Nine Lives
Page 18
“Sir?”
Hallier explained. “This briefcase will be registered to you. After I set it up, the only way to unlock it is by placing your thumb here.” He pointed to a small biometric reader located beside the lock.
“Very cool,” Tommy said. “Does the case do anything else? Shoot bullets, maybe?”
Hallier smiled. “Not quite. Thumb please.”
Tommy placed his thumb on the reader. The indicator light switched from red to green.
“It’s calibrated,” Hallier said. He opened the briefcase and removed a notebook computer. “This is for you.”
“Wow,” Tommy said. “Awesome!”
“This isn’t a toy, Tommy,” Hallier said. “This computer is the property of DARPA. It requires two levels of authentication before it will operate. I’ll need your thumb again.”
Hallier set up the PC to read Tommy’s unique biometric signature then presented him with his login identification. “Read this code and commit it to memory.”
Tommy read the unique alpha-numeric password.
“Got it?” Hallier said.
Tommy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He placed the code in his shirt pocket. “That’s it. You’re good to go.”
“What do you want me to do first, sir?” Tommy asked.
Hallier shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll call you when I need you.”
“What about those projects?” Tommy asked.
“Projects?”
“The ones I downloaded to the USB drive. Channeler and LEEDA.”
“You’re not to mention a word of those to anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me be clear,” Hallier said sternly. “Going forward, you’ll be using your computer skills to help your government address some of the most sensitive matters related to national security. It’s imperative that you fully understand the importance of that responsibility.”
“I do, sir,” Tommy replied. “I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me.”
Hallier smiled. “You’re a brilliant kid, Tommy. I’m pleased to have you onboard.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hallier checked his watch. “I have to leave.” He stood. “Like I said, you’ll hear from me when I need you.” He held out his hand. “Goodbye, Tommy.”
The boy shook it. “Goodbye, sir.”
Tommy opened the door, saw the Colonel out.
Billy Reynolds dropped his bicycle on the front lawn. He passed the colonel on the walkway. “How’s it going,” he said.
Hallier tipped his hat. “Son,” he replied.
Billy walked up to Tommy. “Who was that?”
Tommy smiled. “Can’t tell ya.”
“Why the hell not?” Billy asked.
“Just can’t.”
“I bet I know.”
“Bet you don’t.”
“I heard about what happened.”
“What?”
“The commando’s breaching your house, hauling you and your parent’s asses out of here. The whole street’s talking about it.”
“The street doesn’t know jack shit.”
“Oh yeah? So fill me in. What’s the scoop?”
“You want to know the truth?”
“Duh, I’m your best friend. Of course, I want to know the truth.”
“It’s like I told you before,” Tommy said.
“Told me what?”
Tommy waved as Hallier drove away.
He turned to his friend and smiled. “I’m a frickin’ genius.”
FREE PREVIEW, “LIVE TO TELL”
Please enjoy this free preview of the next book in the Jordan Quest series, “LIVE TO TELL.”
CHAPTER 1
THE CUMBERLAND WAS BEAUTIFULLY maintained. Among its luxurious appointments, the bronze Roman urn planters which flanked its main entrance doors overflowed with white evening primrose and purple nightshade. The sweet fragrance of the flowers greeted residents and guests and added to the street level appeal of the tony property. For as long as anyone could remember there had not been a vacancy in the much-desired Westwood Village apartment building. This morning, the white Los Angeles County Coroner’s van parked out front alluded to the possibility that one of the much sought after suites might now be available.
A mans voice called out to FBI Special Agents Jordan Quest and Chris Hanover as they walked through the lobby doors. “You guys have to be FBI.”
Jordan acknowledged the tall burly figure in the impeccably tailored blue suit as he walked towards her, caught a glimpse of the silver and gold badge clipped to his belt. She smiled. “It’s that obvious?”
“You kidding me?” the officer said. “Somewhere there’s a Bureau recruiting poster with your pictures on it.” He opened his arms. “How are you, Jordan?” he asked.
Jordan laughed, hugged the man, turned to Chris. “Agent Hanover, I’d like you to meet an old friend of my father, Detective James Kerr, LAPD.”
Chris smiled, shook the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Kerr replied. To Jordan he said, “Sorry to draw you away from the field. I was hoping to ask for a favor.”
“Of course,” Jordan said. “Name it.”
“This is the third such crime scene I’ve attended in as many weeks,” Kerr said. “You mind taking a look, maybe doing your thing?”
“Not at all,” Jordan replied. “Lead the way.”
Detective Kerr escorted the agents down the hall. He paused when they arrived at the apartment door. “You ready?” he asked.
“For what?” Jordan asked.
“See for yourselves.”
Kerr pushed the door open. The officers stepped inside the small apartment.
“Oh my,” Jordan said.
Scrawled across the living room wall were the words, ‘OU PALE OU MOURI.’
