Chapter Thirty-Six
U.S. States Attorney General for California, The Honorable Robert Mercer, fumed. Still, he took the call.
All these years since his appointment, he had survived the Bush Administration and the Obama one, too. Now that took some pretty decent political chops.
He'd been faced with dealing with those bums at Homeland Security (now the TSA) on their little terrorist witch hunts.
He'd gone along with the Drug Enforcement Administration, for God's sake, and their faux "war on drugs" which really did create a war. Just ask the million or so Mexicans and our own American agents. Dead. Tortured. Poor souls.
Need he say more?
So why was he on the phone having to explain why his men were used for a sting that had produced zero? Absolutely nothing.
Plus he'd had to sacrifice Ben Talbott, a good man, who certainly didn't deserve to have his career destroyed. But Ben just didn't get the big picture. This group was powerful and when they said jump, he'd had to say, "how high?"
He'd thought for a while it was done. He hadn't heard from them for years. Maybe they wouldn't need him anymore, but like a bad penny, they kept showing up.
Damn Radical Moral Majority. Certainly not the Christians he'd been part of in the early '80's.
Certainly not a majority any more nor particularly moral. But still had their claws in him.
Only this time, he'd been duped. Big time. But he'd be damned if he was going down for this.
His informant had been vetted and had passed all the clearances. All information checked out and double checked.
She was golden.