Revenge

By David A O'Neil

Vengeance is mine!

Armed with indisputable evidence, Sarah Paige wages a one-woman war against the miscreants that assassinated her uncle, Senator Sam Irvin. Even worse, the same malefactors killed her first romance, her only love because he was getting too close to the truth. Now, mourning is over and action and revenge is on Sarah’s mind. Can one determined distraught and angry woman succeed against mysterious and unknown world powers? Even with the help of contacts from her Mafia grandfather, who was also assassinated, and her late uncle’s associates, it isn’t likely that Sarah can obtain the full measure of revenge she is seeking. However, don’t count her out. There is a saying, “There is no hell like a woman....”

• Language: English
• Publisher: W & B Publishers
• Release date: Mar 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311919724

Book preview

Revenge

(Sequel to The Raptors)

Book 2, Sarah Paige Chronicles

By

David A. O’Neil

W & B Publishers

USA

Revenge © 2014 All rights reserved by W&B Publishers

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

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ISBN: 978-0-6159685-4-4

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Book Cover designed by Dubya

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

This work is dedicated to those brave men and women of the First Responders who keeps the wolf away from the door. And, at times, invites the wolf in for dinner…

Part 1

Sarah

Chapter 1

Sarah’s fragile mind, totally exhausted, beaten, and stretched by the events that had been taken place since the death of the love of her life—and the man she had intended to marry—simply could not accept the implausible information that she was feeding into it. Contained within the massive mounds of documents that had come to her from her previously unknown grandfather were details of unbelievable magnitude. Sarah’s active mind could read the information, but her subconscious simply would not store the terrible details contained in the sheaths of papers that she had read. Not believing and not being able to comprehend all that she was viewing, Sarah had perused the papers again and again, reading and rereading.

The sheer enormity of the volumes of information was overwhelming and the stunning, indisputable truth of the data the papers contained was beyond her belief. Her grandfather—and by now she had come to accept that he was indeed—or had been—her grandfather—had not only been the head of the major organized crime family that blanketed the eastern half of the United States, but was in actuality the ‘Capo di tutti capi’ of the Cosa Nostra, the Mafia criminal organization that reached into every corner of the world. Every nation was proliferated with groups and families affiliated with the Mafia, and her grandfather had been the ‘boss of all bosses’. He had been the supreme ruler of the Mafia, with more power and resources at his fingertips than anyone in the entire world, with the possible exception of the President of the U.S.

Many of the numerous computer disks that had come into her possession contained spread sheets and ledger accounts that were filled with in-depth details of thousands of businesses, large and small, many of which were international. The disks revealed that her grandfather had controlled billions, perhaps even trillions of dollars and was a major influence in the government of virtually every nation on earth; even the United States Congress.

His dominating presence had loomed over the economies of many of the industrialized nations. Construction companies in New York and Connecticut; banks in the US, the Cayman Islands, Bermuda, Liechtenstein, Switzerland and virtually all of the offshore money havens fell under the influence of her grandfather and his minions. Shipping and transportation companies around the world; electronic and technological industries were under his thumb. Biochemistry, pharmaceutical laboratories; manufacturing and retailing; nothing seemed to have escaped the attention of the organization that he orchestrated.

The final computer disk bore the label ‘International Enterprises Diversified’. As the information it yielded flashed across the screen before her unbelieving eyes, Sarah was becoming physically ill. Spewing vomit, she frantically raced across the floor and into the bathroom. Dropping to her knees beside the commode, Sarah vomited anew, retching until her stomach was completely empty, only dry heaves shaking her body. For long minutes, she could not rouse herself from the stupor caused by the onslaught of the horrific, torturous information that she had learned.

At long last, she was able to stand, her mind whirling, her consciousness spinning. She bathed her heated face with cold water and then tried to clean up the mess she had made. Deliberately forcing herself not to return to the computer, she mopped the bathroom floor, and dried up the half-digested foods that she had discharged as she had fled across the room.

Still ignoring the images of facts and numbers showing on the computer monitor, Sarah filled a large glass with Scotch whiskey and drank deeply of it in one large gulp. Then, gulping again, she drank most of the rest of the liquid.

Sipping on a refilled glass, and with great reluctance, Sarah returned to the computer where she could read once again the names, places and events that were listed. Her senses went into orbit. Still befuddled and bemused, once again she reviewed all of the details, each shocking fact causing her to gulp large swallows of the strong liquor that seemed to have no effect on her. Her credibility was strained to its utmost. Over and over she ran the entire disk, always pausing and closely examining two events; the first was the assassination of her uncle, Senator Sam Irvin of Tennessee, and his secretary, Clara.

It was however the second set of occurrences that she studied over again and again—each time having to take large drinks of the soothing liquor to sustain her—the complete story of the assassination of the senator’s strong right arm, and her one true love, Scott Treadwell.

The combination of the series of strong drinks and the tremendous blows to her emotions finally took effect on Sarah, as she slowly slumped in her chair, sinking into oblivion. Traumatized by the double blow to her nervous system, she lay prone in the large chair, her body shuddering from time to time as her subconscious replayed her memories.

***

The following morning was dark, rainy and dreary, easily matching Sarah’s morose mood. There was no way she could eat breakfast. She had to force herself to sip a little of the orange juice she took from the refrigerator before she would allow herself to look at the first piece of paper. And then the nightmare started all over anew. And it went on and on and on.

***

Sarah sat in silence, stunned by the information that she had studied over the past several weeks. The enormity of her grandfather’s operations—legal and illegal—overwhelmed her. By now, she had accepted the fact that the mafia gangster was indeed her grandfather. And she accepted the fact that his enemies—because of him—had been responsible for the death of her parents. In her mind, she held her grandfather equally responsible. Had he not been a gangster, her parents would still be alive. She also accepted the facts that the bomb that had taken their lives had been deliberately planted so as to kill her father and her mother, and it had been no accidental misplacing of the bomb as supposed by the police.

Slowly, Sarah’s mind began to delve further into the information that her grandfather—better think of him as Calderon, the mafia boss—had in no small way been responsible for the death of her uncle, Senator Sam Irwin. Then, she froze, her mind on fire, her brain burning with hatred.

My grandfather killed Scott!

Nooooooo…. All went black.

~*~

When Sarah regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the floor, where she had evidently dropped when the realization that her own grandfather had been responsible for killing everything that she had loved: her mother, her father, her uncle, her lover.

Stiff from laying on the hard wooden floor, Sarah slowly rose to her feet, reeled into the kitchen, and turned the heat on under a tea kettle sitting on the range. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about what she had learned until the water was boiling and she made herself a cup of herbal green tea, adding two heaping spoonfuls of sugar to a cup of the hot tea. She normally only took cream, but felt she needed the energy boost. Then she moved back into the living room, and sat down on the divan. As she sipped the fragrant hot liquid, Sarah released her steely hold on her thoughts. She found that her emotions were still frozen numb—or perhaps dead.

My parents dead because of Calderon. My uncle dead because of Calderon. Carla dead because of Calderon. Heavens knows how many others, but I don’t care. My Scott is dead because of Calderon. And that son-of-a-bitch is dead.

It’s just not fair, Sarah shouted aloud. He died too damn easily. It’s just not enough. He should rot in Hell.

Standing up, she began to pick up the piles of papers that had been strewed about, placing them in their folders and putting them on a nearby table.

It’s not enough and I’m not going to leave it at that.

Chapter 2

Dona Sarah, Salvatore’s voice was husky with emotion. It is absolutely a fact. You certainly have the right to call on all of the resources of the family. You have my oath, and the oaths of all of us that we will serve you in any way possible, even as we have always served your grandfather, Don Giovanni.

Alright then, just provide me with the name and telephone number of someone who can do what I want done. Sarah’s voice was cold and emotionless.

That’s just it, Dona Sarah. We don’t have a man who can do that. Certainly, we can eliminate someone if you want. Or even several people. Or a lot of people. You have only to point them out, and it is done. That’s what we do. But the kind of man that you need....we just don’t have anyone as good as that.

Then how can I.....

It’s only a suggestion, Dona Sarah. To find someone so skillful, to penetrate and uncover their identities, there are only a few organizations that train their people to such a degree. The American C.I.A. or the F.B.I. Perhaps the military. Possibly the military or espionage organizations in other countries. Especially the Israeli or the British. One of the Special Forces, or a Commando. But, not a member of our family. No one is adequately trained, not even myself. We have a few contacts, so I’ll check with them, but I’m not hopeful.

Reluctantly, Sarah hung up the telephone, cutting off the still apologizing voice of her dead grandfather’s Sotto Capo, or second in command, his under-boss. The simmering hatred deep inside her was demanding relief, but her effort at finding someone who could implement her desires had failed. If the Mafia couldn’t produce the kind of person she needed, then it was likely that no one else could. She would just have to give up the thought of vengeance.

Easing back in her recliner, she closed her eyes, resigned to failure.

Then, a name crossed her mind.

Charlie!!!

Part 2

~John~

Chapter 1

...Monrovia

...September 9, 1990

The raggedy, makeshift uniforms worn by the band of rebel soldiers that surrounded Samuel Kanyon Doe, President of Liberia, may have been frayed, threadbare, tattered and torn, but there was nothing shoddy about the rifles that the rebels were aiming at President Doe. Where the soldiers had suddenly emerged from at the same exact moment that his twelve most loyal and trusted guards had mysteriously disappeared and how they knew not only the location but the time that he would arrive at this spot was a puzzle to the President. Still, he realized that he was in trouble. Perhaps he could bribe the soldiers with offers of money, drugs or women. Even power.

Doe, trained by the U.S. Army Special Forces, was an ethnic Krahn, part of a rural tribe in Liberia. A member of a long oppressed majority of the Liberian population that was of native descent, Doe had staged a military coup on April 12, 1980, killing then President William R. Tolbert, Jr. in his palace, and establishing a military regime with himself as its head.

Shortly afterwards, Doe’s government had grown corrupt and repressive. Much of the foreign aid from the U.S. was being siphoned away from the country and into Doe’s pocket. Through force and voter fraud, he continued in power despite an unsuccessful attempted coup by the military leader, Thomas Quiwonkpa. In the November 1985 attempt, more than six hundred people were killed. Thereafter, Doe’s only close associate was Charles Taylor, an ally that he trusted with his life.

At the present time, Doe and Taylor were not only close friends but also allies in a fight to retain power; their opponent a faction leader, Prince Johnson. Doe had received a mysterious message via a telephone call from someone who would not identify himself. Nevertheless, Doe was certain that he recognized the voice of the Russian Ambassador, Serge Kruchev. The message asked for a clandestine meeting at which time information would be given that would enable Doe to destroy the charismatic Johnson and halt the rebel uprising.

Doe traveled to Monrovia to meet his mystery caller to secure the information that would enable him to plan an attack against the areas held by Johnson and his rebels. The caller had insisted on secrecy. Doe, aware of the careful posturing of Russia who, on one hand, supplied arms to the rebels and on the other hand supported Doe’s presidency, could understand the need for anonymity, so only his most trusted guards traveled with Doe. Every member of this inner circle of guards was related either to him or to his trusted ally, Taylor; or to both. Now, Doe could only hope that Taylor was aware of his predicament and