## A story different from all other you've ever read ##
When a boy mysteriously disappears, no other than the President of the United States starts a determined and secret search for any clue that may unravel the case. After all, the boy was his bas...
The old homeless man smiled when he found an almost entire roasted chicken within a garbage bag . He slipped it in half, squatted beside his only friend and offered to share half of it with him. As usual, the dog stopped after a few bites, wagging his tail, as if allowing the man to finish all of it.
'Lucky day,' he thought, and then he sat on the cold ground, stroking the dog's head and waiting for the sun rises.
Four hours later, at that same street, Jason Bradley could feel his face had gone pale. He was wide-eyed and his heart pounded in big thuds.
Jason Bradley and his cousin Willian Bradley were hosted in a small Motel, in the neighborhood of Burkank, sharing the same musty room. Last night, however, Jason was alone, drifting in and out of consciousness fighting against the allergy that had forced him several times to sneeze and scratch his arms.
As soon as the first rays of sunlight entered the room, he reluctantly stole a glance at his wrist watch.
6:20.
'Damn, I'm already late,' he said to himself.
He bathed and dressed quickly, with a black sports coat and leather shoes. Jason was tall and thin, with dark hair and crooked nose, and looking at the mirror the dark circles around his eyes surprised him.
'I couldn't get a wink of sleep.'
A few minutes later he took a cab and headed for the South Michigan Avenue where his cousin Willian was waiting for him in a parked car near the Chicago Hotel. Glancing through the window as he passed, admiring the classical Chicago's skyline in the distance, Jason's mind drifted away, returning seven years ago.
At that time, he and his cousin were training to get into the Secret Service in Washington DC. Despite all their effort, they were rejected. It caught Jason by surprise, because he seemed to be one of the most qualified candidates. But on that same day, a mysterious little old man offered them this job. He presented himself as Richard Smith, the owner of a security company which worked for private people. He explained that there was a boy who needed protection, even though he couldn't see any real threat at that time.
Since then, the cousins have been responsible for oversee secretly an eleven-year-old child called Anthony, who only lived with his mother in a middle class apartment in Detroit. For this, they took turn every 24 hours, seven days a week, whatever the boy was doing, even when traveling.
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Roughly thirty minutes later, the cab reached its destination, stopping near the Grant Park and the Art Institute of Chicago. Jason had to walk a few meters facing a gust of cold wind – making him quickly button up his coat- to reach the black car with tinted windows parked near the Chicago Hotel. He opened the door and slipped into the car, sitting in the leather passenger seat.
