the two men had been friends for years. Indeed, they were the same age and had actually played football against each other in high school. Both were from Tennessee. Dick’s family had moved to Ohio in his junior year, and he had called the Buckeye State home ever since. Dick Hutton was the ninth man from the state of Ohio to be elected to the presidency.
    Congressman Cliff Madison still called the Volunteer State home.
    â€œBoth the FBI and the Secret Service are trying to track down the source of the rumor—”
    The phone rang, interrupting Max. The secretary’s voice pushed through the speaker. “For you, Mr. Montgomery.”
    Max listened, his face paled. “Oh, dear God!” he said, then hung up. He turned to face the president. “Sir, Senator Holden’s body has just been found. He apparently shot himself in the head. The cleaning lady found the body on the bedroom floor.”
    Dick Hutton slumped back in his chair, a stunned expression on his face. He was speechless.
    â€œMr. President,” Max began, “I’ll get right on this. I—”
    â€œCancel all my appointments for the rest of the day, Max. I don’t have anything urgent on the agenda.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Max left the Oval Office, and Dick rose and walked to his desk, sitting down. His mind was racing, his thoughts dark. He did not believe for one second that Senator Holden had committed suicide.
    He buzzed his secretary. “I don’t want to be disturbed, Ruth.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    All presidents, if they expected to last in Washington, had their personal cadre of spies. Such was the nature of modern-day politics. Dick knew all about the secret meetings held by the ultraliberal left of his party. He knew who met with whom, where they met and how often. While he did not know for sure what they discussed behind those closed doors, he had a very good idea.
    Senator Holden had been a moderate, a voice of reason among the liberal left. Gene Dawson was a big-money man here in Washington, a philanthropist who loved even the most hopeless of liberal causes. He had inherited a fortune from his father and mother and, as far as Dick knew, had never worked a day in his life. Gene also disliked Republicans. No, dislike was too mild a word. Loathe was a better choice of words. Senator Paul Patrick hated anything and anybody of the right-wing persuasion. Senator Sam Stevens was another ultraleft liberal. Just like Dawson, Sam had inherited a huge fortune from his parents. But Madalaine Bowman was quite another story. Possessing the disposition of a pit viper, Madalaine was the most dangerous of those who attended the private meetings in that room behind the restaurant. Dick had always felt Madalaine was capable of anything . . . even murder. The others who attended, even though they wielded great power, were tagalongs, sheep. They would follow the Judas Goat blindly and without question.
    Dick scribbled on the legal pad. It was all beginning to add up, at least in his mind. And what it was adding up to both disgusted and frightened the president. It was unthinkable.
    Dick knew Madalaine hated him. He could read it in her eyes each time they met, and Gene Dawson and Paul Patrick shared her feelings. Dick was a moderate liberal, just as Holden had been.
    The kicker in this hypothesis was Vice President Adam Thomas, a very good friend of Madalaine Bowman, and a man Dick Hutton could just barely tolerate. For the sake of the party, in public, they were buddy-buddy, but in private, they loathed one another with equal fervor.
    Dick’s spies had informed him that Madalaine had called for some sort of emergency meeting just a few nights past. Of course, VP Thomas could never attend those gatherings, but he would be kept abreast of anything that was discussed. Dick’s spies had told him that when Senator Holden left the