by Terry Keys
Just then, Butler saw several of Akio’s men heading toward the front of the restaurant.
“Hold on, Newman,” he said. He turned to the head of Yoshida’s security team. “You guys hire some goddamn girls?”
“Yes, are they here? Mr. Yoshida is waiting for them.”
Butler stepped toward the man purposefully invading his personal space. “This is not how this is going to work. Everything needs to run through me, compadre. Got it? I thought I made that painstakingly clear two hours ago.”
The man jabbed a finger in Butler’s face. “Listen, cowboy, we no work for you. We work for Mr. Yoshida. If he asks for girls, we bring him girls. Mr. Yoshida always gets what he wants. You got it?”
The two men stood face to face, glaring at each other.
Finally Butler spoke up. “My orders come from the President of the fucking United States. I don’t give a fuck what you or your goddamn boss wants. My job is to keep his ass alive, and we do it my way on my turf. This isn’t fucking Japan, and you don’t run the show.”
Butler grabbed his radio. “Newman, pat ’em down and then let them in.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“You heard me. Do it. Now.”
“Ten-four.”
Akio’s security man flashed a victorious smile. As he turned to walk away, Butler grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face him. “I let them in this time. The next five days you’re here, everything runs through me. No more passes. We clear?”
The man smiled again and gave the slightest of nods before heading back to the table.
What the fuck is that guy’s problem? Butler thought. Here he was, trying to keep the man’s asshole boss safe, and all the man wanted to do was make it harder.
Butler frowned and shook his head as the trio of girls strolled past him. Yoshida had moved to a private room by the time Butler got back to check on him. He opened the door to find the three girls already topless, one of them perched in the diminutive leader’s lap.
Butler shook his head, closed the door, and posted up just outside.
Thirty minutes later, Butler popped his head in again to find another girl on top of Yoshida.
“He go all night. He Japanese,” one of the guards said to Butler, clearly poking fun at the American. All of Yoshida’s crew laughed.
Butler knew he should walk away, but he couldn’t help himself. These guys had already pissed him off, and he was done taking their shit. “Well, you guys better be able to go all night. I’ve heard. . .” Butler put a hand in the air with his thumb and index finger about two inches apart.
One of the men lunged toward Butler, who never flinched. “Don’t make me have to shoot you, because I won’t hesitate. My job is to protect him, and I have the green light to shoot anyone who threatens my ability to do so. And that includes your dumb ass too, little man.”
Butler’s radio squawked again.
“Butler here,” he said, never taking his eye off the bodyguard.
“It’s Newman. FBI Director Burke is on the SAT phone. He needs to speak with you now.”
“About what? And why right now, Newman? I’m sure whatever it is can wait. I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
“I don’t know, sir. He wouldn’t tell me. He said to get you on the phone now. Seemed pretty anxious to talk to you, sir.”
Butler marched to the front of the restaurant, snatched the SAT phone from Newman, and returned the call.
“Butler here.”
“Butler, listen to me closely. Al Jazeera just posted a seven-hundred-fifty page dossier regarding a supposed U.S. military operation. The leaked filed states the United States government hatched a plan to kill all the leaders who are here for the Summit, one by one. Akio Yoshida’s name is at the top of the list. There are names, places—secret meetings places—details from activity over the last five years. It’s complex, and at first glance it looks pretty damning. This puts us in DEFCON 4, Butler. Go put your hands on Yoshida, and don’t let him out of your fucking sight. Do you hear me? You are to sit and wait for further instructions.”
Butler tried to comprehend what Burke was telling him.
“So someone created a fake mission to make it look like the United States is trying to take over the world? Whoever went to all that trouble didn’t create this as an idle threat.”
Butler ended the call, tossed the phone to Newman, and sprinted back to Yoshida. Several of the other soldiers took notice and ran behind him. He was twenty yards from the door when he heard the first scream.
