More from my spy novel The Smartest Phone

January 13, 2006-V.A.

            Kara and I finally drifted to sleep.  She fell asleep in my arms, but I heard a buzzing sound.  It was my cell phone.  The phone was set to vibrate, and it was in my pants on the floor beside the bed.  I slid out of bed without disturbing Kara.  I dressed quickly and tip-toed outside to take the call.

            “I hope this is important, Chuck.  It’s five o’clock in the morning,” I said.

            “You were supposed to call me after you talked to Kara anyway.  What happened?  As a matter of fact, don’t answer that.  I know what happened, you sex fiend.  That’s not an issue….I know how you operate,” Charles said.

            “Yeah,” I replied.

            “You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Charles predicted.

            “Where are you?  I can barely hear you with all the commotion in the background.”

            “I just left the bar not too long ago.  Some locals invited me to some kind of underground cage fight.”

            “I’ve seen cage fights before, Chuck.”

            “No, that’s not it, Victor.  The first two fights were actually kinda lame, but then the ladies came out to get it on.  Guess who’s a fighting machine, and the reigning women’s champion three years running?”

            “Who?”

            “Linda Arango?”

            “Leo’s mute daughter?”

            “Yes!  Yes!  She’s ferocious.  She uses some sort of modified caporerei fighting style.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  It appears she’s been trained in Mui Tae as well.”

            “Are you fucking serious, Chuck?”

            “I’m fucking serious, Vick.  I took a few pictures with my phone.  I’ll send them to you.  She has a championship belt and everything.  I’m sure she didn’t notice me in the crowd.”

            “Holy shit, Chuck.”

            “There’s more.  When we were at the dinner table earlier, I got a good look at Linda’s face.  I sensed a hint of familiarity about her, but I dismissed those thoughts.  Now, I now where I remember her from.”

            “Spit it out.”

            “Linda entered the FBI training academy a few years back.  She aced every aspect of the training, but the oral exam was her demise.  They gave her a zero.  I lobbied for an exemption, but you know how the Bureau can be.”

            “It looks like we’ve found our first recruit.”

            “Hell yeah.  I’m on the way back to the mansion now.  Is Linda there yet?”

            “I don’t know, Chuck.  I’ll check.  Call me back in about fifteen minutes.”

            “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

            “All right.”

            I pressed the red button on my phone to end the call.  I heard something near the stairs.  I knew it had to be Linda.  I got lost trying to find the staircase until I gained my bearings.  I followed the loop-around spiral staircase that led me to the first floor.  I took a brief moment to scroll through the pictures Charles sent to my phone.  The images were absolutely astounding.  The photos depicted Linda executing a wide variety of dazzling acrobatics, intricate grapple moves, bone crushing haymakers, and precise kick combinations.  From the detailed snapshots, I could tell Linda won her bout handily and flawlessly.

            A quick swooshing sound drew my attention.  I probed the vast, dark halls of the mansion, bit I could not find Linda lurking in the shadows.  Suddenly, a shadowy figure emerged from around a corner.  It startled me.

            “Geez, Chuck.  You scared the piss out of me,” I said.

            “I’m sorry.  I just got back.  Have you spoken with Linda yet?” Charles asked.

            “I can’t find her.”

            We heard a light switch click in the kitchen.  That’s where Charles and I found Linda.  We saw her perusing the contents of the large refrigerator.  She spun around to face us when she heard our footsteps.

            “Did we startle you?” Charles asked.

            “Are you surprised to see us up this late?” I asked.

            “Not really,” signed Linda.  “I’m more surprised that you revealed my big secret.”

            “Wait, how do you know that we now your secret?” Charles questioned.

            “I overheard Victor’s conversation with you on the phone,” Linda told us.  “I hid in the library when I heard Victor come out of Kara’s room.  I was still wearing my fighting gear.”

            Linda opened her robe.  Underneath, she was wearing boxing trunks, a sports bra, and a lustrous gold championship belt around her waist.  The light glimmered off the embedded rubies.  Linda closed her robe.

            “How did you get back so fast, another secret?” I asked.  Linda nodded.

            “So, your father doesn’t know you’re a championship cage fighter?” Charles inquired.

            “He has no clue, but I guess he’ll find out soon enough when you tell him I’m your newest recruit.  In fact, Papa should be up soon for his morning coffee.”

            Almost on cue, Leo walked into the kitchen with a mug in his hand.  There was a large, deluxe espresso machine in the corner.  Leo used it to dispense a piping hot, and suicidal caffeinated brew into his mug.  Charles and I fell silent.  Neither of us knew if Leo would be violently offended by our proposition to turn his eldest and most beautiful daughter into an uberlethal secret agent.  I nudged Charles with my elbow to insinuate that he should initiate the conversation with Leo.  Charles retaliated with a sharp elbow of his own.

            “There’s no need to be so tense, gentlemen,” Leo stated.  “I think recruiting my Linda is a delightful idea.”

            “How did you know?” I asked.

            Leo chuckled and said, “I recently had intercoms installed.  I saw it on the MTV Cribs.”

            “That’s relief,” Charles sighed.

            “As a businessman, I can respect your entrepreneurship,” Leo continued.  “A heist-for-hire service seems like it should be a profitable venture.  I remember when Arango Beans Company was in its infancy before major expansion.  Times were difficult at first, but now ABC is a thriving empire.  I would like to double your compensation if you can successfully capture and transport a giraffe for my wife.  Do not think of it as a favor.  Since Linda will be joining your coalition, think of it as a friends and family rate.”

            I wanted to clarify the American custom of the friends and family discount, but instead I said, “That’s most agreeable.  As a sign of gratitude, I’d like to evaluate and execute this operation as soon as possible.  When can we examine the aircraft and transport cage?”

            “We can leave this morrow after breakfast,” Leo answered.  “I will tell Bernice that we are taking a tour of Rio.”

            “A tour sounds like a good idea, too.  We need to scope out the zoo, stadium, and surrounding terrain,” Charles said.

            Soon, a team of servants came in the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.  We left to give them space to work.  When we returned, the whole family was sitting around the large dining room table while the servants set out the last dishes.  Bernice was still under the impression that Charles and I were soda executives from the United States.  Most of the small talk at breakfast consisted of questions Bernice asked about our company, Daisy Cola.  We kept the hoax going until we finished breakfast.  Then, Leo informed everyone that he’d be taking Charles and me on a tour of Rio De Janeiro to check out some of Arango Beans Company’s facilities.

            A long and sleek, black stretch Scion limousine was outside waiting for us.  The chauffer drove us to a large hangar south of the Arango estate.  Much to my surprise, Linda and Kara were already at the hangar sitting on the hood of the solid silver Audi sedan.  I wondered how they got there so fast since we left the mansion before them.

            “What are you doing here,” I asked them.

            “I spoke with Linda after breakfast, and I told her about the giraffe pheromones,” Kara explained.  “She’s got an idea.”

            “Go ahead and tell us your idea, Linda,” Charles said.

            Linda showed us a magazine that had a man hang gliding over Rio on the cover.  She used sign language to respond, “What do you think?”

            “Uh, it’s a little far fetched, but it can work if we had a sky sail big enough for a giraffe,” Charles said.

            “No, no,” signed Linda.  “I know how to hang glide.  If you can get a giraffe beyond the gates of the zoo, I can fly by at a relatively low altitude with a canister of pheromones attached to the control bar.  If I leave a trail of pheromones, the giraffe will gallop behind me following my flight path.”

            “That will be an easy way to lure the beast from the zoo to the stadium,” Leo noted.

            “I agree,” I said.  “Let’s step inside the hangar and look at the chopper and cage, so we can review our method of trapping and transporting the beast by air.”

\           A large tandem-rotor CH-47D Chinook helicopter, capable of airlifting 35,000 pounds, sat in the middle of the hangar.  Charles and I swiftly examined the aircraft’s twin 3,750 horse power engines and all the controls on the interior.  Then, we moved on to the tall giraffe cage, a fairly simple reinforced steel enclosure with a swinging gate that locked in place.  An extra-duty and durable chain hung down on the side from the top of the cage.  We’d use that to hook it to the Chinook’s undercarriage.  We rolled he helicopter and cage onto the runway to conduct a practice take-off and landing.  I drove the silver Audi into the cage and secured it.  Then, Charles confirmed the Chinook’s power and grace.  He lifted the cage, with me and the Audi inside, off the ground and into the sky.  I felt like I was on an elevator.  The landing was precise and gentle.  After the cage, the car, and I were safe on the ground, Charles landed the helicopter.  We exchanged thumbs-up across the runway.  This was going to be easier than I thought.

            Our next stop was the Maracana Football Stadium.  Arango Beans was one of the stadium’s top sponsors, so we did not have to pay admission for the friendly match between the Flamengo and Fluminese soccer clubs.  A large billboard bearing the ABC logo towered over the tunnel at the north end of the stadium.  We did not stay long, only long enough to confirm that the field was large enough to accommodate the bulk of the Chinook and giraffe cage.

            Next, we took a trip to Rio’s Jardim Zoological.  The giraffe exhibit was our main focus.  Isolating on of the animals to extract without freeing all the giraffes would be tricky, but not impossible.  The far end of the enclosure was lined by a lightly wooded area with a small service road that ran through it.  We decided that that would be our best extraction point.  Part of the gate that lined the woods was rigged to swing open in order to grant access to animal trainers and maintenance men.  All we’d need was a large basket of carrots attached to a twenty foot pole in order to lure one giraffe out the gate.  Getting the giraffe to the service road would be vital.  Once the giraffe was in position, it would catch the scent of the misted pheromones that Linda would spray as she glided by on her sky sail on her way to the stadium.

            Finally, we ventured further north to map out Linda’s flight plan after we rented a sky sail.  The looming daylight was bright enough to help us estimate a prospective trajectory while allotting a margin of error due to wind gusts.  We waited until night fall to make a practice run without the pheromones.  Charles, Leo, Kara, and I waited near the stadium.  We watched Linda elegantly soar towards us away from the horizon.  After she flew over the zoo, she made her landing in a meadow south of the stadium.  It was a successful trial run, and it gave us the confidence we needed to pull off this caper.  All we needed was the giraffe pheromones, and thanks to overnight delivery, we would not have to wait long.  Linda, Charles, and I checked into Cama e Café as our pre-mission lodging.  Kara and Leo returned to the mansion.  Kara promised to come back tomorrow afternoon with our canister of giraffe pheromones.  We were poised and ready for our first mission.

The Red Reaper: Volume 2 (Chapter 2)

            The Red Reaper barely survived his second encounter with the newly arrived phantom he had dubbed the Blue Knight.  The sharp pain in his ribs signified that he had compounded his rib injuries.  Danny flew directly home to recuperate.  His sister left the party, so she was waiting for him in the driveway when he gingerly his landing and morphed back into his party ensemble.

            “Geez, Danny,” Christine said.  “What the heck was that all about?”

            “I only intended to stand up to that bully Seth,” Danny said, “but that Blue Knight character did most of the bullying.  He was the guy who ambushed me at Mt. Bethel the other day.  I wanted to text his moxy and see what he was all about.”

            “Well, he surely moxied you all over the place.  Where did he come from?”

            “I don’t know, but his powers are similar to mine, only exponentially more powerful.”

            “Where did those wicked glowing, red hand-scythes come from?  I’ve never seen you wield those before.”

            “I don’t even know.  Your guess is as good as mine.  They just suddenly appeared in my hands, but the Blue Knight had a glowing blue sword, too.  Did you see it?”

            “Yeah, he certainly knows how to use it.  He totally schooled you.”

            “I know, Chrissy, but I wonder if he’s a true threat.”

            “He kicked your butt twice already, little brother.  I’d consider that to be fairly threatening.”

            “I survived.  Maybe he has a vendetta against me.  I can defend myself, but what if he unleashes his fury on the innocent defenseless folks of Stentine Valley?”

            “I told you before that you can be a hero to the people of our city when they need it most.  You’re the protector of righteousness.  Everything happens for a reason.  Maybe meant to stop this menacing Blue Knight.”

            “I don’t know if I can, Chrissy.  He’s too strong.”

            “I’ve know you all your life, Danny, even before you became the Red Reaper.  You’ve had a strong soul and will to survive since you dropped out of mom’s womb with the umbilical cord wrapped around your neck.  I was in the delivery room, and I witness your miracle birth.  I remember watching your little infant hand reach up to unravel the cord from around your neck before the doctor got a chant to cut it.  You’re strong, Danny.  You’re strong enough to do anything you put your mind to.”

            Danny grabbed the remote control off the coffee table to click on the television.  There was a special report on the Nightly Action News on Channel 4.

            “We have breaking news,” Cliff Stones, the lead anchor, read off the teleprompter with a stern and grim expression on his face.  “Action 4 news has just acquired this exclusive footage from the dash cam of one of Stentine Valley’s finest.  Be forewarned.  What you are about to see is graphic in nature.  View discretion is advised.”

            The clip showed the battle between the Red Reaper and the Blue Knight.  The replay reminded Danny how soundly his new rival dominated the short battle.  The short fight sequence was culminated by the vista of the Red Reaper’s body flying through the windshield destroying the dash cam.  Danny was frustrated, so he turned off the TV.

            “I don’t need to see that again,” he said.

            “Wait, Danny.  Turn that back on,” Christine said.

            Danny pressed the power button again, and Cliff continued.  “The Red Reaper seems to have met his match, but will this new Blue Knight be a menace to Stentine Valley as well?  We’re about to go live to the mayor’s mansion.  Mayor Garretson has scheduled an impromptu emergency press conference.  Skeeter Barnes is live on the scene.  Skeet, can you hear me?”

            “I hear you loud and clear, Cliff.  Mayor Garretson is stepping to the podium now.”

            “Citizens of Stentine Valley,” Mayor Garretson’s tone of voice personified the dismal stakes.  “our city is under siege by what we believe may be extraterrestrial life forms.  There’s no need to be alarmed.  Since the emergence of the Red Reaper, we have done everything possible to avoid a crisis.  With the arrival of the Blue Knight, we must now declare a state of emergency.  The city is on lockdown, and an 8:00 PM curfew will be enforced until further notice.  All schools will be closed indefinitely, and we are urging citizens to stay in their homes unless it is absolutely necessary to leave.  My advisors and I will access the situation, but as of now, an evacuation is not mandatory.  We must band together if we wish to prevail in these trying times.  As of now, the Snow Games will not be cancelled.  I repeat, the Snow Games must go on.  I do not have time this evening to address questions or concerns from the press, but I will close this conference with a quote from the ‘Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy’: DON’T PANIC.”

            “I’ve seen enough,” Danny turned the television off one last time.  “This is friggin’ ridiculous.”

            “That extraterrestrial spiel is the most outrageous thing I’ve ever hear a government official say, and George W. Bush used to be president.  Geez with peas,” Christine said.

            “At least the Snow Games have not been cancelled.”

            “Danny, you’ve never had a problem focusing on the positives.  That’s for sure.”

            “You heard Mayor Garretson.  Don’t panic.  If I can’t stop the Blue Phantom, Sage, Blitz, Goon, Knight or whatever we’re going to call him, I think there will be a contingency plan.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You remember what happened what happened to me at city hall.  I don’t know squat about my powers, but the cops already have a prototypical weapon to neutralize them.”

            “Oh, yeah.  We need to catch up with Timmy tomorrow.  Hopefully he’s learned something that will shed light on everything.”

            “We’ll see.”

            “How are your ribs, Danny?  I see you holding yourself.”

            “They hurt like hell honestly.  I’ll manage though.  Nothing will keep me out of the Snow Games.”

            “Geez….nevermind.  It’s getting late, and we both need rest.”

            “Yup, my pillow is calling me.”

            Danny and Christine went to their rooms.  Danny poked his head through the door of his fathers study on the way.  Charles was toiling over legal books and documents as usual.  He acknowledged his son’s presence by looking up briefly.

            “Me and Chrissy just got back,” Danny said.

            “Come in, son.  I want to have a quick word with you.”

            “What is it, Dad?  I’m really beat.  Can it wait until morning?”

            “This won’t take long, Danny.”

            “Okay.”

            Charles pointed at the small 15-inch TV in the corner of his study and said, “I just saw the news.  Our city may be under attack.  It looked like that Reaper vs. Sage battle happened in the Wellingtons’ neighborhood.  Is that where you and Chrissy came from?”

            “Yes.”

            “I wanted to make sure you and your sister didn’t get caught up in the middle of that mess.  The ferocity of that fight concerned me.  I’ve never been the worrying type, but I want you and Chrissy to be extra careful while the city is on lockdown.  I don’t know what I’d do if harm befell either one of you.  Maybe getting out of town with Jim Bronson and Quail Tek after the Snow Games is a better idea than I thought.”

            “Thanks for the concern, Dad.  We’re always careful when we’re out and about.  I seriously need to rest now.  We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

            “Okay.  Goodnight, Danny.”

            

A new excerpt from The Smartest Phone my spy novel

            “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.  We are making our final approach into Santos Dumont Airport.  Local time is four o’clock PM.”

            I enjoyed the view from my window seat.  The Brazilian coastline was stunning, and the beach water was pristine.  Charles even peeked over a few times in awe as we descended to the runway.  The landing was as smooth as the take off.  Our plane came to a rest on the far end of the tarmac near the other commercial planes.  Charles and I were swiftly ushered to a waiting helicopter.  In no time at all, we were hovering over the massive jungle Arango estate in Urca.  We made a flawless landing in the middle of a large, grassy field.

            A tan and muscular man stood beside a huge hummer sixty yards away.  He simply beaconed us in his direction with a whistle followed by a long, swaying wave.  Upon further examination, I noticed that the Hummer didn’t have a top.  During our ride through the jungle, I acquired a greater appreciation for this feature.  The open, fresh air and sunlight was the perfect remedy for jet lag.  The scenery captivated and distracted me a bit.

            Before I knew it, the rough terrain below the Hummer’s wheels transitioned into smooth, black pavement.  We rode own a long, tow-lane road in the middle of the jungle.  Eventually, the canopy opened to expose a towering mechanical gate made of solid silver.  The buff driver flipped a switch near the center console.  The gate slowly rolled open.  We continued up a long, winding driveway.  The elaborate driveway led us pass even more extravagant gardens until it ended at a garage bigger than any I’d ever seen in my life.

            A fleet of magnificent automobiles littered the end of the driveway and the interior of the garage.  Most notable was the late model Audi sedan with a solid silver body.  One of Leo’s multiple servants met us at the front door.

            “Bom dia, gentlemen.”  He gave us a warm greeting in Portuguese.  “Right this way.  Senor Arango has been expecting you.”

            It seemed like Charles and I walked a mile pass the foyer following the suited servant before he led us to Leo’s main sitting room.

            “Senor Arango, your guests have arrived,” the servant announced before retreating nobly to his quarters.

            Leo sat alone on a large sofa puffing a cigar.  He was perfectly content lounging there enjoying his unique jungle and coastal view through a large window.  He seemed almost oblivious to our presence, but he did turn his head slightly towards us and smile.  Like most South American tycoons, Leo had a very good handle on the English language, but he spoke with a heavy Latin accent.

            He said, “I’m glad you had a safe trip.  Welcome to my home.”

            For an infinitely wealthy baron, Leo Arango was a very simple man.  He was not simple minded at all, though.  It was his incredible cunning that aided him in building his empire in the first place.  Leo met his wife in the beginning when he was just a lowly ranch hand in Sau Paulo.  Twenty-five years later, Leo and Bernice were married with three beautiful adult children.  Leo reminded me a lot of Charles.  They were both devoted family men.  Thy both adored their wives and children.  Last year, Charles bought his wife a brand new Mercedes for their anniversary.  I knew Charles and Leo would get along.

            Leo and Charles exchanged a quick, comfortable and cordial introduction as we joined him on the sofa.  This confirmed my hunch.  The servant returned with fresh cigars to offer us.  Charles took one.  I declined politely.

            “This is the best cigar I’ve ever had,” Charles complimented.

            “Thank you.  By this time next week, we will have a giraffe out there grazing gracefully,” Leo said.  “Then, I will look into my wife’s beautiful eyes and profess my undying love for her.”

            “Bernice doesn’t know yet?” I asked.

            “She has no clue,” Leo answered.  “I want it to be a surprise.  I have already hired a staff of skilled giraffe trainers and caretakers.  I convinced Bernice that they’re just extra servant I hired since we have added the new wings and wrap-around balcony to our home.”

            “She will be surprised when she sees her new pet giraffe for sure,” I said.

            “Shhhh, here comes my love now,” Leo warned.

            “I did not know we would be entertaining guests this evening,” Bernice said to her husband.

            “I discussed this with you last week, Bernice,” Leo reminded.  “These are the gentlemen from Daisy Cola in the United States.  Mr. Anderson and Mr. Scott, this is my lovely wife, Bernice.”

            “Now I remember.”  Charles and I stood up quickly to greet Mrs. Bernice Arange before she joined her husband on the large, lush sofa.  “Leo tells me you are interested in some sort of merger with the Arango Beans Company.”

            “Bernice, please,” Leo said.  “I promised these gentlemen there would be no business talk this evening.  They’ve had a long flight.”

            “Of course, of course.  Where are my manners?  I understand you two will be in Rio for a few days,” Bernice said.

            “Yes, the scenery is so beautiful here.  I wish we could stay longer.  I can certainly see an extended stay here in the near future if this merger of ours works out.  Oh, look at met getting into business talk.  My apologies,” Charles said.

            “No worries.  I know I can look forward to doing business with Daisy Cola.  For now, you gentlemen are guests in my home, and I will hospitably accommodate you,” Leo stated.  “Feel free to help yourselves to anything in my home.”

            “If you want, I can have Alonzo give you a grand tour of the place,” Bernice suggested.  “Dinner won’t be ready for another couple hours.  Perhaps you would enjoy a walk on the beach after your tour.  The wind and the waves are enchanting at dusk.”

            “That sounds like a great idea,” Charles admitted.

            Before I could complete my nod in agreement, Alonzo, the same servant who escorted us inside and brought the cigars, re-entered the sitting room.  He whisked Charles and me away on a grand tour, but it was more like a grand adventure.  The Arango estate was vast and sprawling.  Everything about the mansion was awe inspiring:  vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, ancient artifacts, Indian crafts, wood sculptures, rare gemstones.  This convinced me that Leo could afford to pay us two hundred million dollars to steal a giraffe.

            After the tour, I donned some more beach appropriate attire.  Charles decided to stay behind.  He wanted to phone home and speak with his wife and daughter, so I ventured down to the beach alone.  I thought I’d be alone since it was a private beach.  Much to my surprise, there were three bronze goddesses and one fair complexioned woman in bikinis playing a two-on-two game of futevolei.  I watched as they skillfully and gracefully volleyed a ball back and forth across the net using only their feet.

            I studied Leo Arango’s profile before this mission.  I knew he had three adult daughters living at home:  eighteen year old Bianca, twenty-one year old Paula, and twenty-four year old Linda.  I also learned that Linda Arango was rendered mute after an accidental overdose of Robetussin when she was eight.  I assumed the fourth, fair-complexioned female was a friend of the sisters. 

            During a brief break in the action of the futefolei game, the ladies saw me approach from the south.  When I was upon them, I said, “You must be the famous Arango Sisters.  My name is Victor Anderson.”

            “You are correct, and it’s nice to meet you, Victor,” Paula said.

            “You must be the man Papa hired to trap a giraffe for Mother,” Bianca said.

            “You’re in on the surprise, too?” I asked.

            “Yes, Mother will be quite pleased,” Paula answered.  “She has been absolutely infatuated with giraffes since she was a young girl.”

            “Now all the giraffe sculptures and paintings inside make sense,” I noted.

            “I am Kara Bray, one of the handlers Mr. Arango hired to watch after the giraffe,” she introduced herself.

            “If you have advanced knowledge of giraffes, I’ll have to pick your brain and learn their tendencies.  Honestly, I don’t have an official plan yet,” I admitted.

            Linda smiled at me, and spoke using sign language.  She asked, “Can you execute a trap and transfer alone?”

            “My partner is inside,” I told her.

            Linda signed, “Just the two of you?  You still seem a bit short-handed.”

            “Linda is right,” Kara stated.  “A giraffe transport can be deceivingly complex.  If you want, you can come to the servants’ quarters after dinner, and I can give you a few tips.”

            “I might have to take you up on that offer,” I said.

            I left the ladies to their game.  I walked further towards the coast.  The waves swayed around my ankles on the beach.  I closed my eyes.  I tried to focus.  Nothing.  No new ideas.  The key to a successful giraffe heist boggled my mind.  I turned around to observe the ongoing futevolei match forty yards away.

            Linda outperformed everyone.  Bianca was lucky to have her as a partner.  They dominated for the duration of the match.  Linda displayed a deceptive type of tenacity.  Her foot-eye coordination was stellar.  Every strike was accurate.  I could tell Linda was fiercely competitive.  Every time they lost a point, there was a hint of frustration in her body language.  She couldn’t manifest those frustrations verbally, but every once in a while she would sign to Kara, “Let’s pick it up.”

            Linda and Kara prevailed as the victors.  When the game concluded, Alonzo rode up in a golf cart.  He announced that dinner would be served soon and chauffeured us back to the mansion in the golf cart.

            Bianca, Paula, and I had time to change into our dinner ensembles.  Kara went to the north wing on the second floor to have dinner in the second dining room near the servants’ quarters.  Charles, Leo, and Bernice were waiting for us in the main dining room.  We joined them and enjoyed a lavish six course meal.

            After the meal, I retired to my room to relax.  There was a knock at my chamber door.  Charles entered and said, “You never told me how much Leo is spending on this special anniversary give, Victor.”

            “Two hundred million dollars,” I told Charles, “and that doesn’t include what he spent on the chopper and cage.”

            “That’s a lot of loot, but that won’t make things any easier for us,” Charles commented.

            “I know.  I’m actually on my way up to the servants’ quarters to talk to Kara, one of the giraffe handlers.  I met her on the beach earlier,” I said.

            “Good, can you handle that by yourself?”

            “Sure, I only need to ask her a few questions about giraffes.”

            “Cool beans.  Leo gave me permission to take one of his cars into the city.  I need to find a pub, so I can check the Celtics highlights.”

            “Go ahead, Chuck.   I’ll give you a call later.”

            Charles left, and I made my way to Kara’s room.  Her door was ajar.  I saw her inside sitting at the foot of her bed reading a book.  I knocked to get her attention.  She looked up at me.

            “Come on in, Mr. Anderson,” Kara said.

            “Please, call me Victor,” I insisted.  I joined her on the foot of the bed and closed the door behind me.  Then, I asked, “What are you reading?”

            “It’s a book about giraffes.  You can borrow it if you want.  Let me show you a few things first.”

            Kara thumbed through the pages and highlighted some relevant points.  I don’t know why, but hearing her use so much complex terminology turned me on.  When she got to the mating chapter, my libido took over.  I placed my hand on her thigh and massaged it softly.  Kara did not resist.  They never do.  She blushed and looked into my eyes.  I leaned in for a kiss, and she met me halfway.

            Her lips were plump and inviting.  Kara’s tongue seductively slithered into my mouth.  She let her book fall, and it plopped on the floor.  Kara caressed the side of my face while we kissed.  Then, she gently pushed me backwards onto her bed.  She straddled me and began disrobing me sensually.  Soon, we both were blissfully nude and swooning.  Kara slowly lowered her hips, and I felt her wet warmth consume me entirely.  The sensation of deep penetration was mutually stimulating.  Sex had always been my biggest and best muse.

            Kara’s breathing became heavy, and she moaned passionately.  I unleashed a flurry of patented, climax-inducing sexual maneuvers.  Eventually, I was ready for my own climax.

            “Oooooh, Kara,” I huffed upon completion.

            “We embraced tenderly.  I ran my fingers through her hair.  It felt as soft as silk.  Kara whispered in my ear, “That was fantastic.”

            “You’re the one who got me all riled up with that pheromone talk,” I joked.  “Wait a minute!  That’s it!”

            “What?”

            “Pheromones.  Can you get me some giraffe pheromones?”

            “Yes, yes, I can.  I can place a special order.  Are you thinking of somehow using the pheromones to lure the giraffe into the transport cage?  That’s actually a good idea.”

            “I wish I could figure out the somehow part.”

            “Don’t worry.  It will come to you soon, Victor.”

            “I hope so.”

SEEKING ARTISTS to illustrate my work

  I've got several literary projects in production now, and I could really use the help off a gifted artist who's serious about art, motivated about the creative process, and interested collaborating with an open minded author like my self to create some dynamic illustrations for globally branded works of literature.  Current projects and past projects I'd need help illustration include....

The Red Reaper Volume 1
The Red  Reaper Volume 2---These are sci fi ya pieces about a superhero

Worth The Fight---This a MMA thriller based on a fighter and is available on channillo.com

Fetishes, Fantasies, Fatalities--This a graphic romance novel and crime story.

The Smartest Phone---This is a spy novel


Serious inquiries may be forwarded to me personally at my e-mail address  patrickpeay@gmail.com

"The Pear" World Premeir

    I've been working on more spoken word poetry lately.  Here's an excerpt from "Must Be Nice 2: Defining Moments of a Maniac", my book of poetry slated for release from America Star Book Publishing.  Just copy and paste the link to my soundcloud page.  Thank you very much...





https://soundcloud.com/patrick-queasy-peay/pear

The Red Reaper: Volume 2 (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1

            Danny’s grandmother, Barbara, was officially released form the hospital.  He felt he had been walking on egg shells for the past few days.  He made sure to watch his front and his behind.  Danny stayed on alert for another assault like the one that nearly crushed half his rib cage just days ago.  His main concern was keeping an eye out for the new kid on the block with powers just like, or more powerful than his own.

            Danny accompanied Christine to the hospital to pick up their grandmother following her discharge.  The doctors said she made a full recovery.  While he was in the building, Danny picked up a stronger perception and strong twinge of pain in his ribs.

            “Here come my two favorite grandchildren.”  Barbara’s smile lit up the whole hospital lobby.

            “Granny.” Christine spoke cheerfully and approached to embrace her favorite grandmother.

            Danny walked over to complete the group hug.  He let out an abnormally high pitched and awkward sigh of pain masked as a sigh of relief.  “Aaaaaarrgh…..”

            The joy of seeing his recovered grandmother in good health helped numb the jolt of excruciating pain in his severely bruised ribs.  Barbara and Danny spoke about her encounter with the Rinaldi goons when the Red Reaper saved her.  The whole story was so overwhelming.  She thought the whole thing was a coma-induced dream, but Danny convinced her otherwise.  She coped with the facts like only a grandmother could.  She was proud to have a super-heroic grandbaby, and she assured him that his secret was safe with her.

            Danny and Christine drove Barbara to Hartsburg.  After a home-cooked dinner with their mother and grandmother, Christine and Danny rode back home in Stentine Valley.  There was an extra car in the driveway parked next to their father’s Nissan Xterra.

            As they walked up the driveway, Christine asked, “Whose care is this?”

            “That’s a new Infinity G35,” Danny said.  “It looks like one of Jim Bronson’s cars.”

            The Trapp House was actually blessed by two guests on this particular evening.  When Danny and Christine walked inside, they saw Jim Bronson and Chip Wellington sitting in their living room talking to Charles Trapp, the head of the household.

            “Dad, why didn’t you tell us we’d be having company?” Christine asked.

            “Yeah, if we’d known Chip and Mr. Bronson would be stopping by, we would not have stayed out so late,” Danny added.

            “It’s no big deal,” Charles assured his son and daughter.

            “Our visit was unannounced anyway,” Jim said.  “Chip and I wanted to wait for you to arrive before we delivered the good news, but once we started speaking with Charles we had to let the cat out the bag.”

            “What’s the good news?” Danny questioned.

            “I just signed an endorsement deal with Quail Tek,” Chip revealed, “and Mr. Bronson told me the Mariners are going to use their number one pick to acquire me in the upcoming MLB draft!”

            “Really?  That’s not good news.  That’s great news, Chip,” Danny congratulated.

            “Geez, I’m really happy for you too, Chipper,” Christine said.

            “I’m super stoked,” Chip said.

            “But wait, there’s more,” Jim interjected.  “Quail Tek is about to launch a new national marketing campaign, and I want Chip and Danny to be the main spokespersons and pitchmen.”

            “Cool,” Danny said.

            Jim continued, “This campaign will be very time consuming.  I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Wellington earlier via telephone earlier.  They’re out of town on vacation.  I also discussed the campaign with Charles.  I’d like to pull Chip and Danny out of school after the Snow Games.  I’ve scheduled a photo shoot for you two in Times Square in New York!  What do you think about that, Danny?”

            “I don’t know, Mr. Bronson.  This is our senior year.”

            Jim addressed Danny’s concern, “Don’t worry.  I got approval from the Stentine Valley High School administrators.  Principle Payne was actually pretty enthused about the prospect of getting you off campus, Danny.  New York will only be the fist of many stops nationwide campaign.  There will be plenty of commercial and photo shoots in big market cities across the country.  I’ve hired a tutor to home school you two on the road, so you’ll be able to pick up the remaining credits required for graduation.  If you want, I can flay you back to Stentine Valley to get your diplomas and walk with your classmates at graduation.”

            “What about the prom?” Chip inquired.

            “I can fly you back for that took,” Jim replied.

            “Excellent,” Chip spoke and pumped his fist.

            “Chip is on board, and his parents approved.  What about you, Danny,” Jim asked.

            “Sure, I’m down if it’s okay with you, Dad,” Danny turned to his father.

            Charles nodded and said, “I think this is a great opportunity.  As always, you have my full support, son.”

            “I’d like to join you guys in New York if that’s okay with you, Mr. Bronson.  It’s been a long semester for me at the community college, and I could use a vacation,” Christine suggested.

            “Dud, we don’t need a chaperone,” Chip joked.

            Danny knew his big sister did not intend to intrude.  With all the new revelations, Christine simply wanted to help her little brother watch his back.

            “That will be fine with me,” Jim said.  “I won’t mind flying you to New York if you can watch these guys and keep them out of trouble.”

            They were all in agreement on that issue.  It was settled.  Charles retreated to his study to get some more work done, and Jim made his departure.  Chip stuck around because he was in a celebratory mood.  He had a conversation with Christine and Danny.

            Chip said, “My parents are out of town, bro.  Can you say house party?  Chrissy, you’re invited, too.  We’d better get a move on because the other guests will be arriving soon.”

            Danny, Christine, and Chip made it to the Wellington residence right before the party-goers started to arrive.  Soon, the driveway was littered with random vehicles.  Gaggles of rowdy teens occupied the front and back yards.  Chip stayed inside to tend to his party host duties.  Christine and Danny intermingled with everyone outside near the gazebo.  Their main responsibility as to steer everybody in the direction of the kegs.

            Danny’s fingers tingled while he held the red plastic cup of beer in his hand.  A loud rumbling sound in the distance approached from the east.  It wasn’t thunder rolling, and everyone at the party including Danny recognized this familiar and antagonizing noise.  A large green monster truck with a dorsal fin mounted on the hood came barreling into the cultesac.  After violently whipping a few lawn-mauling doughnuts in the Wellington’s yard, the jacked up truck came to a screeching halt near the gazebo.

            The Hemi-charged super duty monster truck was one of the Sharks’ most infamous trademarks.  It was big.  It was loud, and it personified the Sharks’ strong arm mentality as a gang.  Seth was behind the wheel of the monster truck.  He dropped from the driver’s seat with a looming smirk on his face.  Apparently, word about Chip’s party spread quickly through Stentine Valley, even to the undesirables.

            Seth took one last drag of the clove hanging from his lips before he flicked it away and said, “I’m here for the three B’s:  beer, bitches, and bud.  There’s a Shark in the water.  Let’s party!”

            Chip heard the clamor caused by Seth’s verbose and unexpected visit, so he was already making his way to the front yard.

            Chip immediately confronted the uninvited guest and said, “You don’t belong here, Seth.  You and that B.S. truck of yours are gonna get the cops called on us with all that racket.”

            The words that Chip spoke were true, but they were certainly fight words to a violent and volatile individual.  Seth, and instinctive creature, did not hesitate to react by lunging at Chip with a wild haymaker.  Seth’s technique was sloppy.  He reached way back to the 90’s with his windup before executing a punch that everybody saw coming, even Chip.  He had plenty of time to evade the blow, but oddly, made no attempt to dodge Seth’s fist.  The hook caught Chip square in the eye, and he was staggered backwards.

            Chip Wellington tumbled unceremoniously to the ground in front of the watchful eyes of his party guest.  He was surely embarrassed, but he was not itching for a fight.  Chips ego was bruised worse than his puffy eye, yet his goal was to diffuse the situation without ruining the party’s mood.  He simply walked away from Seth while the gangster spewed insults at him.

            “You’ve always been scary, Wellington.  Consider yourself lucky.  Most people don’t walk away from a Shark attack in one piece.”

            As Chip retreated to his house, Danny decided that he had seen and heard enough.  He crept away to a secluded section of the backyard where he could morph into his Red Reaper costume without being noticed.  Danny made an airborne entrance to the party as the cloaked Red Reaper.  He angelically descended from the dark night sky and landed on top of Seth’s monster truck.  Everyone watched in awe as Danny raised his foot and stomped on the roof of the truck, pulverizing the custom fitted dorsal fin.  Then he flipped off the truck and landed right if front of Seth, who was completely thunderstruck.

            “You again!” Seth scowled.

            “That’s right.  Me again!” Danny retorted.

            “So you can talk.  You must have lips under that mask after all.  Why don’t you unmask and reveal yourself, you coward?  Most of us are convinced that you’re an alien freak-o,” Seth sniped.

            Before Danny could respond, the sound of police sirens in the distance alerted Seth to make a swift escape.  He sprinted to his now finless Shark-mobile and climbed up to the driver’s seat.  He cranked the engine and floored it in a hurry.  He drove over two cars parked near the road.  The people with the big grimaces on their faces obviously were the cars’ owners.

            Soon, the Wellington residence was surrounded by patrol cars and cops with a SWAT team.  Either Chip, a concerned party guest, or an angry nosy neighbor must have called the fuzz.  Danny had tome to make his escape too, but he decided to stick around instead of running away from his problems.

            “Maybe we can talk things out,” he thought.  “That’s what I learned in peer mediation courses and workshops.”

            “Freeze, Reaper!” a cop commanded.

            All the cops’ guns were fixed on the Red Reaper.  Danny put his hands in the air in a very non-threatening manner.

            “He’s got weapons!”

            “Weapons?” Danny thought.

            Right before they law enforcement officers opened fire, Danny noticed the two small glowing red min-scythes in his hands that got them up in arms.  Danny skillfully twirled the sharp blades to deflect all the incoming bullets.  Then, a bolt of blue lightning stuck and destroyed the SWAT van.  It stunned the unaware policemen, and it surprised Danny.

            “Hold your fire!”

            The barrage of bullets ceased.  Blue light illuminated the sky.  The blue aura faded when the mysterious costumed newcomer made his own airborne entrance to 1705 Castillo Lane.  He had a glowing weapon as well, a long sword.  Danny knew he was in the midst of the being who blindsided him near Mt. Bethel.  Danny could sense the immensity of the new blue guy’s powers.

            The Red Reaper made an uncharacteristic and spontaneous move next.  It was partially fueled by a binge for revenge, but Danny also wanted to test out his new toys and gauge the Blue Blindsider’s powers in a fair face-to-face confrontation.  He also wanted to draw his attention to keep the cops and partiers safe.  Danny lashed out with his glowing, red mini scythes.  The Blue swordsman blocked and parried all of Danny’s attacks effortlessly.  Danny raised his arms to deliver overhead swings with his weapons, but his blue adversary turned his weapon horizontally and blocked the blows with only on hand on his sword’s handle.  He used his free hand to blast the Red Reaper square in the middle of his chest with a blue bolt of energy.

            Danny’s limp body was hurled backwards through the air by the impact.  He was sent crashing through the windshield of one of the idle police cruisers.  In one quick blue flash, the Blue Knight made a getaway by air.  One of the policeman had the gumption to unholster his cuffs and approach the Red Reaper while reading him his Miranda Rights.  When he got to “you have the right to an attorney”, Danny shook the cobwebs loose and had the wherewithal to fly away himself. 

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Prologue

                      As a ten year veteran of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Rhonda Banks was accustomed to, but not desensitized by the amount of death she was exposed to in the field as a special agent.  There she stood on the edge of a grassy marsh in Middleburg, Florida.  The weather was muggy, but not near the unbearable extremes one can come to experience at the end of a summer in North Florida.  Yet another corpse lay before Rhonda.  The decomposition of the dead body was obviously advanced by the humidity of the First Coast Region.  Rhonda stood in silence for a moment.  The initial phases of a murder investigation always put her in a tantric trance.  Even at this early stage, she could sense that this case would be of the atypical variety.  Her partner Gary Black’s sudden and curt remark snapped Rhonda out of her mesmeric daze.

            “This is a new one for me, a disemboweled gimp in a swamp with a severed penis,” Gary said.  “Damn, Agent Banks, it smells like day-old cabbage stewed with rancid roadkill out here.”

            “I won’t ask how you know what that smells like, Agent Black,” Rhonda commented.

            Gary and Rhonda worked closely as partners for five years.  Gary was strapping and brawny man with a thick southern drawl.  He was raised in Moultrie, a small rural town in Georgia.  His humble upbringing on a farm was a stark contrast to the way Rhonda was raised.  She got used to that ephemeral and transplanting lifestyle that came along with being in a military family.  She couldn’t count how many times she was uprooted and had to pack up to move when her father was transferred to another Naval Base.  More times than not, they were coastal cities, so Rhonda grew up loving the beach.  Still, the country boy Gary and the beach girl Rhonda, although and odd pair, worked well and as a cohesive investigational unit.  They got on each other’s nerves and clashed on occasion, but they truly trusted and respected one another.

            The crime scene in Middleburg was cordoned off.  It was a muddy and wooded area not far from the northern flowing St. John’s River south of Jacksonville off US Highway 17.  The Clay County Sherriff’s Office, the local authorities, alerted the FBI.  Gary and Rhonda weren’t too far away in Daytona Beach investigating a high profile missing person’s case, so they were immediately summoned to the crime scene.  A week prior, Blake Adams, the eldest son of a prominent US Congressman named Bill Adams from Miami, vanished without a trace.  Blake had travel led to Jacksonville to attend the first road game of the Miami Dolphins’ 2014 NFL season versus the Jaguars at Ever Bank Stadium.  Bill happened to also be in town at the time accompanying his wife Linda Adams, a published and renowned self-help author that had a scheduled speaking arrangement at a conference at the Morocco Shrine Auditorium in downtown Jacksonville.  Reportedly, Blake hade made his way to Daytona after the football game to celebrate the Dolphins’ thrilling overtime victory over the Jaguars with some of the players he was acquainted with.  Blake was last seen leaving an upscale gentlemen’s club called Emperors’ off the strip in Daytona Beach with an unidentified woman.

            Back in Middleburg, Agent Banks and Agent Black surveyed the area with local cops and crime scene technicians.  They examined the dead body which was dressed up in a full-body leather BDSM gimp suit, complete with mask and ball-gag strapped in his mouth.  A large gash in his abdomen exposed his intestines.  The ankles were bound with chains, and the wrists were handcuffed behind his back.  There was a lot of blood, but it wasn’t immediately evident whether or not part of the attack occurred on the scene, or elsewhere, or if the man was assaulted, gutted, and dumped alive to bleed out.

            “Can somebody please remove that ball-gag from his mouth and take off that mask?” Rhonda asked.

            One of the CSI’s obliged Rhonda’s request, then Gary said, “Holy honeycombs!  That’s our guy.  That’s Blake Adams.”

            This is was no longer a missing person’s case for Rhonda and Gary.  It was a homicide, and a gory one at that.  The overkill was evident.

            “Who discovered the body?” Rhonda asked.

            One of the police officers answered, “A man was walking his dog on a nearby trail when his dog got loose from the leash and ran into the woods.  The man gave chase then stumbled across this.  He phoned us right away.”

            “Where is this man now?” Rhonda asked.

            “Right over there,” the cop pointed.

            “Officer, we are gonna need you to escort that man to the station to get a detailed statement from him,” Gary said.  “Have your people finish securing the scene and take as many pictures as possible.  Collect and document as much trace evidence as you can.  Then, carefully bag up the body, and take it to the coroner, so they can conduct a detailed medical examination and autopsy.”

            “Officer Williams,” Rhonda read the name above his badge.  “We appreciate the assistance and cooperation of the Clay County Sheriffs’ Office.  Now, my partner and I must go to Jacksonville to give the victim’s parents the bad news.  Try to keep the press suppressed, and don’t give any official statements to the media until tomorrow.  We may handle that.”

            “Alerting the next of kin: this was always a difficult and uncomfortable undertaking.  Bill and Linda Adams were still checked in at the Hyatt in downtown Jacksonville.  Needless to say, they were absolutely distraught and grief stricken when Agent Black and Agent Banks delivered the about their son’s death in person.  Gary and Rhonda expressed their sympathies and assured the Adams family that the FBI would find whoever was responsible for such horrible atrocities and bring them to justice.  After delivering the devastatingly horrible bad news, Gary and Rhonda stood on the Riverwalk outside the Hyatt.  Gary could see the anguish in Rhonda’s face.

            “Ronnie, we are going to catch this guy,” Gary assured her.  “We always do.”

            “I know, Gary,” Rhonda replied.

            Then, Gary made a suggestion, “Let me tell you what I like to do once I get to the meat and potatoes of a big case like this one here.”

            Rhonda asked him, “What’s that, Gary?”

            He explained, “I like to get a deep tissue massage to decompress.  I vacationed in Jacksonville with my family once.  I’m going to take you to Massage Soleil at the St. John’s Town Center on the south side of town, my treat.”

            Rhonda just nodded.  She had learned long ago not to reject Gary’s insistences.  He was very persistent and persuasive person, and sometimes he knew what was best for Rhonda.  That’s why they worked so well together…