DEEP DISCOUNTS ON ALL TITLES by Robert Hatting from Blair Pacific Publishing.
Commencing today, 8/16/17, most titles will be discounted by at least 50% over the retail prices listed on Amazon.com. To find out more, click here:
http://tinyurl.com/y6vqjyk8
Preview of COIN OF THE REALM. Just a small taste.
Prologue
Jimmy Hart felt the tide change and watched the
silhouette of land drift back over the horizon; out of sight. He looked at his
wife, Coreen. She was asleep; stretched
on the thwart of their life raft. He
opted not to disturb her with the good news. They were close. One more day and they would be on solid
ground. Sixteen weeks they had been
adrift; living by their wits and suffering from the elements; hiding in an
often unfriendly ocean, unable to call for help, they persevered, hoping and
praying that eventually they would hit land.
Jimmy probed the festering wound on his
thigh. It was painful to touch but he
had to get the poison out. Almost four
months he'd dealt with the annoyance and pain. The wound had improved immensely
since the submarine rammed them and the splinter from the wooden bulwarks had
pierced his thigh, but it was still a threat to his well being. The memory of that event brought forth a
flush of anger. Hart immediately purged
his vindictive thoughts and focused on their good fortune and the pain he was
about to experience.
Hart watched the horizon as he pressed on the
wound, squeezing out the poisonous puss.
The pain was almost unbearable but being dead or losing the leg from
gangrene poisoning was a strong motivation to hold his pain in contempt. His
teary eyes glimpsed again the landfall in the distance. He knew -- down deep it was a land of
substance; there were mountains on the horizon, not just a coral atoll. If it was an island, he need to keep the
bearings as the current of the Pacific had control of their life-raft. He reached for his sat phone; it was next to
his wife, Coreen. He disconnected the
solar charging device and turned on the unit.
He looked back at the horizon as his satellite phone cycled to
standby. Just as he switched to the GPS
application, he thought better of the idea. He didn't want to give away their
position. Coreen came wide awake. She
pointed over his shoulder -- in the direction of the landfall. "That's land. I thought I was dreaming!" she screeched. "God, Jimmy, we're going to live!"
Coreen said as she began sobbing joyfully.
Hart smiled and held out his hand.
Coreen gently came to her husband's lap and embraced him as she watched
him minister to his swollen thigh.
"How long, Jimmy?"
"I'm guessing another day. Maybe two," Jimmy answered.
"No, I mean how long do we have to hide
from that horrible man and his minions?"
Hart pushed his wife to arms length so he could
look her in the eye. "We may have
to be on the run the rest of our lives, darlin'. But it will be easier once we
get to land."
Chapter 1
"...who gave the order, Commander?"
Jerry Harding asked gently. "I know you know."
The injured man removed his hand from his
bleeding wound and fingered the entry hole. "When are your medics
arriving? This wound needs attention!"
Harding reached over and loosened the
tourniquet on the man's thigh. He allowed blood to flow for a moment and then
re-tightened the Commander's belt.
"It was a through and through and you are
in no immediate danger, Leon. Please answer my question while we have
privacy," Harding urged.
Commander Shiffler hesitated and then tuned in
the distinctive sounds of an approaching helicopter. He grimaced and then spoke
"It came from the top... the highest level according to my boss, Admiral
Fox."
Harding removed his satphone and speed dialed
Jimmy Hart as he pointed to the approaching helicopter.
"They'll take good care of you, Commander.
Thank you for your cooperation. My men will notify the Embassy in
Clayton," Jerry said as he focused on his phone connection.
Harding moved away from the injured man so he
could speak freely. He swiveled his head
around the vicinity of Jimmy Hart's ranch, making sure no one could hear his
discussion with his best friend. He waited
several moments as the multiple encryptions took place, and the connection was
made. The orange grove located above
him, sparkled in the morning sun. The
same early morning sun reflected off the roofs of the buildings and the rotors
of the helicopter as it landed behind the house that served as Jimmy's coin mint.
"I just confirmed again what you
suspected, Jimmy. Shiffler says it came
from the top through his boss Admiral Fox, Chairman of the joint chiefs. That
means either the CIA or the President."
Harding glanced back at the landing helicopter.
He could see two of his people, one a trained medic plus his replacement for
Segundo, Salty Saltine who was off on a vacation. He waved as he listened to Jimmy's reaction
from half a world away.
"It amazes me how stupid that man in power
can be at times. Sending an embassy attaché to do a covert operation shows how
much of an idiot he is," Hart proclaimed. "Amateur hour -- just like
Nixon's Watergate. Tell me again why he led his men to my ranch and tried to
breach my security."
Harding watched the medic begin attending to
the inept burglar. Harding had known the Commander in better times; when Hart
ruled and the world wasn't upside down. Now all their actions were subject to
extreme scrutiny. They had made everyone's watch list. A lot of the Hart empire
had eroded due Jimmy's war of words with the leader of the free world.
"Shiffler was supposed to steal some of
the coins being minted, photograph them and send the photos to Langly...
without going through channels," Jerry related. "I can't figure out
why. All one has to do is convert a couple of hundred US dollars to a
Panamanian Golden Balboa and they have what is being minted."
