Conspiracy Read Free Page A

for the fifth floor.
    The doors opened in a few seconds. She found the room at the very end of the hall, took a deep breath, and knocked.
    â€œRoom service,” she said curtly, her anger still sharp.
    No answer.
    Amanda knocked again. “Room service,” she said, a little louder. “Mr. Forester?”
    Nothing.
    â€œJerry, open the damn door.”
    Still nothing. Amanda slipped the card into the slot. The two lights at the top of the lock came on, both red, then green.
    I shouldn’t go in, she thought to herself, placing her hand on the handle. She pushed anyway.
    â€œJerry?” she said. The light was on. “Why are you—”
    She stopped in mid-sentence. Her lover sat in the chair across from the door, a good portion of his mouth and head blown away by a bullet from the old-school .357 Magnum that sat on the floor below his open hand.

 
4
    CHARLIE DEAN PULLED the strap of his bag over his shoulder and stepped out of the plane, ambling down to the concrete runway. A narrow man with thinning hair near the terminal bent toward Dean as he approached.
    â€œMr. Dean?”
    â€œI’m Charlie Dean.”
    â€œRed Sleeth.” The man stuck his hand out. “How are you?”
    â€œWhen your girl said there would be a driver waiting, I didn’t expect it to be the guide himself,” said Dean.
    â€œWe’re a one-man operation,” replied Sleeth. “One man, one woman—the girl was my wife. I don’t think she’d be offended,” added Sleeth, reaching for the bag.
    Dean insisted on carrying it himself. He followed Sleeth as he walked toward a parking lot on the side of the terminal.
    â€œI’m glad you had an opening,” said Dean. “I know this was kind of last-minute.”
    â€œHappy to have you. Customer who canceled will be happy, too. We refund his deposit if we find someone else to take the slot.”
    Sleeth’s battered Ford Bronco looked a few years older than the nearby mountains. Dean paused a few feet from the vehicle and looked around. The sun had already set, but he could see the tall shadows in the distance. It was beautiful country; you stood in a parking lot and thought you were at the edge of the world.
    â€œNever been to Montana, have you, Mr. Dean?”
    â€œNo, sir. Beautiful land.” Charlie swung back to the truck.
    â€œYes, it is,” said Sleeth. “Ready to get yourself a mountain lion?”
    â€œReady.”
    â€œGood. It’ll be the greatest experience of your life. There’s nothing as exciting as hunting a mountain lion. Everything else you’ve ever done will pale in comparison.”
    Dean knew that wasn’t true but smiled anyway.

 
5
    DURING THE SIXTY seconds immediately after she saw her lover’s dead body, Amanda Rauci acted like the trained Secret Service agent she was. Unholstering her pistol, she checked the rest of the room and made sure there were no intruders. She then went to him, squatting just close enough to make sure he was dead.
    There was no question. Blood, skull, and brain material from the gunshot’s exit wound had splattered on the curtain behind him. The back of the seat and floor were covered with thick red blood.
    As Amanda straightened, the restraint imposed by the Service training began to slip away. She felt many things: Shock and grief and fear. Panic. Her heart raced.
    Why would he do this?
    Why didn’t I realize he was suicidal?
    Is it my fault?
    Is it really suicide? How can that be?
    His eyes gaped at her, as if they were accusing her of something.
    I have to get away, she thought, and for the next sixty seconds the trained Secret Service agent shared the body of a panicking, guilt-stricken woman. She backed from the room, carefully making sure not to touch anything. She took a handkerchief from her pocket, opened the door, closed the door, walked swiftly down the hall toward the elevator, then came back and ducked into