“Jumpin’ outta helicopters — ain’t that what you used to be dumb enough to do?” Charlie asked.
“Air assaults? Yeah, in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
“Freakin’ ragheads, what do you think they did this time?” Charlie grunted.
“Pretty much anything they want, and they’re damned good at it.”
“Yeah, but over there, at least you got to shoot back.”
The scene on the TV screen split, with the Israeli footage in the background and a local DC news desk popping up in the lower right corner. Two attractive American TV reporters: Jeff Wang and Louise Taylor, sat side by side in front of the cameras, with plastic smiles as they tried to keep up with the director’s audio feeds, teleprompters, camera changes, and the constantly changing video on the screen behind them.
“In late-breaking news from the Middle East,” Jeff began in his ‘earnest’ voice, “the search continues for the surviving Hamas terrorists who attacked an Israeli commuter bus on the coastal highway north of Haifa this morning.” As he spoke, the aerial footage behind him focused on a plume of black smoke rising over the dunes in the distance, where more helicopters circled like vultures.
Just as quickly, the camera switched to Louise Taylor, who added, “So far, the body count is fifteen dead — thirteen commuters on the bus, plus two terrorists who were gunned down by Israeli security forces. Unfortunately, that help came too late to prevent the slaughter.” Behind her, the Israeli news helicopter continued to circle the scrubby dunes. On the coastal highway below, Israeli Military Police roadblocks held back long lines of civilian vehicles in both directions. Inside the containment area, armored cars, trucks, and ambulances lined the road shoulders. Military helicopters crisscrossed the dunes, sweeping low and adding noise, flying sand, and debris to the chaos below. In the center, the smoldering black hulk of the commuter bus lay on its side in a drainage ditch with a neat row of black-rubber body bags running down the center of the road next to it.
“It is believed the terrorists came ashore following a heated off-shore gun-battle last night in the Mediterranean between the Israeli Navy and a group of small speedboats carrying the Hamas gunmen from their bases in southern Lebanon,” Jeff went on. “At least three of the speedboats were sunk, but Israeli sources believe the terrorists who attacked the bus were survivors from the earlier battle who found their way ashore. That’s the reason for today’s massive search of the nearby coastal hills south of Haifa.”
“As you see,” Louise said with a frown and a tone of grave concern, “it looks as if the Israelis have their hands full this morning.” She raised her fingers to her earpiece and added, “Jeff, we have a new feed coming in from Tel Aviv,” as a grainy black-and-white photo of a dark-skinned, Arabic-looking man with a well-trimmed black beard and moustache filled the screen. Dressed in combat fatigues, he held an AK-47 over his head, exhorting a crowd.
“Yes,” Jeff chimed in seamlessly. “While no group has taken credit yet, our State Department sources say this is more work of Black Flag. They are a Hamas fringe group led by the secretive Ibrahim Al-Bari, shown here in a file photo. The Israelis are now confirming that one of Al-Bari’s younger brothers is believed to have died in the bus attack, and the other was among the dead fished out of the Mediterranean this morning. Unfortunately, there is no word on the fate of their older brother.”
“Well, we can all hope they track him down soon,” Louise said as the camera switched back to her. “But what effect do you think these recent incidents will have on the peace process?”
“You could ask, ’What peace process, Louise?’ Everyone knows that the Israelis won’t wait very long before they hit back, and hit back hard.”
“Still, with all the other problems President Wagner has on his plate right now, and his poll numbers dropping like a rock, you have to wonder.”
“Yes, we do,” Jeff turned to the camera with his most ‘concerned’ expression. “So, today’s question is, ‘Terrorism. Can it happen here?’ ”
“TV-6 wants to know,” Louise added. “If you think it can, dial 577-0001. If you don’t, then dial 577-0002.”
“We’ll have your answers at 11:00, right here on Washington’s TV-6,” Jeff said as he stacked his papers and the TV screen cut to a Mop-and-Glo floor-cleaning commercial.
“And Jeff can dial 1-800-Kiss-My-Ass,” Charlie said as he looked up at the screen and shook his head. “You gotta hand it to them Israelis,” he said. “They don’t take no crap from nobody — not from the press, the lawyers, Congress, or even that nitwit we got in the White House.”
