If That's What It Takes: A Romantic Sexy Thriller

By Frankie Shayne

Someone administered an overdose of pure heroin to a Congressman's teenage son and daughter, Helen and James.

Their tragic deaths activated a huge interstate manhunt to find their killer, stimulated forcibly by the White House and intimidated by the Media.

The Chief of Police and the New York Mayor decided that two Homicide detectives be assigned to work alongside two of the top Special Agents of the Drug Enforcement Administration.

Special Agents Ashley Reed and Max Cutter started their hazardous journey and vigilant surveillance to uncover an opulent International Narcotic Organization of drug Traffickers, dealers and street pushers. All masterminded by the Sicilian Mafia.

Their base of operations stems from an "Out-post" so named by the D.E.A. To a few of the police Precincts in and around the Big Apple who were unable to combat the increasing drug related crimes.

A transmission of accumulated and potent psychedelic synthetic drugs and others commonly used are included for educational purposes, as are the psychedelic experiences of some of the victims that suffer macabre hallucinations.

Included in this thrilling action packed and humorous novel, are some Explicit Sexy Sections, (substantially in Chapter 18).

In addition, a very passionate entwined romantic love between Ashley and Laura, whose separation strikes heavily in both their hearts.

ADULTS ONLY.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: May 31, 2007
• ISBN: 9781466957558

Frankie Shayne

I hope you enjoy reading this novel as much as I enjoyed writing and creating it. Although I had spent many months in research for this book, I am not convinced that all of the actual facts that I thought at the time to be correct, are indeed correct, but they are surely well within the boundaries. The characters in this book became real people to me, and I truly hope that they will to you also, and share their anxieties, their fears, their happiness and pleasure, as I did. On occasions, I openly admit that I cried, and on others laughed out loud and soared to new heights, but yet again at times I would really feel their anguish and pain. However, most of all I felt the friendship and love that surrounded them. There has been a lot of soul searching on my behalf whilst writing about the characters emotion and traits, and the spiritual make-up of them. I had also experienced a nostalgic "de la boue" and a sense of great loss sorrow and deep regrets. A thousand pangs of conscience on this journey have haunted my dreams and disturbed my mind, so much so, that at times this disarray caused me to cease writing for days on end. But one cannot return to open old wounds for they have become hard tissue scars which resist any chance to hanker back for another more favorable fate, for although sadder, we must console ourselves with being wiser. I hope this book will arm you with a new awareness of the heartless, greedy, ruthless drug traffickers, drug lords, dealers and pushers, who wouldn't give a moment's thought for the future children of our planet. This catastrophe has got to end, I know only one way to defeat them all effectively and efficiently, and that's a fifteen-year project put into force wherever possible around the world. It needs perseverance and unwavering commitment by all those able to implement its success. No pilot scheme, or trial period, but a full and complete commitment, after all what is the alternative but a continuance of our already doomed methods, where the seizures are a mere fraction of the tons of drugs that enter out cities for distribution daily. The concept is to spoon-feed our children with warnings of the danger of drugs, which would harmfully affect and hinder their future. After all, don't we warn them not to talk to strangers, and teach them to cross roads carefully, also the dangers of hot irons and the scalding affects of boiling water? These are just a few of the first steps in the educating them against dangers. The second step should be of their future sex ventures and extremely unwary minefield implications, especially with the lurking killer Aids that is spreading at an epidemic rate around the world and alarmingly internally. There can be no argument to oppose this method if we want to save the lives of our children and grandchildren. Does it have to hit your own home before it becomes a realization? So please, everyone, act now for by the age of ten years old the children throughout the world should already be aware of their perilous and vulnerable life pitfalls ahead of them. There are no safe drugs and no safe sex, the latter should be simple, if you care for one another wait for that wonderful moment by both taking a H.I.V test. How wise, how practical and considerate, a savoir-faire for the safety of each other. Reflecting once more on the other hazardous venture is too fraught with treacherous drugs of any kind including smoking marijuana, for their way will be lost projecting them onto a path of misfortune. An average global death-toll through drug abuse is over seven thousand a year, that's nearly twenty persons under the age of thirty die each and every day, very close to one person every hour. In Italy alone in 1990 and still steadily increasing a disturbing amount of 3.000,000 addicts were injecting themselves with heroin. Of these 1,469 died. So isn't it about time that we start now to take the responsibility to protect our children from what could be a devastating future. Remember, they are born without any knowledge, any expectations or any insight to what perils lay ahead of them. Therefore, it's our duty to protect them by educating them and to "Please" whisper in the ears of children everywhere... To say! "NO... NOT ME!" My fondest thanks to my dear wife Dolly, whose support, inciting and patience enabled me to write. I love her dearly. My special thanks to dearest Caroline, who unwittingly inspired me and shared with me a greater dimension than I would ever have thought possible. Also, saddened thanks to the four heroin addicts who started me on my quest many years ago. Andy, J, Pete and Mel, who trusted me enough to let me witness them cooking 'the substance' over a candle in a tablespoon and then injecting themselves, using only one single syringe between them. When I saw them use the tourniquet so methodically, constricting their blood flow through the arteries with such efficiency and familiarity, it made my heart weep to watch them. They squatted themselves on soiled cushions and grimed torn car bench seats which were scattered on the bare gritty floorboards. The cracked plaster and filthy walls that surrounded them gave the ambience a macabre and cultic formula especially with the single candle, flickering dimly and smoking wildly. I heard rats scuffling in a dark corner of the room and I shivered from head to toe. These three young guys and girl, so far misplaced and wasted, that I fear they shall never make it back. My pity and sorrow silently pitched out to them because I felt that it was not entirely their fault, for if such drugs were not so easily available, they wouldn't be in that wretched state. God help them and the thousands and thousands like them. They were the inspiration for me to eventually write this book.

