Necessary Evils
Chapter One
His clothes smelled terrible.
The acrid scent of burning fuel and rubber from the exploding
limousine clung to everything Randal Arnold was
wearing. He ignored the piercing gaze of Harmon Drake,
head of the Secret Service office at the White House, and
sniffed his arm. It wasn't just his clothes. His skin smelled,
too. He reeked of that horrible burnt-hair odor he'd experienced
only once before when he'd recklessly ignited a propane
grill with a too-short match.
The scent made his nose twitch. "I need a shower," he
muttered.
Drake gave him a hard look discernable even in the
small dimly lit room where a bank of television monitors
showed the frenzy of activity that now engulfed the White
House. "Are you amused by this, Mr. Arnold?"
"No. No, I'm not." Randal rubbed his hands on his
trouser legs and tried not to squirm. "I just noticed that I
smell like the inside of an ashtray." His gaze darted to the
monitors where he could see the still-burning wreck.
Minutes ago, a limousine designated to carry the president
to the National ... read full excerpt from: Necessary Evils ebook