“I take it that’s blood,” Chris said.
“Looks like it to me,” Kerr replied. “Forensics are on their way. They’ll confirm it when they arrive.”
“What happened here, Detective?” Chris asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Kerr answered.
Jordan stared at the words. “What does it mean?” she asked.
Kerr shook his head. “Damned if I know.”
From the hallway came an unfamiliar voice. “It means, ‘you talk, you die.’”
Kerr spun around. An old man stood in the threshold behind them. “What the hell?” he said. “How did you get past my men?” he asked.
“Dem left,” the man replied.
Kerr tried to determine if the man’s accent was Jamaican or Haitian, couldn’t.
“Smart ting, too,” he continued. “Dis no longer a place for God-fearing men. Dis now a place of evil. Best you go too. Lock de door, leave it be.”
“Sir, this is an active crime scene,” Kerr said. “You need to leave, now.”
The old man waved his hand, dismissed Kerr. He pointed a crooked finger at Jordan, hobbled into the room. “De woman, she understands,” he said. “Don’t you, miss?”
Kerr walked ahead, blocked him from approaching Jordan, took him by the arm. “Did it sound like I was asking?”
“It’s all right, Detective,” Jordan said. “Let him stay.”
“You sure, Jordan?” Kerr asked.
“It’s fine.”
The detective released the man’s arm. Jordan walked over, introduced herself. “My name is Special Agent Jordan Quest. I’m with the FBI. And you are?”
The old man leaned on his wooden walking stick, shook her hand. “Adras,” he replied. “Samuel Adras.”
“What do you mean by evil, Mr. Adras?” Jordan asked.
“A boko.”
“A what?”
“A black priest.”
“Are you saying a priest did this?”
Adras avoided making eye contact with the death message on the wall, nodded slowly.
“How do you know that?” Chris asked.
“Did you see this priest?”
Adras shook his head. “Know de smell.”
Chris inhaled, recognized the burnt aroma in the air. “All I smell is incense,” he said.
“Not just any incense,” Adras replied. “Holy incense.”
Kerr looked at Jordan. “I told you this was creepy,” he said.
“What’s holy about it, Mr. Adras?” Jordan asked.
“De combination,” the old man answered. “Musk and cinnamon.”
“Is that significant?”
Adras nodded. “De man was creating a barrier between dis world and de next; musk to protect against de power of de boko, cinnamon to boost its strength.”
“Are you trying to tell me this guy knew who was trying to kill him?” Kerr asked.
“Yes,” Adras answered. “He was trying to keep de evil away, but it was too powerful.”
The decedent had been bagged, the body placed on a gurney. “You checked de corpse?” Adras asked.
Kerr nodded. “He had nothing on him.”
“You sure?” Adras asked.
Kerr shot the man a defensive glance. “Of course.”
“Let me see,” Adras said.
“Excuse me?”
“I want to see de body.”
“I don’t think so,” Kerr replied.
The old man stared at the detective. “You afraid I’m going to find something you missed?”
“Now look here,” Kerr objected.
“Let him look, Jim,” Jordan said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
Kerr partially unzipped the heavy plastic bag. “He’s a little ripe,” he warned. “You might want to cover your—”
Adras moved the detective aside, pulled the zipper all the way down, parted the bag, inspected the corpse, leaned forward, sniffed. “Dat’s it,” he said.
“What’s it?” Kerr asked.
“De smell.”
“Say what?”
The old man grabbed the detective’s lapel, pulled him closer to the corpse. “Smell.”
Kerr leaned forward, sniffed the body, then suddenly looked up, stared at Jordan and Chris. “Weird,” he said.
“What?” Chris asked.
“He smells like lavender.”
“You serious?”
“Check it out for yourself,” Kerr said.
Chris sniffed the corpse. “You’re right.”
“Not just lavender,” Adras said. “Patchouli and mugwort. Hyssop too.”
“What does it mean?” Jordan asked.
“It’s a protection oil,” the old man replied. “Keeps you safe from attack.”
“From whom?” Kerr asked.
Andras shook his head. “Not from whom, from what.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Black magic.”
“Excuse me?” Chris said.
“Voodoo.”
“I told you this was nuts,” Kerr said.
The old man patted down the body, pressed on the dead man’s pant pocket, slipped his hand inside, pulled out a small satchel.
“What is it?” Kerr asked.
“A conjure bag,” Adras replied. He opened the cloth pouch, shook out its contents. A small stone fell into his hand.
“Turquoise,” Jordan said. “Why would he be carrying this?”
“To drive de demonic away,” Adras said. “Dis man was very afraid.” He placed the stone in the bag, returned it to the corpse, then walked over to the window and inspected the sill. “Look, here.”
The officers joined the old man at the window. A fine powder had been sprinkled down the length of its frame.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“Bloodroot,” Adras said.
“What’s it for?”
“To keep de evil out.”