“No, they don’t, but they get more than their share anyway.”
Charlie took another long pull on the beer and looked over at Barnett with a sly grin. “By the way, wasn’t that your Louise up there on the tube?”
“My Louise? Oh, that’s funny, Charlie, real funny… and if she hears you called her ‘mine,’ she’ll smack you silly.”
“Okay! Okay. Your old ex-sometimes-girlfriend, Louise, then.”
“And if she hears you call her ‘old’ or ‘ex,’ it’ll be even worse.”
“Me? I never understood what she saw in your sorry ass to begin with, but you are flat-out nuts to let a good-lookin’ woman like that get away.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“It always is,” Charlie said wistfully as he looked at the Band-Aid on the younger man’s forehead and drained the last of his beer. “But how can Louise stand working with that clown Jeff?”
“Money,” Barnett was quick to answer. “Lots of money.”
“Still, you need to figure out some way to make it right with that girl. You love her, she loves you…”
“And we are terrible together. You know that.”
“Eddie, I been married to Norma Jean for forty-two years, ever since J. Edgar gave me a job, so don’t make me laugh. You don’t know a damned thing about women. That’s your problem.” Finally, Charlie glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s ‘show time,’ Podnah — time for you and me to make a house call on old Billy-Ray Perkins.”
Wisniewski slapped a ten-dollar bill on the bar and slid off his stool. They were both wearing navy blue nylon windbreakers with “FBI” written across the back in large, neon-yellow letters. Charlie reached under his left arm, pulled out a long, hog-leg, .357-magnum revolver, and spun the cylinder to check the load. As Barnett watched, Charlie did the same for the ‘official’ Bureau-issued Glock 9-mm automatic he carried in a second holster on his hip, seating a round in the chamber, and patted his ankle to make sure the small .32 caliber Beretta automatic ‘bail-out’ gun was still there.
Barnett shook his head. “If you ever fall in the water with all that hardware on, you’re gonna drown,” he said.
“Maybe, but if you ever served warrants in the Cabrini-Greene housing project in Chicago, like I did, you’d carry a bazooka, if they let you.”
Barnett smiled and shook his head, knowing his own .38 caliber Police Special snub-nose revolver was securely clipped to his belt in the center of his back.
“A little pop-gun like that don’t cut it no more, Eddie. It’s gonna get you killed.”
“Not if I shoot straight.”
With their usual pre-op needling over, the two men headed for the door, exchanging knowing glances with a few of their cop friends sitting around the bar. Outside, the twilight had faded into a lovely autumn evening. Charlie paused at the curb and sniffed the air. “Nice night. Too bad we gotta go out and screw it up.”
They had drawn a battered gray Ford sedan from the motor pool and left it parked under a ‘No Parking’ sign near the corner. As they neared the car, both men suddenly sped up and headed for the driver’s side door.
“I’ll drive,” Barnett said as he reached for the door handle.
“The hell you say!” Like a good NHL defenseman, Charlie got one of his prodigious hips in the way and cut him off. “I’ve got six months ’til retirement, Eddie. Norma Jea
n’ll thump my butt good if she hears I ever got in a car with you behind the wheel again.”
“Oh, come on. It’s only a wreck from the DEA impound lot, Charlie.”
“It ain’t the car Norma Jean’s worried about, it’s me; and I gotta live with that woman.”
“Ah, she loves me,” Barnett gave up and walked around to the passenger side.
“But she don’t love your driving.”
“Not all those accidents were my fault. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘hot pursuit’?”
“Hot pursuit? That was the third car this year. If it happens again, the Director’ll have your ass and mine too… if Norma Jean leaves him any.”
“Okay, okay, you can drive.” The passenger seat was all the way forward, so Barnett squeezed inside and shoved it as far back as it would go. The cushions were dirty, the car smelled of cigarette smoke, and the rear floor was littered with Taco Bell wrappers, Chinese take-out boxes, and cardboard Starbucks coffee cups. “Damned day shift,” Barnett mumbled.