Book preview

If That’s What It Takes

A Romantic Sexy

Thriller

New York D.E.A. vs La Cosa Nostra

Frankie Shayne

©

Copyright 2007 Frankie Shayne.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN 1-4251-1461-x

ISBN 978-1-4669-5755-8 (ebook)

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Offices in Canada, USA, Ireland and UK

Book sales for North America and international:

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Book sales in Europe:

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Order online at:

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

ABOUT THE AUTHOR…

I hope you enjoy reading this novel as much as I enjoyed writing and creating it. Although I had spent many months in research for this book, I am not convinced that all of the actual facts that I thought at the time to be correct, are indeed correct, but they are surely well within the boundaries.

The characters in this book became real people to me, and I truly hope that they will to you also, and share their anxieties, their fears, their happiness and pleasure, as I did.

On occasions, I openly admit that I cried, and on others laughed out loud and soared to new heights, but yet again at times I would really feel their anguish and pain. However, most of all I felt the friendship and love that surrounded them.

There has been a lot of soul searching on my behalf whilst writing about the characters emotion and traits, and the spiritual make-up of them.

I had also experienced a nostalgic de la boue" and a sense of great loss sorrow and deep regrets.

A thousand pangs of conscience on this journey have haunted my dreams and disturbed my mind, so much so, that at times this disarray caused me to cease writing for days on end.

But one cannot return to open old wounds for they have become hard tissue scars which resist any chance to hanker back for another more favorable fate, for although sadder, we must console ourselves with being wiser.

I hope this book will arm you with a new awareness of the heartless, greedy, ruthless drug traffickers, drug lords, dealers and pushers, who wouldn’t give a moment’s thought for the future children of our planet.

This catastrophe has got to end, I know only one way to defeat them all effectively and efficiently, and that’s a fifteen-year project put into force wherever possible around the world. It needs perseverance and unwavering commitment by all those able to implement its success.

No pilot scheme, or trial period, but a full and complete commitment, after all what is the alternative but a continuance of our already doomed methods, where the seizures are a mere fraction of the tons ofdrugs that enter out cities for distribution daily.

