Green File Crime Thrillers Box Set

by James Kipling

  Twenty minutes and counting.

  Far away from Moscow, Jessica, Jacob, Mandy, Alvin and Tom were sitting silently in a church van. They stared at Jacob's cell phone, watching a live shot of the chaotic massacre taking place in front of the Capitol building.

  “This can't be happening,” Mandy cried.

  “It's happening,” Alvin nodded his head, as he patted Mandy on her shoulder. He turned his focus on Jacob. “Time to get to Canada.”

  “No,” Jessica begged, as tears rolled out of eyes that were now consumed with grief and terror. “We have to locate my husband's journal.” Jessica spun around and faced Tom. “You know—”

  “No, I do not know,” Tom corrected Jessica in a stern tone that surprised him. America was falling apart. He didn't have time to play any more senseless games. “Mrs. Mayes, I must get back to my congregation. That is where I am needed.” Tom crawled back to the driver's seat and buckled up. “I will leave you here, for now.”

  Jacob slowly pulled out his gun, checked the clip, and then studied the dark, snowy night with weak, defeated eyes.

  “We're to the point of no return,” he stated in a sorrowful voice. “Pastor, we'll go to the church with you. We'll park a few blocks away and walk in.”

  “That's very dangerous—” Tom began to object.

  Jacob studied the run-down trailer that was illuminated by the van's headlights. The thought of hiding out in the trailer sickened his heart.

  “I'm tired of hiding, Pastor. I'd rather die fighting, than hide any longer. If America is going to fall, then I'm going to fall with her. Now get moving, if you can. This weather may prevent us from going anywhere.”

  Jessica crawled back to the front passenger seat and took Tom's hand. “Pastor, if my husband somehow placed hidden messages into my mind, then perhaps he somehow did the same to you. Please, you have to try and remember.”

  Tom felt irritation rise in his heart. As much as he cared for Jessica, as much as he had come to think of the woman like a daughter, he was in no mood to continue participating in the dangerous game the CIA had created.

  “Mrs. Mayes,” he stated, struggling to remain calm while gripping the steering wheel with his free hand. “Let's assume that you are correct. Let's assume that we do locate your husband's journal. Inside the journal, we locate this computer virus. Would it really matter?” Tom slowly turned his head and looked into Jessica's eyes. “The White House has been destroyed. You saw with your own eyes what is taking place at the Capitol building. You've heard all the news reports. America is falling apart. What is there to possibly save?”

  Alvin considered Tom's words. “The Pastor is right, girl,” he told Jessica. “Here we've been running like scared rats, and for what? Shoot, all them lies the CIA has been telling about you, all them lies did was give every rat a reason to set the garbage pile on fire.” Alvin leaned back in his seat, folded his arms, and shook his head. “What do you think you're going to save, girl?”

  “America,” Jacob stated in a determined voice. “We will die trying to save our country, Alvin.”

  “And you'll die trying, man,” Alvin snapped in a rough, angry voice. He was through trying to defend a sinking ship that smelled like rot. “Yeah, maybe back in the old days this country was worth saving, but man, do you seriously think this country is worth dying for now? How many babies have been murdered, huh? How many demons do you see out there demanding the right to kill babies? Where's the self-accountability at? There ain't none. These kids today want to do the deed and then murder an innocent baby instead of taking responsibility for their actions. All these kids today want is everything handed to them on a silver platter.” Alvin looked ill for a moment.

  “Everything is offensive. The truth is offensive and oppressive. Colleges are full of snowflakes who are offended at every little thing. Shoot, a person can't even say I Love America anymore without being tagged as some racist bigot. Well, let me tell you something. The day of reckoning has arrived, my friend. All these looney's that have been turning my country into a communist jailhouse filled with lunatics are about to be brought down. Shoot, I hope the Russians and the Chinese do attack us. Then, what will happen to all of those snowflakes, all those sickos dressing like women. Homosexuals, baby killers, so-called celebrities, talk show hosts, news reporters, politicians—where will they hide, huh? Ain't no Russian or Chinese soldier gonna walk onto a college campus and respect one of those stupid safe spaces. If these kids today think they have something to fuss about, just wait until they're lined up and shot in the back of the head!”

  “What about the babies, the children, the elderly, the nursing homes, and the hospitals?” Mandy asked Alvin in a shaky voice. “What about the millions who will die? Not everyone is guilty of killing sweet, unborn babies, Alvin. Not every American is guilty of treason.”

  Alvin reached out his right hand and touched Mandy's arm. “When the majority of the apple is rotten, you have to throw it away. There was a time when man could cut out the bad parts forming in America. Over time, the entire apple just became too rotten to keep.” Alvin focused on Tom. “Pastor, can you help us get to the border of Canada?”

  “Yes,” Tom nodded his head. “But first, I have to warn my congregation.” Tom shoved the van into reverse and began to back up through the deep snow. At first, the van stalled and began to spin out.

  Tom began to pray, and the van finally caught and held. Tom worked his way back to the main road. He knew Jessica wanted to talk to him about her husband's journal, but Tom wasn't in the mood. His mind quickly focused on the members of his congregation. Surely, there would be people at the church who were scared, frightened and confused.

  “I'm a Pastor, Mrs. Mayes,” he finally spoke, turning the church van back onto the county road, to drive north through the snow storm. “I have a responsibility to my congregation.”

  “I understand,” Jessica assured Tom in a weak voice. “You risked your life to help me. I will forever be grateful for your courage.” Jessica looked at Tom and studied the pastor's sorrowful face. “You are a good man. You didn't fail. No one riding in this van failed.”

  “Jessica?” Mandy asked, reading her sister's voice.

  Jessica turned in her seat and focused on Mandy's tired and painful face. Oh, how she loved her sister. Mandy was everything to Jessica; a brave, intelligent, beautiful woman who had her life destroyed. If Mandy were to ever die or be killed, Jessica knew whatever fight that remained living inside of her heart would surely die.

  “Mandy, we have to get to Canada,” she spoke in a calm tone. “Alvin is right.”

  “What?” Jacob exclaimed. “Mrs. Mayes...Jessica...we have to continue searching for your husband's journal. We need the virus and the files on President Green.” Jacob scrambled to the front of the van and grabbed Jessica's hands. “I need the virus. It's the only way.”

  Jessica simply stared into Jacob's eyes. He could tell that she was giving up the search. Jacob bowed his head, sighed, and then pulled out his cell phone and called General Garcia. General Garcia didn't pick up. Unknown to Jacob, General Garcia had been shot down by two thugs who recognized him. The poor man was lying face down in a puddle of bloody snow facing the Capitol building that had now been overrun by millions of vicious snakes. The two thugs had also stolen his cell phone, wallet and gun which put not only Jacob at risk, but also President Green.

  Jacob hit END on his cell phone and tried to contact General Garcia again. One of the thugs who shot General Garcia answered the call.

  “Yo, who be calling, dog?” a thug wearing a black doo-rag asked, standing far away from the Capitol building while watching a group of angry rats setting fire to a cop car. “Set the pigs on fire, man!”

  “Who is this?” Jacob demanded.

  “Yo, this is Mr. T.,” the thug announced in a proud voice. “Who is this?”

  “Where is General Garcia?”

  The thug stopped grinning. His eyes became veno
mous. “My homey and me capped that mangy dog. You got a problem with that?”

  “You killed General Garcia?” Jacob moaned, horrified.

  “We capped that mangy dog, yo,” the thug informed Jacob in a proud voice. “Who am I talking to? You want to be capped, too?”

  Jacob ended the call, turned off his cell phone, and closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Pastor,” he said, just loud enough for Tom to hear him, “we have to get to Canada.”

  Jacob wasn't going to give up his search for the virus. He clearly understood that Jessica Mayes was his only chance at success. He also understood that America was certainly going to come under attack and, if Jessica was captured by the enemy, all hope would be lost.