“What? You think they’re gonna leave us something nice? Besides, this wasn’t the day shift. Our guys don’t eat crap like that,” he threw a thumb toward the back seat. “I heard DEA used it for a stake-out and stuck us with the mess. But Starbucks? Where the hell do those DEA clowns get the money to buy freakin’ Starbucks?”
“We’re in the wrong end of the business.”
“What was your first clue?”
Their old sedan merged into the steady stream of red, rush-hour taillights. To the left and right they passed the City’s big floodlit monuments — the Washington, the Lincoln, the Reflecting Pool in the Mall, the Capitol, and finally the White House itself, cold and white as seen from two blocks away over the rings of barricades. The perfectly manicured lawns were surrounded by decorative wrought-iron fences and a myriad of less visible electronic ones. Thick concrete bollards blocked the surrounding streets, driveways, and parking lots from traffic. Through the trees, they could barely make out the dim shapes of men in dark suits on the move, talking into radios. Barnett knew there were many more Secret Service agents around, prowling the grounds, walking the perimeter, and keeping watch on the roof. Up there, they were dressed in black, wore baseball caps, and carried night vision scopes, sniper rifles, and even anti-aircraft missiles.
“Look at that stuff,” Charlie grumped as he glanced over and shook his head. “Twenty years ago, you could drive by the White House, park, and walk right up to the gate. Now, it is Fortress America. What the hell are we teachin’ our kids?”
“Probably how to survive,” Eddie answered as he slumped down in the seat.
It was late enough now that the District’s normally thick rush-hour traffic had begun to ebb. They turned northeast past some of the City’s posh retail streets lined on both sides with trees and trendy shops. Continuing into the darker, seamy residential streets beyond, the trees began to lose their leaves and ‘trendy’ turned to trashy, abandoned, and half-vacant.
“I’m getting tired, Charlie,” Eddie told him.
“Try gettin’ to bed on time.”
“Not that kind,” he sighed. “I’m tired of this crap. What do you and I ever get? College kids at Georgetown running a real estate finance scam in a fraternity basement, New Jersey ‘wise guys’ short-sheeting the Navy with cheap wire cable, and now, some good-old-boys from the way back ’hallers’ of Pickshin, West Virginia, exercising their God-given constitutional right to stick up branch banks with AK-47’s. If they weren’t so dumb, they’d be funny, and I’m just flat tired of it. The wrong end of the business? It’s a lot more than that. I’d like to get something that has at least a hint of dignity for a change. You know what I mean?”
“Eddie, I got six months… do you know what I mean? Besides, Billy-Ray and his three cousins may look like an episode of Duck Dynasty, but he happens to be a particularly nasty piece of work and you know it.”
“Yeah, nasty and dumb as dirt. Where’s the challenge there?”
“Why don’t you decide that after we catch him. Besides, you got nobody to blame but yourself. You keep pissin’ off the Director. He may not be able to fire you, but he can sure as hell give you every dead-end job that pops up.”
“Well, when we do finally bag him, I wish somebody would figure out a way to keep ’im in jail long enough for us to finish the paperwork before he’s back on the street again.”
Suddenly, Charlie’s eyes flashed and he studied Barnett for a moment. “Wait a minute. I got it, now! All this pissin’ and moanin’ ain’t about Billy-Ray, the car, or you being tired, is it? It’s about Louise. Oh, yeah,” he grinned and pointed his finger at the younger agent. “She threw you out again, didn’t she?”
“Just because Louise and I decided to elevate our relationship to a higher plain of mutual understanding and affection…”
“What? You popped the question and she turned you down again? Like that ain’t happened before.”
“Not exactly.” Barnett took a deep, reluctant breath. “This time it was kinda the other way around.”
“She asked you? And you said no? Oh, that was a really bad idea, Eddie!”
“I think I know that now,” Eddie said as he touched the Band-Aid on his forehead.
“With Louise that could be a near death experience. What did she throw this time?”
“An ashtray.”
“An ashtray?” Charlie started coughing, turning red in the face as he tried not to laugh. “Huh! I thought she quit smoking… then again, I guess she could have quit bowling, or horseshoes.”
“Or darts.”
