The Lesser Evil

By Jim Magwood

Comes The Avenger Executing Wrath On Those Who Practice Evil. The Lesser Evil is the story of the world staggering under uncontrollable crime and an evil that pervades every part of our society.

A group of vigilantes campaign to stop the spread of the evil. Is the group right in what they are doing or are they just another evil influence of their own?

Computers and bank accounts are raided and criminals are left destitute. Cayman Island banks are raided by computer and lose billions in secretive client funds. A missile attack wipes out a rogue country’s nuclear facilities and stops a threat to destroy Israel.

Is the fight an essentially good, though illegal one, that will drive the evildoers out and which should be continued, or is it essentially evil itself? Who makes that choice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jim Magwood
• Release date: Mar 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311214317

Jim Magwood

I was born too many years ago in Vancouver, Canada, and was dragged south across the border by my parents when I was too young to protest. I've lived in California the rest of my life.I entered the military right after high school, then attended college and began a career in business. My military work and years in various business management positions had me traveling to many parts of the world and I remember well the beauty (as well as the poverty and unrest) of so many places.I am happily married to Gayle.I retired early and moved from the city to our quiet country place in Twin Oaks, California. The loudest noises now are the few barking dogs, some howling coyotes, the wandering cattle and a million raucous birds. The rabbits, quail, coyotes and mountain lions have come to recognize that Shiloh (the ranch) is a sanctuary for them, so they hang around every day looking for handouts.I just hang around the ranch trying to be a hermit (at least that's what a lot of people think.) I do still manage to get shaved once in a while and can look half-way presentable when someone comes up the driveway (if given enough warning.)My work now appears to be writing. SANCTION took about ten years to finish, as it was written in bits and pieces. However, right after it was finished and sent to the publisher, what was left of the old mind began churning and there may be another few novels coming out in the future. Don't hold your breath, but... THE LESSER EVIL, COP, NIGHTMARE, JACOB, ONLY THE WATCHMEN WEEP and THEREFORE I AM are now out in the reading world waiting for you. More coming? We'll see...I'd love to hear from you, especially if you've bought a dozen or so of the books and passed them out to all your friends and neighbors. Give me a write some day, ask questions and swap stories. After all, I don't have anything else to do. You can catch me at [e-mail]. (And I do answer my mail.)

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

"The evil of the world is made possible

by nothing but the sanction you give it."

-John Galt-

In the author’s first novel, SANCTION, the world was confronted with a massive plot to take control of that world by an extremely powerful, unknown group. In reference to the above statement by John Galt from Ayn Rand’s novel, Atlas Shrugged, men did get involved in that situation and refused to sanction the threat.

In today’s world, we are not faced with an evil group, per se, but with the effects on the citizens of the world of evil actions and general lawlessness long allowed to fester and now almost completely uncontrolled. It has gotten to the point where good men are unable to have peace and security in which to live and raise their families, and the authorities and governments have become hamstrung in their attempts to control the criminal elements and terrorism.

Estimates by several organizations of the world crime statistics indicate more than 206,000 incidences of crime per 100,000 population, twice as many crimes annually as there are people.

According to statistics released by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, there were an estimated 1.4 million violent crimes reported in the U.S. in 2006. There were an estimated 9.9 million property crimes, excluding arson, reported. Excluding arson, victims of property crimes in the United States collectively lost an estimated $17.6 billion.

In 2005, the United Nations estimated that there were more than 200 million illicit drug users worldwide. According to the UN’s annual drug report, the global drug trade is worth at least $320 billion annually, a figure larger than the gross domestic product of 90 percent of the nations of the world.

There are several countries that have successfully detonated nuclear weapons: the United States, Russia (successor state to the Soviet Union), the United Kingdom, France, China, India, Pakistan, and North Korea. Israel is also widely believed to have nuclear weapons, though it has refused to confirm or deny this. South Africa has the unique status of a nation that developed nuclear weapons but has since disassembled its arsenal. Iran is widely believed to have a strong program leading to the development of nuclear weapons, and is very close to actually possessing them. Countries that are either sharing or storing nuclear weapons for other countries include Belgium, Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Turkey, Canada and Greece. There is no idea how many nuclear weapons of the former Soviet Union are not able to be accounted for since the fall of the country from power, especially suitcase size weapons.

Death tolls from the major wars and atrocities of the twentieth century, admittedly differing greatly depending on whose statistics are used, are believed to total more than 39 million. This does not include the deaths during the Holocaust of 6 million Jews, or 30 million Russians during their revolution. It is reported there have been more deaths caused by religious persecution in the twentieth century alone than in all the rest of history combined.

Starvation and preventable disease in the past fifty years alone have caused more deaths than all war, terrorism and political repression combined. Estimates indicate that 40,000 Third World children starve to death or die from simple preventable diseases each day, and 60 million people die of starvation each year.

How, in a civilized world, is this possible?

With advances in science giving us space travel and the ability to mine oceans for food, and healthcare that can actually eradicate diseases, how is it we have people dying from starvation and disease by the millions?

With the ability of instant communication between governments, law enforcement agencies and citizens world wide, how can we have uncontrolled crime, criminals feeding off innocent populations with impunity, and so-called leaders of the world being allowed to participate in those criminal activities?

With the ability to harness solar, wind, water and nuclear power, how is it people are living in poverty, dying from starvation, and killing each other to seize control of scarce resources?

In a world that has given birth to so many great minds and achievers in the past, why are we now being led down the garden path to destruction by supposed leaders without common sense, without decency or morals, and without any vision beyond their wallet and personal power?

Why today do we have housing markets crashing while millions are crying out for decent homes, businesses crashing while millions are frantically looking for good products, and economies crashing while millions are looking for decent lives and futures?

Why?

Because in a world that has more of everything than has ever been known since the beginning, we’ve lost our courage and our dreams. We have things, not visions. We allow doubts about what we don’t know to stop us, and we fear stepping out to make our own paths. We have criminals, from back alleys to statehouses, imposing their evil and violence on basically decent populations everywhere and forcing or leading the people into lives of fear and decadence. Where is this road taking us?

Shakespeare wrote,

Our doubts are traitors,

And make us lose the good we might oft win

By fearing to attempt.

We’ve become so used to having others do for us that we’ve given up trying on our own because we just know our efforts will be futile. We’ve been led to believe that we have no power, even the right, to make our lives better, so we sit in anger and fear of what goes on around us and wish for others to make things better. We’ve given all power and control over to political, financial and moral representatives, and hope they don’t bother us by suggesting we do something ourselves.

What would it take for mankind to reclaim some semblance of peace and goodness? To do away with some of the evil that abounds in the world?

What if?

Suppose you could reach out and personally affect the evil—stamp out some of the evil influences and cause some goodness to return. Would you?

Suppose someone else could do it for you? Suppose someone had the power and resources to rein in the evil and to help you and the other good people of the world gain a sense of real peace—enable you to have the prosperity and comfort you’ve really wanted?

What if?

Jim Magwood

Twin Oaks, California

July, 2011

CHAPTER 1

Reggie Carter saw Hawk motion to him and sauntered out onto the front porch. Hawk had carefully checked the streets and the waiting limo before clearing Reggie to come out. Too many dudes gunning for him for deals gone south or for takeover attempts, so he was always cautious. Casually, of course. ‘Never show fear’ was a major rule in his business, both to the competition and his own ‘hood.

Reggie was heading to town. Town was only a few dozen blocks away, but from where he lived, it was forever. He had grown up in the dirt and had fought and killed to get into the good air, but town was still forever away. Town was hotels and clubs and real restaurants. It was respect from hard guys. It was women who couldn’t wait to be invited to join him for a night of promise and excitement. Town was a long way from home, but he was one of the rulers and players, and town was his playground. And tonight was playtime.

His pockets bulged with big bills. Who needed credit cards? Cash was Reggie’s entrance anywhere he wanted to go. And Reggie had plenty of cash. $100. $1,000. $10,000. It didn’t matter. Whatever it took. Pass out cash and don’t look back. Let the good times roll, and roll, and roll.

If you wanted drugs in this city, Reggie was the man. Of course, with a population of only a half-million, it wasn’t the biggest city in the country. Reggie would still have been a small fish in a big pond elsewhere. But here, he was king. He was the man. The controller of whatever needed controlling on the streets. He made more money by far than anyone in the city. Politicians, doctors, real estate giants—nobody was close to Reggie. While they all pretended that he wasn’t there, they all knew he was the man. No one dared to touch him. The police kept trying, and the DA pulled his hair out every time someone mentioned his name, but Reggie was simply impervious to the attacks. Too many layers. Too many people bought and sold. Too much protection. Reggie was the man.

As he stepped out onto the porch and thought of the excitement of the night ahead, he stretched his arms up to the sky and breathed deep. He felt the huge gold medallion bump against his chest—and that’s exactly where the .300 Winchester Magnum slug hit him. It sounded like a sledgehammer slapping into a side of beef, with the explosive blast following an instant behind. The slug itself was certainly big enough and would have done the job, but it pushed most of the huge medallion ahead of it as it entered his body and the damage was horrendous. Reggie was thrown back through the front door and landed in the middle of the huge foyer.

The sound of the shot exploded like a lightning bolt, and Hawk swung around just in time to see Reggie flying backward into the house. He spun in frantic circles for a moment as others ran out of the house with guns already drawn. They all furiously scanned the street and the dark trying to find the assassin, but there was nothing. No sounds of a vehicle racing off, or pounding feet. In fact, no sound at all except for their own shouts. After several moments of chaos they gradually stopped their clamor, and the night became quiet. Deathly quiet.

Gradually, night sounds came back, intensified with the sound of neighbors in the area starting to call out questions. Sirens began to scream in the distance. A voice from one of the men said, I’m outa’ here, and then the sound of several feet leaving. Cars starting up and moving away.

The man was gone, and no one was staying to pick up the pieces.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jeff Woolsey continued to watch the scene through his 10x42 Leupold Ultra scope for a few moments, then carefully slid back away from the roof edge and sat up. He was on the roof of the Dooley Hotel, about six blocks from Reggie’s front door. From nine floors up, though, the roof had an excellent view over the homes in between and right onto Reggie’s porch. With the M24 sniper rifle and the scope, the shot had been easy.

He carefully dismantled the rifle and put it back into the specially designed soft leather garment bag he had brought it in, then stood up and walked quietly to the roof door that would take him back to the street. No one had noticed anything odd about him going up; no one would notice him going back out. Just another hotel guest heading to the airport or something.

Nice, he thought. It only took one shot again. Save the rest for another crook, another time, another place. One more down. If the cops can’t get them, there’s always one of us with guts and training enough to do the job. One way or another, things will get better when we finally drive them all out.

CHAPTER 2

Baksher, ol’ boy. I din’ know you came to these shings any more. Wha’cha doin’ here, mingling with th’ minions?

Josh, I didn’t expect to see you. How in the world are you? Henry Baxter was caught in a crowd of journalists trying to get into the main auditorium for the big event of the conference. He really didn’t like being at these events, but this was supposedly the big one of the year and he couldn’t resist. He had won enough awards for his reporting that he didn’t need this appearance at all, but he was hoping to find a couple of old friends and maybe pick up some tips directing him to his next big story. ‘Good old Josh’ Hayward he hadn’t really expected, or wanted, to see again. A major pain, he thought.

I’m doin’ fine, Baksher boy, but wha’ ‘bout you? You here t’ scoop all us again? It was obvious ‘good old Josh’ was well in his cups—again. He had always complained about reporters like Henry getting the best stories and scooping the rest of them over and over. However, his consumption of liquid joy usually ensured he wouldn’t be ready and available if a good story did come his way.

I’ve got to get over to the phone room quickly, Josh, but it was good to see you. Keep in touch, okay? He had to almost pry his hand out of the grip of his ‘old friend,’ but did so as gently as possible and moved away quickly. He really had received a call and needed to return it, but if it had been anyone but ‘good old Josh,’ he would have spent some time renewing acquaintances and perhaps probing for possible stories. Just one more reason, he thought, for staying out on my own and avoiding these bashes. They just aren’t profitable enough and generally produce too many bumps with the past. Next year, No!

He got to the room set apart for quiet phone conversations, listened again to the short message, returned the call and waited. He didn’t know where the area and prefix were from, but knew it was an international call. His cell phone was one of the best and had worldwide satellite reception, so he was never far from messages. His call was picked up on the third ring and the voice said, Hello Mr. Baxter. Thank you for returning our call.

With a little surprise at the immediate recognition, Henry responded, May I ask who this is, please?

The voice replied, respectfully, I can’t tell you that, Mr. Baxter, but what I have to say will be worth your while. May I continue?

Henry had no reason to not listen, so simply said, Yes.

Thank you, Mr. Baxter. Do you know of the Hammershed Corporation? Actually known as ‘A. G. Hammershed & Sons, Ltd. Import and Export?’

I don’t know them personally, but, yes, I know of them. Import/Export? Seems to me I know them more as a food producer or meat packing operation, something like that.

You are correct. They’re well known for their food production, especially the packing of various meat products for worldwide distribution. Their published headquarters are in the United States, but their true headquarters are in The Netherlands, and their main function is the overall importing and exporting of almost anything.

Well, then, I guess I do know something of them, but certainly not as much as you apparently do.

Then, sir, I would like you to be the first to know of their impending demise.

There was silence for a long moment before Henry said, "I’m sure you aren’t just trying to be funny, but what is this about? What do you mean their demise? And are you sure you can’t tell me who you are?"

No, Mr. Baxter, I cannot. But, if I may, I would like to tell you a story. You are free to use it in any report you wish to file. In fact, that’s the reason I’ve called you. We’re considering using you as our conduit to the world on all future events such as this. And, I assure you, sir, there will be many more events. May I continue?

Sure, Henry replied. I have a recording device built into my phone and I’d like to record our conversation. Do you mind?

Thank you for asking, Mr. Baxter. And, no, I don’t mind. We won’t be discussing anything you would be able to use to identify us, and your device won’t be able to pick up my location or phone number.

Henry noted quickly that his phone was showing a blank for the speaker’s number, then pushed the button to turn on his recorder and the voice continued. "Mr. Baxter, the Hammershed Corporation does business on basically all the continents and has built a huge import and export clientele. I wonder, though, if you know they are also, other than actual governments, the world’s largest supplier of military weapons in the small to medium size range? And that they sell to most of the small, poor and struggling nations of the world?

Nations that can’t afford food for their people are able to buy all the weapons they desire from Hammershed. Nations that have destitute people with no jobs and no incomes can purchase weapons to threaten and plunder their neighbors. In addition, the weapons purchased are usually hidden under the guise and invoicing of shipments of food and medicine, so the countries look as if they’re receiving materials they really need. Might this surprise you, Mr. Baxter?

Baxter thought for a moment before replying, Yes, it does. I haven’t heard of anything like this before. As I said, I’m not very familiar with Hammershed, so I can’t really comment on what you’ve said. But, does anyone else know this? Any of the governments, for instance? Is any of this public knowledge, or is it able to be found in research work?

"That requires a yes and a no answer. It is not public knowledge and no simple or cursory amount of research would unearth the specifics. There are, however, several governments, and several private companies that do know these details because they participate in the ventures with Hammershed in one way or another. Hammershed just sells the products and arranges deliveries. They don’t manufacture, for instance. They buy the products from several private and governmental sources. I won’t begin to name those sources at this time, but we do have full documentary proof of enough of the transactions that they couldn’t be denied. Internal shipping records, for instance, from a major weapons manufacturer cataloging a shipload of weapons to a storage depot, but with a final invoice to Hammershed from a third party for the materials—listed as medicines and clothing. The ship’s manifest carrying the materials is also available and it has a destination of one of the Hammershed plants. It’s an intricate flipping of documents, for sure, but it still allows a trace of the actual materials being shipped to be seen. We have many other documents like that."

Again, Baxter sat silently, wondering where this was going. Finally, he asked, Why have you called me?

"Earlier I said that the Hammershed Corporation was going to die. I used the words their demise. We would like to have you be the witness of that death and be the recipient of all the documentation of both their deeds and their destruction. Would you care to be that witness and that recipient, Mr. Baxter?"

Henry knew he had dozens of questions about what he was hearing, and he was concerned about legalities and so on regarding any participation with this outfit, but at this point he simply said, Yes.

"Thank you, Mr. Baxter. This will end our call for this evening. Early tomorrow morning, about 7 a.m. in your present time zone, you’ll receive an e-mail message telling you where to be and at what time tomorrow night. You’ll witness the destruction of the main Hammershed factory located where you are—a factory almost no one knows of and which is their main weapons shipping center out of Europe. By the time you return to your hotel tomorrow night, you will have received a package containing all the written materials I mentioned just now. In addition, you will later receive a series of messages and documents cataloging the destruction of the personal fortunes of all the owners and senior executives—all of those who know what the company is doing. You are free to use these documents in any way you see fit.

Mr. Baxter, this is a continuation of the events we started more than three years ago. We’ve been expanding our activities and there will be many more of the same. We now want the world’s citizens to know what we’re doing, so we may come back to you with offers of this type as more events take place. That will depend on how you handle the materials you are given in this event.

Something in Baxter’s mind suddenly clicked, and he jumped in with, Wait. I just thought of what you said—you’ve been doing this for a while now. Are you saying you’re the ones responsible for some of these unexplained terrorist activities over the past couple of years?

Yes, we are. We don’t happen to call them terrorist events, but we can discuss that later.

No, we need to discuss this now. You’re asking me to participate with you in this stuff, but you don’t think it’s worth talking about? And, if they’re not terrorist activities, then what are they? If we’re talking about the same things—government officials getting dumped, bank accounts getting emptied, businesses being shut down—they sure look like terrorist activities to me.

"I understand how you feel, Mr. Baxter, but we are seeing things from a different perspective. What I would like you to do is go back and review every one of those so-called terrorist events and see what kind of background information you find. In fact, I will send you a list of all the events we’ve caused so you can review them. You’ll see that every event was conducted against individuals or businesses that had been under suspicion of wrongdoing for a considerable time. At no time was anyone brought under fire that was known to be an innocent party to events going on around them. We are definitely not terrorists, Mr. Baxter. We are simply concerned citizens from around the world who wish to put a stop to the evil confronting our societies, and we have a very definite plan and a definite list of targets. Perhaps when the people of the world see what can happen if they will take back the control of their legal systems and legislatures, they will see the wisdom in what we’ve chosen to do."

Baxter was silent for several moments, and the voice on the phone spoke again.

I’m sure you are right now trying to make some decisions as to your participation, and I assure you, your hesitation is acceptable. We’ve come to the point in our activities where we feel the public needs to be specifically aware of what we’re doing so they can judge the results and, hopefully, pick up the reins they have dropped and begin working these problems out themselves. Right now, all I’m asking is whether you wish to go ahead with what I’ve told you so far? We may or may not discuss future actions at a later date. What do you say, Mr. Baxter? Will you participate at this time?

Again, Henry didn’t hesitate. He said simply, Yes.

Thank you, Mr. Baxter. We’ll end the call now and I will contact you in the morning. I do wish you a pleasant evening.

Wait. You said the destruction would take place tomorrow night? Was that correct? What do you mean by destruction? And will it be here in Hamburg?

Yes, Mr. Baxter. Tomorrow night is correct, except the plant is located a little distance north of Hamburg. We’ll send full directions and instructions. As far as what we mean by destruction, you’ll have that answer tomorrow. You will be able to attend?

Yes, I will.

Very good. Until tomorrow, then. Good night.

CHAPTER 3

Baxter had been in Hamburg for several days, so he had broken the jet lag barrier for the most part. He was up by 5 a.m., had called for breakfast, showered and prepared himself for the day, and by 6:30 was on his computer reading his messages and sending some story material back to his office in D.C. At almost exactly 7 a.m., a message came on his screen headed Hammershed, and he opened it immediately.

Mr. Baxter,

Take Highway 23 out of Hamburg north to the Highway 431 exit. Go west on 431 and simply follow it through Elmshorn to Gluckstadt. Just before the circle entering Gluckstadt, turn to the left onto Am Rethovel. Then, just a short distance, turn left again onto Am Schwartzwasser. A short distance down that street, you will find it branches to the right and left. Stop at that intersection and park facing the direction of the road that continues to the left. As the road crosses the waterway ahead, you will see it turn to the right and then left again. If you can see those turns, you are parked in an appropriate place. Be at that location at nine o’clock tonight. Do NOT go any further down the street. The best view will be from exactly that position. There will likely be no other traffic on the street, but turn your car off and avoid being personally seen. Do not bother taking photos of the event; from that distance and in that light they will be of little value. We will, however, send you a complete set of photos in a package to follow. The event we have spoken of will take place at exactly 9:30 p.m. Following the event, simply return to your hotel. A package will be waiting for you when you arrive. You may tell anyone you wish about the event you have witnessed, and may share any of the materials in the package. As you have been chosen to be our publisher of this event, we do hope you will present to the world a careful analysis of the materials we have given you.

Good day.

Henry pulled up several maps on his computer and looked up the directions he had been given. They looked right and were fairly easy to follow. His map didn’t give any names of the businesses in that area, so he had no idea which one might be Hammershed. He guessed it would likely be in view where the Am Schwartzwasser road crossed what looked like a small river or estuary. It looked like a possible shipping pathway to the North Sea. He pulled the phone book out of the desk but found no Hammershed listed. With another thought, he quickly jumped into a search site in the computer and looked them up. Hammershed was listed in fourteen cities in various countries, with the headquarters appearing to be in Omaha, Nebraska, but there was no listing for them in the Hamburg area at all. He did see a small listing for an office in Amsterdam, but nothing to indicate what kind of operation it was.

He took the time to go into their website and review the write-up. He saw that their name really was as his caller had noted—A. G. Hammershed & Sons, Ltd. Import and Export— but they were usually just noted as ‘Hammershed.’ Their main product was quite obviously a variety of meat products; mainly beef, pork and poultry in both carcasses and cut products for shipment to processors, and various meats already processed into sausages, specialty meats and so on. They also listed many other products of apparent lesser interest such as some packaged food products, clothing, jewelry, automotive parts, art works and home furnishings, all from different countries around the world. In addition, they stressed they had a large and very experienced export side of the business that could ship anything, anywhere.

Well, he thought, they appear to have almost everything covered. No weapons mentioned, though. I wonder how much of what I’ve been told is true? And, why in the world am I going out to a deserted part of a foreign country in the middle of the night because of a crazy story like this? However, then the words The Story rolled through his mind and answered his own question. In his life, it had always been The Story.

The Story was what had driven him since he had been eleven years old. His elementary school had decided to produce a small newsletter for the students and families, and he tried his hand at writing articles about school events. He was actually almost forced into joining the tiny staff because Janet had been there, but he quickly realized he liked doing the stories even more than he liked being around Janet. As the days went on, he started branching out on his own and writing little stories about some of the other kids, their lives and homes, and even stories about goings-on around town. He caused quite a stir when he got wind of a small scandal about missing library funds and wrote about it. That story, however, had been squelched. Even at that young age, The Story got into his blood and, from then on, had been a driving force in his life.

He had been on the news staff in college, then moved through several papers in Denver, Chicago and Minneapolis. He broke into the big time with stints in Los Angeles and New York, and finally came to rest in Washington, D.C. After a few years, he joined the Washington Times, but finally went out freelance and had been a pen-for-hire for eight years now. His investigative style of writing brought a streak of good stories and he had broken several large exposés in the political and business arenas. He was now followed by news organizations around the country, even the world, and his investigative skills and his ability with crafting his stories made him known to all. No Pulitzers yet, but close. He laughed sometimes, though, when he reminded himself that a Pulitzer was usually a one-time bang, while big stories every month regularly put big dollars in the bank. He decided dollars were more important, so kept his feelers out for lots of stories now rather than just The Big One.

Through the