  Jacob's new goal, one he created in his mind as Tom drove them into a sleepy little snow-covered town, was to protect Jessica at all costs. Yes, he would protect Jessica, even if the woman failed to discover the location of her husband's journal. If—and this was a very large and uncertain IF—Jack Mayes had somehow inserted hidden messages into his wife's mind, and IF those messages were a set of clues leading to the hidden journal, then it wouldn't be impossible for the enemy to tap into Jessica's unconscious mind and go exploring. Jacob couldn't allow that. Another uncertain IF was the possibility that Jack Mayes had secured the location of his journal into Pastor Braston's mind. Jacob couldn’t imagine what would happen IF the enemy managed to take a peek into the pastor's hidden thoughts.

  Tom turned left onto Maple Hills Street and slowly drove through a cozy neighborhood filled with little gingerbread homes that were usually silent after nine o'clock at night. The cozy homes Tom saw were not silent. Each home was brightly lit, filled with anxious friends and family, and blaring with live news reports. The sight of men and women, of all ages, standing out in snow-covered front yards nervously smoking cigarettes, chattering on cell phones and looking frightened to the core saddened and angered Tom's heart. Hope Springs was a little community filled with families and friends; a community designed for peace and comfort. Fear and trepidation had crashed down onto the roofs of the community like a giant tidal wave, destroying what peace of mind the people living here had managed to create.

  “We'll park over on Dove Lane,” he told everyone. “The church is a few blocks north of Dove Lane.”

  Jacob pulled out his gun, checked the clip again, and then leaned forward and tapped Alvin on the shoulder. “We could run into trouble. Be ready.”

  Alvin nodded his head, checked his own gun, and then looked into Mandy's lovely face. “If we die tonight,” he said in a solemn voice, “well...it's been real nice knowing you.”

  Mandy reached out and took Alvin's hand. “Alvin,” she said, in a loving, gentle, voice, “regardless of what you think you were, what you are, the man I see, is a hero.” Mandy patted Alvin's hand. “In my eyes, you are a man of honor and courage.”

  Mandy's words shocked Alvin to the core. How could such a lovely woman say such kind words toward a no-good, low-life like himself? Then it occurred to Alvin, maybe Mandy wasn't seeing a no-good, low-life. Maybe Mandy was seeing the man Alvin had always hoped to become. That idea shocked him like a bolt of lightning.

  “I swear on my life,” he promised Mandy, “that from this night forward, I will always be at your side.”

  A warm smile touched Mandy's scared face. “I would never have doubted,” she promised, and then looked at Jessica. What was her sister thinking? Mandy didn't know. All she knew was that before morning arrived, a terrible battle was going to take place in the sleepy little town of Hope Springs.

  ((((((((((*))))))))))

  Lionel parked across the street from Hope Springs Baptist Church and turned off the SUV, unaware that Tim, Roger Alden's right-hand man, had been lured away by a clever agent working for General Garcia.

  “Look at that,” he told Wendy, pointing at the church. He began studying the mass of people flocking into the church.

  Wendy narrowed her cruel, evil eyes. “We need to get inside. Pastor Braston could be—”

  “I know,” Lionel cut Wendy off in a calm tone. “We need to secure the area first. You know the—”

  “Routine. Yes, I know,” Wendy scolded Lionel, snatched out her gun to check the chamber and climbed out into a heavy, falling snow to search the night. “I know how to spot one of Alden's people from a mile away,” she told Lionel, searching every vehicle parked on the street facing the church.

  Lionel walked over to Wendy and slowly took her hand. “Act like a couple,” he insisted, nodding at the church. Then he began walking north. Wendy pulled her hand away from Lionel who shot her a sour eye.

  “You're never going to change.”

  “I'm here to do a job,” Wendy growled, ignoring the freezing snow and bitter, icy winds. “Alden's people are around,” she continued, preferring to focus on business, rather than a stupid, silly romance that Lionel hoped to rekindle. To Wendy Cratterson, the idea of love was a pathetic attempt to fill one's life with useless baggage. Love, in simple terms, was a fabricated hoax, created by lonely losers who could not deal with the truth. The idea of holding hands, sharing a kiss, writing a love letter, sending someone a rose or a box of chocolates was simply designed to compound an arrogant lie; that people were not meant to be alone.

  Wendy Cratterson was not a foolish woman. She clearly understood that love was a lie. In order to maintain power and control, a woman had to be ruthless, deadly, cunning and vicious. Lionel, on the other hand, was a pathetic clown who had been deceived by the idea that love was an actual fact, rather than a stupid lie.

