Free Justifiable Homicide: A Political Thriller (Robert Paige Thrillers Book 1) by Robert W. McGee Page B

they finished their meal, Paige continued to think about what was happening in America. He didn’t like it.
    “You know, Sveta, America’s Founding Fathers would be appalled at what’s happening in this country. If British soldiers had tried to do what the TSA and the camera installers are doing, they would have been tarred and feathered by the citizenry, or perhaps strung up. America has become a land of sheep. Someone should do something before it’s too late.”

20
    Sunny Isles Beach
     
    After saying good-bye to Sveta in the Olive Garden parking lot, Paige pulled out his phone and dialed Wellington from his car.
    “Hi, John, this is Bob. Did you get the results yet?”
    “Yeah, I did, but there’s not much to report. I’m going to be in your neck of the woods this afternoon. Perhaps we can meet for a few minutes. Are you free?”
    “Of course. I’m a professor. I only teach two days a week, and today isn’t one of them.”
    “Thank you for reminding me. I sometimes forget that I work more in a day than you professor-types work in a week.”
    “Perhaps you should think about working less. The less you Commerce Department types work, the less damage you can do to the economy.”
    “Funny, Bob. You know we always have American consumers as our top priority.”
    “I know. That’s why prices are so much higher than they would be in a free market. You’re trying to protect American consumers from low prices.”
    “Precisely…. How does four o’clock sound? That’s after your usual nap time, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, I’m usually done with my nap by then.”
    “Good. How about the Starbucks on Collins Avenue?”
    “Sure. It’s next to my gym. I can get in a quick workout after my nap and before dinner.”
    “See you then.”
    ***
    Paige entered the gym at about 2:30 in the afternoon, had a vigorous workout, and hit the showers at 3:45, which gave him more than the two minutes he needed to walk to Starbucks.
    Ever since the incident in the parking lot, he’d been working out with more intensity than usual, combining weight training with martial arts. He also spent more time at the dojahng sparring with whoever was there. If he had another encounter, he couldn’t afford to be as sloppy in his technique as he’d been the first time.
    Paige arrived first and ordered a tuna croissant and cappuccino. He was hungry after his workout and wanted to ingest some protein. After picking up his order, he went outside and took a table in the northwest corner. That gave him a good view of Collins Avenue, while being far enough away that the exhaust fumes wouldn’t assault his nostrils. It sat far enough away from the other tables that, with the street sounds, the other customers wouldn’t be able to pick up their conversation.
    A few minutes after four, Wellington walked over to Paige’s table. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and blue tie, but no suit coat. Miami was usually too hot to wear a suit coat outside.
    “Hi, Bob.” He reached out and shook Paige’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some coffee.”
    He returned a few minutes later, as Paige was taking the last bite of his tuna croissant.
    After exchanging a few pleasantries, Wellington got to the point.
    “My guys didn’t find much. Their DNA isn’t in the system. The van was stolen.”
    “What about fingerprints? Did they find anything on the notes or the guns?”
    “No, they must have handled the notes with gloves on. There weren’t any prints on the guns either.”
    Paige held in his look of surprise. He’d placed their prints on those guns himself. He eyed John as he tried to savor his cappuccino. “Were you able to trace the serial numbers on the guns?”
    “Yeah. They belonged to some guy who died ten years ago.”
    “Hm. That sounds like a dead end. Pardon my pun.”
    “Funny, Bob. Someone probably inherited them, or maybe they were sold at auction or at a gun show. There’s really no way to trace them without