Read Under Suspicion - The Legend of D.B. Cooper Page 9
Alan Bradley Jr. opened the refrigerator and pulled a bottle of Red Hook from the door. Taking a frosty mug from the freezer, he poured the contents of the bottle into it, then walked towards the deck of his high rise condo near the Seattle water front. He’d just finished meeting with his father, and their conversation deeply troubled him. Alan walked out onto the deck and peered up at the sky. It had stopped raining more than an hour ago and the clouds were starting to break up. A few faint stars appeared between the clouds, as the last rays of the yellow-orange brilliance of sunset faded over the Olympics. He could see the tower of billowing clouds just past the mountains and he knew that storm would be hitting Seattle sometime in the middle of the night.
Too bad, he thought. He had hoped for good weather, but it didn’t look like he would be getting any. That wasn’t the storm he should worry about, though. He and his father had argued and he had learned that disagreements with him were almost always lost. His father was also usually right, so Alan had come to trust his judgment.
During this particular disagreement they found very little middle ground. His father had checked up on Alan’s college life, a prudent decision. He only wished that he had thought of it first. Alan had been too confident that his bribes would silence any future skeletons that could come back to haunt him.
Junior was wrong, however, and this was a point his father drove home all too well. For his part, Alan had learned another valuable lesson. Next time he’d check up on himself first.
He had also discovered two new tools to add to his arsenal― blackmail and discreditation. If the initial bribe didn’t work to cover his tracks, the other two weapons could be used effectively. His father’s words still rang annoyingly in his ears.
“Why can’t you be more like your friends?” he had lectured him. Alan had grown up back east and spent most of his time there with a particular group of guys. Alan never really considered them his friends, just guys he associated with because they were from powerfully influential families.
More like his friends, indeed. Alan scoffed at the idea as he took a long drink of his micro-brew. How could his father have suggested such a thing?
Growing up back east, his friends were always long on talk, but little in action. Alan liked to take chances. When he drove, he liked to speed. While skiing, he would try to break the downhill records. He was the only one of their group to brave the huge pipeline waves of Hawaii. While the others watched from the safety of the beach, Alan rode the largest and most dangerous of waves into shore.
He remembered the criticism he had received when they found out he was moving west for college to study criminal justice. They thought he was throwing his life away. To them, if it wasn’t an ivy league school, it was worthless. And if you didn’t work and reside within one of the original thirteen states you were nothing.
The plans Alan and his father had devised, required that he move west. From his mother’s side of the family, Alan already had contacts and influence in the east. Now he needed to establish a power base in the west. With his father’s help, he planned on molding a successful career and powerful backing into a huge wave that he could ride across the country and into the Oval Office.
Alan wasn’t like his friends and didn’t want to be. They were stuffed shirts that sat in board meetings and went to power lunches, while he craved the danger and excitement of the calculated risk. He liked the heightened senses and the adrenaline rush that came from putting your life on the edge.
You had to be mentally prepared, for anything could happen during a drug bust. Alan had played countless scenarios in his head, training himself for all the possibilities so that he would never hesitate. A fraction of a second hesitation could get you killed. This he had learned just a few months ago.
They had a crack dealer pinned down in a house outside of town. The dealer barricaded himself inside, and the team of agents couldn’t get close enough to the front door without being fired upon. Alan went around the side of the house and dove through a window. He rolled and came up staring directly into the eyes of the enemy just a few feet away.
Alan had prepared himself well enough that he could let his instinct react quickly without the thought process interfering. It seemed like slow motion as he pulled his gun around towards the dealer. Alan saw a moment of fear and doubt in his enemy’s eyes.
The dealer quickly brought his gun around, but that half second of hesitation allowed Alan to reach a firing position first and pull the trigger. The dealer fired too, but he was late and off line. The slug sizzled harmlessly past Alan’s head.
Could his friends do that? Would they be confident enough, sure enough, or quick enough? Did they have the balls?
Alan cocked an eyebrow at his own questions and grinned. Not hardly. It was for these same reasons that none of his friends could succeed on the path that Alan and his father had planned. It was Alan’s sharp unwavering instinct that would see him through on this journey. The same instinct that told him to press on quickly.
His father was concerned about Alan’s excessive partying and womanizing. He had put his butt on the line many times and after which he had an uncontrollable desire to taste the best of the fruits of life. So what if he satisfied those desires.
He would not be judged by others who didn’t take the same risks that he did, and he had no intentions of living by the same rules and standards either. Still, his father had a point about image. How would it look to the public if a group of bimbos surfaced during his election campaign? By no means did he plan on cutting back these pleasures, but he would definitely be more discrete.
The plan was all mapped out. By summer, Junior would force his boss, Deputy Director Cranston, out of his job and fill in the position. Before this time next year, he’d start his campaign to unseat Adam Demsey for Mayor of Seattle. After one term in Seattle, he and his father would “encourage” the Governor to retire as well as endorse Alan for the office. From there, he would be able to launch himself into presidential contention.
Alan Bradley Jr. loved the danger of his current job and lifestyle, and was not in anyway looking forward to spending all his time in committees and meetings. However, he thirsted for the power that came with political office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of it. If everything went according to plan, he’d soon be switching gears. Before that happened, however, he planned on squeezing every ounce of excitement out of his current position.
Alan felt drops of rain upon his face as he took another drink of his beer. Perhaps the storm was closer than he had anticipated. Alan stepped back into the living room of his condominium, securely closing the French doors behind him.