Omega Days (An Omega Days Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stadium events, the merchandising . . . his entire ministry. Tax agents and federal accountants were poised like jackals awaiting the fall of a wounded zebra, ready to freeze and seize his empire the moment a conviction was handed down.
    He sipped the tea. It needed more vodka.
    Parasites, every last one of them: the federal prosecutors, his wife in Jackson, his mistresses scattered across the country, his global congregation of followers, even his loyal staff. Everyone wanted a piece of Peter Dunleavy, and despite their endless stream of sickly sweet platitudes, every one of them was salivating in anticipation of his fall. He swallowed more tea and thought about the handgun in the compartment beside his seat, the big Glock that felt heavy and good in his hand. He wasn’t going to prison, he wouldn’t cry for forgiveness on TV like Jim Bakker had, wasn’t going to watch as they stripped him of everything he had sweated and bled to build. And he would damn sure take some of those phony, smiling faces with him when he went.
    One of those faces was moving up the aisle toward him, passing half a dozen highly paid secretaries and aides as he returned from the cockpit. Anderson James was his closest advisor, a true believer with a quick, capable mind who had been with Dunleavy since his humble beginnings, and who had devoted his life to the reverend and the ministry. After being forcibly removed from his first career (he didn’t even like to think about that), Dunleavy had sought solace at a Pentecostal tent revival. Despite his belief—scattered and directionless as it had been—he failed to connect with the messages of the snake-handling, fast-talking preachers. It just seemed ridiculous, certainly nothing God would endorse.
    It was there in that sweltering tent, watching the joyful and righteous quake and shriek and open their wallets, that he realized he had been a fool. God cared nothing for zealots, did nothing to spare them from ridicule and torment, and was likely amused at their suffering. Dunleavy watched a woman fall down with holy vigor, then crawl to her hands and knees and offer her open pocketbook to a smiling young man on stage. Yes, God looked kindly upon the clever and strong. These people were sheep, and God favored the shepherd.
    During the revival he met Anderson, a man his age, bright and well connected, with a mind for finance and an understanding of show business. He lacked the charisma and self-confidence to stand in the spotlight himself, but he was committed to the faith and in desperate need of someone in whom he could believe. Here was someone Dunleavy could use. They would begin a friendship that would elevate the young minister to the pinnacle of wealth and influence within the televangelist community, and Anderson would become his most faithful servant.
    Dunleavy sipped his tea and imagined blowing the man’s head off with the Glock.
    Anderson sat down across from the man known worldwide as Brother Peter. “The tower is saying it’s an FAA grounding, and not just here, across the country,” Anderson said. “The only thing in the air is military, and all airborne civilian traffic is being ordered to land.”
    “Another terrorist attack?” Dunleavy asked. Wouldn’t that just figure. He should have flown out last night.
    The young man shrugged. Dunleavy had forbidden any of them to use any electronic devices, no phones or tablets, for fear the feds were tracking him and would discover he was at the airfield. As a result, they were cut off from any information. “They’re not saying, but they did tell us to prepare to taxi back to the private terminal.” Dunleavy’s G6 had been on the tarmac, fourth in line for takeoff, when the tower closed every strip at Oakland International.
    Dunleavy said nothing, only swirled his ice. Return to the terminal? Not a chance. He wasn’t going to get this close to freedom only to give up and surrender to the heathens. He’d take the Glock to the