****
Hart listened intently to his friend and
associate, Jerry Harding. Coreen sat
beside him on the veranda of their rented cabin. She could hear both sides of
the conversation because Jimmy had the sat-phone volume on high. It was almost midnight, a half a world
away. Jimmy visualized the events that
had taken place at their high mountain ranch in Panama; a contrast to their
seaside location in the back country of Negros Oriental, Philippines.
"Keep me informed, Jerry. Thanks for the call."
Coreen rose to leave the veranda. Jimmy reached out and pulled her on to his lap.
"Was anyone hurt other than the
commander?" Coreen asked as Hart canceled the connection.
Jimmy nuzzled her neck and delayed the answer.
He wanted to purge his thoughts of the incident and his natural reaction to
their situation. Coreen returned his embrace
and then suddenly stiffened. "You
cannot have your way with me until you answer my question, Mister Hart,"
She demanded in a whisper.
Jimmy squirmed and then held her away; at arms
length. "None of our people were
even scratched, but Chicho Guerrero, the captain of our security detail was
arrested."
"Couldn't Jerry keep that from
happening? I assume Chicho was the one
who wounded the Commander."
"Actually, the commander took a bullet
from one of the booby traps I designed.
No one shot him but Chicho was selected because he was in charge,"
Jimmy explained.
"That wouldn't have happened if we were
there," Coreen said gruffly.
Jimmy chuckled as he motioned her off his
lap. "No, it would be one of us;
maybe both of us who would be placed in custody. Jerry was lucky he had just driven in when it
happened. Had he been in the stone house
as planned, they would have arrested him instead of Chicho. The political climate has really changed
since we were rammed and presumed lost at sea."
Coreen knew her husband was wrestling with
their changed lives. No longer did they
occupy the political status or friendly governmental posture which prevailed
under the previous administration. In fact, just the opposite had occurred. The new Panamanian president was a handpicked
candidate of the US President, and had received copious amounts of campaign
dollars plus an entire team of election experts bent on dethroning Martinelli
and his political party. The staff of
experts were supplied and funded by the sitting president of the United States,
Barnaby Suerto. The interference had
been successful and now the Panamanian president was on a witch hunt; undoing
everything and prosecuting everyone who was associated or sympathetic to the
previous administration. The Embassy
lock-down had been lifted, the USA/Panama treaties were reinstated and Hart's
businesses and circle of friends were on the defensive.
Jerry Harding's intelligence company had been
replaced by the CIA within weeks of the Panamanian election. Although he had
lost a sizable contract, the operatives were still in place and his team was
privy to most all of the happenings in Central and South America. His company
had the advantage when the double for Hugo Chavez was murdered. Harding and his group had the inside track on
the Venezuela upheaval. Since the
diplomatic ties had all but been severed, the US State Department was willing
to contract on an unofficial basis.
Harding deferred his decision until he spoke with Hart. Although it was
a sweet cash infusion, and perhaps a foot in the door for the next
administration, Jerry knew his good friend could advise without prejudice.
Hart was considering Jerry's dilemma and the
attempted breach of their private mint by Leon Shiffler as he and Coreen
enjoyed the solitude and peace of their current environment. His wife knew him well. Wrestling with their current status was
omnipresent in his mind. Like an aging
boxer, Jimmy knew he had to sustain for a few more rounds; to bob and weave
until his opponent, the pissed off president of the United States, became
either bored or too distracted to devote resources and manpower to revenge a
personal insult. The egomaniac needed to
return to running the country; the voters demanded it -- congress demanded it
-- but it wasn't happening; Barnaby Suerto demanded vengeance.
Jimmy and Coreen were not fugitives from
justice. They had committed no crime,
but were persecuted by an inept administration with an unlimited budget. It was a vendetta, nothing more. Hart faced the inner knowledge every
day. He was a patriot who loved his
country; had fought for it many times.
He just didn't like the current administration or policies for which
they embraced.
As for Panama, he was disappointed in their new
government. It also lacked leadership.
Those in power were more interested in retribution than in governing. He was
frustrated at some of their sophomoric decisions and hoped the light mentality
of the crowd in the tower wouldn't damage the country beyond repair.
Coreen left the veranda and pulled his hand,
signaling she was ready to resume their loving.
Jimmy purged his maudlin thoughts and followed her into the bedroom of
their rented bungalow. Making love to his wife was the only time he could turn
off his thoughts. She consumed him as
they became one. Coreen fell asleep in
his arms as night turned to early morning.
Jimmy was more than willing to sleep but knew he wasn't ready; mentally
he had a letter to compose.
***
Hart entered his closet office and turned on
the light. He'd just showered and was
ready for the day. Coreen was still
asleep so he chose to sequester himself in his small cubical. His immediate task was to fire an employee
who had violated his trust. The
dismissal was distasteful but necessary. Being discharged by Jimmy Hart was
more than losing a job or position. It
was a sentence to a life of fear from retribution. Hart took trust
seriously. It was the linchpin for
success in any endeavor. When dealing
with a matter as serious as changing the world's perception of currency, it was
paramount. Hans Gruber was the only man
who knew Hart's plan. Even Coreen had
not been fully informed of his thoughts. Obviously Hans had leaked it to
someone in the US government; probably the CIA.
Jimmy wrote his instructions to Jerry Harding,
the man who would terminate Gruber.
