A work in progress (LAST UPDATED 9/26/2008), and any comments and/or suggestions are welcome! I’m still in the early stages of writing Hand of Justice, so I encourage you to stay tuned!
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Prologue
A soft breeze touched the chimes hanging above the porch of the remote hunting lodge, sending an appropriately haunting melody through the surrounding woods. The full moon reflected off the nearby lake while the buzz of mosquitoes and chirping of crickets filled the night.
Inside the lodge, John Andreas stood staring into the flames crackling in the fireplace, wondering how history would write his story. Would he be remembered as a hero? A successful businessman? Or would history find out what he had started tonight? Would he then be remembered as a savage vigilante or a merciful savior? He shook his head to try and clear his mind. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, nothing would change the path he was determined to follow. He reluctantly turned away from the fire’s warmth and looked around the room.
Three men and one woman sat wearily around the brick fireplace, each lost in their own thoughts, absorbing the implications of what they were about to do. On any other night, the glowing embers of fire would bring comfort and relaxation. Now, as flames licked at the fir logs, the hypnotic dance only reminded them of the blazes of Hell and an uncertain future.
The five individuals represented some of the largest institutions in the United States. A university medical center, a national airline, a technology conglomerate, even the Marines. But here, tucked away from the world, the group was building an organization unlike anything they had ever been involved with.
Andreas finally addressed his fellow founders, speaking softly as though afraid to break the spell that had been cast over the group. “I’m not going to sugar coat the plans we’ve laid out. If anyone ever finds out what we’ve created, have no doubt that we will join the very types of people we’re attempting to rid the world of.” His voice grew stronger as he continued, “But, I am tired of watching religious organizations sweep sexual abuse under the rug. I am tired of reading about perverts kidnapping children and taking them to remote forests for months of horrific rape. I am tired of hearing about family members building dungeons for their daughters. And most of all, I am tired of watching the justice system take its sweet damn time to punish the predators who are caught.”
“Together, we have the financial means and network of contacts to stop the abuse of those unable to protect themselves. Hand of Justice will bring change to this world. It will bring safety to our children. Let’s not feel guilty about what we’re doing. Let’s just fucking do it.”
Chapter 1
Seattle, Washington
The predator had become the prey.
Though he couldn’t see anyone following him, 37-year old Alex White sensed a malevolent presence closing in as he sprinted through downtown Seattle. Even with the cool night air and light rain, sweat poured from his face, mingling with tears of frustration and fear. Despite being in exceptional physical shape, the muscles in his legs screamed in agony as Alex pushed himself past his natural limits.
He paused a moment, again chancing a fleeting look over his shoulder. Still nothing. Maybe he’d lost them. He leaned against the corner of a building, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
Looking up, he froze as a man and woman crossed the sidewalk in front of him. Was it his imagination, or had he seen them before? Alex wasn’t sure, but something appeared odd about the couple. Maybe it was the way they seemed to walk purposefully toward him, or the way the man’s jacket looked like it bulged slightly near the right hip. A holstered gun? Or maybe his imagination was running wild and they were just lovers out for a stroll in the drizzling rain.
Then the man’s eyes lifted and he stared straight at Alex. The fiendish gaze pierced his soul. The man raised a finger and slowly made a slicing motion across his throat. Horrified, Alex immediately burst into a run, his cramping legs fueled by terror. His feet slammed against the pavement, puddles of water splashing as he fled.
He continued his blind rush, expecting with every footfall for someone to jump from an alleyway and tackle him to the ground. Finally, unable to breath, he stopped and took a moment to gather his bearings.
Recognizing landmarks, he sighed with relief as a slim ray of hope entered his mind.
In his panic, he had run to one of Seattle’s rougher neighborhoods. Low income housing in the area he now stood in had led to problems with gangs, prostitution, and drug trade. Though typically an area he would have feared on a normal evening, tonight it offered a chance of survival. Across the street was Denny Park, supposedly Seattle’s oldest, having been donated to the city by one of its founders in 1861. Ironically, it had originally been intended as a cemetery.
Regardless of its history, the most important aspect of the six and a half acre park – at least to Alex – was it happened to be undergoing major renovations. With all the construction, there was bound to be someplace he could hide for a few hours to regain his composure and come up with a plan to escape his unknown hunters. Plus between the rain and the park’s reputation for illegal activities, the area was mostly deserted, save an assortment of construction equipment and a Parks and Recreation ATV parked along one of the sidewalks.
Without looking, he darted across the street, narrowly avoiding impact with a beat up delivery van. Ignoring the horn and flipping the bird at the van’s driver, Alex reached the sidewalk and looked around for somewhere to take cover. His eyes landed on an excavation site, probably for the new fountain.
After a quick glance around and seeing no signs of anyone following him, Alex sprinted across the grass and sat down with his back against a large pile of dirt. As he filled his lungs with several deep breaths, his mind drifted back just a few hours earlier.
