The Flu 1/2 Read Online Free PDF

find a place to set up camp.”
    Bill followed Trevor to the additional stop they hadn’t planned on making, but it all was the same. Trevor was there to write, learn, and photograph the Eskimo culture. Bill was just along for the ride. In all the years Bill had been in the field, never had he run into anyone who encountered as many delays as Trevor. And if the previous two weeks of mishaps were any indication of how the rest of the shoot would go, Bill knew that not only would he be in for one hell of an adventure, but he stood a chance of not seeing Anchorage until the following spring.
     
    * * *
     
    Interstate 70 West
    Ohio
     
    A piece of lettuce, heavily doused in orange-colored special sauce, plopped messily onto Jeff Bloom’s lap. “Aw, damn it anyhow.”
    “I told you not to get a Big Mac.” Darrell gave an arrogant nod as he drove. “Those things just aren’t car friendly.”
    “I wanted a Big Mac. Sometimes you just get in the mood for one.”
    “Not on a highway.”
    “Anytime. Usually at inappropriate times,” Jeff said. “Like now, but it’s good and fresh.”
    “Look where we are,” Darrell said, pointing at the windshield.
    As he inhaled a huge bite of his sandwich, Jeff looked up at the ‘Leaving Ohio’ sign. “Thank God. Then again, Ohio’s not that bad.”
    “Ohio is that bad,” Darrell quipped. “Not as bad as the place we’re heading. Kansas.”
    “Have you ever been to Kansas?”
    “Read about it.”
    “Doesn’t count.” Jeff crumpled his sandwich wrapper. “What do you make of this guy?” he asked. “I mean, really, do you think we should be expending all this energy and government money looking for him?”
    “Absolutely,” Darrell answered. “He embezzled. Big time, too. What was the figure?”
    “A hundred and fourteen million.”
    Darrell whistled. “And you have to ask. Not only did he steal it, not only did he launder it so well, but...but he took it from the United States government. Right under our noses.”
    Jeff snickered.
    “What’s so funny?” Darrell asked.
    “Well, I mean, come on. Did you take a look at the funds he stole from? I didn’t know we had most of those. Hell, I bet the people who qualify for those funds didn’t even know.”
    “Jeff,” Darrell tossed a serious glance his way, “he steals from the government. He steals from me and you. Now he has the mob helping him.”
    “We don’t know that. Hasn’t been proven.” Jeff picked up the takeout bag and started eating the fries from the bottom.
    “The man changed identities, background, and locations seventeen times in three years. He’s getting help. Big help.”
    Jeff shrugged. “Valid point. But this tip sounds good. Do you really think he’s pulling off impersonating a Baptist minister?”
    “Jeff, the Latino man pulled off being a black author for three months in Iowa.”
    “But that was Iowa.” Jeff tilted his head. “I would think people in Kansas would be a little smarter.”
    “Oh, aren’t you just the territory racist,” Darrell snapped.
    “Me?” Jeff laughed. “You. How many remarks did you make about Ohio?”
    “But it’s Ohio.”
    Jeff bobbed his head. “True. And Iowa is pretty close to…” He snapped his fingers in thought. “Hey, Iowa isn’t too far, is it?”
    “Why?”
    Jeff hurriedly pulled out the atlas. “Thought so. We sort of have to zip by it. We could check out that ‘past black author’ thing while passing by...Davenport.”
    “Davenport?” Darrell questioned. “What’s in Davenport, Iowa?”
    “River boat casino gambling.”
    Darrell smiled. “See where we can take that detour.”
    “Got it.” Jeff dove into the atlas.
    “See? We always make the best out of our road trips, don’t we?”
    Jeff smiled. “We certainly do.”
     
    * * *
    Lodi, Ohio
     
    Thomas Roberts was as country as country could get. Even moving to Lodi when he was in his mid-twenties didn’t take the farm boy accent from him. His glasses were a style