Book Excerpt: In Sheep’s Clothing – L.D. Beyer
PROLOGUE
September
As the clay disk sailed out of the trap house, the President swung his gun, tracking the target. A gentle squeeze of the trigger and the target exploded, nothing left but dust in the air.
One for one.
The Secret Service agent standing ten feet behind him nodded. President Thomas Walters was a life-long member of the NRA and former winner of the Marines’ Expert Marksmanship Badge. The man was lethal with a gun.
It was a typical fall day for northern Maine. The morning sun had just cleared the tree line, but wasn’t yet strong enough to burn away the fog seeping out of the woods. Although chilly, the President and his entourage of agents didn’t seem to mind. Trap shooting was something that the many demands of his office prevented the President from enjoying as often as he would have liked. The way he looked at it, he could escape for a few moments while his Secret Service detail enjoyed a change of scenery. Besides, today it seemed the foliage was at its peak. The red, orange and yellow leaves, together with the scent of autumn, reminded him of hunting trips with his father long ago.
The clay bird shot off to the President’s left, but he swiftly adjusted his aim and fired.
Two for two.
His father was the one who had taught him how to shoot, the one who had told him again and again that ammunition was expensive—a precious commodity not to be wasted by a bad shot. His skill had come from necessity.
The President changed his angle as another target sailed past the shooting line.
Three for three.
One of his father’s friends, a buddy from his old platoon, owned a cabin on a lake up in Michigan. Every year in November, his father went hunting, while the future president stayed home with his mother and sister. Tom Walters was thirteen when his dad first asked him to come along. He remembered how excited he was on the ride up to the cabin; how happy he was that his dad thought that he was old enough, man enough to go. Almost instantly, the happy memory vanished as he recalled how humiliated he’d felt on the way home.
Another clay bird exploded over the field.
Four for four.
On the second day of the trip, he had missed a buck that was grazing fifty yards away. He had hesitated, waiting for the animal to turn for a better shot, a perfect shot. That one second had cost him, as the deer, sensing danger, bolted. He had squeezed off a wild shot, knowing as he did so that it was hopeless. God, how he had wished he could relive those few seconds. He had wanted so much to hear his father tell him how proud he was. The rest of the week was horrible as he dreaded the long ride home….
“What the hell’s the matter with you boy? There’s no reason you should ‘a missed that shot. Hell, I’ll bet your sister could ‘a hit that buck. Maybe I’ll bring her next year and leave you home!”
It was four more years before his father asked him to go again.
Five for five.
His father was the one who had pressured him to enlist, told him that the Corps would make a man out of him. The President felt a twinge of guilt wondering what his dad would think now, when the story broke. Jesus! The press would be all over him like vultures on an animal carcass and all for something that happened almost forty years ago.
Six for six.
At one point, back when his career was beginning, he dreaded that his past “indiscretions” would suddenly surface and his budding political career would wither and die. But, as time passed, and his career progressed, the fears had faded.
The target shot out in front of the President. He swung the gun, but not with the same fluid motion. The clay bird broke into several large pieces.
Seven for seven.
As the President reloaded his shotgun, he could almost hear his father….
“Concentrate now boy! You almost missed that time! People will think I’m raisin’ a sissy!”
He had just been discharged from the service and entered college on the GI bill. Like many young men away from home for the first time, away from authority, he lived the life of a rebellious freshman, going to beer parties, skipping classes, trying to get every girl he met in the sack. In a few short months, the disciplined life he had led while in the Corps seemed a vague memory. At the end of his first semester, after final exams, he celebrated with his roommate and some coed friends by drinking shots of tequila and playing strip poker. The poker game soon gave way to sex, and after they each had made love to both women, Walters and his roommate watched as the two women made love to each other. He must have had a lot of tequila—before he realized what he was doing, he was having sex with his roommate.
What might have been excused as a drunken college stunt or youthful experimentation probably would have been except for two things. First, he and his roommate continued to see each other. Second, one of the women managed to capture a few intimate moments of the future president and his roommate on her camera.
He had thought the whole incident was long forgotten until two months ago. Tyler Rumson, an aggressive, two-term Republican Senator from New Jersey, showed him the pictures and suggested that he reconsider running for reelection. When he refused, Rumson had threatened to leak the pictures to the press. He had increased the pressure over the last several weeks and the President had finally realized that even if he agreed to drop out of the race, Rumson would give the pictures to the press anyway. It was odd, Walters thought, that the possibility of losing the presidency, of losing his wife, and possibly being cast aside as a social pariah didn’t bother him nearly as much as the prospect of facing his dad. He was a sixty-six year old man, he was the President of the United States, and he was still afraid of his father.
The President called for the next target. As the clay bird flew out of the trap house, he turned the gun, stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.Show moreShow less
About In Sheep's Clothing
Caught in a game of chess he didn’t know he was playing until it was too late, the President makes the only move he can, plunging Washington and the nation into chaos. Stunned and reeling, Vice President David Kendall takes the oath of office and tries to heal a nation in mourning. But what the new president doesn’t realize is that things in the White House aren’t always what they appear to be, and sometimes what looks like the best option may turn out to be the worst. When one fatal decision triggers consequences he never envisioned, President Kendall finds himself caught up in the same game that cost his predecessor his life.
Although there was nothing he could have done, Secret Service Agent Matthew Richter is haunted by the death of the man he had vowed to protect. When his girlfriend leaves him and his boss tells him that his job is on the line, he thinks his life cannot get any worse. He soon realizes how wrong he is when he finds himself fighting to save another president from the deadly forces that he has unwittingly unleashed.
One man holds the reins of power. One man vows to protect him. One man vows to destroy him.
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About L.D. Beyer
I spent over twenty-five years in the corporate world, climbing the proverbial corporate ladder, so to speak. This meant a lot of time away from my family, extensive travel, a half-dozen relocations, and the opportunity to live and work in Mexico for several years. I’ve had the desire to write for a long time but my job left little room for much else. In 2011, I decided it was time for a change—I was tired of moving every few years, I wanted to spend more time with my family and I wanted to chase my dream of being a writer.
I am an avid reader, particularly of thrillers by such authors as David Baldacci, Steve Berry, Brad Thor and Vince Flynn. For me, a few hours with a good book is far more enjoyable than a few hours in front of the TV. I live in Michigan with my wife, three children and enjoy cooking, hiking, biking, working out and fixing just about anything that breaks in the house. Three kids, a dog and an aging house mean I spend a lot of time fixing things.
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