Although Jerry had no knowledge of what was happening or the reason for
dismissal, Jimmy knew the task would be handled immediately. Jerry was loyal and would do what was
necessary to remove the man from Jimmy's organization.
Hart punched the button that sent the letter
through a myriad of servers -- all encrypted.
He was certain there were some people in the military that were aware he
and Coreen were alive, but they hadn't sold him out as yet. The perception of
their death was keeping them alive.
Gruber would receive the ultimate threat if he opted to shoot off his
mouth. Hart was hopeful the man would
keep his senses and keep their secret.
*****
Jerry Harding and his wife, Kathy, had been
about to close their office for the day when he'd received the letter from
Hart. He raised his hand to get Kathy's
attention. "Want to fly up to the ranch and spend the week-end?" Jerry asked.
Kathy looked up from her laptop, glanced around
their vacant office and grinned.
"Only if we can stay in the stone house," she replied. "I always feel so golden -- sleeping
there."
Harding laughed at her joke and then began
composing a short response to Jimmy's request.
Kathy's remark was a reminder of the enormous amount of gold hidden in
the stone house. Harding and Lowell
Downs, while attempting to perform an inventory for Jimmy, had discovered even
more gold in two subterranean levels under the dwelling.
****
Hart read the letter a second time before he
spoke with his wife. "Hans Gruber
has gone missing and Harding suspects he has gone over to the government. I fear we are in jeopardy," Jimmy
announced.
Coreen digested her husband's latest
warning. He seldom pushed the alarm
button with her unless he was seriously afraid for their well being. "Why
are we in more danger than before?" she asked.
"Gruber will confirm that we are alive and
living here in the Philippines. Plus, he
has knowledge of my plan to adjust the world currencies," Jimmy suggested. "You need to know where I was headed
with my plan. It will become clear why we are going to be hunted even
harder."
"Oh, Jimmy, what have you done?"
Hart shifted in his chair and looked his wife
in the eye. "I really haven't done
anything wrong. I was researching a
theory and enlisted the aid of a trusted and talented employee. Hans ran a few
tests, we made a few dummy coins and then after I rethought the ramification of
my idea, I instructed Hans to render them back down to the base metals,"
Jimmy explained.
"The prick kept one of the coins, didn't
he?" Coreen stated as a question.
Hart had not heard language or the tone from
his wife before. It set him back a bit,
so he chuckled.
"I suspect the prick kept them all,"
Jimmy said in jest of her language.
Hart pulled coins out of his pocket and dropped
a small triangular bitycoin into his wife's hand. Coreen turned it over a few times and then
inspected the golden side. The inscription
said only one word -- realm -- in small lower case cursive.
"Why is the coin layered? It's so small!" Coreen exclaimed.
"The front of the coin is 80 percent
gold. Nickel comprises the rest of the
coin. It's designed to be melted if a person chooses," Jimmy explained.
"And the size is to keep the value
lower?" Coreen guessed.
"Very perceptive, my dear. It also lowers
the cost of production."
Coreen looked up from the coin and looked Jimmy
in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me
of your experiment?" she asked without malice.
Hart paused before he answered. "I wanted it far enough along that the
answers would already be evident before I spoke of my thinking, then I canceled
the entire idea. I'm sorry now I didn't
put you in the loop," Jimmy replied. "Please accept my apologies."
Coreen was surprised at the formalness of his apology;
his tone was out of character. She knew her husband and suspected there was
more to his ideas and experiments than he was willing to divulge; a deeper
motive for his actions. She wondered why he was not being one hundred percent.
"What's happening, Jimmy? Why haven't you told me everything,"
Coreen pleaded.
Hart paused and looked at his spouse. He was reluctant to delve into what brought
them into danger. A flaw in his
character had once again immersed them into a pit of vipers. She deserved to know.
"After we were rammed by the submarine and
were adrift for weeks without being able to call for help, I became angry at my
countrymen. I wanted to spank them for
electing that horrible man; not once but twice. I devised a plan for
revenge. Once we hit landfall, I
contacted Hans Gruber and set my revenge plan into action. Destroying the currency of the USA was my
plan -- it would be immediate and it would happen on this President's watch. His only legacy would be his failure. A failure brought forth by a war of words
like children on a playground."
Coreen remained silent while her husband
confessed his motives behind their current plight.
"Once I took my rage out of the equation,
I evaluated my strategy and could see that what I had planned would weaken the
world economy and transfer a lot of power to nations that were not
democratic. I aborted the idea and
instructed Gruber to destroy the molds and the coins -- all but the one I just
showed you," Jimmy explained.
CHAPTER 2
Marion Antique was concerned. His master had volunteered him for a
mysterious mission. He was given only a
rifle, ammunition and the address of the targets; a couple of foreigners living
near his home province. The motive or reasons for his future actions were
withheld for 'security reasons'. The master was all powerful; a man without
patience or manners. However, according
to Marion's secret bedmate, Julia, the master was very condescending and polite
to the tall black foreigner who had visited them and paid the master for the
assignment. She had served the American a local beer and small glass of their
native rum; both forbidden by the master for anyone else in his congregation.
Marion sat on the ferry bench and recalled his
last instructions from the master.
"Shoot true and don't get caught. Your
life will be over if you fail."
