3 Thank God it's Monday Read Online Free PDF Page A

course.”
    Tommy took one glance at Hallie and bowed, taking her hand
to his lips.
    “It was a pleasure meeting you, ma’am,” he said.
    Jake turned in time to watch two of the agents look at each
other and roll their eyes. Jake couldn’t help smirking.
    Why can’t their boss have as much levity as the rest of
the guys on this detail? He wondered.
    Tommy exited, jingling the keys.
    Mr. Universe directed two of the agents behind them to stand
guard in the lobby. The other two came with them.
    Hallie looked up at him as he took her hand in his. Her smug
smile told him she enjoyed this game. Her eyes told him that she was even more
nervous than before. He watched her clutch her purse in her other hand.
    Jake looked up as they stopped at the entry to a narrow
hallway. Mr. Universe turned, his hands on his hips. He had removed his glasses
and Jake could see his eyes were the shade of winter, a blue so light that it
almost blended with the whites of his eyes. They were the eyes of a Siberian husky.
    “I am Senior Agent Brad Welker, Mr. Monday,” he said. “I am
familiar with your file. I want you to know that I have an eye on you.” The
menace and accusation in his voice were cold and dark.
    Jake tilted his head.
    “Well, Agent Welker. I appreciate your concern. Senator
Swane is a personal friend. And as you are probably aware, I saved his life
last week,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice light and friendly.
    The disdain that poured from Welker’s eyes was disturbing. Jake
was almost scared.
    “That was my detail. That should have been my watch,” Welker
said, his voice a low growl.
    Territorial. Figures , Jake thought bitterly.
    Jake nodded, his eyebrows raised.
    “I understand. Well, I am sorry you missed it. Perhaps next
time, eh? I hate baseball, anyway.” Jake shrugged.
    “Follow me,” he said gruffly. He turned and led them to a
room with dark paneling and the smell of old cigar smoke. A chandelier hung
over a pool table. The balls were racked at one end and three pool sticks were
hung on the wall on a ledge that contained a cube of blue chalk.
    “I feel like one of the good ole’ boys. Let’s get out the
cigars and brandy, whatcha say boys?” Hallie suggested.
    They smiled. Well, except for Welker.
    “Wait here. Agent Sands, please let the Senator know his
guests have arrived,” Welker said, pacing to the other side of the pool table. His
face disappeared in the glare from the chandelier. Jake was grateful, those
ice-blue eyes were beginning to unnerve him.
    Agent Sands exited through a door on the far side of the
room. As he turned to close the door, he looked back at Jake and hesitated. Jake
recognized him. Now Jake understood the agent’s hesitation on the stairs
earlier. Jake had worked alongside him in Chicago during an investigation. He
had been bright and dedicated. He had outworked everyone, even Jake.
    What is he doing here? Jake wondered as Sands closed
the door slowly, giving a slight nod of recognition. Jake returned it.
    Hallie flicked the nails of her left hand. She only did this
when she was nervous or pressured.
    The tension in the room was palpable. He was ambiguous to
Welker, but it was obvious that Welker did not like him. He wondered if it mattered.
He was here for a short visit. His mind was already in New York, working
through the new information, hoping that Lars, Violet, and whoever they worked
for would leave him alone long enough to discover why he had been brainwashed
and who wanted the president dead.
    Of course, an investigation had already been launched. The
consensus was that the president had not been targeted. Camilla Cross was the
only target all along. She was an undercover agent for the FBI and had been in
deep cover. It was assumed that her cover had been blown. It was likely her
repeated contact with Jake had led to her murder. They suspected someone
involved with Galbraith. For unexplained reasons, though, nothing developed
further in the