The concept is to spoon-feed our children with warnings of the danger of drugs, which would harmfully affect and hinder their future. After all, don’t we warn them not to talk to strangers, and teach them to cross roads carefully, also the dangers of hot irons and the scalding affects of boiling water?

These are just a few of the first steps in the educating them against dangers.

The second step should be of their future sex ventures and extremely unwary minefield implications, especially with the lurking killer Aids that is spreading at an epidemic rate around the world and alarmingly internally.

There can be no argument to oppose this method if we want to save the lives of our children and grandchildren. Does it have to hit your own home before it becomes a realization?

So please, everyone, act now for by the age of ten years old the children throughout the world should already be aware of their perilous and vulnerable life pitfalls ahead of them.

There are no safe drugs and no safe sex, the latter should be simple, if you care for one another wait for that wonderful moment by both taking a H…I…v test. How wise, how practical and considerate, a savoir-faire for the safety of each other.

Reflecting once more on the other hazardous venture is too fraught with treacherous drugs of any kind including smoking marijuana, for their way will be lost projecting them onto a path of misfortune.

An average global death-toll through drug abuse is over seven thousand a year, that’s nearly twenty persons under the age of thirty die each and every day, very close to one person every hour.

In Italy alone in 1990 and still steadily increasing a disturbing amount of 3.000,000 addicts were injecting themselves with heroin.

Of these 1,469 died.

So isn’t it about time that we start now to take the responsibility to protect our children from what could be a devastating future.

Remember, they are born without any knowledge, any expectations or any insight to what perils lay ahead of them. Therefore, it’s our duty to protect them by educating them and to Please whisper in the ears of children everywhere… To say! NO … NOT ME!

My fondest thanks to my dear wife Dolly, whose support, inciting and patience enabled me to write. I love her dearly.

My special thanks to dearest Caroline, who unwittingly inspired me and shared with me a greater dimension than I would ever have thought possible.

Also, saddened thanks to the four heroin addicts who started me on my quest many years ago. Andy, J, Pete and Mel, who trusted me enough to let me witness them cooking ‘the substance’ over a candle in a tablespoon and then injecting themselves, using only one single syringe between them.

When I saw them use the tourniquet so methodically, constricting their blood flow through the arteries with such efficiency and familiarity, it made my heart weep to watch them. They squatted themselves on soiled cushions and grimed torn car bench seats which were scattered on the bare gritty floorboards.

The cracked plaster and filthy walls that surrounded them gave the ambience a macabre and cultic formula especially with the single candle, flickering dimly and smoking wildly.

I heard rats scuffling in a dark corner of the room and I shivered from head to toe.

These three young guys and girl, so far misplaced and wasted, that I fear they shall never make it back.

My pity and sorrow silently pitched out to them because I felt that it was not entirely their fault, for if such drugs were not so easily available, they wouldn’t be in that wretched state.

God help them and the thousands and thousands like them.

They were the inspiration for me to eventually write this book.

Quotation by; Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 32nd President of the U.S.A.

‘When you get to the end of your rope

Tie a knot, and hang on.’

Quotation; to love and win is the best thing;

To love and lose the next best.

-William Makepeace Thackeray

In such a love, that could soar their spiritsinto an orbital motion of feverish passion ecstasy and

Romanticism, whilst endearing the heart of the other,

Then they are both blessed with true love: Myself.

To those individuals who take another life willingly and with malice,or to injure another with intent to harm or kill, premeditated or not, will find themselves damned forever in hell.

Myself.

CHAPTER ONE

THE KING of the sky blazed with intensity on the states of America like an avenging angel, scaring the land, trees and crops, with many of the population seeking restitution from the government being duped by a few of the media in pin-pointing the blame.

This nonconformity phenomenal on weather normality, staggered the nation and hatched havoc and death on many, but just as many took it in their daily stride with remarkable good humor, particularly those muffled in blocks of flowing air-conditioning.