Marion squirmed on the hard wooden bench and
looked down at his old suitcase on the deck.
Ensconced within his clothing and shoes, was a British Enfield .303
caliber rifle broken down into three parts. The WWII jungle carbine had been
issued to him prior to his assignment.
He had been given a charger clip with five rounds of ammunition with
which to practice. The master's estate
encompassed many hectares of jungle and farmland; ample room to test his
weapon. He'd only fired three rounds to
determine the accuracy of the British weapon. He was issued another ten rounds;
two full charger clips with which to perform his assignment. Marion carried two
extra rounds from his practice allotment in the pocket of his baggy shorts. In
his other pocket was a wad of pesos to cover his expenses and a photo -- a
wedding photo of his targets.
*****
Hans
Gruber was bound and blindfolded as he was led into the jungle by the man he'd
trusted; the one who had offered to protect him and deliver the four million
dollars for betraying Jimmy Hart. Hunter
Quistguard was a contractor for the CIA.
He'd extracted the information he'd been commissioned to obtain and then
was left to his own designs to dispose of the turncoat.
Harriman
Henderson, the director of the CIA, personally watched the film of the Gruber
debriefing. What he learned was
immediately forwarded to the President and his staff. The plan Hart was creating would destroy the
world economy for decades. The President
issued the orders; Hart had to be stopped and Gruber needed to be silenced;
permanently silenced. Henderson gave the
order to dispose of the German.
Quistguard had a profitable idea after he'd
received his orders. Panama was a violent country. Especially the province of Darien. The impassable jungle that shared a border
with Colombia was the home of the FARC; the notorious Colombian rebels that
dealt in all manners of contraband to finance their lost cause. Drug smuggling was their primary income but
human trafficking ranked high on their illicit actions list. Quistguard made contact with a FARC operative
through his network and he was now making the delivery. Hunter assumed someone
in Germany would pay dearly to ransom the kidnapped Gruber; a metallurgist and
currency expert. Quistguard expected to
share in the bounty by trading Hans for a couple of kilos of cocaine. If no one
paid the ransom, Gruber would be executed.
The task which Hunter had already been paid to perform.
Harriman Henderson had received a face to face
verbal order from the President to eliminate Jimmy Hart and his wife Coreen.
There were no doubts that James Hart had become an enemy of the state; not for
his impudent statements but for his subversive plan to destroy the US
economy. The director immediately
called his executive officer, Bernie Sanderson, and transferred the
responsibility to him. "I'm sending you an encrypted video. All the data you need is on the tape. Do the deed on the Harts," Henderson ordered.
"Keep us four levels out -- no spash-back, Bernie. Everyone thinks this guy is a hero."
****
Salty Saltine, the new XO of Harding's
intelligence company, had just landed at their home base at Albrook,
Panama. He, his wife, Inez and their dog
Shag had been on vacation. The first
since they'd been married two years prior.
Saltine taxied the Gulfstream to their designated hanger and was soon
greeted by Kathy Harding and several staff members. Once ushered into the hangar complex that
housed all their offices, Inez immediately went to her desk and booted up her
three computers. "I'm like a wino
that hasn't had a drink in weeks. I'm
really addicted to my computers," she announced to Kathy and the
staff. "Salty had to live with a
woman with withdrawal symptoms," she giggled.
"There are no computers in New Zealand or
Australia?" Kathy asked kiddingly.
Inez giggled.
"It was an agreement before we left. Salty had to refrain from calling Jerry or
discussing business and I promised not to open or use a computer. We had a marvelous time!"
Kathy chuckled and then walked away as Inez
began looking at the screens of her systems.
Her attention was fragmented until she saw an encrypted video that had
been flagged and automatically downloaded from one of her embedded spy systems
-- a high echelon plant.
Inez concentrated on unscrambling the
encryption. It took her three attempts
before she saw the face of the man being questioned. She had no recognition and was about place
into the archives until she heard the audio come on... the name Jimmy Hart was
mentioned several times. Inez replayed
the segment several times as she was cleaning up the recording. She reviewed the source of the recording and
immediately picked up the office intercom. "Jerry, you need to come see
this. Someone just ratted out the Harts
for a huge sum of money. The recording
came from high up in the CIA -- the directors assistant."
Harding, his wife, and Salty stood behind Inez
as the video played for the second time.
Jerry pointed at the older man sitting comfortably in a wicker
chair. "That's Hans Gruber, the
missing metallurgist from Jimmy's ranch compound. I suspect he's talking to the CIA.
"How old is this video?" Kathy asked.
Inez brought up the e-mail with the attachment. "The video was emailed to a Clifford
Manchester two days ago. I have no idea
when it was recorded," Inez answered as she displayed a file on Clifford
Manchester.
"Dupe all that stuff to me, Inez. I'm going back to my office. I need to warn Jimmy and Coreen. I know Manchester. He rang the bell at the SEAL training when I
attended and mustered out of the military soon after. He's been a mercenary and middleman for the
last twenty years," Harding advised as he jogged across the office.
Inez sent the files to Harding's computer and
then turned to Kathy. "What does
ring the bell signify? She asked.
"He flunked!" Salty and Kathy replied
in unison.
Inez turned to see the duet. Salty was walking away; Shag on his heels.
