Code Amber For caution.

By Bertram Ellis

The terrorists have returned to America intent on bringing fear and destruction to peoples lives. Rick Holiday recognizes them and is once again thrust into the underground war to save America from widespread disaster. He saves his Canadian companions from death but is captured by the terrorists. His friends must now discover where he is held captive, break him free and keep one step ahead of the enemy as they try to kill them. If they fail to discover the terrorists plans and stop them America will suffer widespread evastation in this fast moving novel of courage and intrigue

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bertram Ellis
• Release date: Sep 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370101597

Bertram Ellis

Bertram Ellis had a successful career with the de Havilland aircraft company of Canada. He was a pilot until he lost his licence due to deteriorating vision. He has traveled the world, Europe, Africa, the Middle East the far East and South America.Among his adventures he has been blown up, shot at and imprisoned briefly in Saudi Arabia. Lost in the Sudanese desert south of Omdurman,fished the Mighty Zambezi. During all his adventures he has kept his belief in the essential goodness of ordinary people. He is a published author of short stories. A handbook on how to write your memoirs. Since retirement he has presented seminars on how to write your memoirs, at no charge, for many years. He lives in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada with his artist wife Karen. He has three children and ten hgrandchildren

Book preview

CODE AMBER FOR CAUTION.

By

Bert Ellis

Ominous heavy, threatening black clouds rushed across the Niagara Falls sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Going to be a stormy night, I remarked to Gloria.

I’m getting used to your Canadian weather, she replied with a smile.

Gloria, my wife, is an American. After we were married she helped me start a small accounting business in Niagara Falls.

We first met a year ago when I was helping Rick Holiday, a private detective, investigate, men we suspected could be the terrorists. Gloria worked with us and together we helped the FBI capture the terrorists and prevent a second attack on the World Trade Center. The terrorists swore they would be revenged. Since most of them were in jail or had fled back to the Middle East, I thought they were idle threats, I was about to learn that I should have taken their threats seriously.

Rick Holiday was the best man at our wedding. We see him during occasional short visits when he comes to Canada on business. We don’t talk about the time we spent fighting terrorists, some of the memories are too painful.

Niagara Falls attracts late-season tourists, we don’t see many of them, very few come into our quiet neighborhood

Gloria and I were drinking a late afternoon coffee. It had been a wonderful day for October, the sun had been bright before the clouds rolled in.

The phone rang interrupting our conversation. Gloria picked it up. Oh, hi, Rick. Are you in town?

I could hear his voice on the phone. He was talking fast.

You’d better talk to John. She handed me the phone.

Hi, Rick. What’s up?

John. Get the hell outta your house, he shouted.

Uh? I felt my guts tighten. What the hell’s going on?

Get OUT!

What is it? Gloria called. She had turned pale.

Get out of your house Now. I mean NOW, Rick’s voice screamed in my head.

I felt my guts fill with butterflies. I’d never heard Rick sound scared.

What’s the problem. What is it? I gasped.

. . .in danger! Get the hell out of your house and GET DOWN HERE, LEAVE NOW. . . .Urgh. . . the line went dead.

Gloria leaned over me, her face drawn with anxiety. What did he say? You’re shaking.

He shouted, get out of your house now and get down here, then made a strange noise and the line went dead.

He said, now?

Yes. God. He sounded like something bad was happening to him.

Then we must go, Gloria cried.

But, he wants us to fly to Los Angeles.

It must be series. Rick doesn’t fool around. If he said, leave now, he means now. Grab your coat, I’ll get our passports.

Oh come on, Gloria,

She gave me the look. I didn’t argue. I pulled on my jacket feeling both foolish and nervous. The feeling in my guts, urged me to get moving. I’ll get our bags.

Forget the bags, Gloria shouted, Let’s get out of here.

I trusted her instinct. Something was wrong, suddenly breathless and gasping for breath, I led her out of the house on shaky legs. Ignoring the gentle rain we leapt into the car, I started the engine, thrust the gearshift into drive and lurched out onto the street. As we rolled down the street I looked in the rear view mirror. The street lights reflected off a shiny black SUV that was pulling to a stop outside our home. If we had been a minute later we would have still been there. I pulled over to the curb and stopped the car

At that moment a peal of thunder rolled across the sky and a cloudburst of rain hammered down on the car.

What is it? Gloria asked.

There’s someone at our house.

We turned and watched through the sheets of rain. A big man with the body of a gorilla knocked on the front door, looked around then kicked it in. Another man stepped out of the SUV and stood on the sidewalk, ignoring the rain that soaked him, obviously watching for any interference. A minute later the first man ran out of the house. Both men jumped in the SUV and it accelerated down the street leaving rooster tails of spray as the wheels spun on the pavement. We ducked down as it roared past.

What the hell was all that about, I said. Look at that, he left the door open, the house will be flooded. I’m going back to close it.

Gloria grabbed my arm, No. Hold on.

I paused with the door half open, ignoring the rain pouring in. Suddenly the door was blasted out of my hand by a roaring gust of violent wind followed by a muffled boom. The rainfall seemed to pause, then pounded down on the car with renewed violence. The door and windows exploded out of our house. In a second it was engulfed in flames.

Bloody hell. Why are those people after us? What are we gonna do? I’ll call the police.

Oh my God. No, don’t do that. Call 911 and tell them you saw a man go into the house. The occupants are away. Then hang up, Gloria said, breathlessly.

Why? Shouldn’t I tell them who I am?

No. We’ve got to go. We can’t stay here. We don’t know what’s happened to Rick. His call probably saved our lives. If you call the police we’ll never get away. Let’s go.

I closed the car door. It didn’t seem to fit properly. Damn the thing, I slammed it closed, put the car in gear and drove off.

You’re right the police will want to question us.

Yes, they’ll check for gas leaks and talk to our insurance company to figure out what happened and we’ll never get away to help Rick.

What about the office?

We can phone Bob, your manager, or one of the men, from the airport, and tell him we’ll be away for a week or so.

I put the car heat on high to dry our wet clothes. We were wrapped in our own silent thoughts as I drove along the QEW highway heading for Fort Erie. We followed the signs to the border and joined a line waiting to cross into America.

There were only a few cars in the line. When we pulled up at the booth and handed in our passports, , the American immigration officer asked, Where you folks off to?

Just visiting friends," Gloria said.

Have a nice evening, folks.

Traffic was light and I started to relax. We took the I90 and followed the turn off for the Buffalo airport.

I said, Who the hell could be after us? I thought the terrorists we fought last year were either dead or in jail.

Maybe they have friends. You know what they say about those people, revenge is part of their culture. They’ve been known to feud for generations, Gloria said.

So I’ve heard. Lord help us.

Rick is in trouble and so are we. Thank God he called us, he saved our lives. When we get to the airport we’ll book the first flight to LA.

2.

We parked the car in the long term parking lot.

The terminal was crowded. Gloria looked at the flight departures screen and said, Delta airlines have a flight to Las Vegas leaving in an hour at twelve minutes past seven that will get us to sin city about midnight.

Wonderful, but, Rick said he wants us in LA.

I know, but in case someone unsavory is waiting for us in LA, it will be smarter not to let them know we’ve arrived.

How the heck are we going to do that?

Fly to Vegas, rent a car and drive to LA.

Hell, that’ll be a long drive? I said.

Not really, about four hours.

Okay, you’re the boss.

Our flight left on time and after a brief stopover in Chicago we arrived in Vegas late that night. We rented a car from Hertz and were soon on the highway heading for LA.

Where are we going to stay? And have you thought how we can get in touch with Rick? I asked/

Whenever we had a problem and wanted to keep someone safe we used the Beverly hotel, We‘ll check in and wait for Rick to contact us.

Okay. I settled down to the drive.

Almost five hours later the GPS led us to the Beverly hotel. Even though it was early in the morning the street was bright with lights shining on rows of new and used cars for sale. It had obviously once been a smart area that time had passed by. The rich and famous had long since moved on to newer, glitzier hotels.

The desk clerk greeted us, Good morning, folks. You’re very early?

Yes, long drive, Gloria said.

I filled in the hotel guest registration card and handed it to him, He read it and frowned. My guts tightened. Then he smiled, Somebody knew you were coming, sir. I have a letter for you. He reached under the desk and pulled out a bundle of envelopes, scanned them then handed me one.

Thank you. This is a surprise, I said.

Gloria smiled. I guess we did the right thing.

‘Thank you sir, ma’am, if you are interested in a tour guide I can arrange one for you."

No thank you.

He handed me the key card.

The room was a typical hotel room with two comfortable looking beds, beige carpet, and a separate bathroom. A coffee pot and supplies on a table beside the big flat screen TV.

I pulled off my jacket and slumped in a chair. God, I’m tired.

Gloria was reading Rick’s letter. Well this will wake you up, she said.

Uh oh, what does he want us to do.

Not us, you.

He had an idea we’d come here. He wants you to go to the Monarch Movie studios in the morning. He’s left you a pass to get through the gate."

A movie studio. Why?

Just shut up and I’ll read it to you.

You are to audit an investor’s financial report on a movie. He’s sure the studio has taken his money and lost it. A million dollars.

Why the hell would he ask me to come to LA to do that? I’m tired. I’ll only get a couple of hours sleep.

Then you’d better go to bed now.

Did he say who this investor is?

Yes. Get this, his name is Mohamed Fishowi.

My gut tightened again. I don’t like the sound of that. I get very nervous around men with Arabic names.

Rick says, he’s an American, trust him.

Okay. I’ll take his word for it, but I still don’t like it.

I should have listened to my nerves and gone home. I was too wound up to close my eyes, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep..

3.

I still felt washed out, and nervous when I presented the pass at the entrance to Monarch Movie studios.

An attractive young woman was assigned as my guide. Gee, I love your accent. You English, in a movie? She gushed.

No, I’m an accountant and I’m Canadian.

Oh, her tone implied she had lost interest.

She led me to a second floor office. He’s waiting for you in there, sir.

Mr. Mohamed Fishowi was almost too American to be real, wearing a blue striped shirt, a red tie and a grey lightweight suit and expensive brown shoes. To me he looked every inch the successful businessman. Then I looked again. He had a hawk shaped face with glittering eyes and a fringe of black beard, classical Arabic. His strident voice was typically California. He was striding impatiently in the room smoking a black cigarette

Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.

Sorry, sir. I didn’t know the way.

He grunted and pointed to a box of computer print-outs and a couple of ledgers. You will find where the money was spent. I think they stole it.

I’ll do my best, sir.

I flipped through the print outs and sorted them by date, putting the oldest ones first. A couple of hours passed as I waded through the numbers. As I worked Fishowi studied the screen of his laptop computer, muttering under his breath.

You find anything?

Nothing out of the ordinary, yet, I replied.

"Ah I forgot. There is