Ashley Reed, an active Drug Enforcement Administration agent, operative in New York, was oblivious to the world around him. His repression caged him inside his apartment; he was a prisoner of his own mind and aching heart.

He lay there sprawled across the bed in the semi-darkness powerless to stop the thoughts of her persistently invading his mind. Beads of sweat trickled down his chest and formed a pool on his hairy navel. The only sound filling his crowded darkness was the drone of the electric fan as it ransacked his near naked body.

It had been ten days since the building caretaker had informed him that the central air-cooling system had broken down.

What the hell! He had long since ceased to care.

He’d lost her, and he knew it.

He knew how and why, but this recognition allowed him no comfort or alleviation from his grief, in fact, it only prolonged the scathing pain in his heavy heart and filled his mind over and over again, with helpless regrets.

The scenes of them together continued endlessly to appear in his mind like a re-run of an old black and white movie that you’ve seen a dozen times.

The thoughts and visions of her sensuous being, her heart melting hazel eyes and sweet lips agonised and possessed him.

Ashley sighed heavily, but it would not stop the swelling surge of emotion that suddenly flooded his chest and caused him to cry out her name aloud.

Tears burst from his eyes as he gasped the hot air and buried his anguished face into his despairing hands.

Oh God! His inner voice shrieked out in agony’ How I miss her!

No woman in the world could know, or believe, how caring, how hopelessly and savagely a man could love her, and with such intensity, that it could virtually break his heart and destroy him.

His was such a love for Laura.

He was suddenly struck by the thought that William Shakespeare must have loved his wife Anne Hathaway that way also, for that man was filled with such a fervent passion, dramatically portrayed in his historic group of entangled romantic tragedies.

A flash of heat flooded through his blood as he thought once more of her soft yielding body and her moist sweet tender ever wanting lips, and how her slim but strong arms and hands would cling to him like he was the last of any solid mass in a bed of quicksand.

He sighed again as the fan began to purr feebly, as if it knew the situation and felt sympathy for him.

He grabbed the half-filled whisky bottle and gulped another mouthful, then shot a cigarette into his mouth in one angry movement. His thoughts spun.

Whoever said that there were happy memories to hang onto must have been nuts! For whomever it was that they missed or remembered, were now gone, so surely, that constituted a loss of someone you love, or even a friend, that, must surely be sad.

The alcohol tingled as the blood rushed through his veins. His eyes flooded once again with tears as the pity and anger at himself swamped over him, for he knew that he had once had the chance to prevent all this. But his lack of comprehension concerning his true values had somehow deflected and this was the price he had to pay.

How had this happened? Was the price of his ransom too high for her to pay?

Had his career versed her love and lost?

No! That was not fair; she still loved him, that much, he did know!

But his line of work had reproached her, and like a monstrous black shadow that engulfed her she had to leave him to find the light again. She had begged him several times to find alternative work, but he had insisted that he could not quit the D.E.A. It was who he was.

He realised now that the end was inevitable, this kind of duel was not the first in history, and it would not be the last.

Some women had selected evening hobbies to pursue, or were stronger and could tolerate the many empty hours alone, but Laura wasn’t one of them, she needed to be a greater part of him, and at least closer to her for most of the time. She hadn’t been mentally ready for children yet, and Ashley had not pushed her. He felt that he had failed her in abundance, her long lonely empty hours had stretched into days, his assignments had not only been long and distant, but imperative and justified.

For him there had been no choice … and apparently, neither had Laura. He cradled his head in one hand nestled on the pillow and began to reminiscence his first sight of her.

A reconstruction began to form in the sub-basement of his mind, for he retained incredible memories of images, sound and words, the major resourcefulness for his work, but now unfortunately, it worked against him.

He tried to fight it by leaning over and snapping on the bedside lamp.

For Christ sake, was it really just four years ago? He cursed and lumbered to his feet, brushing aside the beads of sweat on his forehead and gazed into the mirror. It took him a few seconds to focus before he recoiled abruptly in astonishment. The image staring back at him was a complete stranger.

