Death Sets Sail

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Death Sets Sail Page 38

by Dale E. Manolakas


  Have a moment? Do a review at http://www.amazon.com/Death-Sets-Sail-Veronica-Kennicott-ebook/dp/B00R3DP4K8

  Now enjoy this sample chapter of the Amazon Top 100 Legal Thriller LETHAL LAWYER http://www.amazon.com/Lethal-Lawyers-Dale-E-Manolakas-ebook/dp/B00I5SFMUM The second in this series is THE GUN TRIAL. The author’s biography follows the sample.

  For other books and other platforms to purchase them visit http://www.dalemanolakas.com

  Prologue

  Number One With A Gun

  The muzzle end of a cold gun dug into Frank Cummings’ graying temple, which was glazed with sweat.

  “Don’t. Don’t.”

  Frank’s voice echoed through the underground garage.

  “Shut up.” Jim Henning spit through his clenched teeth into Frank’s face.

  “I can fix it,” Frank bargained.

  The two men’s eyes locked as they stood beside Frank’s black BMW. Suddenly, Jim thrust the gun forward, slamming Frank’s head down onto the hood, still warm from his pre-dawn morning commute.

  “Like hell you can.”

  Jim grabbed Frank’s suit collar, threw him hard onto the cement, and aimed the gun at Frank’s forehead.

  Frank gasped in pain.

  “Wait.”

  Frank, a senior litigation partner at Thorne & Chase, looked down the barrel of the gun and then up to Jim’s red, contorted face. He searched for the right words, just as he did to win over jurors and manage his law firm. He was a master of manipulation and needed all of his skills right now. He also needed to get that gun from this ex-junior partner, a man who was younger and had the strength of righteous outrage on his side. After all, Frank had destroyed him.

  “The Management Committee will listen to me.” Frank calculated his odds of grabbing the gun.

  “They already did.”

  Jim lifted his t-shirt to expose a blood crusted bandage and black-bruised flank.

  “What? I didn’t know! I . . .”

  “Don’t play dumb. You sent them.”

  Jim crushed his tennis shoe into Frank’s chest. “You’re a dead man. You and your friends on the Management Committee.”

  “Wait. I can get you back into the firm. Wait. Please.”

  Frank’s lie came rolling easily off his tongue. After all, he was a lawyer. But the word “please” caught in his craw despite the circumstances. Pleading was foreign to Frank’s every fiber.

  “You liar.” Jim leaned over and aimed the gun at Frank’s heart. “I gave up everything for the great Thorne & Chase and what did I get? Nothing. You ruined my life . . . my marriage . . . my reputation. You stole my clients and kicked me out with nothing.”

  “You can’t do this.” Frank changed his strategy with shark-like speed for a Hail Mary pass. “I could . . . but you can’t.”

  Jim hesitated.

  Frank had injected just a split-second of doubt. He saw it in Jim’s eyes.

  Instantaneously, Frank twisted sideways, grabbing Jim’s leg and pitching him to the ground.

  Frank hurled himself over Jim as he grabbed Jim’s hands holding the gun. Locked together face-to-face, the men rolled side to side. When they collided with the tire, the gun went off and a shot resounded through the garage. The bullet plowed into the BMW’s quarter panel with a bloodless ping.

  The men rebounded off the tire. On top, Frank pressed Jim, full-body, into the cement. Frank sneered into Jim’s face.

  “Not so old after all, huh?”

  Frank, the most powerful person on Thorne & Chase’s Management Committee, was in control again. He savored the moment.

  Suddenly, Jim twisted, throwing Frank onto the ground.

  “Fuck you, old man.”

  Dethroned from his momentary triumph, Frank kept his grip around Jim’s hands and the gun. As Jim whipsawed around on top of Frank, the gun became sandwiched deep into the bellies of the two writhing men.

  The gun sounded again. This time muffled. And deadly.

  Frank froze as he felt a warm liquid soak into his custom made shirt. Then, he felt Jim’s body go limp. As Jim’s head fell onto Frank’s shoulder, Frank heard Jim’s last breath gurgle past his ear.

  “Christ.” Frank pushed Jim’s body off.

  The gun lay between the two men covered in Jim’s blood. Frank scrambled to his feet and backed away watching the pool of blood grow.

  Then from the corner of his eye Frank saw a white cart with a uniformed security guard speed down the ramp towards him.

  “Help! Over here.” Frank waved at the security guard.

  Confidently cloaked in self-defense, Frank gathered his thoughts. He worried only about spinning the incident so as to quell any bad publicity for Thorne & Chase. A gifted tactician and strategist, Frank started formulating sound bites that would fend off the news media. The phrase “deranged ex-junior partner” came to mind, embellished by “planned mass killing.” After all, Frank surmised victoriously, who other than a mentally unbalanced person would try to take on Frank Cummings and a Los Angeles powerhouse like Thorne & Chase?

  Frank took out his cell phone, found a signal ten feet away, and called his partner Chet Apel, the Management Committee’s spin doctor and public face of Thorne & Chase.

  “What the hell did you do to Jim Henning last night? He just tried to kill me.”

  ⌘

  About the Author

  Dale E. Manolakas

  After a lifetime of writing poetry, books, nonfiction, and legal documents, it was author Ray Bradbury's friendship and encouragement that finally inspired Dale E. Manolakas to pursue writing as a career.

  Dale E. Manolakas earned her B.A. from the University of California at Los Angeles, and M.A., M.S., Ph.D. and J.D. degrees from the University of Southern California. She is a member of the California Bar, had the privilege of clerking for The Honorable Arthur L. Alarcón at the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, was a litigator in two major Los Angeles law firms, and a senior appellate attorney at the California Court of Appeals, as well as an Administrative Law Judge.

 

 

 


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