It was coming from the private room. Why the fuck are the girls screaming? Butler thought. What in the hell was happening?
Yoshida’s men bolted into the room just as Butler reached it. They all stared in horror. Yoshida’s lifeless body was slumped over on the floor. Butler dropped to one knee next to the fallen leader and checked his vitals. Nothing.
He turned to the escorts. “What the fuck happened here?”
“We don’t know. He just fell over. We were dancing for him, and he just fell over,” one of the girls said.
Suddenly, Newman burst through the door with his cell phone in his hand. “Sir, you are going to want to see this—like, right now.”
Newman handed the phone to Butler. He held the phone out in front of him so Yoshida’s men could watch.
The man in the video was perched on a wooden chair, his face and body covered by Arabic clothing.
His words chilled Butler to the core. “To the children of Islam, I am speaking to you. The true followers. America’s true self today has been shown to the world. We have been warning you for decades that America has one plan, one goal, and one ally—and that is herself. Today, Prime Minister Akio Yoshida was murdered by the United States as a part of their plan to take over the world.”
Suddenly the video of the man was gone, replaced by . . . What the fuck? Butler thought. The video was now streaming from the very room in which they stood. The camera zoomed in on Yoshida’s dead body and then panned around to the US military men who were present. Butler waved his hand in the air to locate the hidden camera. He zeroed in on it, took out his service weapon, and fired two rounds into it.
The man in the chair reappeared on the screen.
“You see, America has always wanted to rule the world. They have always wanted this to be the way. You saw what they did to Mr. Yoshida. Our brothers on Al Jazeera released the news of this plan today, and now the hateful Americans have followed through with the first promised murder. Join with me, brothers around the world. We must stop them. They seek to destroy our way of life and annihilate all Muslims. Leaders of the world, America will try to get you to leave their country now under the false pretense of protecting you. Do not board any American plane. It is a trap. America has also bribed many of your security teams, so trust no one. Islam is coming for you. We will find you and protect you from the infidels!”
No one moved.
Butler looked away from the phone to find the Japanese soldiers at attention, weapons drawn and pointed at the US contingent.
Butler put his hands up. “America is not behind this. You need to lower your weapons now before a lot of good people die. We didn’t even have a person in this room. The only uninvited guests are the ones you asked to come here.”
“Our leader is dead here on American soil. You told us Mr. Akio would be safe here. It was your job to protect him.”
“Hey, pal, that’s all the fuck I’ve been trying to do here the last few hours. We were all responsible for his goddamn safety. You invited the girls. Way I see it, it couldn’t have been anyone else. Newman, cuff the girls. Now!”
The SAT phone rang, and Newman handed it to Butler.
“Butler speaking,” he said, his eyes still trained on the Japanese and their weapons.
“Director Burke here. I got the president breathing down my neck on this. What the fuck happened out there? And the whole world just saw that damn video. You going all John Wayne and shooting the camera makes u
s look even guiltier.”
“Sir, I don’t know. I panicked. Just wanted to stop the transmission and figured that was the best way. As far as Yoshida goes, there are no stabs wounds, gunshot wounds, or signs of blunt-force trauma to the head or neck area. I can’t even determine a goddamn cause of death. I can’t see one thing wrong with him. There are no vitals. Make no mistake about it—Prime Minister Akio Yoshida is dead.”
“Well you’d better figure something out because not only is he dead, Sergeant - the world thinks the United States of America murdered him.”
5/23/17 Pre-order here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XCFDC7V
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Terry Keys is a novelist, songwriter and poet. He writes for Examiner.com and works as a project manager in the oil and gas industry. A native of Rosharon, Texas Keys spends his free time hunting, fishing and working out. He lives in Dickinson, Texas, with his wife and two children.
Please visit his website at www.terrykeysbooks.com
Twitter: @tkeys15
Facebook: terrykeysbooks
Email: [email protected]
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Games of Guilt (Hidden Guilt)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Death Toll Rising | Prologue
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