Deadly Research

By Jon Batson

Unpublished novelist Jack Richmond is given an assignment by a publisher, write a book that is relevant to our time. He begins researching the book, not knowing that his task is an exercise in data gathering. But there are factions who don't want the data gathered, and other factions who want it gathered but not evaluated. Things turn ugly when Jack discovers someone is trying to kill him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Batson
• Release date: Dec 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452467542

Jon Batson

Jon Batson is a prolific award-winning writer, talented entertainer and the driving force behind Midnight Whistler Publishers (MWP), an independent press located in Raleigh, NC. He publishes well-written, insightful, and thought-provoking non-fiction that focuses on education, politics and government. His six fact-based fiction books are intentionally provocative and refreshingly entertaining. Jon lives with his wife, Eileen, in Raleigh, NC and is currently writing his next novel. Visit www.MidnightWhistler.com and www.TheRealJonBatson.com Email [e-mail]

Book preview

DEADLY RESEARCH

A NOVEL BY

Jon Batson

Midnight Whistler Publishers – since 1979

Other Books by Jon Batson

Research Triangle

Second in the Jack Richmond series, Jack discovers a building on the edge of the Research Triangle where school children were being remotely monitored at a distance for medication reactions. The monitoring room was joyous at the killing of 32 students until the discovery that they were being recorded. Jack Richmond wakes with no memory at all.

Terminal Research

The story continues as Jack Richmond returns home on Halloween to find that his fiance, Teri, has been abducted. Finding her becomes his first objective, but along the way he has to deal with new assassins, old friends gone bad and members of the organization that is really running things.

Murder at Thompson Bog

A collection of short stories that tend to be on the darker side. If you like curling up with a scary story, this may be your ticket to insomnia.

Encounter in a Small Café

A light-hearted collection of short stories including some prize winners from The Lower Cape Fear Historical Fiction Contest.

Doll Bodies

Out-of-this-world tales including other possible futures, space stories, and excerpts from two future full-length projects. If you are craving a little Sci-Fi in your day, here you are. Enjoy!

Nina Knows the Night

Nina Richardson, a mild-mannered law school dropout, is tired of the criminals in her neighborhood. She dresses in black and ventures into the night to become a kick-butt crime-fighter. She discovers her superpowers to be her own inner-strength and purpose.

Mars Quake

When astronomer Dana Wright thinks she has seen writing on Mars, she wants to take a look through a larger telescope. Senate aide Tom Matthews is willing to investigate it with her, but knows it is not writing but buildings, structures made by intelligent beings. Tom remembers every one of his past lives and all the people who shared them with him, until he meets Doctor Wright, someone he’s never met before. His memory, whether Doctor Wright likes it or not, is the key to the new markings that have appeared on the Martian surface.

DEADLY RESEARCH

Midnight Whistler Publishers – since 1979

Copyright © 2009 by Jon Batson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

First Edition

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9781452467542

Midnight Whistler

www.midnightwhistler.com

[e-mail]

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Table of Contents

Other Books By Jon Batson

What They’re Saying

Deadly Research

About The Author

What they’re saying:

"Jon Batson is not just a writer, but a storyteller. His gift is making you experience what his characters feel and see while he slings irony and witty asides that make others wonder why you’re laughing so hard. He looks closer at the ordinary world and determines what extraordinary things a person can do given the right circumstances. The result is a story that won’t be put down."

Alice Osborn,

author, editor and teacher of "Write from the Inside Out."

"Colorful, engrossing, and highly entertaining! Jon Batson has produced an evocative collection of engaging characters whose lives unfold in amusing, tragic and, often, unexpected ways that send the imagination gliding over each one’s winding paths, hairpin curves and jarring potholes with the artistic finesse of a truly masterful storyteller."

Karen Michelle Raines, poet/author

"Batson’s stories are contemporary yet reminiscent of an earlier time – O’Henry, Raymond Carver and Edgar Allen Poe come to mind. Luckily for us although the aforementioned have gone onto their last edit, Jon will be with us for a long time."

Steven Elliot, Falls River Books

"I could hear you in every sentence. Easy reading, nice payoff, and a few surprises."

Gary Young, Author

"Thanks for writing and sharing your short stories with me. Your characters in these creative adventures come alive with the action and your clean concise writing keep the tales moving at a fun pace! I enjoyed reading them and look forward to more."