He approached again, cautiously stroking his unshaven chin, and then gently he touched the swollen bluish bags hanging under his eyes. He winced involuntarily letting out a harsh groan and looked away sharply. Realizing that he still held the bottle, he took another huge swig and damned the huge black hole that mentally seemed to exist, that was deeply embodied in the side of his body. Painfully and groggily he rocked wearily from side to side and flopped back onto the ruffled bed.

Laura…Laura… he cried out as his mind drifted once again to the day they first met. Slowly closing his eyes his turmoil decelerated and peace shrouded him as he remembered.

It had been a long dry summer, hanging over into a still fairly hot mid-September.

He had been sitting alone on the terrace of a coffee shop that was situated on Second Avenue; He was tentatively sipping a very hot black coffee and munching on a French pate sandwich. It was just before noon, and he was marveling at how so many people could pack the sidewalks with half of them going in the opposite direction, whilst a handful were annoyingly cutting their way through the masses determined to reach the stores.

He looked on, smiling in amusement at the scene before him.

Suddenly, there she was before him, this incredibly beautiful young woman standing there before him not ten feet away screening his vision from the previous moment, it was although she appeared from nowhere.

He froze and stared, his jaw dropped open. Her radiance dazzled and bewitched him, as his imagination identified her beauty to that of Aphrodite and the Lost Statue of Praxiteles. Perhaps it had been found and brought to life, he thought, spell-bound by her beauty.

Her long auburn soft hair hung loosely around her elegant delicate features. Her exquisite hazel eyes beamed with alertness and darted from side to side with full perception, revealing an acute keen mind.

She stood at around 5’8" her slender shoulders caressing a loose silky white dress that swirled around her long streamlined tanned legs. She had that genuine golden tan that lured invitingly and irresistibly to male grasping eyes, and if you observed attentively you would appreciate a few freckles scattered under her eyes and on her cute slightly upturned nose.

She scanned the tables surrounding him and the few empty seats. Her eyes suddenly fell upon him and clung to his for a brief moment, then, looking away impatiently, she shrugged her shoulders, hesitated briefly as if to enter, then with a sudden change of mind abruptly swiveled on her toes and waked briskly away.

Ashley transfixed for those few seconds suddenly became aware that coffee was tricking from the cup he was holding, and that his mouth was open wide. He looked around him feeling embarrassed and hoped that no one had observed his coup d’oeil.

Fortunately, everyone seemed too entangled in conversation to notice.

Ashley stood up quickly and glanced around for the waitress, not seeing her he immediately threw five bucks onto the table and without looking back stumbled hastily after the girl of his dreams.

He knew that he did not have a second to lose, she would quickly be swallowed up in the crowds, and he may spend the rest of his life searching for her.

He ran as fast as the mass of people allowed, occasionally jumping high hoping to catch a glimpse of her, Finally, after losing sight of her several times and with his heart pounding, he suddenly found himself walking beside her.

Breathlessly and nervously, he managed to gasp out a simple,Hi

When she didn’t answer, he matched her stride and tried again.

‘Hi!’ It sounded meek but it was all he could muster for his heart began palpitating even more rapidly, and his pulse raced merciless, throbbing heavily against his temple.

She glanced around at him without easing her pace and briefly explored his features.

She secretly admired what she saw, a good-looking strong bold and rugged face. A head of dark wavy hair that stranded his forehead, partly hiding the thin lined scar that ran up from his well-trimmed eyebrows to the hairline. She guessed that he stood a little over six feet and confidently carried a lean and muscular body. The smile he was holding for her, was boyish, casual and friendly, which made Laura, smile in response.

Hi yourself! she spluttered out, laughing at his uneasy manner.

Ashley gulped and leaped out ahead of her and with his arms outstretched, he blurted out.

Please…please, can we stop for a moment and talk?

For a spit second he thought that she would glide right past him and disappear forever, but she stopped almost instantly and threw her hair back wildly with one hand.

