Free Agent of Influence: A Thriller by Russell Hamilton Page B

President-Elect was causing him enough trouble with his blatant womanizing, and now he was taking his money on the golf course.
    “Nice shot, you son-of-a bitch. You know you shot out of turn!” Aman motioned for the corporate CEOs in the other cart to head towards their shots. When Aman drew closer to Zachariah, he whispered quietly to him, “Solomon is working a lead. Hopefully he will end this quickly.”
    “Sorry. I’ll be more careful from here on out. I’ve learned my lesson,” Zachariah said contritely.
                  “Good.” Aman headed towards the rocky desert to find his ball.
                 

Chapter 12
     
     
                  “I would love to know who the hell came up with that idea,” Michael commented as he, Alex, and Cindy watched the massive roller coaster that surrounded the New York, New York hotel go through a series of loops and corkscrews.
    “Only i n Vegas, Michael. I’ve got to give the people here credit. The coaster was definitely an original idea.” Alex continued to scan the crowds since they left the hotel, but so far the man from the casino still did not appear to be following them.
    “Let’s take a look guys. It could be fun,” Cindy suggested.
    “That’s fine. We haven’t been in it yet. Maybe check out their tables to,” Michael responded.
    “Alex?” Cindy asked.
    “No complaints here. Let’s get a move on.” Alex led the way down the crowded sidewalks.
    ***
    Shakir glanced at his watch before looking up in disgust. The three people he had been tracking were nowhere to be seen, and after a desperate five-minute search, he knew he would not find them except by blind luck. Making up his mind he decided to head north towards downtown Vegas, hoping to spot them along the way. After a meticulous thirty-minute vigil, he found himself at the Stardust Hotel. They were nowhere to be found so he walked back to the middle of the strip. He stopped in front of Caesar’s Palace and doubled over, his chest heaving in exhaustion as his suit clung to him from a combination of sweat and the previous days filth. He watched a group of tourists riding the long, covered moving sidewalk into the heart of Caesar’s, hoping to get lucky and reacquire his lost targets. Solomon would not be pleased if he phoned in that he lost them.
    His eyes involuntarily fluttered, and he realized he was in desperate need of some sleep. He grabbed his phone and began punching in the number for Gregor. Like a child going to the more pliable parent, he knew Gregor would be more sympathetic. Several minutes of complaining worked, and Gregor promised to get someone to replace him within the hour.
                                                                         ***
    Solomon cursed to himself as he battled his way through the throng of people in the New York, New York casino. He slid his cell phone back onto his belt clip. The news from Gregor that one of the groups under surveillance disappeared did nothing to help his already foul mood. At least he caught up with this group. He replaced one of Aman’s men twenty minutes earlier, and he was now tracking one of the threesomes from the airport, or at least two-thirds of one. It was a couple in their early forties who were bickering. The other man traveling with them had returned to his own room to retrieve some more spending money. The thug Solomon just replaced did do one good thing; he pick-pocketed the man earlier in the day, and now Solomon knew his target’s name. The wallet also contained one of the flat plastic keys that all large hotels on the strip used for their rooms.
    The target’s name was Dan Stevens, and his driver’s license stated that he lived in Florida. The rest of the wallet revealed nothing significant, only a few credit cards and twenty-six dollars in cash. Along with the cash were receipts from the casino ATM machines showing