"Where are you going?" Inez asked.
Salty kept walking toward the door. "Shag and I are going to ready our
plane. I'm sure we are going to leave
soon to fetch the Harts," Salty said over his shoulder.
*****
Marion climbed the seawall and cautiously
peered over the moss covered concrete to observe his targets. They usually took
their evening meal on the veranda of the beach front cabin. Three days of
observing had formed a plan in his mind; kill them while they ate. He was
unarmed during his previous observations but this evening he brought his
weapon. The lights were on in the cabin and on the veranda but neither target
were evident. Antique brought the Enfield to the top of the wall and looked in
all directions but he didn't look down.
Jimmy grabbed Marion by the throat and heaved him onto the lawn. Coreen put her pistol to his head and cocked
the hammer. "Twitch and you are dead!" she shouted at the little man
lying on his stomach.
Jimmy pulled the clip out of the intruder's
Enfield and ejected the .303 round from the chamber. "This weapon is older than I am. Must be an itty bitty bounty on us to send a
discount shooter like this dope," Hart suggested.
Marion shifted his position to see his
targets. His slight action was met with
extreme pain as Coreen slashed him across the face with her Sig Sauer pistol.
"Easy girl. I need him alive to tell us who sent
him," Jimmy advised.
"He's alive. He just won't be as pretty," Coreen
stated as she rolled the shooter on to his back. "C'mone let's get this over with so I
can hurt him some more," she said slowly. "I absolutely hate people
who try to kill us!"
Hart knew most of his wife's bluster was
posturing to help with their intel extraction from their captive. However, her strong statement was not directed
toward the inept shooter, but the people in high office who had sent him.
Jimmy placed Marion in a strangle hold and then
brought the assassin to his feet. He
marched him toward the cabin as Coreen collected the weapon and followed.
"Sweetie, fetch that roll of duct tape in my tool kit," Jimmy
requested as he positioned the shooter over a deck chair. "Tell me your name and you can sit. Play games and you will be down in the
gravel," Hart instructed as he pointed toward the gravel driveway.
Coreen leaned the shooter's rifle on the
door-jam and entered the house. Marion
nodded. "My name is Marion. I am from Cebu City," he lied.
Jimmy turned the small man loose and motioned
to the chair. Marion took a step,
reached into his pocket, and dove toward the rifle. The breech of the weapon
was open. He jammed the live round into
the chamber and closed the bolt.
Instantly, Jimmy was on the shooter and began wrestling him to the
ground. The Enfield fired just as Coreen
stepped through the door. She fell back as the bullet smacked her left
bicep. Jimmy chopped and pressure
pointed the assailant to put him out. He
jumped over the Filipino man and grabbed Coreen. She was holding her arm and inspecting the
wound. "I'm okay," she
stated. "It's just a graze."
"Let's get you attended to," Jimmy
said as he helped her to her feet.
Coreen looked at the unconscious shooter. "Is he dead?" she asked.
"Nope, not yet. You can do the honors later," Jimmy
stated as he put pressure on her wound to slow the bleeding.
Coreen pointed to the duct tape on the
patio. "Get that guy under control
before we do anything else," Coreen instructed. "I'll be okay."
Hart was not gentle as he trussed the
unconscious man. He deliberately wrapped
each binding tight enough to stop blood from circulating. Just as he turned to attend to Coreen, the
small man let out a blood curdling scream.
Coreen strode to the prone man and looked at the shooter trying to
squirm out of his bindings.
"I guess he doesn't like the binding
around his eyes," Coreen surmised.
Jimmy chuckled.
"The duct tape is wound tightly over his eyelids -- sticky side
in. Each time he blinks he experiences
pain. It's a long way from his
heart. Let him suffer while we clean and
dress your wound."
The shooter screamed again and was rewarded by
a kick to the side of the head by Hart.
"That can wait. I want this man to talk to us," Coreen
said as she kicked the prone man in the ribs and then leaned toward his
head. "Who sent you? Who paid you to kill us?"
Hart began emptying the pockets of their
captive. He extracted the pesos, another
live .303 round, and the photo of them taken at their wedding.
Jimmy showed all the items to Coreen and then
walked into the cabin to fetch their medical kit.
Coreen was staring at the photo of them at
their wedding as Jimmy approached with their first aid kit. She held it up to her husband. "How did they get this?" Coreen
asked.
Jimmy was about to answer when he heard a
vehicle approach their gate. He signaled
Coreen to stay behind the house. He
reached down and placed a wide strip of duct tape over Marion's mouth.
Jimmy approached the front gate of the fence
that surrounded their cottage. A man on
an idling motorcycle was just outside the fence watching Jimmy approach. The motorcycle headlight was directed toward
the bungalow, offering a sign of courtesy by not shining the light into Hart's
face.
"Your neighbor reported hearing a gunshot
and then some screaming," the man said as Jimmy approached the gate.
"And who are you?" Jimmy asked.
"I'm Hector Jencoy, the head of
neighborhood watch," the polite Filipino replied. "Has there been a disturbance?"
Hart was tempted to build a plausible lie to
get rid of the man. Then he thought
better. Truth had always been his best
weapon. "We have a slight problem.
