Sabotage Read Online Free Page A

took a bet he knew he could win. He'd won that first contest and, from that first run, every win made his political aspirations rise.              
     
    Now he was vying for the ultimate prize, securing the White House. The path was still cluttered with obstacles, tripwires and moats. He'd have to use every trick he'd ever learned and call on all the contacts he could squeeze to pull out this victory. So he had made a deal. Sure, elections were about debates and how photogenic you appeared, but you could have those things in addition to a great message and a solid platform to build a presidency on. The dirty truth was you needed endless money to truly win. That's what always made McKnight laugh.
     
    Everyday citizens polled were vehement in stating that they had voted for a guy because they believed in his immigration policy, because gun control was something they did or did not hold dear, or because they'd always voted Democrat or Republican since the days of FDR. What always surprised McKnight was how easily such people could be manipulated. All it took to sway their votes was leaking a negative story to a news outlet or having an inappropriate picture posted on a website that had the ability to spread like wildfire. Thus once ardent fans became lifelong haters – this was helpful in stealing votes from opponents. 
     
    McKnight had never been so naïve, because he saw democracy for what it truly was –  a mechanism to manipulate and control the populace by the politicians that demanded reelection. Money was the key because without endless amounts, you couldn't win. Sure, you could pick up a councilman's chair or a seat on your local school board, but if you wanted to run, really run, you had to have not millions but billions behind you. This requirement, he lacked. There had been promises, but once the tide had swayed against him, the influx of money into his coffers had shriveled up.
     
    That's where Jim came in. Jim was one of those guys that nobody liked to admit was in your pocket, but they had always existed, and everybody knew it. In the early days, they'd show up with a suitcase full of cash for some bigwig running for office in New York. Someone who somehow had the ability to control the boroughs and the warring ethnicities. The game was still the same, although it had gotten a little more complicated and much more high tech.
     
    The game comprised of promising one thing to get another. The deal McKnight had made had been a test, an act of good faith, so that his potential patrons could determine if he was worth working with, that he was a man of his word but of utmost importance they gauged if he would do anything it took to win.
     
    McKnight had supplied Jim with the information, location, and had even found out what type of aircraft the secret operators would be flying. He had insisted that the operators not be harmed. He hadn't explained why, but in his foreseeing way he knew there was an opportunity there. Sure, they'd probably be tortured and interrogated, but a couple guys from Delta Force were tough enough to handle themselves.
     
    "Tell me what happened," McKnight said.
     
    Jim looked around once more making sure no one was in earshot. Then he grinned again. "It was just like you thought. They got eyes on, tracked the plane and jammed their communications. They got smart and used an explosive on the side of the plane instead of trying to shoot them down. You know those savages; they probably couldn't shoot the Goodyear blimp out of the air."
     
    McKnight waved the racist comment away. "Just get to the point, will you?"
     
    Jim had a way of stretching out their brief meetings, like the more words he imparted the more McKnight was going to pay him, even though a long time ago they'd agreed to the total sum.
     
    Jim scratched his stubbly chin. "They reported seeing one body thrown from the plane before it came down. They think it might have been the stewardess."
     
    "And the