J. K. Gildersleeve, Writer and Illustrator

‘A good book is one you think about all day and wonder what is happening with the characters, cannot wait to get back to them and hope you haven’t missed much while you’re away. I found myself emotionally connected all the way through as the story unfolded.’

Susan Henson, Avid Reader

(Deadly Research) ...took me for a good read Although it disturbed me I enjoyed it. You’ve certainly pulled all of this in together neatly. I’ve had a definite feeling that some subversive force has been screwing us around lately.

Art Fettig, Author

"Fascinating!"

Beverly Eakman, Author

(The ebook) ...it is an electron turner!

Marchant Wentworth, Lobbyist

Fast read, good research, scary conspiracy, keeps the reader going. There’s certainly a lot of truth in it.

Dean Blehert, author, poet and activist

DEADLY RESEARCH

Guardian Lions

The great lions outside the New York Public Library watched me walk down the stone steps, my breath reaching out before me in the cold. They seemed to be there as my personal protection, looking out for me as I stood waiting for the bus.

I pulled my coat collar up against the freezing rain of the January evening and looked around to smile at the stone guardians, still and vigilant. But they didn’t blink as the dark SUV swerved, jumped the curb and headed straight for me. I caught it out of the corner of my eye and rolled toward the steps, notebooks flying.

A woman screamed and horns blared as I came to rest at the bottom step, sitting in a puddle of slush, my knees and elbows pulsing. The black monster, twice the size of a standard sedan, squealed, tires skidding and swung back onto the street. Four frightened pedestrians were also sitting on the sidewalk, thanking whatever deity protected them for their narrow escapes.

Are you OK? asked a man in a uniform. The patch indicated a private company. He was a hired security guard, possibly for the library.

I think so. I took the offered hand and pulled myself to my feet. Shaken is all. My notebooks were blowing across the intersection, ignored by the ever increasing number of cars filling the street.

I’ll help you gather up what we can, said the guard.

Thanks, I replied, glad for the help.

It was dark when I finally gave up on the rest of my notes. The passing police ignored the incident, as there was no vehicle damages and no injuries. An SUV jumps the curb a lot these days, so many people are on the phone, driving with one hand, while drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.

Student? asked the guard, handing me the pieces of a loose-leaf notebook.

Novelist. I’ve got a pipe and a bottle of Jack Daniels at home to prove it.

Ah! Researching a story?

Yeah, my publisher wants something relevant.

Well, OK. Keep an eye out for wild SUVs. He slapped me on the arm like a drinking buddy and turned to lope up the steps.

Thanks, I called after him. He waved a hand over his shoulder and was gone into the library. The twin lions said nothing. Their protection was apparently at an end. From here out, I was on my own.

The bus pulled up, further soaking my pants cuffs. I got on, thinking of myself as lucky to have been missed by a run-away vehicle, unlucky for losing my notes in the slush. Maybe I was lucky to have lost only a few pieces of paper in a city with one of the highest crime rates in the country.

I didn’t care for New York, but it’s where the agents and publishers are. And after all, I am a novelist. I have a laptop: cheap, reliable, and portable, containing a basic writing program and not much else. I didn’t need anything else, I was a novelist and colorful as hell. So I reminded myself as I opened the door to my tiny apartment in the Village. I’m a New York novelist and I’m colorful as hell!

I threw my coat over the back of the couch and my notebooks down on the rug. I’d sort them out later and see what I had salvaged. Most of the concepts were in my head, but the details were on paper.

I used to think the trick of being a novelist was to make enough money to survive until you are dead and your novels are worth something. It turns out it’s also a matter of staying alive until you finish your novel. If one is on the right track, there are people who want to kill him. The SUV might have been a fluke. Or maybe not.

I moved to New York to be a novelist. My short stories had won a few competitions, appeared in a few presses and occasionally got printed in my hometown mag, the Durham Scuttlebutt, just because I’m from there. I had three novels written: a murder mystery about a man unjustly accused, a sci-fi about alien invasions and an urban action book about the residents of a small, inner-city neighborhood. I got tired of sending, waiting and getting rejected by half of the publishers I approached, and ignored by the other half. A company tapping into the new technologies of print-on-demand, Lapazoo-dot-com, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse – self-publish for free. I liked the last word – free. I put the first two on Lapazoo and sat back to wait for my millions to come in.

My third novel made the rounds, getting the same responses so far. If I didn’t make headway soon, I planned putting it out on my own through Lapazoo like I had the previous two. Do all the work, and keep all the money. Only two things wrong with that thinking. One: I wasn’t making any money, and two: I would sure like to be a published novelist.

To truly be a published novelist, you had to have your ticket stamped by one of the bona-fide publishers of the world. A pat on the head and a writer’s advance from a name publisher was what made you a writer. That’s why I was in New York. But when the offer came it didn’t come from New York, but from Canada.

Winslow Publishing Group

The call came a week after New Years; the week before I was nearly run down by a runaway SUV.

The phone woke me up from a mid-afternoon nap. I wasn’t tired or exhausted from work, just bored and unable to do anything constructive other than nap. So when the phone rang, I woke up and answered it.

Hello?

Mr. Richmond?

Yes, this is Jack Richmond, I said, still asleep.

Robert Maynard of Winslow Publishing Group, Toronto. Is this a bad time?

No, Mr. Maynard, it’s a good time. I rubbed my eyes, looked around, reminding myself what day it was, hoping I could get into present time fast enough to sound intelligent.

My mind went into overdrive as I plowed through the confusion of my desktop looking for a piece of blank paper and a working pen. I couldn’t recall what I had sent to the Winslow Publishing Group. Was it a short story, query or full manuscript?

Oh, good. I wanted to discuss your next novel with you.

My next novel? You mean the one I sent you? I was bluffing, hoping I was a participant in the conversation.

No, no. You haven’t sent us a novel, but we were able to download your two from the net. You have them on your site. Do you have another one going around?

"Yes, my third novel, Hunting the Hunters. I thought perhaps I had sent you a query letter, or even a manuscript. I have one I can get off to you if you..."

That isn’t what I want to discuss. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?

Yes, I’m sure I can free up tomorrow evening. My calendar was clear, but I tried to sound professional rather than having nothing going for me.

Excellent! I’ll be flying in and will call you to let you know where we’ll meet. Until then, Mr. Richmond.

Uh, sure. Goodbye, then, I said to a dead phone. He had already hung up. I stood there looking at the receiver, but it said nothing.

The following evening found me trying to quell my nerves in the The Renaissance Hotel near Times Square. The restaurant was too posh for my taste, but Mr. Maynard had called the dance. I hoped he would also pay the fiddler.

Robert Maynard sat down with a smile like a used car salesman. He put two manuscripts on the table in front of him, one thin, the other thick. He wore a brown suit matching his hair. His collar was open and he had a rakish smile.

Robert Maynard of Winslow Publishing Group, he said, shoving a hand across the table. I’ve been enjoying your work. Maynard patted the two manuscripts, pretending to look at the passing desert cart. I downloaded these from Lapazoo-dot-com.

He let it sink in. He had spent money, though just a few bucks, to download them and flew from Toronto to see me. I was impressed. Perhaps my ship had come in.

"‘The Tamlin Accusation,’" said Maynard, shifting his gaze over to the top manuscript.

Yes, it was my first book. Reggie Tamlin is an innocent man accused of murder. He is interviewed by the police and...

Yes, I read it. Interesting. Get any bites? Maynard looked at me through his eyebrows without raising his head.

Uh, no. That’s why I put it on Lapazoo.

Any buyers?

A few, I lied. If he had downloaded a copy of each, Lapazoo would be sending me a check at the end of the quarter. It would be my first.

‘Reggie Tamlin.’ Not the best name for a hero. Is it based on a true story?

No, it’s fiction. I tilted my head, wondering what he was getting at.

A waiter stopped by the table. Maynard waved him away and opened his menu. When the waiter was gone, he closed the menu again.

"‘Alien Influence,’" he said, lifting the corner of the top manuscript to reveal the second beneath it.

My foray into science fiction. An alien life form comes to Earth...

Yes, I read it. Interesting you would choose these cities for your story, New York, Durham and Lisbon. Maynard looked up at me, expecting an answer.

I know these cities. I’ve been to Lisbon, I grew up in Durham and I now live in New York.

Of course. That makes sense. And your third novel?

"Hunting the Hunters, I said, pulling the manuscript from my book bag. It’s about a group of average citizens who decide to take back their neighborhood from the criminal element who has made it a dangerous place to live."

Sounds good. I’d like to read it, said Maynard, with a tilt of his head.

I shoved the