Divine Fury Read Online Free

  Within the hour, he would make it official by formally announcing his candidacy for California governor at City Hall Plaza.   He had six interviews scheduled for the afternoon, including three at television studios in the Bay Area.   Tomorrow, he would head south and make the rounds of Los Angeles-area television stations and newspapers.   The following day, his media tour would be divided between San Diego and Sacramento.     
     
    Harper was 45.   His blond hair was thinning.   He was turning a bit jowly and was 20 lbs. past his college playing weight.   But he still looked youthful and athletic, even wearing a well-tailored dark blue business suit.   He played high-level pick-up basketball with friends once a week and was also an avid skier and mountain biker.    
     
    Most considered Harper ripening into his political prime.   No one now would consider him too youthful for serious office.   The extra years had softened his prosecutorial zeal.   His pedigree, charm and intelligence, plus unimpeachable integrity, were a winning combination.   What made him an even better candidate is that the California Republican Party seemed overrun by Orange County ultraconservatives.   It was likely that the final face-off in the Fall would be between the political extremes, a Democrat on the liberal left and a Republican on the conservative right.   The division of the middle would determine the outcome.
     
    There were three sharp raps on his office door.   It wasn’t his assistant and Harper wondered who had gotten past him.   When the door opened, Harper saw it was Harry Blount carrying a life-size cardboard cutout of Ronald Reagan, standing tall with his hand raised in his signature wave.
     
    Harper knew Blount would be with him at the campaign announcement and he was dressed for it.   Dapper gray Italian-cut suit.   Baby blue tie.   His longish hair was blown dry and perfectly in place.   His dark mustache and a small silver ring in his left earlobe gave him a slight roguish look – a pirate in pinstripes.   
     
      “I thought you were going straight to the rally.   What’s this?” asked Harper.   “C’mon.   Ronald Reagan?”
     
    “Well, I had two things in mind,” said Blount, setting the cutout in the middle of Harper’s office and stepping back toward the desk and next to Harper so he could view it from a little distance.  
     
    “First, he was the ‘Great Communicator,’” Blount continued.   “His politics, obviously, aren’t yours.   But you should channel his technique.   Second, it’s just a great mind fuck.   Anyone who comes in here – all the press – will think, ‘What the…?’   Keep ‘em off balance.   Don’t let the conservatives pigeonhole you yet.”         
     
    “Fat chance of that,” said Harper, smiling wistfully and shaking his head.   “But I do think I like it.   Let’s shake up the status quo any way we can.”
     
    He turned toward Blount and gave him a huge grin.
     
    “You’re too much,” said Harper.   He grabbed Blount’s upper arms, pulled him close and gave him a hard kiss.   “What would I do without you?”      
     

     
    * * *
     
    The voice on the line was young, female and tired.
     
    “Is this Enzo Lee?” she asked tentatively.
     
    “This is he,” Lee replied.   “Who is this?”
     
    “I’m Sonia Moretti,” she said.   “Are you the one who…uh…wrote the story about Scott?”
     
    Scott…Scott…Scott.   Lee wracked his brain, trying to think who ‘Scott’ was. Wait…could it be the shooting victim?
     
    “Are you referring to Scott…ahh…Truman?” said Lee.
     
    “Yes,” she said.   “Look. I’m out of the country.   I’m in Australia.   I just heard about this an hour ago.   I’m…just a…I’m just…I don’t know.   I just want to talk to somebody…”
     
    “Okay,” said Lee.   “Hold on a minute.   Let’s slow it down a little bit.   Let’s