Okay! She snapped, searching his eyes for the special something that only a woman would know. What have you got in mind? Her tone stacked a huge challenge; for she couldn’t divulge that she was thrilled and excited that this handsome rugged man had pursued her.

Ashley shifted uncomfortably, scuffing his shoes on the curb, his voice surfacing from deep down in his throat.

Well…nothing really…I just had to speak to you and tell you … how very beautiful I think you are.

She looked at him with amusement, her eyes dancing and teasing him as she controlled the strong urge to answer.

He waited, transferring his weight from one foot to another that seemed to be an eternity. Then, when she still hadn’t spoken, he blurted out again trying hard to hold on to the situation.

What’s your name?

Her eyes began flirting with him as she let her hair drop forward.

Laura. She said smiling freely. My name’s Laura, and what’s yours?

Her question came to him so crisply and swiftly that it caught him unprepared.

Me…Oh err… Ashley, but the guys call me Ash, Ash Reed His eyes glinted at her as he suddenly flung out his hand so swiftly and invitingly that she found it difficult to resist. She took his hand gently.

I’m really pleased to meet you Laura, perhaps we can grab a coffee and get to know one another? She hesitated thoughtfully. Then glancing at her watch she withdrew her hand from his, which he held on firmly with a lingering grip.

No, I’m sorry…Ashley …yes, I prefer Ashley. She paused a moment. I’d love to, but I can’t, I’m already late for an appointment as it is, perhaps another time? She frowned. Anyway, do you always approach your women like this?

He watched her apprehensively as he scrambled for the answer, afraid that she was about to slip away forever.

No! Of course not! It’s just that I saw you stop briefly at the coffee shop back there.. …I was sitting there having coffee when you suddenly appeared like an angel and took by breath away.. …I knew instantly that I had to meet you…and that’s why I chased after you…..I’m sorry.

She laughed aloud.

I know, I saw you sitting there also, you had your mouth wide open, and that’s perhaps why I stopped to talk to you…its very flattering, but embarrassing that I had such an affect on anyone…besides… She went on, suddenly brusquely, You don’t think I would just stop and talk to anyone, do you? She tilted her head mischievously.

No, no, of course not. He answered sharply, But thank God I caught you, and we’ve now met, and I’m sure that our eyes bonded for awhile back there.

She smiled conceivably.

I can’t deny that…but, I really must go now.

He inwardly panicked and pleaded with his eyes.

Laura…at least, give me your number so that I can call you and perhaps meet again.

I can’t, I’m sorry, I don’t really know you…you may be married with a dozen kids or something? She secretly hoped that he wasn’t as she cut through her hesitation. But give me your number and I’ll ring you sometime.

He scrambled for his wallet too eagerly to identify himself, and then felt foolish and returned it slowly after removing a card, suddenly disappointment clouded his face and shrouds of doubt wandered into his mind; he looked sadly into her eyes.

But will you? He mumbled, Will you ever really call me?

Her heart filled with something that she could never really explain,and she felt like taking him into her arms right there and then.

I will, I promise! She said, taking his card and gliding it into her dress pocket.

She gave him one more prolonged glance, then spun around and walked away briskly, shouting over her shoulder above the mingling sounds of traffic and people.

Trust me … trust me.

Ashley stood rooted, stunned by her sudden departure. He shouted after her.

But how will I find you if you lose my number or don’t ring . I don’t even have your last name?

His voice echoed back at him as a few heads turned with little to zero interest.

She didn’t look back or even acknowledge that she had heard him.

He stood there staring after her, and watched despairingly as the crowd swallowed her. He suddenly felt a cold empty loneliness creep over his entire body and he shook abruptly from head to toe. Would he really ever hear from her he wondered, for he already knew that he was hopelessly and madly in love with the woman he had just met.

He idled back to the present reluctantly and mopped the beads of perspiration from his brow with a small hand towel.

Whew! Will this heat ever ease off? He groaned inwardly as his thoughts drifted to his local hang out. The bar where he had sat alone night after night relying on the liquor to slay his constant innermost thoughts of Laura, and the thin ice he had allowed himself to tread.

He remembered the topic of conversation that was mostly the weather at his last few visits there, before his mind slurred into vapor and once again he was bundled into a cab.

They discussed how the fury of the sun constantly grilled the buildings, streets and sidewalks and frizzled the plant life, or, what there was left of it, and how the air was dry and stifling and weighing down with oppression, for too many people gasped in the fervent parched thin air and collapsed in the streets.

No one had ever anticipated that temperatures would ever exceed thirty-five centigrade this far north, and in Arizona water was now very scarce, for not since the Great thirty year drought, during the thirteenth century had the sun beat down so relentlessly.

Tempers everywhere ran amok, the worst hot spots for many of the uncontrolled angers were on the freeway traffic jams, where perspiration flowed like rivers.

Hospitals were packed with patients overcome by the sheer heat or dehydration or simply exhaustion. Hundreds of older folks had died, some from heart failure. There were news reports of how airports throughout the nation were jammed with people who decided to take their vacation earlier and flee with their families to a cooler climate.

The poor had to stick it out and fry, for they hadn’t the luxury of air-condition and went to steal just to acquire an electric fan.

The news reports told of a few who were stuck in the jams and had kept their spirits high, projecting a good sense of humor which they displayed by jovially frying eggs on the scalding hot hoods of their vehicles. And by taking showers in the open with the water that nearly everyone carried in available twenty liter containers.

The Good Earth members proclaimed without dispute, that we ourselves were to blame when we started to destroy the ozone layer with the deadly chemicals we used without thorough scientific research. Together, with the international man-made pollutions, the upper atmosphere had been damaged beyond repair, for the only protection against the sun’s ultra violet rays is the ozone layer that filters its harmful rays. Therefore, this would explain this phenomenon of global increase in temperatures.

Thankfully, the less affected by the immense heat were the children, who seemed unperturbed, other than the occasional exclamation of Phew! then ask for another thirst quenching drink before returning to their previous games.

Unfairly perhaps, because of the suffering, the soft drink companies were scooping millions, and on a much smaller scale and taking advantage of the situation, were the street vendors, bars and clubs who had tripled their prices on drinks.

The gasping smoldering days would gradually subside to an airless evening, but these hot and sticky nights made sleep hang ominously, equally insufferable.

Ashley again, was suddenly pulled back from his troubled somnolence by the continual ring of the doorbell and the pounding on the front door.

He could hear his friend and partner Max, shouting.

Ash.Ashley! Are you okay in there? His voice increased a few tones.

Hey! Let me in for God’s sake will yer!

Ashley clambered to his feet slowly and groaned, for his whole body tensed stiffly and ached immensely. He pointed his fingers toward theceiling and stretched his whole body to its limits.

When Max started to shout again, Ashley yelled back, but his voice sounded croaky.

Okay! Okay! Hold your horses, I’m coming . der yer hear, I’m coming.

The clapper suddenly ceased and he heard Max mumble something that sounded like a curse. He grabbed the jeans from the floor and between hopping and swaying managed to slip them on before he reached the door and threw it open.

Max Cutter, his best friend, and also a Special Agent partner in the D.E.A, stood there with his hands on his hips, his huge body filled the doorway, for he stood 6’4 with a massive well covered frame, his stomach hung over his belt earning him the nick-name of the Big Bear".

Where the hell have you been? He roared. "Jesus Christ Ash! I waited nearly two hours for you on Merlin’s Corner…you forget or what?’

Ashley leaned against the door jam, more to keep his balance than to look casual.

Forget what? he muttered.

Max drew in a huge breath and bellowed Our stakeout, that’s what! . Our relay started at four this morning, the other guys are really pissed at us!

Jesus Max, I’m sorry, I guess I screwed up again, huh? Come in, and sit down, you want a drink to cool you off?

