Happy Monday! I think there should be three day weekends. Two days is just not enough. But it is only two days, so I am back to work and I am sure you are as well. I have the draft of the new book trailer of COVERT REICH now available. Hope you will check it out and let me know your thoughts. Here is the link. Once it goes permanently live I will cut and paste into the blog and on my site. http://youtu.be/iGkcXr8og-c
And, here is Chapter Nine of the book. As I promised, I will keep uploading new chapters until the book becomes available. At this rate you might get the entire book before I can have it exactly the way I want it. Just kidding. It will be out before Thanksgiving and I am hoping readers will purchase for their e-readers or order the paperback. As mentioned before this book is an adult book! There is a lot of violence, a lot of swearing from some very evil characters, and it is never my intention as a writer to offend. Therefore, if this kind of thriller is not your thing then please pick up a Nikki Sands book or my novel Happy Hour. They are all light, fun, and with no real violence, swearing and all that stuff.
Have a wonderful Monday.
Redding sat back in the plush leather seat inside the chartered jet, waiting for take off. He swirled the ice around in his scotch and soda. He was headed back home, his work done in Germany. Hopefully. Something worried him about Horner though. He couldn’t put a finger on it. Other than the chemist still hadn’t produced what they wanted. They were on a timeline. Next year was an election year and it was vital to stay on schedule. Would Horner be able to get the job done? Redding sensed the guy was struggling. Maybe losing it. Peter sighed heavily. There were always going to be problems with a project like this. It was staying on top of the problems that mattered. Staying organized.
He remembered his father—Tim Redding. The Reddings had adopted him when he was three –years old and George had loved him and been an amazing teacher. He was the one who had explained the order of things. “You have to keep your soldiers in line, Petie. Here is the thing: when fighting a war—and trust me, we are fighting a war—you have your minions down on the bottom. Now they may not seem all that important. But they are. They’re like fleas—they can be disposed of and most easily replaced within the ranks. But the problem is, they can also be broken down the easiest by the enemy. They will almost always talk when push comes to shove, so it’s very important to be sure you have a solid foundation.
“Next are your henchmen. These guys recruit the minions. Minions do little jobs. You can control their minds. Henchmen do more difficult jobs. They have to be discrete, trustworthy. Then there are the helpers. They are your confidantes and partners. Then there’s you—the leader, son. You are a leader.”
Peter took a sip from his drink. “Yes, Dad, I am,” he muttered. His cell phone rang. It was a henchman calling. A very important henchman with very important connections. Connections who put a lot of money into Frauen Pharmaceuticals and Peter’s back pocket.
“Our little problem taken care of?” Peter asked.
“Good.” He leaned back in his leather chair and sighed. “And the girlfriend?”
“I don’t think she knows any more than what we heard, but we can’t be too sure.”
“No, we can’t. No loose ends. I want to know her every move.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“No. Money will be wired to your account. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir. Good night.”
Peter hung up the phone. The jet engine roared down the runway. Hamilton. The good doctor. A minion. Not one who believed in the cause, though. A minion by force, just like Horner. There were only a few of those who Peter kept a close eye on. They could ruin everything he’d worked so hard for. Everything his dad would have been so proud of. Men like Hamilton and Horner scared him, but he needed them—or guys like them. Hamilton was easy to dispose of. Dumb fuck should’ve realized his office would be wired. Horner was another story. Once the job was finished on the chemist’s end, Peter would feel much better when they’d gotten rid of him.
He took another long sip off his drink. He didn’t like setbacks and these bumps in the road were definitely setbacks. This Dr. Morales better not be a problem. He didn’t want to have her killed, too. He didn’t need a body count adding up. Body counts alerted cops and cops sniffing around anything was never good. The Hamilton case would never be solved. The henchman who had taken care of the doctor was good at taking care of problems. He’d proven it when he had been involved with the Petersen fiasco. The young man had orchestrated the whole thing. A job well done.
But God how Redding had hated all of that bad business, however, he’d soon realized that when Andrew Petersen had blown him off that he would need to make a strong and definite impression on his next victim—Dr. Horner. Yes, the young man had done a nice job there, and now with getting rid of Hamilton he’d once again proven he had the grit to get things done. His name was Chad Wentworth and he was vital to the cause at the moment. He had connections Redding had tapped into. Nice political connections. And to think Chad had been discovered guarding the double doors outside The Brotherhood meeting in Valencia only four years ago. He had come a long way. And so had Chad’s major connection. Redding smiled and held his drink in the air, cheering himself.
“So fuck it,” he said aloud. “Fuck it! This little setback is good for the character.” However, Redding knew any setback—minor or major—was not good for this project. Peter hated problems and loose ends. Hopefully Dr. Morales would keep her nose out of things. She would be much better off that way. The lights flickered from the city below, growing more distant as the plane reached cruising altitude. The alcohol began to ease tension from his shoulders and from his mind. But he couldn’t relax completely. He knew too many casualties would quickly alert the calvary, and the goddamn calvary was not invited to this war, because Peter Redding was determined to win.