“That didn’t work out so well,” Chris said.
Adras ignored the comment. “Did you look in de closets?”
“Of course,” Kerr said.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You didn’t look hard enough,” the old man replied. He walked down the hall, opened the linen closet. Neatly folded towels and bedsheets were stacked in the storage space. Adras poked the bottom shelf with his walking stick. “Lift dem out,” he said.
Chris kneeled, removed the linens, set them on the floor.
“Take out de shelf,” Adras instructed.
Chris pulled up the wooden board, set it aside, exposed the false bottom. “Damn,” he said.
A small alter, hidden from view, stood on the closet floor. Chris removed a number of items from the small space: a black candle, a vial of oil, a glass mason jar. The jar contained a photograph.
“Can I see that?” Kerr asked.
Chris handed the detective the jar. Kerr unscrewed the lid, removed the picture. It was of a young woman. “Couldn’t be,” he said.
“What is it, Jim?” Jordan asked.
Kerr pulled out his cellphone, accessed the FBI website, opened the Most Wanted tab and began scrolling through the pictures.
“Who are you looking for?” Jordan asked.
“Some people collect baseball cards,” Kerr replied. “I follow missing persons reports. I know I’ve seen this face before.” He stopped at one of the pictures, turned his phone towards the agents. “Bethany Rohmer. Last seen eight years ago in New Orleans while attending Mardi Gras with her husband. Disappeared in the crowd. No one’s seen her since.”
Jordan turned to Samuel Adras. “Do you know why this woman’s picture would be in this jar?” she asked.
“He’s keeping her trapped,” the old man replied.
“Who’s keeping her trapped?”
“De black priest. De voodoo man.”
Watch for LIVE TO TELL coming soon to Amazon
CLAIM YOUR FREE BONUS BOOK
Dear Reader,
Here’s what my typical day looks like: wake up at 3 A.M., drink coffee, write stories, drink coffee, write more stories, rinse and repeat. Seven days a week, with the occasional weekend off for good behavior (or if my wife makes me). I do it because I love it.
Building a relationship with my readers is the very best thing about writing. To show my appreciation, I’d like to send you a free ebook, “JORDAN QUEST, BEHIND THE BADGE,” right now.
In this exclusive one-on-one interview style book, Jordan answers the questions readers most want to know about both her personal experiences as a world-renowned psychic and FBI Agent and her policing responsibilities with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I hope you’ll enjoy reading this fun, free book. I’ll touch base from time to time with news on the latest Jordan Quest thriller and other cool stuff which I think you’ll enjoy. Just click the link below to join my newsletter and your bonus book will be on its way!
Thanks for reading Jordan Quest. It’s great having you on board!
Join the Newsletter. Claim your FREE copy of “Jordan Quest, Behind the Badge.”
Gary
POST A REVIEW
Reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books.
If you’ve enjoyed NINE LIVES, I would be very grateful if you could take a minute to post a review on Amazon. It can be as short as you like. Please click the link below:
Post Review
READY FOR MORE?
Each Jordan Quest book can be read as a stand-alone novel.
Listed is the recommended reading order.
THE JORDAN QUEST SERIES
Book 0 - JORDAN QUEST (Free Series Prequel)
Book 1 - INTRUDERS
Book 2 - THE SIN KEEPER
Book 3 - MR. GRIMM
Book 4 – NINE LIVES
Book 5 – LIVE TO TELL (coming soon)
ABOUT GARY WINSTON BROWN
Gary is the author of the popular thriller series, JORDAN QUEST. His numerous influences and favorite authors include Dean Koontz, James Patterson, Lee Child, Catherine Coulter
, J.D. Robb, Sandra Brown, Kay Hooper and Iris Johansen.
Gary is married and lives outside Toronto, Canada.
Visit the author’s website at GaryWinstonBrown.com for more information.
Follow on social media: Facebook Twitter Instagram
The Jordan Quest thrillers are best described as tightly written, fast-paced, page-turning suspense mixed with witty-dialogue and high-octane action/adventure. If you like reading stories featuring a tough-as-nails female protagonist (and bad guys you’ll love to hate) you’re sure to enjoy all the books in the series.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, for my beautiful wife, Fiona.
ILYBBOBKS
A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO MY READERS
I’m very fortunate to have many dedicated fans who reach out to me on a regular basis through email and the Jordan Quest Facebook Fan Group. The question I love getting asked the most is, “When is the next Jordan Quest thriller coming out?”
You keep me inspired, pumped and motivated to sit at my desk and punch away at the keyboard with one goal in mind… to make the next Jordan Quest novel a little more suspenseful and fun to read than the last.
I appreciate each and every one of you. You allow me to do what I love the most… to create the stories you enjoy reading.
You guys rock!
Gary
COPYRIGHT & AUTHOR’S NOTE
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2019 Gary Winston Brown. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, cloned, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at the website below: