Sanctioned: Section 1902

By M. R. Dickson

Bill Bales, a retired federal agent and seasoned undercover operative, now residing in the small Ohio town of Snowker, is pulled back into federal service after two FBI undercover agents are murdered.

When the killers assume the FBI agent's identities, it isn’t long before Bales uncovers their motivation to hunt and kill a protected federal witness, who also resides in Snowker under a new identity.

With the help of Deputy U.S. Marshal Joel Gray and FBI Agent Chuck Mathews, the Attorney General sanctions the trio under U.S. Code Title 9, Section 1902, to protect their witness and finish the job that the murdered FBI agents were unable to accomplish.

What culminates is a chess match between Bales and Paul Mastino, the leader of an international arms dealing cartel. A crime boss so powerful and influential, that he easily manipulates the involvement of other U.S. Government law enforcement operatives into providing internal intelligence.

This unorthodox match between Bales and Mastino results in deceit and intrigue that puts the will of an experienced undercover operative against the greed and cunning of a crime lord who will stop at nothing to guarantee his success.

The investigation takes Bales and his team to the Seattle area where the final showdown takes place. But not before a trail of dead bodies dot the landscape in New Jersey, Ohio, Kentucky, Texas and finally Washington State.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. R. Dickson
• Release date: Jul 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465718341

M. R. Dickson

Born in Baltimore, Maryland, in February 1951, Marc R. Dickson grew up in suburban Prince George County, Maryland. Through those times, Marc benefited from the leadership of his military service, employment, family and friends. These factors played important roles in his life as a mentor, devoted husband, and father of three children.Marc and his wife of over thirty-five years, Karen, make their home in Columbus, Ohio. Now that their home is an “empty nest” after their children had spread their wings, they still enjoy leisure activities, travel and an occasional visit by family.As a former military federal agent and retired police officer, Marc’s law enforcement experience encompasses over thirty-five years of federal, local and private experience. While the subject matter in “Sanctioned – Section 1902” is fictional, his experiences played a large part in bringing a realm of realism to the book. “Most all descriptions of weapons and other equipment are actual inventory of one or more federal or local law enforcement agencies,” Marc said.“Sanctioned – Section 1902” is Marc’s first fictional writing centered around a small town and its police chief, who as a retired federal agent gets pulled into yet another case involving the dangers of undercover work, intrigue, deceit and murder. “A few carefully placed twists and surprises await the readers as well,” Marc added.

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SANCTIONED – SECTION 1902

M.R. Dickson

Copyright 2009 by Marc R. Dickson

Smashwords Edition

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Everyone enjoys being part of anything positive or rewarding. And it is with that in mind that I acknowledge those who have not only contributed to this work through their support, love and devotion, but also to those who have freely given their time and expertise in making this work a reality.

To my loving children and grandchildren, your encouragement to see this work through has been invaluable to me. Speaking for both Mom and me, having been spread out literally from coast to coast and across the Atlantic, the absence of daily physical contact never diminished the love we have for one another. You’re all so very special to the both of us, and there isn’t a day that passes that we don’t think of you or miss your touch with love in our hearts. Mom and I are so very fortunate to have all of you in our lives.

Last, but not certainly least to my wife, Karen, I can’t help but feel that I’m the luckiest man on the face of the earth for having you in my life. You’re my cheerleader, confidant, friend, mentor, homemaker and lover. You’re my life! Anything I set out to do is greeted with a smile and words of encouragement. Okay… Almost anything.  But when things didn’t turn out the way I expected them to, I never heard I told you so, leak from your lips. And there were numerous times when those words could have been spoken in vivid truth and accuracy. Thank You for believing in me. Thank You for giving me my children and my life. I Love You!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in Baltimore, Maryland, in February 1951, Marc R. Dickson grew up in suburban Prince George County, Maryland. Through those times, Marc benefited from the leadership of his military service, employment, family and friends. These factors played important roles in his life as a mentor, devoted husband, and father of three children.

Marc and his wife of over thirty-five years, Karen, make their home in Columbus, Ohio. Now that their home is an empty nest after their children had spread their wings, they still enjoy leisure activities, travel and an occasional visit by family.

As a former military federal agent and retired police officer, Marc’s law enforcement experience encompassed over thirty-five years. While the subject matter in Sanctioned – Section 1902 is fictional, his experiences played a large part in bringing a realm of realism to the book. Most all descriptions of weapons and other equipment are actual inventory of one or more federal or local law enforcement agencies. Marc said.

Sanctioned – Section 1902 is Marc’s first fictional writing centered around a small town and its police chief, who as a retired federal agent gets pulled into yet another case involving the dangers of undercover work, intrigue, deceit and murder. A few carefully placed twists and surprises await the readers as well. Marc added.

CHAPTER 1

On a secluded side road in a rural area of western Kentucky a black panel van sat along the roadway, lights turned out and with no obvious signs that anyone is occupying the vehicle. Inside the van sat two federal agents preoccupied with the electronic surveillance equipment installed inside the van.

I’m not hearing much of anything. Are you sure you planted the devices in the right places? one of the agents asked as he removed his earphones.

Don’t try to tell me how to do my job. The bugs are where they need to be so don’t worry, the second replied in an exasperated tone.

I’m just saying... Don’t get so defensive, the first agent said as he put his earphones back over his ears.

The second agent sat back in his seat with his two palms raised in a gesture of surrender.

Sorry man, just a little on edge. We’ve been at this for so long but we’re not getting anything new to report. I think we may have tapped this well dry.

Just as he finished his sentence, the rear doors of the van were quickly and violently yanked open. Standing with flashlights and pistols pointed at them were four men wearing all black clothing, including full-face masks to prevent their identities from being known.

Before the two agents could react defensively they were grabbed, pulled out of the van, and forced to the ground.

On your faces, now! one of the masked men ordered while aiming his pistol at the agents.

You’re making a mistake, said the first agent still wearing his earphones as he was forced to the ground by one of the masked men.

Did I say you could talk? No, I don’t think so, the leader of the masked men said just before kicking the agent in the side with the toe of his boot.

After the two agents were secured with nylon hand ties, both were brought to their knees and faced in the opposite direction, away from their captors.

Looks like you two have been busy out here, the masked leader said as he observed the interior of the van and its equipment.

Who are you and what are you doing here? another masked man asked.

My name is Dr. Jekyll, and this is my associate Mr. Hyde. We’re selling cookies door-to-door. Interested? the second agent said in a condescending tone.

Such bad manners, the masked leader said as he fired one shot into the back of the second agent’s head, dropping his body immediately in front of his shocked partner, blood violently spurting from the head wound.

You want to be a funny man too? the masked leader said as he grabbed the first agent’s hair with his left hand, pulling his upper body backwards.

You’re crazy if you think you’re going to get away with this, asshole! the surviving agent said defiantly knowing that his fate was obviously sealed by what he had just witnessed.

Crazy? No, that’s not crazy, the masked leader said just before he pulled a machete from the small of his back with his right hand, and with one quick swipe of his right arm, cleanly severed the agent’s head. As the headless corpse fell forward, the killer stood tall holding the dead man’s head in his left hand as if it were a trophy.

That’s crazy! he said while he looked into the still staring but dead eyes of the severed head.

You didn’t have to do that, Johnny. The boss is going to go ballistic on your ass, another masked man said.

Johnny turned his head slightly, and coldly stared at the masked man.

Throw the bodies in the van and torch it, unless you want to join them, Tim, Johnny responded as he tossed the severed head into the van and walked away.

Tim, you going to do something about this guy? one of the other masked men asked quietly so that Johnny would not overhear.

I’ve tried, but all my words seem to fall on deaf ears, Tim said. Let’s get this thing done and get out of here.

Two Days Later...

The summer night had fallen over the sleepy town of Snowker, Ohio, leaving the insects of the night the only inhabitants to be stirring as if it were noon in the big city. Moonlight shines from the full moon in the clear northern sky. As the treetops sway gently from a summer breeze, the serenity of the night is shattered by the sound of a single gunshot coming from a dimly lit shed along the rear of rural land.

Shortly afterward, the door of the shed opens revealing a man wearing a tattered ball cap, white T-shirt and jeans stained with blood. He drags a large plastic bag out of the shed and towards the side of the building, where he rolls the bag into a make-shift grave that had been pre-dug earlier. As he begins to cover the bag and its contents with freshly dug earth, he shows no emotion for his actions other than a sense of urgency to complete the task.

When he finishes burying the bag, he returns the shovel to the shed, retrieves a rifle from just inside the doorway, and locks the door as he departs. Without a word spoken, he limps into the adjacent house.

The town of Snowker is asleep, except for the flashing red traffic lights, occasional street lamp, and the lit interior of the town hall, which also serves as the headquarters for the Snowker Police Department. Inside the communications center, off the main police department office, Officer Linda Whitehead is staffing the phones and two-way radio that links her desk to the one other officer on patrol during the night. The phone rings and startles Officer Whitehead momentarily, as she looks up from the crossword puzzle she was working to pass the time.

Snowker Police, Officer Whitehead speaking, how may I help you?

A muddled voice is heard on the other end of the phone line as Officer Whitehead acknowledged the caller while making notes along the border of the newspaper puzzle page.

Okay, we’ll get an officer out there as soon as possible to take a look.

Officer Whitehead reaches for the radio microphone, pushes the transmit button and asked, Harold, you busy? referring to Officer Harold Stone, who was on patrol.

Well, I was checking my eyelids for leaks until you called. What else is there to do at 1:07 a.m.? he responded.

Received a call regarding possible shots fired somewhere out along old Route 4, near the Danbe property. How’s about taking a look-see? she asked.

That’s a good fifteen minutes outside of town. You sure you want me that far out? What if something happens here? Besides, it’s probably just someone taking a shot at a raccoon or something.

Not to worry. If I need your help on my crossword, I’ll call you on the radio. Now move it, Rumpelstiltskin. The few taxpayers we do have are paying you to do police stuff, not check your eyelids for leaks.

You’d think she was the Chief, he sarcastically said to himself as he started his cruiser and drove off into the night.

Soon after, Officer Stone arrived in the area along old Route 4 to investigate the gunfire complaint. After a couple of passes, he radioed back to headquarters.

Stone to base, all is clear out here on Route 4. Nothing stirring except a few barking dogs.

Copy that Harold. You might as well head back to town.

The darkness gave way to the dawn’s light just as Officer Stone pulled into the parking lot and collected the remains of two empty packs of snack cakes and a pint of milk. As he exited his cruiser, he is met by Chief Bill Bales, who also had just arrived.

Chief Bales, a simple yet complex type of person with a knack for law enforcement work, possessed little tolerance towards those outside the law. As a retired federal agent, he had performed duties as both an undercover operative under Title 9, Section 1902 of the U.S. Code, and as a Chief Inspector for the U.S. Marshals Service. Now a full-time father and grandfather, he had not slowed down in his latter years while he continued to keep current in police work and investigative techniques. However, shortly before his retirement, a void had been created with the passing of his wife of nearly thirty years from cancer. Nonetheless, this six-foot six-inch giant of a man continued to separate his personal tragedy from his new career as the Chief of Police in the northwestern township of Snowker.

I see you had a busy night, Chief Bales said noticing Harold’s handful of trash. Any reports during the night? the Chief asked.

Just possible shots fired out on old Route 4, but by the time I arrived, there was nothing to see or hear, Stone replied.

Yeah, it was probably just someone taking a shot at a raccoon. Did Linda finish her crossword puzzle? he asked.

You’ll have to ask her, Chief. I was busy all night on patrol, he said as he walked ahead of the Chief and into the building.

Right, he replied with a half-smile as he followed behind Harold.

Morning Chief. You’re in early today. It’s not quite 6 a.m. yet, Officer Whitehead said. Coffee is fresh, but the bagels are deadly.

Good morning, Linda. I’ll take the coffee but pass on the bagels. Besides, I have a meeting first thing this morning with the Mayor. With any luck, we’ll be able to hire another officer soon, at least to work a swing shift on weekends. Besides, the Mayor usually has some really good cop food in the mornings.

Be careful of those donuts, Chief. They’re just as deadly, Stone said.

Not as deadly as those snack cakes you usually shove in your mouth. Besides, if I leave the bagels for first shift, they’ll think better of me. Wouldn’t you? the Chief replied.

Only rolling eyes could be seen from Officers Whitehead and Stone, leaving Chief Bales to quietly exit the communications control room for the sanctuary of his office.

After making final preparations for his meeting with the Mayor, Chief Bales glanced at the clock to see that time had flown by as the hour approached 8 a.m. As he exited his office for the Mayor’s on the fourth floor of the Town Hall, he passed the communications control room, and quickly greeted Dispatcher Cindy Gray with a smile and a wave. By this time, the third shift team of Officers Whitehead and Stone had been relieved by Officers Stan Blackwell and Wayne Reed.

I’m heading up to see the Mayor, Cindy. Be back soon.

A quick trip up the hallway staircase brought Chief Bales to the Mayor’s door. When he entered the outer office, the Mayor’s secretary, Amy, greeted him.

Good Morning Amy. Is the Mayor ready for me? he asked.

Let me check. You want some coffee while you wait?

No thanks. I’ve had enough of that this morning. Any donuts left?

I’m afraid not, only a couple of bagels. I think your staff traded their bagels out for the glazed donuts we received. Needless to say, I think we got the raw end of that deal, she exclaimed.

Right, he replied with the same half-grin he had given Stone.

Amy walked over to the Mayor’s office door, knocked, and then entered to announce the Chief’s presence. She immediately returned to the outer office and back towards her desk.

They’re ready for you now.

They? the Chief asks.

Yes. The Mayor has been in a meeting with a couple of federal agents. You obviously didn’t know this meeting was scheduled, did you?

The meeting yes, but not with this agenda. I was hoping to get him to open the city’s wallet for more manpower.

Good luck with that, Chief, Amy said with a slight laugh.

Chief Bales walked to the Mayor’s office door, knocked, and immediately entered. As he approached the Mayor’s desk, the two federal agents rose from their chairs to greet the Chief with extended hands.

Chief Bales. These are FBI Agents Ron White and Jim Knight. They dropped by to ask for our cooperation in one of their investigations that may have an impact on our fair community, the Mayor explained.

Gentlemen, what’s this all about? the Chief asked as he shook each of their hands.

The FBI has been involved in an active investigation that has extended across state borders. So far we’ve been able to determine that the parties involved are well financed, Agent White explained.

How does that affect Snowker? the Chief asked.

We believe the criminal activity has extended into Ohio, specifically Snowker, Agent Knight said.

Do you guys always talk in circles, or can you just one time answer a straight question with a straight answer? the Chief replied in an exasperated tone.

"This matter involves organized crime and