Operation Starfire

By Kevin Barker

An ex-military solider finds himself caught between his country and his old team mates. His life of gun for hire has caught up with him and forced him to make tough decisions. He will be forced to deal with his mental disabilities caused from his life in the military as he seeks revenge for being used in a plot to betray his own country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Barker
• Release date: Apr 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476067612

Kevin Barker

I was born and raised in Michigan, but have since moved to North Carolina. I currently work as a Project Manager and Designer for a general contractor. I also participate in the several local non-profit organizations. In the few spare moments I have, I am writing or thinking about writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Going for a Run

It was a great night for a run through the wooded park. The wind was light and I could hear the rustle of the leaves as I ran along the path. My feet pounded on the hard pavement below me that stretched out like a black river in the moonlight. Every breath produced a miniature cloud that dissipated into the blackness of night.

I reach out in front of me and grab his jacket. He quickly removes the jacket without breaking a stride. I toss it to the ground and keep chasing him. Closer and closer I get. My heart pounding as I keep on his heels. We round the next bend in the pathway and I lunge at him.

I land on him and cling to his back as we both fall to the grassy ground. I get to my feet first but it is short lived as he sweeps the feet out from under me with his leg. As he stands I roll towards him and wrap his legs up so he can’t run. With all my strength I pick him up over my shoulder and slam him onto the ground. I hear the breath escape from his lungs on impact. I know that this fight will not stop here..

I step back out of the range of his legs, and reach for my gun. I find nothing in my holster, as it must have come loose in the fight. He stands up and puts his guard up. He inches towards me. He throws a straight right, and I easily side step it and deliver a devastating blow to his ribs.

He instantly spins, catching me off guard with a roundhouse kick. It is a glancing blow, but still hurt like hell. I back up and take a better defensive stance. He smiles at me. Next is a front kick that catches nothing but air and another straight punch.

I catch his wrist, as he is a little on the slow side to return it to his defensive stance. I kick him in the knee, the ribs, and then the armpit which dislocates his arm. I turn my body, still holding on to his wrist, and strike his elbow with the forearm of my other hand.

The crackling sound of the bones and joints popping would send chills up a normal person’s spin. I love it. He screams while lying on the ground, unable to stand at this point, and trying to nurse his arm.

I reach into his pocket and pull out the flash drive. I flip him over and he screams again. I check all of the other pockets. I take his wallet, keys, watch, and glasses and stuff them in my pocket. I take anything that might be worth a dime to a junkie.

I flip him back over onto his back. He is gasping for air as he goes into shock. I walk over and pick up my gun, that was lying in the ditch, and put it in my holster. I turn my back to him and start walking back down the path I came from.

I wait until he tries to get up, and I turn. Three shots ring out into the night. Two shots strike his torso and one shot goes to the base of his neck, severing the spinal cord. He slumps to the ground and the night goes silent.

I holster my weapon, and pick the brass off the ground. With my objective complete, I return to the parking lot to retrieve my car. I pull my jacket over my gun and zip the flash drive into the inner pocket of my Jacket. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk with my head down. I don’t need anyone getting a good look at me.

Chapter 2 – Safe Parking

I reach the parking lot only to find some no good night life trying to get into my brand new BMW. I stop in the shadow, with the parking lot light between them and me. One of them spots me and they all pause for a moment.

I can see it in their minds, their body language. They are wondering if this is my car and if I am going to call the cops. The decision is made quickly and they start to circle me. They start trash talking to each other, and to me. I wait for them to get closer.

I put my hands out at a slight angle. I don’t look up just yet. I keep my eyes on their shoes. I wait for one of them to get into striking distance. He postures himself to attack. I see him starting to transfer his weight to his back leg, preparing to strike. But he is too late for that.

In an instant I am wielding two collapsible batons. They are black, slender and twenty one inches in length. They are easy to hide in the dark, especially when you are standing in the shadows. They are silent, minus the sound of cracking skulls, and the wailing coming from my victims.

The punk in front of me gets caught off guard. I smack him in the jaw with the one in my right hand, and as I turn, I hit his friend in the forehead. Both of my blows are devastating and the two thugs fall to the ground. I hear cussing and movement behind me. I turn and catch one more on the back of his neck as I side step his lunge at me.

Only one more idiot left. It is an unfair fight, so I toss him one of my batons. Then I drop my last baton to the ground. It takes him a couple seconds for him to get the nerve to attack me. He screams announcing his plan to whoop my ass. I punch him square in the nose as he is still waving the baton over his head.

He instantly drops the baton and grabs his nose with both hands. Broken and bloody his nose instantly turns red. Water comes to his eyes, and he starts to cough as the blood gushes down his throat. I help him out, I rip his throat out from his neck. I drop the soft tissue on the ground next to him.

I pick up both of my batons, collapse them and put them back in the special pockets of my jacket. Once again, I collect the wallets, keys, and all the other items from these punks. The ones that are still alive are not for long, as I never leave any witnesses around.

I check the car for damage, and wipe the scuff marks off with my shirt. My poor baby, I am glad they didn’t hurt her. I open the door and pop the trunk. I put all of the collectables in the trunk of my car in a special compartment.

I am not worried about the black powder residue as that only matters if you get caught. I don’t plan on ever getting caught. I take my Glock 19 from my holster and drop the magazine. I reload the mag and put it back into the gun. I take the holster off my belt loop and put the gun in it and store it in the compartment. The spend brass goes into the compartment as well.

I lock everything up and get into my car. I take a deep breath. That new car smell, there is nothing like it on this planet. I rub my hands on the steering wheel. I put my seat belt on and start the car. It has been a long night and it is only getting started. But before I go onto the next phase of my mission, I need a bite to eat.

Chapter 3 – A Bite to Eat

I drive to a local all-night diner and get a place in the back in the corner. I sit with my back to the wall and where I can see both doors and the kitchen. I hate nothing more than being walked up on in a public place.

The waitress comes over and in her brassy New York attitude asks me what I will be having. I do not speak, I just point to the menu. She rolls her eyes and yells to the kitchen something about having another damn idiot who can’t talk. I clench my fists, but let them relax before she turns around.

She walks away and I walk into the bathroom. I check the entire bathroom. I look around all of the corners and I physically open all the stall doors to make sure no one is in the room. I wedge the door stop under the door to keep anyone from coming in behind me without me hearing them.

I wash my hands and my face and watch the pink water flow down the drain as the blood is washed away. I take a bottle from my pocket and wash my hands again with it. It removes the order of black powder from my hands.

I pull the door stop out from under the door and walk back to the restaurant. I sit down at my table and take a glance around. No one has moved since I went in, and no new faces. I settle down as she brings the order.

Before she places the check on the table I hand her a twenty dollar bill. She tells me she will be back with my change, and I just motion for her to keep the change. I am not going to be waiting to see if she can actually count. I prefer to pay for my food when I get it just in case I have to leave out early.

Three pancakes, two eggs, hash browns, toasts, bacon and