The Farm

By Alexx Rice-Egen

On a moonless caribbean night, a lone figure, painfully dashes thru the seemingly endless forest. Running against the wild landscape-and from unthinkable terror- the ends come unescapable. A young man is dead, and the investigative authorities are called for duty. The mysterious tragedy will unite unknowns in the search for answers, vengeance...and the truth.
FBI agent Jim Davies is called for the primary investigation, since the park is a federally protected property since 1903. Reluctant at first , he embarked on a life threatening ordeal. On the other side, Puerto Rico senior homicide investigator, Charlie De Los Santos has no choice; his nephew is the one killed. Soon, destiny, fate and circumstances put both men on the path of searching leads, confronting enemies and...extreme danger. An ancient alien capsule, fearsome regenerated animals from a distant planet and a coverup leading to the uppermost seats of power, are the basis for this captivating action ride.
Bursting to the seams with captivating details, this non-stop thriller will have your fingers glued to the pages.
In The FARM, Author ALEXX RICE-EGEN, will give you an in-depth look at the never revealed truth.
Beautifully crafted and with exquisite details, this novel is a bestseller in the making.
"Get yourself immersed in the ultimate, action packed, white knuckle ride."
The ultimate truth is out there...and it should never be left out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997614619

Book preview

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Chapter 1

Me

What can I say now that would matter to anyone but you or probably me?

What can I say that could be of any importance now?

I guess that we are doomed anyway!

Every day, I wake up to the same reality, relive the same past experiences and wait for some impending and probable future to happen.

A few years ago, I had a few questions that lingered in my head. Those questions were stapled into my conscious and subconscious self like a parlor made tattoo—there were no definitive answers to them.

It was like if I was searching for a needle on a haystack!

Something was not right! Something was not clear! But I had the courage to search for the answers. Soon others would join me and as the group grew bigger and bigger some pieces of the puzzle start to fell on the right quadrants…on the right slots.

Soon we start to unravel the mystery. We dig for clues, search…intervene. Everyone was doing his or her part; everyone was risking something. Some of us got lucky in our quest for the truth.

Some didn’t. Others paid the ultimate price.

I promise to tell you all I know!

I will lay for you the stories; some, heard from the main players themselves about the entire affair.

It is hard for me to revisit the entire situation, but at the end you will agree that it was necessary. You should know what really happened; I guess everyone should!

At the end, you are the one that will decide whether to believe or not.

I feel relieved by knowing that I’ll do my part.

This is exactly how it happened…

Chapter 2

In Harm’s Way

Carlos De Los Santos sighed as he arrived punctually at his office that morning, resigning himself to repetitive documentation chores.

Days like this, on which he was away from ‘field work’ were the easy ones…but also the most boring.

Charlie, as everyone knew him, was the envy of some of his colleagues and a charmer with the ladies—even at his age. Handsome and muscular, his square jaw and rugged cheekbones made him look like an action figure made human.

His green eyes were captivatingly expressive and charming. He always kept his salt and pepper hair cut neatly and professionally in a fashion that was almost military. The latest addition to his overall facial look was a well-trimmed goatee framing the lower part of his face and making him look more balanced, appealing and younger.

But underneath his clean-cut appearance he hid a fiery personality…driven and focused. He sometimes felt that his easily fired temper was too great of a contrast with his pleasant looks.

His hyperkinetic, always on brain was constantly processing details that seemed to escape the attention of others.

He knew that his brain was his Achilles heel; always keeping him on alert, unable to relax, expecting the unexpected…at times emotionally burdened and often mentally exhausted.

On the other hand it had been a blessing in his line of work.

Once he set his laser like focus on a case, his obsessive nature compelled him to finish it, and…he was VERY successful in his line of work.

Breakfast, coffee, and a car ride to 6100 Franklin Delano Roosevelt Avenue were—most of the time—the preamble to an exciting day of work.

Today, that address was his only destination.

He steered his matte black, Ford Raptor SVT truck towards the towering office building in the Hato Rey area of San Juan. The place looked like a bomb shelter…imposing—a hulking concrete mass displaying an array of tiny rectangular windows.

To the right side, a vertical tower was connected to the main building; from time to time its massive roof was used as a helicopter-landing platform.

Although it was an eyesore, this building and the streets below have given Charlie a way to make a living and more importantly the means to make a difference in his and other people’s lives.

The day was flowing by uneventfully…as like any other recent day.

Paperwork, phone calls and routine transactions; time was moving at a snail pace.

At noon, he felt relieved to get out of the office and into his truck, destined to fulfill his monthly visit to the Puerto Nuevo branch of the Island Trust Bank.

The single story bank building—part of the island largest banking conglomerate—was crowded with a throng of customers trying to get their transactions finished in time to get back to work.

Charlie, now part of the crowd, gazed at the line of customers ahead of him and glimpsed at his Swiss made, Rado watch; favored by some people in his line of work for its ruggedness and looks. He calculated that he might have enough time to get back to the office. He allowed his thoughts to drift, somewhat disconnected from his surroundings, meditating on his unfinished work tasks.

He returned from his mental wandering when he made note of the two individuals walking into the bank—through the double doors—with an unusual stride

Charlie’s attention was drawn immediately to the oversized parka jackets; several sizes too big for them and way too padded for the tropical weather outside.

He starts to think about unusual clothing styles that were sometimes a way of copying fashion statements from other countries, cultures or…subcultures. Those were way too different from the styles that he was accustomed to see on the local streets. Hoodies were not really popular among young Caribbean’s and he had seldom seen anyone wearing those kinds in the sometimes-sweltering island heat.

Charlie began to feel uneasy…jittery.

Something about their walking style was not right. A strange rhythmic cadence makes it look like if they were pacing some beat that was inaudible to him and the other customers.

Their hands inside the pockets and the surveying look in their eyes make Charlie’s hair rise on the back of his head.

He had seen this strange behavior before and his senses were rising into a heightened state of alertness.

He asked the person behind to excuse him and to hold his space on the line while he picked up a deposit slip in a disguised effort to get close to the exit doors.

A better vantage viewing point, he thought.

Abruptly, a loud yell from one of the individuals resonated thunderously through the hall.

Get down or get killed…this is a robbery!

The offenders immediately brandished an AK-47 assault rifle and a Beretta 9-mm handgun, previously hidden in their oversized parkas.

The taller of the two yelled at everyone to stay on the ground, not to move, and to keep quiet.

He loudly proclaimed that nobody needed to get hurt if those simple instructions were followed. The shorter robber quickly jumped over the counter and starts to grab packets of dollar bills from the cash drawers. The frightened cashiers had already hastily abandoned those.

Charlie hadn’t processed the scenario unfolding before him fast enough and was now lying—face down—on the cold and shiny Italian marble floor slab beneath him.

The smell of ammonia and pine scented floor cleaner distracted him for a split second; his day having taken a sharp turn into the unknown.

Thoughtful he considered the possibility that after ransacking the bank the robbers might come up with the brilliant idea of going through the pockets and purses of the customers lying on the ground to get some other valuable souvenirs…their wallets.

His pulse rate accelerated while he envisioned the reactions of those bad boys as soon as they notice the bulge in his jacket; underneath of which was a standard, police issued, G-30S Glock handgun.

Designed and built for superior handling and combat capabilities, this specific Glock model—an exceptional handgun—became—since its market introduction—the weapon of choice of 65 percent of police departments in North America. At 177 mm long and 122 mm high, concealment wasn’t its best feature.

The weapon, along with its 10 round, .45-caliber clip magazine was snuggly wrapped inside the leather chest high holster and protruding prominently from his side.

And, if the search became more thorough, they could also find, under his light fabric office jacket, the ‘piece the resistance’—his shiny and golden detective badge from the Puerto Rico Police Department, encased in a leather holder and perilously dangling from his left shirt pocket.

It would certainly be an instant eye opener to any drug dealer, petty criminal or, in this case…bank robbers.

Charlie knew things could get very bad quickly if these impulsive criminals saw his badge.

Suddenly, the bank alarm went off, and—to Charlie’s immediate relief—the two individual’s began a desperate escape run towards the front entrance. A bag, loaded with cash was securely gripped on one of their hands; a rewarding sum for just fifteen minutes of work.

As soon as they sprinted thru the doors Charlie jolted from the floor while yelling to the bank cashiers to call 911 and dashing off in pursuit.

The rush of hot and humid air outside buffeted his cheeks like steam.

Knowing that the customers were now safe within the bank confines, Charlie yelled at the runners, informing them that he was a police officer and ordering them to stop.

Stop…throw down your weapons…this is the police! He screamed.

Both men spun towards the source of the voice

The only response was a barrage of bullets from both weapons, which oblige him to seek cover behind two parked cars.

As he listened to the bullets hitting the cars—instantly making them look like Swiss cheese—Charlie realized that these criminals had just proven, beyond any doubts, to have no regard for human life…his included.

He vowed to bring them to justice.

From his crouch he suddenly heard the sweetest sound—the faint click of the weapons trigger mechanism misfire that let him knows that the ammunition chambers were probably empty.

Through a narrow space between the vehicles Charlie glimpsed at the two men fleeing the scene and leapt up to resume the chase. Instinctively he considered the weapons being used and did a quick mental exercise to figure out whether the weapons chambers were really empty by now.

Wild or incorrect guesswork would prove fatal…especially if they had spare magazines and had already managed to reload.

…Charlie was now sprinting and in hot pursuit.

Suddenly, he saw the individuals split, dashing away from each other, the taller one throwing the handgun away in an effort to concentrate on the street ahead.

Good sign…no magazine refill; better yet…no gun, he thought.

Charlie put his gun back in the holster.

Charlie kept racing after. The frontrunner then ventured into an alley located between two buildings and leading into a dead end.

The disoriented robber had just made a crucial mistake.

Charlie had always been an avid runner and even though he was 45 years old he was quickly cutting the distance between him and the younger criminal.

With perfect timing he jumped and grabbed the robber by the waist.

Both men crashed onto the pavement.

They fought brutally—on a ‘no holds barred’ fashion. They were fending off punches and chokeholds while trying to land a decisive blow that could render the other unconscious. Both men were now oblivious to the gathering crowd of onlookers—watching from a safe distance.

After a few harrowing hits Charlie was able to get on top of the fierce fighter, freeing his right arm and nailing the guy with a thunderous blow to the left cheek that he knew was a knockout punch.

In a split second, he forcefully pulled his Glock out of the side holster and pointed it decisively; not to the front of him—toward the now unconscious guy—but to his left side and up.

Charlie had seen—in a blink of an eye—the other robber, running towards him with a piece of metallic pipe in his hands and ready to knock his light out. At this crucial moment he was lucky and his timing perfect.

When the robber saw the Glock’s dark barrel pointing at him he panicked and tripped with the bag of cash, crashing to the ground in front of Charlie. The man tripped in spectacular fashion; tumbling and rolling uncontrollably.

Once recovered he was searching for the pipe when suddenly, the duo-toned sound of the gun being manually cocked filled the surrounding air—too grave to be ignored.

He was immediately brought back to the reality in front of him. When he raised his face, he saw the hollow tip of the firearm, pointed some 12 inches away from his awestruck face.

Standing and pointing the Glock—at an arm’s length distance—was a towering figure; now with a fully displayed and official police department badge on his chest.

The piece of pipe starts to nervously shake in the robber’s right hand.

The look in Charlie’s fiery green eyes was unambiguous as he shouted commandingly…

Don’t make this harder on any of us!

Some quick thinking followed.

The man dropped the metal pipe and threw his arms up.

He sank into the knowledge that silvery handcuffs and an orange overall suit were about to be part of his new attire.

Chapter 3

Call of Duty

The afternoon breeze was constant and soft in the ‘Sun Capital’ of the east coast.

Sometimes called ‘The Riviera of Puerto Rico’, Luquillo’s Beach is a dream comes true.

Located in the northeast coast of the island and at a few miles from the Rio Grande River, the beach area is one of the most sought after retreats for local beachgoers as well as seasoned tourists.

Basking under the glistening Caribbean sun, a vast plantation of coconut palms was shading more than a mile of fine and shimmering sand.

…Jim Davies was having a good time.

He was on vacation and his wife was extremely happy to have him around and spending some quality time with her and the rest of the family.

Today, along with his two children—Josh and Tiffany—the off duty ambiance was relaxing and uneventful.

Jim was sipping his favorite local beer while relaxing in the several years used, locally handmade hammock, which showcased colorful and vibrant Caribbean images and details.

His wife, Sue Ellen, was reading a recently purchased novel while Josh, his younger son, was snorkeling in the clear blue and pristine waters.

Tiffany, their only daughter, was playing with her ‘Barbara’ doll and filling buckets of the golden sand to make a new castle for her and the lovely companion doll, ‘Kenneth’.

It was—so far—a perfect day.

He has gotten these days off after a heated debate with his boss, severe looking Harry Rodgers—a man with a mission; a hard worker, focused on goals and contrary to Jim…single.

Harry was seemingly always short of personnel and long work hours were the trademark of his office. Goal oriented and with a harsh vocal tone when addressing the troops, he had battled Jim for these three weeks off.

Two weeks have gone by and Jim felt that the disconnection from everyone and everything in the office was a blessing of grand proportions.

Meanwhile, on the beach parking lot, a car stopped and the driver opened the door and corrected her glasses.

A young, blond haired woman exited the vehicle with a scanning look on her light blue eyes. She was nicely dressed with a navy blue skirt and a white blouse. Her figure was impressive, in part for the neat simplicity of her attire, fittingly encasing a slender and athletic body.

Neither cocky nor arrogant the woman starts to walk with a certain flare that reflected self-confidence and decisiveness. The dark designer sunglasses were making her look more interesting and somewhat enigmatic.

Her shoes—nicely buffed—a reflection of care.

She kept walking, passing by a group of teenagers who noticed her and start to make comments of sudden approval along with cheers. She glanced and kept walking…now with a coveted smirk.

She continued walking until she came to be face-to-face with Jim. He exhaled and moved his head—side to side—with apparent discomfort.

What in the world is Angie Cassidy probably doing here? He thought.

Hello…what you are doing here? he asked in a slightly controlled fashion.

Hi, it is nice to see you too! she said…her tone, playful.

I’d been sent here to get you. They requested your assistance on a special matter and the request is coming from the office’s top brass!

What? Do you realize that I am still on vacation? he blurt out, loudly.

Jim, don’t shoot the messenger, I am just delivering the message! she replied.

Believe me when I say that I did not volunteer to be here and to ruin your day, but, if it makes you any happier, I heard that it is just for a few hours, she said…apologetically.

They really need your help with a very important matter and that should be the end of it. I bet that after a few hours you will be off the hook and ready to get back to your merry ways, she added.

Jim instantly realized that the orders were coming from the top…from Harry. He knew that his complaints would be no good and futile. He figured that just Angie’s presence there was enough disruption to his otherwise perfect afternoon.

So, after some thinking he asked her to take him to his apartment, located at the Sun Bay Villas complex.

He spent some time explaining the situation to Sue. After waving goodbye to the children, he starts to walk towards the parking lot, followed closely by Angie.

Jim stood silent most of the time during the twenty minutes car ride to the apartment, located on the beachfront area of the town of Fajardo.

After a quick shower he donned his rather standard office suit: dark colored pants, white shirt, tie and a jacket. A leather belt and a pair of recently buffed shoes completed his attire.

The last two finishing touches were a gun holster—with a gun in it—and a badge, prominently showing an eagle with fully spread wings above the symbol of a blindfolded lady. She was stoically holding the justice scale on her right hand and a sword in her left.

The inscription, ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation’, was on top of the lady figure and the phrase ‘Department Of Justice’, could be read below.

Jim came out looking straight at Angie’s inquisitive eyes and said…

Special Agent Cassidy, I am ready…you can brief me now!

Chapter 4

Headed to the Mission

The road, from Fajardo to El Yunkele Forest was almost a straight line, encompassing part of the northeast shore of the island. This path was very familiar to Jim. He had traveled it almost every day on his way to the FBI field office located at the ‘Frederick De-Gertrude’, Federal Building. The area where the building was situated was considered the heart of San Juan…the metropolitan district. The structure was home to the US Federal Court as well as other federal law enforcement dependencies.

Some years ago Jim was assigned—as an FBI backup—to the security entourage of the, at the time, President Bill Clifton, during his first family vacation trip to the island of St Thomas…the capital of the United States Virgin Islands.

Like for other travelers, a stop in Puerto Rico was a must, due to the capability of the San Juan International Airport to accommodate bigger jetliner airplanes; the likes of Air Force One.

After the president’s visit, Jim and a few others from the entourage spent a few days in Puerto Rico, which at some point brought him to the east coast and to the town of Fajardo.

For him it was love at first sight. When an opening for a transfer opportunity showed up in the office computers, he didn’t hesitate to hold on to the opportunity.

A change of scenery—for a few years—was starting to sound like a good idea for the Iowa native. After the proper approvals and lengthy conversations with Sue the relocation became a reality.

…Angie was now making a left turn and steering away from the main road number three. The exit taken would soon lead them to a more sinuous secondary road.

Soon the two lanes, tall grass framed road start to evolve into a somewhat curvy ascent to the forest scenery. Road 191 is famed for being the shortest, fully travelable access route to any rainforest in the entire world.

…Angie was sharing with Jim the superficial details that she’d been given at the office.

There had been a death in the off the main trail area, and the details from the park rangers and other authorities had been—until that moment—very vague and rather sketchy.

Jim was summoned to perform the primary onsite field investigation.

He, like all FBI recruits boasted a college a degree, being the minimum requirement for acceptance a bachelor’s degree. The age bracket for the applicants had always being between 23 to 37 years of age and requiring top security clearance.

Jim had, as part of his credentials, a Master’s Degree in Biology, which had become very useful when it came to field forensic investigation