A work in progress (LAST UPDATED 8/10/2010), 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 breeze touched the chimes hanging above the porch of the remote hunting lodge, sending a haunting melody through the surrounding woods. The light of a full moon reflected off the nearby lake while a 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 villain? Would history find out what he had started tonight? If someone told his story, would he be remembered as a savage vigilante or a merciful savior? Andreas 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 logs, the hypnotic dance only reminded them of the blazes of Hell and an uncertain future.
The people gathered in the room 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 creating an organization unlike anything with which they had ever been involved.
They avoided discussing the personal side of their lives, but all knew each others stories. The dark and intimate details of their lives had brought them together. The horrors had been relived enough though, and nothing would be gained by discussing them further.
The five had been sequestered in this lodge for nearly a week as they argued and planned every phase and facet of the organization. Combined with very strong Type A personalities, each person in the room had a very personal interest in the success of what they were building, making even the smallest detail a drawn out argument.
For the last week, no one had slept more than a few hours, rising early and going to bed late. Today had been no different, and the strain had begun to test everyone’s patience. The business plans and strategies had been finalized and there were only minor details left. After a particularly nasty argument over the timing of the first operation, they had agreed to step away for a few hours and collect themselves. Having returned, they now sat in silence.
Andreas finally addressed his fellow founders, speaking softly as though afraid to break a 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 individuals we’re attempting to rid the world of.” His voice took on an edge as he continued, “But, I am tired of watching church leaders hide sexual abuse. I am tired of reading about perverts kidnapping children and subjecting them to horrific assault. I am tired of hearing about family members building dungeons for their daughters. I am tired of seeing children kidnapped from the streets and sold into a perverse slavery. And most of all, I am tired of watching the justice system minimalize the punishment of 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. What we are building will bring change to this world. It will bring a measure of safety to our children. Let’s not feel guilty about what we’re doing. Let’s not argue over the minor details. It’s time to stop planning. It’s time to just bloody well do it!”
He paused, meeting the eye of every founder before continuing. “I want a vote right now to proceed with the plan. All or nothing.”
For a full sixty seconds, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Finally, the woman next to Andreas spoke, “Very well John. I vote we move ahead.” Around the room voices gave their assent then silence took control again. One by one, each founder left the room until only the Marine was left. He looked at Andreas.
“It is time for war,” he said and he left the room, leaving Andreas alone with the flames.
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Chapter 1
Seattle, Washington, 5 years later
The predator had become the prey.
He could see no one following him, but 37-year old Alex White sensed the 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, smiling at each other. 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 and removed any doubt of their involvement. The fiendish gaze pierced his soul. The man raised a single finger and slowly made a slicing motion across his throat. Horrified, Alex immediately burst into a run, his cramping legs now 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 dark doorway and tackle him to the ground. Finally, unable to breath, he slipped into an alleyway and took a moment to gather his bearings.
Peering his head around the corner, Alex felt a possibility of hope shiver through his body. He had unintentionally run to one of Seattle’s rougher neighborhoods. Though typically an area he would have feared any other evening, tonight it offered a chance of survival. Denny Park lay just across the street. The park had recently been featured in a news segment and Alex vaguely recalled it had originally been intended as a cemetery when it was donated in the mid 1800’s.
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 as the city tried to rejuvenate the area. 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. And between the rain and the park’s threatening reputation, 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 from the angry 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, he 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, Alex closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift 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 had ridden the elevator to his floor, he’d 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 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 floor: JUSTICE.
Alex had instantly recognized the face of the boy, had known the reason the picture was there. And he had realized he would never enjoy the sandy beaches. Fear had surged through his body, and Alex had started running, not even bothering to shut the door.
Now, God only knew how many hours later, he sat against the pile of mud and felt he could run no more. His mind tried to analyze the situation. Who was after him? How could they have found him? He 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 surging through his body, chasing exhaustion from his mind. Alex pushed off his toes, 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. 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 again, but as he turned, his feet became entangled and he lost his balance. He felt his body collapsing against the wet ground and he fell face first into the dirt. 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. Alex screamed in frustration and fear, fighting with all his strength to escape his captor. Yet no matter how hard he twisted, no matter how he turned, the weight kept him pinned.
“Please don’t hurt me,” begged Alex, as tears began to fall 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 alone?”
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.”
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 flowing through him finished their magic and Alex remembered nothing more.
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A large, muscular man dressed in black slowly stood up. Kane Erickson 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.
“White is down. Let’s move him out.” Across the park, the all terrain vehicle with Seattle Parks and Recreation insignia on its side purred to life and towed a small trailer toward where he was waiting. The driver hopped out of the vehicle and helped load the unconscious White into the trailer.
Sixty seconds later, Kane spoke again into his microphone. “White has been secured.”
Throughout Seattle, the team that had corralled Alex White to the park melted back into the city, awaiting their next Hand of Justice assignment.
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Hey Travis, great job. It certainly makes me want to read more!