Drummer In the Dark Read Online Free PDF

how you handled yourself through the election, tossed in the deep end and swimming hard. I’ve seen enough to know you’re a natural for politics.”
    “Is that what you wanted to meet with me about?”
    “Partly. Mostly I wanted a little face-time, find out how we’re going to get on.” The eyes tried for warmth. “I think we’re gonna do just fine, don’t you?”
    “Swell.” Wynn started to rise. “Thanks for having me over, Jackson.”
    “Don’t mention it.” The chairman rose with him. “Tell me something, Wynn. You got any plans for the Jubilee Amendment?”
    “All I know is, Grant wants to see it killed.”
    “Not just Grant, old son. Not by a long shot.” He offered his hand. “That mean you’re going to vote it down?”
    Wynn accepted the meaty handshake, spoke carefully. “The governor stressed to me how important it was to have this item killed.”
    “Stomp down with both feet, bury this snake in the dust.” He guided Wynn toward the door, massaging his hand so hard the bones ground together. “Any plans for housecleaning in your office?”
    Wynn broke the grip with a downward shove. “I just got here, Jackson. Give me a break.”
    “A word to the wise. Nobody around here’d be sorry to see Carter Styles sent packing. The guy was a buddy of Hutchings from back home, and he’s been a mistake from the start. One businessman to another, Carter is a liability you don’t need. He’s offended too many people, and for no good reason.”

3
    Wednesday
    W EDNESDAY MORNING Jackie sipped tea from a mock Ball jar, the kind with a handle. The clear glass revealed a wildflower yellow too beautiful to hide inside a mug. She had been up long enough for any more coffee to be offensive, but she was no closer to answers. She stepped out her front door and reveled in a wind strong enough to shove her around. Her garage apartment was surrounded by Florida oaks now turned cross and agitated. She took a deep breath and tasted a faint trace of something found only within sea-laden storms. Jackie liked to think it was a remembrance of liberation and times that still lay easy on her soul.
    She was drawn back inside by a ringing phone. It was Neva, the closest thing she had to a friend at work. “I must have tried to reach you a dozen times yesterday. Me and the boss both. Your phone stayed busy the whole time.”
    “Sorry, I was on the internet.” Hooked into the web, searching for clues. This after spending most of the previous night going through the information Esther Hutchings had given her. The preliminary review had been sketchy but compelling. As a member of Congress, Graham Hutchings had made numerous inquiries into the uncontrolled and increasingly rampant activities of the international currency traders and hedge funds—the subject of Jackie’s unfinished thesis. Hutchings had documented occasions when the funds had wreaked havoc with national economies. He specifically named several huge funds that had played these currencies like chips on a roulette table. The list of investment banks and hedge funds was almost smothered in hand-written notes, but the top name made Jackie’s blood run cold. Hayek.
    She had then gone on-line and searched out data on specific activities. She had not been looking for answers so much as keeping her hands busy while her mind tried to fit itself around this new juncture in her life. She used several search engines, their names springing up from the past, painful as splinters to her heart. All the work she had put into her own research, all the hopes, all the despair at having to push it aside when Preston became ill and the money ran out.
    The final site she stumbled upon had been locked behind e-barriers, requiring her first to request entry and then download a questionnaire. The queries had reflected a group who were either very serious or seriously frightened. Her last act before logging off at one o’clock in the morning had been to send a preliminary response,