Perhaps you can be of assistance," Jimmy stated as he opened the
lock on the gate. Bring your machine
into the complex," he instructed as he opened the gate.
"Do I need to call the police?" Hector asked.
"Come see what happened and then you can
decide. Personally, I think we have it
handled," Hart replied.
Coreen met them halfway as they walked toward
the rear of the cabin. "This is
Hector Jencoy, the jefe of the local neighborhood watch," Jimmy
explained. "Hector, I need you to
be patient while I attend to my wife's wound," Hart requested.
The trio rounded the corner of the cabin and
into the light from the porch. Jimmy
watched his guest as he glanced at Marion, squirming on the lawn and then
surveyed the scene.
Jimmy ministered to his wife. They remained silent as he cleaned the wound.
Coreen winced several times but also watched their guest.
"Did this man attack you?" Hector asked.
Jimmy winked at Coreen. "Actually, we attacked him as he
attempted to bushwhack us," Hart replied.
"He has been watching us for several days. Tonight he attempted his
mission but we were ready for him."
Jincoy walked to Marion and leaned over the
trussed man in order to observe him more closely. "I don't recognize
him," Hector stated. "He looks in pain. Is he wounded?"
"He's in pain because I taped his eyelids
open," Hart explained. "We
were about to interrogate him. We want to know who sent him to assassinate
us."
Jincoy walked to toward the table so he could
see Coreen's wound. Jimmy was cleansing it with a solution made from hydrogen
peroxide and ozonated water. He
liberally saturated gauze bandages with the solution and then began wrapping
her bicep. "The bullet from that
old rifle was a graze," Coreen explained as she pointed to the Enfield
lying on the terrace. "It was a
full metal jacket -- military issue. I'm
lucky it didn't hit a bone," Coreen explained.
"What do you want me to do? Call the police?"
Jimmy was anxious to interrogate Marion but the
presence of Hector deterred his plans.
"If you can trust us to deal with this matter, I would appreciate
not contacting the police. I'm not
anxious to deal with their paperwork.
I'm sure the headlines that will come from an arrest of a contract
killer will embarrass your country," Jimmy advised.
"How do you know this man is a contract
assassin?" Hector asked.
Coreen handed the neighborhood watchman the
contents of Marion's pockets. "Look
at the photo, mister Jincoy. That was on
our wedding day five years ago," Coreen explained. "That was in his
pocket."
Hector looked at the photo and then at the old
rifle. He turned and faced Jimmy and
Coreen.
"Maybe I can help you interrogate this
man," Jincoy offered. "I speak
his language. Then I will take him to
the police and charge him with attempted robbery."
CHAPTER 3
Jerry Harding listened to Jimmy's recount of
the incident with the inept assassin. He could visualize the look on the guy's
face while being tossed through the air and then being hammered by a slight
young woman. He stifled a chuckle as
Hart went on to describe the weapon.
"Is she okay?" Jerry asked as Jimmy
mentioned his scuffle and Coreen's wound.
"We're five by five, Jerry."
"Okay, Jimmy. I'm glad you have it under control. This won't be the last, I'm afraid. Gruber
sold you out to the CIA. We have a video
that was sent from the company's number two.
I'm sure by now there is a full court press to eliminate you,"
Jerry surmised. "We have a tape of
the debriefing. Hans painted you as
truly un-American, so expect the worst."
Hart digested the information just handed him.
If the number two man with the CIA was involved, the decisions were coming from
the top; the president. Barnaby Suetero
finally had just cause to make him an enemy of the state. They were doomed unless he could somehow get
a fair hearing as to what really happened. Jimmy looked across the lawn to his love,
Coreen. She was in just as much jeopardy
as him unless he could get her insulated from the onslaught he knew was coming.
"Any idea where we can find Gruber? Perhaps we can convince that prick to set
this straight in an international forum," Hart speculated.
"I've got my entire network working on
finding that pond scum. If he's alive,
we will eventually locate the turncoat.
By the way, I sent you the video so you can see what Gruber told
them," Jerry added.
"I'm sure he didn't tell whomever that I'd
scotched the idea and had ordered him to melt down the coins and destroy the
molds."
Hart heard Jerry chuckle as his response.
Jimmy watched his wife walking toward him. She was still in her anger state of
mind. He didn't blame her -- she'd been
shot.
"I need to relocate," Jimmy
stated. "Any ideas where Coreen
will be safe?" Hart asked his friend.
"We have a plan in motion to get you both
safe. Salty and Inez are en route to
fetch you," Harding reported.
"In twenty-four hours you will have dropped off the face of the
earth."
Coreen came to Jimmy and circled his waist with
her right arm, being very careful not to damage her wounded left wing.
"I'm glad they are coming. I have some unfinished business on the island
of Mindanao -- on the outskirts of Butuan, specifically," Hart advised.
"Our shooter gave up his boss -- some kind of cult leader from Pakistan;
he's a gringo. Have Salty pick us up in Butuan."
"What are you doing, Jimmy? This is no
time for revenge," Harding advised.
"Let me handle those people. Our old friend, Clifford Manchester
was the contractor. We have to assume
he's tied to the company."
Hart considered the advice. Coreen, standing beside him decided to chime
in. "Jerry, we're here. We have a
helper who is capable and willing. Now
is the time," she stated in a stern manner.