  “We need to split up. I'll take the west block and cover back south. You take the east block.”

  Lionel didn't like the idea of separating from Wendy. Deep down, he loved the black widow, for better or for worse.

  “Wendy, this country is collapsing. We have very little time—”

  “Then work fast,” Wendy snapped and took a quick turn onto Leaf Avenue. She walked away, down a street littered with houses that were filled with worried people.

  Lionel watched Wendy walk away with deep worry but, if he dared follow the woman, a battle of words would certainly ensue.

  “Why do I love her?” he groaned, heading toward a separate street and vanishing down a snowy sidewalk, leaving Wendy all alone.

  Wendy carefully studied the houses she walked past. She studied the sounds of roaring news reports, worried voices, people standing out in the snow, talking away and wondering what to do. They were just plain scared.

  “Fleas,” Wendy hissed under her breath. “None of you matter.”

  As Wendy continued on her path, she spotted two people at the end of the street followed by another two, and then a fifth person who seemed to be covering the rear. She quickly stopped walking and studied the group. They were about eight houses down from her location.

  What caught Wendy's attention was how one woman, struggling to walk on a good leg while dragging a bad leg, was being helped by a large man.

  “It's them,” Wendy said in an astonished voice and quickly jumped behind a red Dodge Journey. She yanked out her gun and waited.

  Surely, she thought, breathing in icy cold air, no one spotted me.

  And the truth was, no one—Jessica, Jacob, Alvin, Mandy or Tom—saw Wendy run behind the red SUV. A group of seven people, standing in a front yard across the street, had caught their attention. Why? Because two men standing in the group were arguing so loud, it seemed as if they were about to begin throwing punches.

  “I'll shoot them all. You're a dead woman, Jessica Mayes,” Wendy growled under her breath, as she eased her head around the SUV and spotted Jessica walking behind her sister. “You're dead.”

  Was it luck or chance that Wendy just happened to explore a street that her enemy had appeared on? Wendy wasn't certain. All the evil woman knew was that, out of all the places in the world to be, Jessica Mayes had somehow appeared on Leaf Avenue
; a sleepy little nothing street filled with nothing people and nothing homes.

  Because Jessica Mayes had appeared on the street, surely, Wendy thought, the woman was brought to her in order to eat a cruel bullet. And that's exactly how the night would have played out, too. Wendy would have jumped out from behind the SUV and shot Jessica dead in her tracks before being killed by Jacob.

  Instead, a seventeen year-old kid, who spotted Wendy hiding behind his parents’ SUV, stuck his head out of the front door of a modest two story home and yelled, “Hey, lady, what are you doing? Are you trying to steal my parents’ SUV? I'm calling the cops!”

  Wendy looked at the teenage boy and, without understanding why, simply fired her gun at him, which gave away her secure position. Perhaps, she thought later on, she had fired at the boy because he represented everything she hated and despised. Or, maybe the boy had given away her position. Whatever the case, she was in the mood to kill. No matter what the reason, Wendy fired at the boy, and gave away her hiding spot.

  By grace, the bullet missed its target, striking the side of the front door instead. The teenage boy quickly backed up into his home, slammed the front door, and ran for his parents.

  Jacob clearly heard the gun shot ring out down the street. He looked into the heavily falling snow and searched for a shooter. Instead, all he spotted was parked vehicles covered with snow.

  “Down!” he yelled, grabbing Jessica and throwing her behind a parked Jeep, as the group of people standing across the street took off running in different directions.

  Alvin grabbed Mandy and ducked behind the jeep. Tom followed.

  “Well?” he asked over the bitter winds, while removing his gun.

  Jacob eased his head out from behind the jeep and studied the snowy street. “I don't see a shooter.”

  “Man, that bullet wasn't a coincidence,” Alvin pointed out, staying low. “We show up on this street and get shot at. No way. We're being tagged.”

  “I know,” Jacob agreed, and looked around at the group of worried faces staring at him. “We need to fall back,” he ordered. “Tom, you and Jessica take Mandy and fall back into those woods. Alvin and I will cover you.”