He had walked toward his downtown Seattle condo with elation coursing through his body. He had just closed a sale with a client that would put nearly $250,000 in his off-shore bank account, pushing the balance to just shy of eleven million dollars. One more sale and he would leave the business to others and enjoy the shade of a palm tree on a warm beach.
As he rode the elevator to his floor, he had felt a small pang of guilt as he thought about the sales he had made over the years. There was a high demand for his unique merchandise, and his ventures had made him wealthy beyond belief; but now his nights were often haunted by nightmares.
Alex had shaken off the dark thoughts and decided to take a hot shower, head downtown to one of the clubs and enjoy his success. A few drinks would help him forget his guilt. A young blonde would help even more.
His evening plans had immediately been forgotten the moment he pushed open the door to his home. His eyes locked on a single 8” by 10” photo resting on the imported mahogany floor. A picture of a young black boy, probably taken on his first day of kindergarten, full of life, a beautiful smile on his face, his dark brown eyes reflecting the innocence only a child knows. Below the photo, a single word had been carved into the expensive wood: JUSTICE.
Alex had instantly recognized the face of the boy, had known the reason the picture was there. And he knew his own life was never going to be the same. Fear surged through his body, and Alex had started running, not even bothering to shut the door.
Now, three hours later, he sat against the pile of mud and felt he could run no more. Who was after him? How could they have found him? Alex and his team had set up the sales through so many front companies even he didn’t know which ones were legitimate any more. Layers of security, supposedly untraceable cash transfers, and still he’d been discovered.
“Jesus Christ,” Alex cursed to himself.
“He won’t be listening to you tonight,” murmured a dark voice directly behind him.
The unexpected voice sent an animalistic instinct for survival suddenly surging through his body, chasing exhaustion from his mind. Alex pushed off his heels, rolled to the right, and grabbed for a shovel that was leaning against the mound of soil he had been resting against – anything to use as a weapon. Adrenaline pumped through his body and he blindly swung the tool in a sweeping arc. Whoosh! There was no impact and the momentum nearly caused Alex to fall to the ground.
Regaining his balance, Alex jerked his head back and forth wildly, searching the moonless night for the body behind the voice sending chills down his spine. Nothing. Where had it come from? Was he losing his mind? A leaf rustled behind him and he whipped around, swinging the shovel with all his strength. Whoosh!
“You missed Alex.” The haunting voice was right behind him again, its acid tone terrorizing him. Alex started to swing around, but as he turned, his feet became entangled and he lost his balance. He felt his body collapsing against the wet ground. The fear running through him now was nearly paralyzing; an incredible force seeking to overpower him.
He began to roll over, but instantly a weight was crushing down on his back, a man’s knee planted firmly between his shoulders, pushing his face into the mud. “It’s time to pay, Alex,” whispered the voice in his ear. No matter how hard he twisted, no matter how he turned, the weight kept him pinned.
“Please don’t hurt me,” begged Alex, tears falling from his eyes. All his spirit and fight had drained from his body. “I can pay you anything, make anything happen, just let me up.”
“Did Samson beg you too?” The voice concealed none of the hatred or contempt its owner felt. “Did that five-year old boy beg you not to leave him with those people? Did he cry as you left him to those who destroyed his innocence?”
Alex blanched at the reference to the little boy whose picture he’d found in his apartment. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage through the growing lump in his throat.
“Tell it to the devil when you meet him,” said the voice. “I’m sure he has special room just for you.”
A needle stabbed Alex’s neck and the sting of drugs entering his body told him this was the end of his run. In less than a second, his arms and legs were paralyzed. The predator felt the sudden warmth of his own urine running down his leg as his muscles ceased to function.
As darkness crept through him, an image of Samson floated to Alex’s mind, this time as he’d last left the boy. Naked. Hands and feet bound. Mouth gagged. Bloodshot eyes pleading. A stream of tears drawing lines down the blood covered face. The door to that evil basement closing, shutting out the sounds of muffled whimpering. Then the drugs finished their magic and Alex remembered nothing more.
A large, muscular man dressed in black slowly stood up. He capped the syringe, slipped it into a small metal carrying case, and dropped it into a pocket in his cargo pants. He used his forearm to wipe a trickle of sweat from his brow then spoke quietly into the small microphone in his sleeve.
“Kane here. White is down. Let’s get him out of here.” Across the park, an idling all terrain vehicle with Seattle Parks and Recreation insignia on its side and towing a small trailer moved toward where Kane Erickson was waiting. The driver hopped out of the vehicle and helped load the unconscious White into the trailer.
Thirty seconds later, Kane spoke again into his microphone. “White has been secured. Thank you for your help and I’ll see you next round.”
Throughout Seattle, the ten person team that had herded White to the park melted back into the city, awaiting their next assignment.
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Hey Travis, great job. It certainly makes me want to read more!