Divine Hunger

By Edward Thames

A priest is beheaded and brutally slaughtered on the altar of his church. The priest’s head and several internal organs are missing. There is distinct evidence that cannibalism is involved. The case is assigned to Elliot Cole, a talented homicide detective. Before he can begin the investigation the FBI steps in and takes over the case. Agent Rebecca Conner is the agent in charge. Agent Conner has been tracking the killer across the country for three years. Agent Conner is a no nonsense Agent who is very possessive of the case. She was the one who connected the dots and discovered there was a serial killer at work. A case she has been fighting the good ole boy network in the FBI to keep. Elliot doesn’t like the FBI or Agent Conner but is forced to work with her. The priest is not the killer’s first victim. There are twenty-seven more murders Agent Conner has connected to the killer. A second murder, equally brutal, escalates the hunt. They consult a local anthropologist for help. The insights provided by the anthropologist also stir up suspicions. A video tape from a hidden camera in the second victim’s apartment further inflames those suspicions. The anthropologist disappears. Elliot takes Agent Conner to meet Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob is Elliot’s' only living relative who also happens to be a respected criminologist and anthropologist. Uncle Bob has helped Elliot with earlier cases. Uncle Bob provides insight and a warning; ”This man is a hunter. Don’t be surprised if he starts hunting you.” Divine Hunger is a chilling journey into forbidden realm of mankind’s most ancient taboo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Thames
• Release date: Jun 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301515554

Edward Thames

Edward was born in Plaquemine Parish, Louisiana. He grew up moving from place to place never living in the same location more than two years. He attended various Universities majoring in Pre-Med, creative writing, film making and foreign languages. After winning several writing awards he discovered Information Technology and achieved thirty-four separate technical certifications. He has worked as a contract technical trainer for the last ten years. He has written seven screenplays and five novels. He presently lives in Spring, Texas.

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Divine Hunger

by

Edward Thames

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Edward Thames on Smashwords

Divine Hunger

Copyright © 2006 by Edward Thames

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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DEDICATION

To my A girls; To Saint A, who has been with me from the beginning and Ava, a child of my child who I will probably never see or know but who I love anyway.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENT

To the many who said I would never do anything. I did. To the many who said I couldn’t do anything. I did. To the many whose discouragement was pronounced and spiteful I simply restate what I told you then, Kiss my ass!

*****

Divine Hunger

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CHAPTER 1

OCTOBER 1972

An Auster J/1 Autocrat bush plane weaved its way through the towering mountains covered by a dense tropical rain forest. Sam, a native of the Kenyah tribe, was piloting the small plane. Sitting next to him was Doc, a darkly handsome, thirty-seven-year-old anthropologist.

The fact that the entire region was no more than eight degrees of latitude from the equator resulted in an average temperature of about eighty degrees with an average annual rainfall of about 175 inches a year, most of which fell during the monsoon season. Soon the rains would come. The rivers would swell and flood the lowlands. Human activity would slow to a virtual standstill.

Time for getting out of the Kalimantan was now if in fact you were not part of the indigenous population. Doc was not a native and had no intention of spending the rainy season cooped up in a communal Betang for the next several months. He was serious about his research but he definitely enjoyed the finer things in life such as a hot shower and good wine. The interior of the plane was noisy with sounds of the engine and wind. Sam had picked Doc up at a local trading post on the Skrang River. He’s never met Doc and had no idea why anyone let alone a white man would ever venture this far into the backwoods of Borneo. Sam looked over at Doc and asked, So Doc, what's a white man doing in the middle of Kalimantan?

Studying the Dyak. Answered Doc as he stared at the jungle below.

You’re kidding! Exclaimed Sam.

How long before we reach Datah Dawai? Asked Doc.

About three hours. Responded Sam.

Radio ahead and give them an ETA. Requested Doc.

Can't. Mountains are too high. Kills the signal. Answered Sam as he looked over at Doc, whose shirt was partially unbuttoned revealing a large tattoo of the sun. Where'd you get that? Asked Sam.

Doc looked at Sam and then looked down at his chest. Doc buttons up his shirt and looked out the window ending the conversation.

So how was it?

What? Asked Doc. You know, living with a bunch of cannibals?

I consider it one of the most enlightening experiences of my life. Explained Doc.

You're kidding right?

No. Countered Doc with a slight edge to his voice. He didn’t feel like chit chat right now and especially with a marginal intellect like Sam.

But they're cannibals? Continued Sam with his seemingly endless barrage of questions.

There are over 200 different tribes of Dyak in the Kalimantan and most if not all no longer practice cannibalism. I found the Dyak extremely tolerant and gentle. Explained Doc, hoping that would end the discussion.

Yeah, well tell that to the Madurese. They don’t call the Skrang River, the River of Death for nothing. The plane jerked as the engine misfired. Just a temporary vapor lock. Happens all the time in this humidity. Explained Sam. The plane's engine backfired, sputtered, and died. Sam tried to restart the engine as the plane glided down into the jungle. Sam griped the yoke with both hands fighting to maintain control as Doc braced himself. Hang on Doc! It looks like we'll be making an unscheduled stop!

Where? Asked Doc.

The river! Replied Sam.

Oh Shit! Responded Doc.

"You can say that again! Grab the mic! Send out

Mayday!" Instructed Sam tersely.

What about the mountains? Asked Doc.

Just do it! Said Sam.

Doc grabbed the mic and said, Mayday! Mayday! This is flight number... Doc paused and looked at Sam.

Bushmaster 321! Said Sam.

Mayday! This is Bushmaster 321. We have lost power and are going down... Where are we! asked Doc.

About forty kilometers south of the Chapah divide! Replied Sam.

Mayday! This is Bushmaster 321! We have lost power and are going down! Our last location is forty kilometers south of the Chapah Divide! Mayday! Repeated Doc over and over. The panic growing in his voice with each call.

The plane descended rapidly towards the jungle. The jungle now surrounded the plane as it swooped towards the turbulent surface of the Skrang River.

Sam strained to hold the nose up. Hang on! Doc dropped the mic.

The plane hit the surface of the river with a bone crushing jar. The nose dropped and plunged into the swirling brown river. The force of the impact caused the right wing to dip and catch in the river. The plane flipped over as the wing was torn from the fuselage. The flip forced the left wing into the