The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (read any book txt) 📕

interest. He checked internet news sites. Nothing untoward about Washington D.C. The government had not only prevented the attack but covered up the attempt. Evarts spent a moment thinking about the phrase ‘none the wiser.’ Should people be shielded from news about terrorism, or would they handle it better if wiser through knowledge? Then he thought of his own situation. There had been several attacks on his life, but the city, with his concurrence, had blamed it on local street gangs. His gut told him that he wouldn’t be doing his neighbors a favor by being forthright about who was really shooting up their town. A known threat frightened people less than rabid terrorists on a rampage.

Evarts wished he could tap into Standish’s server, but his orders had disconnected her system from the outside world. How could he help if he couldn’t go to work or remotely access her research? He again thought about exposing his presence to the Egyptians. No … Trish was right. He shouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their newfound safety. Especially not before Standish and Wilson had an opportunity to divert Ikhwan’s attention away from them.

Was there another way to use the Egyptians without disclosing his presence? Interrogation? That would take apprehending one of the teams, which was illegal unless he functioned in an official capacity. Besides, they probably knew nothing beyond their specific assignment. Disinformation? Nothing came to mind. Plus, he had no idea how to feed them disinformation? He fingered the newspaper nervously. The story said he was on administrative leave. What would they make of that? Abandon cruising about town. Not likely. They were committed terrorists … and they had only one job.

Wait a minute, their job was to find him. What if they had solid intel that he was in another locale? They would probably pack up and move to the city where he was spotted. What city? Westwood Village! Where Trish had lived prior to their marriage. Where Trish still owned a co-op. Where she has friends. Right next to UCLA, where she used to teach. They’d buy that in a heartbeat. All they had to do was be seen shopping or eating in the village. But how would the Ikhwan find out? Then he grabbed the paper and read the byline on the article on the city council meeting. Great, he knew Alan Witcombe. A solid reporter who wrote civic articles to supplement his pension after retiring from the Los Angeles Times. Evarts knew him well because Witcombe also did crime reporting.

Evarts phoned him after verifying that his story was also published in the online edition. When he answered, Evarts said, “Hi, Al. this is Chief Evarts.”

“Chief, where are you? I heard you’re on administrative leave.”

“You mean you wrote that I’m on administrative leave.”

He chuckled. “I had to hear it before I could write it. Are you in town?”

“No, I read online edition.”

“Why the secrecy about where you are. The townsfolk aren’t going to charge after you with torches and stakes. Other than a few loud busybodies, you have a lot of support here.”

“Al, Trish and I are staying in Westwood Village visiting her old colleagues. No secret. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

“It’s not a secret? What about the gang vendetta?”

“We believe that state special ops has put that to bed. Besides, I can’t worry about criminals coming after me. It comes with the job.”

“Okay, I hear you. Hey, why’d you call? What else have you got for me?”

“I presume you heard the rumors that Megan’s considering a run for Lieutenant Governor. As you saw in the council meeting, people are pissed and without her protecting me on the political front, I could be looking for a new position. So, I need some good press. I’m offering you an interview.”

“And you think I’ll write a puff piece.”

“I don’t think you’ll write a purposeful hit piece.”

“Okay, are you planning on running for mayor?”

“No.”

“Who do you support for mayor?”

“You know better than that.”

“Worth a try. Okay, what about this storm damage to the town infrastructure? Can you get enough money from the state to make the city whole?”

Witcombe continued for about fifteen minutes. Most of his questions were about city politics, budget issues, and state relief. At the end, he asked if he could put in the article that they were in West Los Angeles. Evarts answered in the affirmative. Just when he thought the interview was over, Witcombe threw in his real question.

“Will you endorse Mayor Walsh for Lieutenant Governor?”

“Of course,” Evarts said.

“Even though she stated for the record that you had displayed reckless disregard for public safety.”

“I didn’t see that in your article,” Evarts said warily.

“It wasn’t at the council meeting.”

“Where was it?”

“In a separate interview with me that will be published tomorrow.”

“You thought I already knew about that, didn’t you?”

“Back to back calls from the top two city leaders? What would you think?”

“Megan still has my endorsement … but no longer my amity.”

“On the record?”

“On the record,” Evarts answered.

Chapter 77

After the call ended, Evarts fumed for about a half hour. He never thought ambition would turn Walsh so manipulative or that she would throw a colleague under the bus. Live and learn. When he calmed down, he realized their supposed feud would give the otherwise dull story above-the-fold status, which meant the information he wanted out in public had a greater chance of being noticed.

When Baldwin emerged from the bathroom, they immediately took off. He told her about his strategy as he drove to Mrs. Olson’s Coffee Hut in Oxnard for a late breakfast. She said it might work if the Egyptians read the local paper in search clues to his whereabouts, and with luck, they would transfer their prowling to Westwood Village. That would buy time for Standish and Wilson to come up with a scheme to get the Ikhwan off their back.

When he had lived in Oxnard, Mrs. Olsen’s had been a frequent haunt of his. He hadn’t been