"I'm not seeing the entire picture. Tell me about your opportunity," Harding
asked.
Hart laughed into the satphone. "You know us too well, Jerry. The cult guy doesn't know the shooter
failed. Our helper, the neighborhood
watch guy, is the editor of a nationwide news blog. He's gonna report our
demise. Kinda like the sleight of hand we did in Panama City."
"Okay... so you're dead. Then what?"
"We storm his compound and then I'm going
to shoot that SOB with the relic of a rifle he issued to take us out,"
Coreen stated.
Jerry laughed. "I see, well thought out
strategy. Let me know when you want
Salty in Butuan."
We're leaving in an hour. We'll be taking ferries, so we need a couple
of days to get in position," Jimmy speculated. "If they get there
early, tell them to check in and enjoy the Inland Resort."
"The Saltines are arriving the Philippines
long before you get to Mindanao. Take them with you. They are both good warriors and are itching
to help," Jerry advised.
****
Hans Gruber had never considered suicide until
he'd been kidnapped and handed to a pack of dogs representing themselves as
FARC guerrillas. His current plight was one-hundred-and-eighty degrees from his
intellectually conceived plan; a betrayal that would have made him a world hero
and lined his Swiss bank account with four million Euros. Sitting in the rain on a jungle hilltop, tied
hand and foot to a tree was not part of his plan. The FARC forces watched him every
minute. He had no privacy and was abused
often by several of the more violent members of the gang. He was filthy, tired,
hungry, and thirsty. He was also cut,
bruised and bitten and harassed by insects. His shoes had been stolen and his
feet were bloody from blisters, thorns and sharp rocks. His entire body was wracked with a fever and
he was constipated. For six days he had been pushed and shoved through the
steamy jungle by inconsiderate animals disguised as human beings. Now, in this hillside camp, he was allowed to
eat with his own hands rather than burnt rice being shoved down his throat by
the leader of the animal pack. He took small joy in the event -- the
opportunity to masticate before swallowing.
Hans' comfort level was so low and pain was so
high, he focused on his death; to try and die by his own will. It wasn't working. His inner self fought to survive while his
mind tried to mentally shut down. The conflict created deep insanity.
*****
Jimmy guided their Jeep onto the ferry in
Dumaguete. The scheduled voyage to
Dapitan City on the island of Mindanao was usually four hours. Similar to Panamanians, the Filipinos set
schedules based on their personal needs rather than on their customers. Once
into Dapitan they had another six hour drive to reach their destination.
Hart glanced at the rear seat of the Jeep as
they exited to climb the stairs to the passenger section of the craft. Hidden beneath the seat were his toolbox and
also the vintage Enfield. A small point of contention until Jimmy relented and
devised a way to bring the weapon along.
Coreen had insisted she was going to make her threat good -- To
personally shoot Henry Clayton for accepting and then ordering a contract to
kill as well as issuing the vintage rifle to the inept assassin, Marion
Antique.
"I knew this guy who was an old friend of
a cult leader. He criticized the cult
man's beliefs and was killed on the spot by one of the 'believers'," Jimmy
related. "This Clayton guy and all
of his followers are probably nuts! We have to be careful."
"I know.
I was there when you debriefed Marion.
He refers to Clayton as master -- like he's a slave," Coreen said
as she stood outside the passenger door of the jeep and pointed to the
backseat. "Will our stuff be safe?"
Hart nodded yes and pointed to the stairs. "Let's go get comfortable."
****
Quistguard fingered the money hidden under his
shirt; his recent drug sale had been more profitable than he'd
anticipated. He was pleased with himself
and smiled inwardly as he entered a taxi in downtown Panama City. He intended to deposit the cash into his
secret Panamanian account; one which he'd opened right after his first contract
with the CIA back in the Noriega era. It was his life-after-espionage fund. Part of his escape plan.
Hunter exited the taxi near the Albrook
mall. The Marine officer he was
scheduled to meet was waiting. After the
rendezvous, he would visit his bank and make the deposit.
Quistguard had received three text messages
from the lieutenant; all indicating impatience that seemed out of character for
his embassy contact.
Lieutenant Larkin, dressed in civvies, was
waiting outside the mall entrance when the taxi pulled between the bus terminal
and the rear entrance to the mall. Hunter
mingled with the crowd near another unloading taxi and then meandered across
the street to the mall entrance.
"You're really in the soup!" the
lieutenant spat as Hunter reached the entrance.
"Everyone is after your ass; including me!"
Shocked by the brazen outburst by his covert
contact, Quistguard beckoned the officer closer. "Why are you not being
discreet? Meet me at the restaurant as
planned."
"Screw you, Hunter. You buggered a lot of people by not following
instructions with Gruber! They want you at the basement -- stat!"
Quistguard looked at Larkin's face. It telegraphed a great deal of concern and
anger. The basement was where black operations were initiated. Hunter knew he wanted no part of what the CIA
had in store for him. "I followed instructions with Gruber,"
Quistguard lied.
"No you didn't. He's being held by the FARC and is being
ransomed to the highest bidder. Your ass
is grass. You were paid and instructed
to dispose of him, not sell him!"
Quistguard knew he was trapped. The CIA had probably tapped the phones of the
German consulate and found out on the first call the FARC had made to establish
their demands. His mind went into
overdrive as he considered his options.
