Drink the tea, Julian, you look exhausted after the campaign rally, my father-in-law, Senator Arthur Montgomery, said softly as he patted my shoulder.
Marcus Webb gestured awkwardly towards the teacup on the desk. “You look like you could use that, Julian. Long day. Senator Montgomery just finished a call about the new PAC regulations. He seemed… agitated.”
I forced a tight smile, moving to block Lily from his view. My mind raced, trying to formulate questions that wouldn’t betray the raw panic gripping me.
“Agitated?” I echoed, my voice surprisingly steady. “He usually keeps his cool. Did he ask you for anything unusual today, Marcus?”
Marcus’s brow furrowed slightly. “Unusual? Not really. Just the usual confidential errands.” He shifted the polling numbers from one hand to the other. “He had me drop off a few unmarked packages at the old Kensington real estate office downtown this morning. Said it was for ‘campaign outreach supplies.’”
Kensington real estate. A name I’d heard associated with some of Montgomery’s less transparent campaign financing in the past, always just on the edge of legality.
“And this afternoon?” I pressed, keeping my tone casual.
“Just the tea box, like Martha said,” Marcus replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “He trusts me with the sensitive stuff. Always says I have a good eye for discretion.” He puffed his chest out slightly.
My stomach clenched. “Sensitive stuff. Unmarked packages.” It wasn’t just the tea. Montgomery had been using Marcus as an untraceable supply line, a clean, innocent face to move items that couldn’t touch official campaign channels.
“Anything else recently?” I asked, my gaze fixed on his earnest face. “Over the past week, say?”
Marcus tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah. Last Tuesday, he sent me to pick up some ‘campaign literature’ from a rural print shop outside Albany. It was in a plain brown box, really heavy. He said it was highly confidential strategy documents.”
Albany. The tea leaves. The unmarked packages. Montgomery wasn’t just planning an assassination; he was running a comprehensive, covert operation, using his most naive staffer as a puppet. Marcus, still beaming with pride at being entrusted with “sensitive stuff,” remained utterly unaware he was a pawn in a deadly game.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours