The Pardon Read Online Free PDF Page B

disturbing night at least as many times, wishing he'd just listened to his son and stopped the execution - if only for a few days, long enough to investigate Jack's story. Jogging gave him a chance to reflect on events and feelings without yielding to the urge to confide. His advisers pleaded with him about security, but he avoided escorts, except late at night or in big cities. If some crazy is gunning for me, he'd always say, he won't come looking on a back road for some guy in frumpy jogging sweats and a baseball cap. So far, he'd been right.
    Harry slowed as he neared a cluster of sprawling oak trees and royal poincianas that marked the halfway point of his route. He reminded himself of the rules: The first half of his run was for venting anger; the second was reserved for positive thoughts.
    My fellow Floridians, he silently intoned as he reached his halfway marker, jogging beneath the fire-orange canopy of a royal poinciana. He could feel his attitude changing. His troubles were falling behind him; this morning's speech and throngs of loyal supporters were looming ahead. In just a few hours he would officially launch his re-election campaign.
    aEU| in this election, you have a choice, the speech continued in his mind. But his feet went out from under him, and he found himself sprawled on the ground, his right elbow and knee skinned and bleeding. At first he thought he'd tripped over something, but as he looked behind him a dark blur raced out from the shadow of a huge cold oak and pounced on top of him, knocking him flat again. Their bodies locked together as they tumbled down a steep ravine along the deserted jogging path. They landed hard amid the tangled weeds and cattails beside a scummy green canal. The governor quickly reached in his pocket for his electronic pager to alert security, but before his finger could hit the red button, his attacker knocked the wind out of him with a fist to the solar plexus. In a split second, Harry was flat on his belly, his face pushed into the dirt.
    Heh! the governor gasped, his head moving just enough to the side to allow his mouth to work. But a cold steel blade was at his throat before he could utter another word.
    Don't move, the man ordered.
    Harry froze, his body trembling as he forced himself to remain face down and perfectly still. His right cheek was pressed to the ground, but out of the corner of his left eye he could see a bruiser of a body sitting on his kidneys. Its sheer weight nearly prevented him from breathing, let alone moving. It was a man, he presumed. The voice was deep; the hands covered by black leather gloves were very large. The features, however, were indiscernible. He wore camouflaged marine fatigues, and his face was covered by a ski mask.
    Well, what do we have here, the man taunted in a thick, raspy voice. Mr. Big-Time Politician out for his morning jog.
    The governor clenched his fists, not to defend himself but to bring his fear under control. All was silent, except for a sucking sound the man made when he breathed. He must have been drooling from the wads of cotton or whatever he had in his mouth to disguise his voice.
    Hey, Governor, the attacker said, mocking him now with a friendly tone. I hear you politicians like to deal. Well, here's one for you, my man. How about I give you proof that Raul Fernandez was innocent?
    Raul Fernandez? Harry started at the name. His mind ran in a dozen different directions, trying to make sense of why that name was being dredged up now.
    And in exchange for me being such a stand-up guy, the attacker continued, for saving this big-time job of yours by not letting it slip that you and Junior killed an innocent man, you give me some money. A shitload of it.
    The governor remained silent.
    The man squeezed the back of Harry's neck, as if the knife were not already commanding enough attention. Or maybe you prefer I just have a conversation with the newspapers.
    The governor forced himself to put his fear aside long