America:: The Death Of

By G.T. Engleke

Jimmy Groves, civil servant, air conditioning foreman, psychopath, nice guy, mass murderer, sexual pervert . . . the descriptors could go on and on forever. A man with a grudge against the world, who acquires a tool that allows him to attempt to reach his greatest goal. This goal is to destroy the entire government of the United States of America. Jimmy will use his girlfriend, Cindy, her family, her family's business, her body, her beliefs, her wants and dreams--all to place his plan into action and to ensure its success. He plans to use what's there and available for the world to see to make the unbelievable happen.

The actions of the different branches of the government, its people, its policies, its procedures, combined with the deceit, deception and distrust, allow the interweaving effect to join and entangle the lives of a federal marshal, an FBI Agent with his social climbing wife, the president, the vice president, the speaker of the house, and so many more involved in the secrets, lies, deals, payoffs, and general corruption that makes up our great form of government.

Yes, the perfect melting pot for one Mr. Jimmy Groves, whose personal goal is to do what no person, government, or country ever came close to doing--total destruction of the government of the United States of America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 8, 1999
• ISBN: 9781481763806

G.T. Engleke

Gilbert T. Engelke Jr. was born inNew York, New York, and now lives in Savannah, Georgia with his wife, Janet. He is a graduate of Pacific Western University with a degree in engineering. He served in Vietnam with the U. S. Army as a Combat Medical Specialist from 1966 through 1968 and is a member of the Disabled American Veterans Organization. He enjoys the outdoor sports of golfing and fishing and the indoor activities of reading, writing and time with his wife, Janet, and their Bullmastiff, Angel.He will continue to write, as long as the words and breath continue to happen.

Book preview

Chapter One 

Jimmy sat up with a start, something had wakened him from a sound sleep.

Bang! There it was again. It was the front door of the town house, Jimmy could almost see the paint chips flying off of the door and frame. The exterior surfaces were cracked and peeled due to the excessive number of coats of paint applied over the years. Jimmy hadn’t gotten to any exterior repairs yet the interior still had a ways to go.

The noise penetrated the walls like they weren’t even there.

Damn, those little bastards. It had to be Mrs. Yale’s boys, the lady next door, it had to be one, if not both of her spoiled brats. The battle between Jimmy and the boys had been going on for months.

Jimmy jumped up and ran into the living room, in his under-shorts, and turned on his table saw. The howl from the motor filled the entire room, no, the entire house. The saw’s whine penetrated the walls like they were made of paper, and the pitch was almost high enough to cause ear damage. Jimmy had replaced the three-quarter horsepower motor with a compact one-and-one-half horsepower motor. The higher horsepower and rpm’s in combination with a sixty four tooth blade allowed Jimmy to do very fine cuts but have the ease of the table saw’s features for truer and straighter cuts. This allowed him to complete the cabinetwork and trim work required to restore the building and keep the cost of lumber down.

The people next door banged on the walls and screamed obscene words and phrases at Jimmy to the point that they almost drowned out the racket that the saw’s motor was making. Jimmy’s thing with the boys kept all of the tenants on edge and at a distance.

Jimmy laughed and turned the table saw off. Okay, give it a rest, he called to the next door neighbor.

Jimmy looked around the room and checked off each item one at a time: table saw, router table, belt sander, table sander, and a band saw. Not your everyday living room furniture, Jimmy thought to himself grinning.

The living room served as his workroom and would be the last to be reconditioned. The on-going battle with the neighbors was his amusement. They would bang things around, slam doors and the like, and in turn he would run his power tools and make as much noise as he could. In general they would do what ever it took to see who would annoy the other the most.

Jimmy wanted to see just how much he could annoy his next door neighbors without them calling the police.

Jimmy would always assemble his projects with a hammer and nails. Glue or hot glue was too quiet.

He always stopped just before eight o’clock, because the local ordinance clearly prohibited any type of noise that could be considered to be unnecessary after eight o’clock.

He liked to bust their chops, but he did not want a problem with the local police.

It would not look good, a civil servant always having problems the local police. He was sure that it would cause a problem with Steve, his supervisor at work.

Jimmy had almost completed the renovation of the townhouse. The owner had given him the place for less then half of the going rate, based on the agreement that he would repair all of the problem areas in the unit. When Jimmy finished the unit that he now lived in, the owner would move one of the other tenants into it and Jimmy would move into the vacated townhouse and then repair that unit.

The owner was trying to go against the years of landlords who took more than they gave from their rental properties, depreciating the buildings’ values while pocketing the rental income and letting the structures fall apart. When the last year of depreciation allowance arrived they would form another corporation, under their wife or kid’s name, and then sell the properties to them, and the process would start all over again.

The landlords got richer and the properties got more run down and finally knocked down, but only after the landlord was reimbursed by one government agency or another.

Mr. T. J. Washington was trying to save what most people felt there was no reason or chance to save, in the city of his namesake, a good old-fashioned neighborhood and a racially balanced one at that.

Jimmy would only cause enough aggravation to keep Mrs. Gerri Yale on her toes. He sure didn’t want her to move or anything drastic like that, a known pain-in-the-ass is better than an unknown one could be. If she moved out someone really bad could move in and then he could really have a pain in the ass living in the building next to him. The only wild card in the deal was her kids, Mark and Zack. There was no telling what they might do if she didn’t keep a check on them.

He often heard her scold them and tell them only to react in harmless ways so that they did not get in trouble with the police just because of an inconsiderate neighbor.

Whenever Jimmy saw Mrs. Yale, either coming or going from the house, he always smiled and said Hello or Good Bye. Mrs. Yale always gave him a strange look that Jimmy took to be one of totally benign feelings. He was always respectful and never acted or appeared in any way but properly. He might be a pain in the ass but he was a respectful one.

The ongoing battle with the neighbors kept them at a distance. He didn’t need any of them getting too close or friendly.

The townhouse had seven rooms, not counting the bathrooms. They were empty of furniture, all except the kitchen and the bedroom. A table with two chairs, a floor lamp in the corner, and a trash container next to the sink made the kitchen useable. The bedroom was more Spartan than the kitchen. There was a double bed with a plain maple headboard, a dresser with three drawers on each side and a lamp table that held the room’s only source of light. These items were also made of maple and showed years of hard use.

The mirror on the dresser was so worn from age that when he looked at himself he appeared ghostly. The tools that filled the living room were the only other furniture in the townhouse.

The townhouse was in a neighborhood that was still considered good, or at least repairable.

The neighborhood was assemblies of mostly middle class, hardworking people, most of them of German or Scandinavian descent.

The newer people were of Spanish or African decent. They were moving into the properties that were owned by out-of-state or out-of-country owners. The unit in which Jimmy lived was in need of mostly repairs due to misuse more than age.

Jimmy was almost positive that the owner would never interfere or act on a complaint as long as he saw improvements when he came to collect the rent each month. One of Jimmy’s secret joys was the thought of the owner making one of the other tenants move out, instead of into the most recently refurbished unit, so he could move into their unit to start the needed repairs.

Jimmy would never recommend that the Mrs. Yale be asked to leave. It was almost fun being at war with her and her boys.

Jimmy checked his watch, then went into the bathroom with some haste. He was late again.

Jimmy stood before the mirror in the bathroom, and examined his face as he shaved . Well, I won’t win any beauty contests, he thought but it’s better then most I guess. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

He thought about Cindy. She was good. The night before she almost bounced him off the damn ceiling. He hoped that she could make it again tonight. She was just about the best that he’d ever had.

He caught the time out of the corner of his eye and cursed. He grabbed the towel and dried his face and flipped it towards the tub, which was used as a hamper, as he rushed out of the bathroom door.

Jimmy pulled on his uniform shirt and tucked it into his jeans. He should have washed some pants. He knew he’d have to take some shit from Steve about wearing jeans. One of these days Steve would put him on suspension just like he always said he would. Steve would bluster Jimmy one of these days I’m going to suspend you for a month without pay. I can do that you know, I really can.

He ran out the front door, turned towards his van, and froze in his tracks. God damn, those damn kids. The windshield of the van was covered with foam or shaving cream or some such thing. Jimmy turned around and rushed back to his townhouse. Once inside he filled the bucket that he kept next to the sink, with water and hurried back outside. He threw the water over the windshield, cleaning off most of the foam, enough that he see out of the damn thing.

That’s the third time this week. He had to give Mark and Zack credit, they did that quickly, it had been less than ten minutes since he looked out the window.

There’s no way that I won’t be late today, he thought.

Jimmy started the van and threw it in gear, pulling out without looking. All he could hear was the screeching of tires and the honking of horns as his van pulled away from the curb.

I can’t believe this traffic, he thought. Every dam fool in Washington must be on the road this morning.

It never fails, every time you’re in a hurry the rest of the world has all day to do nothing. Just once, I’d like the rest of the world to be in a rush when I am, just once!

Jimmy’s van looked pretty bad from the outside, but it was a perfect running automobile on the inside. The rough looking exterior was a deterrent to car thieves, at least that was how Jimmy saw it. With the blacked out windows no one on the outside could see the posh interior of the van. The captain’s seats and reclining rear seat were Jimmy’s way of making the van better suit his comfort and needs.

With the rear bench seat in the reclining position it was almost as big as his bed, and almost as comfortable. With a girlfriend like Cindy a guy had to think ahead.

Jimmy had rebuilt the van from a stripped shell that he had found in the local junkyard, the remains of an automobile parked in the wrong part of the city at the wrong time of night. When the owners had parked it, it was a two-year-old, highly respectable mode of transportation. When the original owners returned from dinner the van had no doors, no motor, no tires or anything else of value.

Jimmy had paid less than two hundred dollars for the shell, but with hard work and hundreds of trips to the surrounding junkyards, Jimmy had a 100% untraceable vehicle.

With just a little care and patience it had been easy to remove each and every serial number from the body as well as the rest of the parts. The interior of the van was an assembly of over ten different types of automobiles. It suited Jimmy in every way that he could think of, speed, comfort, high tech. and it looked like shit, Perfect!

A BMW in front of Jimmy was crawling along at a snail’s pace, weaving from the white line to the curb. Jimmy could see the driver trying to apply some form of eye makeup, a hell of a thing to be doing in rush hour traffic. Lord he was going to be late.

The BMW was swerving so badly that it made it impossible to even think about trying to pass, and the driver was either deaf or just didn’t give