Born to Run Read Free Page B

members of the vice president's hunting party are being transported back to a private residence in Key Largo, where Vice President Grayson was staying with friends. We re not sure how many hunters were in the party, but we hope to talk to them and bring additional details to you just as soon as we can."
    The anchorman in the studio interrupted to promise "more on this breaking story in sixty seconds," and the station cut to a commercial.
    Theo stopped at another red light.
    "Wow," said Jack. "Sounds pretty grim."
    Theo checked his sunglasses in the rearview mirror. "Your old man still buddy-buddy with the president of vice?"
    "I'd say so," said Jack. "He was on that hunting trip."

    Chapter 4
    Jack was standing at his father's side as they watched the landing of Air Force One.
    Jack had just signed the papers for his new Mustang when Harry called to tell him that the hunting party--sans vice president--was being transported by yacht from Everglades National Park to Ocean Reef Club. The exclusive Key Largo resort had its own airstrip, and Jack had driven down from Miami at nearly the speed of Air Force One. Steve McQueen would have been proud.
    "It was all so surreal," said Harry, his voice barely audible over the roar ofjet engines at the other end of the runway. "Phil's boat was in another part of the channel, but I knew from the burst of spotlights and all the shouting that something had gone wrong. It was a Secret Service frenzy. My guide tried to motor us over there, but an agent jumped onto our boat, cranked up the outboard, and took us in the complete opposite direction. I felt like I was in JFK's limo speeding off to the hospital--without Phil."
    "You think he'll survive?"
    "They won't tell us if he's alive, if he's dead, if it was his heart--nothing."
    "Did the Secret Service take your statement yet?"
    "Yeah. I don't know what their agenda is, but they made me feel like I needed a lawyer."
    One thing all criminal defense lawyers knew: if you think you need one, you probably do.
    The last time Jack had visited Ocean Reef, he was fifteen years old and zipping around the club's two thousand acres with friends on a golf cart. Even back then, a vacation home there had been well beyond the financial reach of the Swyteck family. Today, it was barely within the reach of Donald Trump. Ocean Reef was a perfect place for a vice president to vacation. The club was surrounded on three sides by water, and on the fourth by protected lands under federal and state ownership. Forty-five security guards, continuous camera surveillance, and monitored water access made it an exclusive playground for people of privilege. Jack had passed a mile-long line of media vans on the entrance road, but not one got past the guardhouse. Every local station and several national networks had a microwave dish hoisted high into the air--tower after tower of modern communications systems that rose like a wintry forest from the mangroves and turquoise waters of the fragile keys environs. Helicopters were kept at bay for the landing of Air Force One, but Jack could see them hovering on the horizon, well beyond the championship golf course, the town houses that sold for over a million dollars, the new waterfront homes that sold for ten times that much, and the marina filled with yachts--many of which came at a price that made the homes seem cheap.
    Two Secret Service agents pulled up in a customized golf cart that looked like a miniature Bentley. Jack said hello. They said, "Get in."
    "Where are we going?" said Jack.
    "The president wants to see you in his office."
    "On the plane?"
    "No, at the Tiki Bar."
    A Secret Service agent with a sense of humor--now that was something Jack hadn't expected. The cart took them straight to the Jetway, and the door opened at the top of the stairs.
    Jack felt a little rush of adrenaline, momentarily forgetting the circumstances of his first meeting with the president. It wasn't the familiar Air Force One--the runway at Ocean