###
If you enjoyed this Preview Chapter of my best-selling contemporary suspense novel, you can obtain a copy at the Kindle Book Site http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GBFJ1IA Also, you can see sample chapters of my other books at my web site http://www.billbrownthrillernovels.com
REVIEWS AND HIGH PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR’S EARLIER NOVELS:
Reviewer Comments on Aim True, My Brothers — 22 Five-Star Reviews of the 23 posted on Amazon.
5-Stars! “An exciting, riveting read that explores courage and treachery, love and fear. Another crackerjack novel of World War II, following last year’s Amongst My Enemies. The reader is right there, carried along for one wild, breathtaking ride.”
Glynn Young, Amazon Reviewer
5-Stars! Fantastic read! This was an excellent, fast paced thriller I could not put down…..HAD to finish before I could otherwise start my day!! I’ve enjoyed other books by this author and feel this is his best. Characters, plot, editing, all first rate and take out of the usual "Kindle only" book and definitely graduate to A list authors. Can’t wait for the next book! If you like contemporary thrillers you will love this book. Stop reading this review and buy it now!
"Sci-Fi" Fan, Amazon Reviewer
5-Stars! Top Notch! Grabs your interest from the first pages. This is more than a political action thriller. Politics and terrorism converge in a suspense filled action drama. Descriptions of places, people, and combat actions bring the reader directly into the story. You’ll want to read this novel.
Robert Krueger, Amazon Reviewer
5-Stars! MUST READ! Action packed political thriller with a twist! Browns cast of characters will take you into a world of intrigue and mayhem. Whether it’s Al-Bari, set on vengeance, or Barrett, whose witty humor keeps him in the "dog house "more often than not. Terrific read!!
Tanja, Amazon Reviewer
5-Stars! Another Superb William Brown Thriller! William Brown continues to amaze me with his writing. This story held my interest from beginning to end and, unlike some more famous authors, he didn’t jump around from one timeline to another, which confuses the reader. I loved the story and, as is the case with most of his plots, it made sense throughout. Another 5-Star effort by William F. Brown.
G. C. Whitney III, Amazon Reviewer
5-Stars! Super Novel! I really enjoyed this novel. After reading all the other reviews, there is not much I can add, however, if you
are looking for some good reading……….buy it now.
Bobby E. Argo, Amazon Reviewer
Reviewer Comments on The Undertaker, (a sampling from the 76 Five-Star reviews on line):
5-Stars! “This story was delicious! Snarky and wired, cynical and funny, it was everything a good mob thriller should be and more. I was sucked in as a reader and wasn’t released until the story was over.”
What Book is That?
5-Stars! “Awesome Must Read! This one had me jumping in head first from the beginning to the end I was kidnapped and taken for an exciting and thrilling ride. And to top it of it was hilarious. I laughed out loud several times.”
Passion Reads
5-Stars! “Fast Paced and Remarkable! Brown does an amazing job of creating characters who are real. The humor is incredible, and the murders most foul… and the story itself is quite wicked and very believable. I would recommend this book for those who love a thriller, with action and suspense.
Tic Toc Book Reviews
5-Stars! “Bring on more fear and loving! Wow! I read Chapter One and was hooked. He is a smart, tight writer who still manages to provide lavish description. In The Undertaker, he gives birth to some really fascinating characters (most of whom I would never want to meet).”
Book Pleasures
5-Stars! “The name of this book fits perfectly with the plot! The Undertaker has it all — suspense, mystery, action, intrigue, politicians, conspiracy, thrills, and a bit of romance. The reader is quickly drawn in. The plot is full of surprises. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. This is not a book I want to read alone late at night.”
Readers Favorites
Reviewer Comments on Amongst My Enemies: (a sampling from the 75 Five-Star reviews on line):
5-Stars! “A great cold war thriller! A very suspenseful, edge-of-your seat thriller… exciting, engaging… reminded me of books by Alistair MacLean and Tom Clancy. If you are looking for a Cold War thriller, this one was very engaging.”
Cold War Trilogy - A Three Book Boxed Set: of Historical Spy Versus Spy Action Adventure Thrillers Page 35