Being escorted to the basement by Larkin was not going to happen.
"Okay, I'm caught, I didn't murder
him. I disposed of him. No one will pay a ransom to those FARC
clowns. They'll kill him when they
finally figure that out," Hunter replied.
"I'm not going to the basement, Larkin. You can shoot me in the back if you
want. I'm outta here!"
Quistguard turned toward the street and began
walking. Within moments he was in a
crowd at the bus terminal. He looked back and watched the marine turn into the
mall. Hunter knew he was now going to be
hunted. He chose an option the company
was sure to despise.
*****
Inez brought her husband a sandwich as they
completed the final leg of their flight to the Philippines. Guam to Manila was
two-thirds complete. The Manila-Butuan flight was just a regional flight. Salty estimated a shade over an hour.
"I'd like to give you an overview of our
target, sweetie. He's a real bad guy
that no one has been able to bring to justice," Inez reported. "He's only been in Mindanao four years
since being deported from Pakistan and has an estimated following of
three-thousand wayward souls. He's a slippery scumbag that preys on the weak
and uneducated. He's funded by smuggling
contraband and covert operations like the attempted hit on the Harts."
"He's an Aussie, right?" Salty asked
between bites of his sandwich.
"That's what the CIA file reports. Harding's file shows that the guy was born in
the Bahamas. His mother migrated to New
Zealand before he entered grade school.
A few years later, from New Zealand to Sydney," Inez explained.
"Let me guess. Each move was with a new husband,
right?" Salty chuckled.
Inez laughed at her husband's insight. "Our target has six wives; all in the
same compound. After my conversation
with Coreen, I suspect they all call him master."
Salty glanced at the chronometer on his
instrument panel. "I expect to be
in Butuan a day before them. Do you want
to recon the compound or wait for the Harts?"
Inez responded immediately. "This is Jimmy
and Coreen's mission. We're here to
provide back-up. I vote we enjoy the
resort."
****
Marion Antique was depressed beyond tears. He was crestfallen. Not because he was
incarcerated in a small cell, but because he hadn't been able to endure the
pain; the pain and his fear that had led him to betray his master. He replayed the questions and his answers
time and time again. He was ashamed of
his weaknesses. Then he replayed the
promise and the threat made by the woman.
She was a killer and was set on defiling their sanctuary and killing
their master.
The small six by nine foot cell had no windows
and an oxidized barred door, secured by a pitted rusty chain and cheap
padlock. A single guard squatted against
the wall just outside his jail cell, smoking a cigarette. Marion needed a toilet but the steel bucket
in his cell was full to the brim. He
hollered at the jailer and received a lewd gesture in response. Marion tossed the bucket at the barred door;
its contents spraying the jailer and himself.
The horrific odor stifled any chance to breathe. The jailer jerked the keys from his pocket,
took up a short bamboo club and opened the door to administer a blow to the
putrid convict. Marion retrieved the empty bucket and struck the jailer as he
entered the cell.
Someone had removed the bale from the bucket
but hadn't dogged over the ears. Marion used the two sharp protrusions to gash
the jailer in the face. Marion repeated
the process until the jailer went to his knees.
The club brought into the cell was used to bash in the skull of the
custodian. Antique rifled through the dead guards pockets and relieved him of
his few pesos and a pocket knife. He used the keys to open the back door to the
small city holding facility. Marion knew
he would be caught if he tried to reach Mindanao by public transportation but
he had to try and reach his master and warn him of the Harts and their
mission.
*****
Henry Clayton was being his usual decadent
self. His third wife was attending to
his carnal needs while one of his servants was feeding him a sandwich. The phone rang during his excursion into
gluttony and he motioned for another female servant to answer. His secretary was the only woman in the room
fully clothed.
Clayton pushed his sandwich away and took the
call. Few people knew his number so he
presumed it was important. He glanced at the caller id. No name, just a number, but it was coming
from Hong Kong.
"Congrats, Henry. Your man fulfilled the contract. I just saw the news," Manchester
reported.
Clayton motioned to his wife to continue her
fellatio. "I haven't heard from my
disciple. He will report to me in two
days. Then I will know the contract has
been honored," Clayton surmised as he hung up the phone.
Cliff Manchester closed his phone, placed it in
the briefcase, and looked again at his laptop screen. A coded message had just popped on to his
company server. He was being summoned
back to his station on Guam; evidently his report of the Hart elimination had
earned him accolades and perhaps a new posting.
There’s a certain sadness in my soul from witnessing the destruction of my homeland, the USA. I don’t reside there anymore. I became an expatriate out of necessity when I created and promoted a foundation called REARM AMERICA right after 9/11. I was very proactive and was challenged by many ‘suits’; both federal and state. The last guy who visited my knife manufacturing business was from the Oregon State Governor’s office. This guy was scary because I had seen many of these enforcer types over the years. In essence he shut me down with his threats. I backed off my cause and moved my company to Utah. But, that was not the end of my problems. To keep me in line, I was audited by the IRS two years in a row. SID dropped in to see me five times in a two year period, and OCEA showed up one day to inspect my premises. I was a target. So, I sold out and became a part time ExPat. Then it turned full time; residing in Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama and now the Philippines. 