No thanks.nothing Max shouted after him as he brushed past him

My butt’s sore enough from sitting and waiting for you…but I will take that drink no how, but first, I’ll open some God damn windows, this place stinks like a boxing gym. He threw a few windows open and took some deep breaths, and then turned to see Ashley stagger into the room.

Listen buddy you’ve gotta get a grip on this thing that’s the sixth time this month that I’ve covered for you, the Captain’s gonna get us both hung.

Ashley looked down solemnly.

I guess you’re right Max…I’m sorry, I’ll try harder this time and I promise not to let you down again.

Max stared at him sorrowfully understanding his agony.

I know yer will buddy; it’s a long haul but we’ll lick this thing together…okay? Now you go and take a long cold shower whilst I graba beer from the cooler.

Ashley managed a weak smile.

Sure, go ahead…and thanks!

Max threw a hand at him.

Go take your shower meathead before you start making me cry.

Ashley grinned this time as he nodding his head; he left the room smiling as he looked forward to the shower.

Max took the last two cans of beer from the bare cooler and slumped into the huge white rocking chair that filled the corner of the kitchen.

It creaked under its burden of Max’s weight.

Ashley and Max had been partners for just over eight years. The first four were on police patrol cars, which gave them the tough hard street calls that were tiring but wholly rewarding. By this time they had graduated to detectives and were investigating the usual everyday crimes, they stumbled too frequently on drug abuse and its victims, consequently, setting a new path in Ashley’s mind.

Ashley became so intrigued that he persuaded Max to attend a special recruiting seminar on drug abuse and its consequences.

The voraciousness of its magnitude and facts of that seminar, not only stirred their minds, but filled their hearts with such a passion and dedication to combat this menacing ritual, which was activated by drug traffickers down the line, from the drug lords, the syndicates, pushers and even the addicts.

Ashley and Max eventually realized that they were of one mind, and suddenly found them selves recruited into what they thought was a meaningful cause that they wished to battle against for the rest of their careers.

After six weeks of special training, they were sent into the field as D.E.A. Special Agents, but instead of being assigned to the Drug Enforcement Administration located in New York City on West 57 Street, they were sent under the command of a Captain Danny Moss at a nearby local precinct.

These city precincts were named as Out-Posts by the D.E.A., a secondary headquarters for their Special Agents to fill in the so called gap, the precinct lacked their ability to handle their frequent involvement in the drug industry.

Both Ashley and Max worked the streets undercover, either with long legwork, or tight boring long hours of surveillance seated in an undercover car. Over the years they had bonded an indestructible friendship and as a protective partner, always covering each other’s back, and they did experience some very hazardous skirmishes, and because ofthis bond they had survived.

Max thought himself as Ashley’s Big Bear brother and Ashley accepted this concept without exception, even when some of his colleagues occasionally ribbed him.

The D.E.A. and its huge network stretched across the states, but it was continually in a struggle against the opulent sardonic Drug Traffickers and the so-called Lords, for they emerged from many pigeonholes, caliber and breeds. Also from many clans or sects, and occasionally, this involved the nobility and high society from other countries. Many lords had political and police affiliations with millions of dollars accessible at the click of their fingers.

Max and Ashley soon learnt that even with the enormous International Narcotic Force opposing them, they still continued, mostly uninterrupted. This was because their particular instrument of control, obedience and silence, was fear, dreadful fear. The type of fear that could make some people jump from a multi-story building and splatter their bodies on the sidewalk rather than face the organization bosses. Perhaps they had betrayed them or just mouthed-off once too often, or even made the grave mistake of making private deals of their own.

The transmission of information accumulated by Ashley and Max secured at their training, gave them an unsophisticated synopsis of heroin and other such deadly drugs. These were more for those with seemingly self destructive urges, such as methadone (a synthetic opiate containing opium analgesic) but just as addictive as heroin, which is otherwise known as the big H, smack, angel dust, junk, or even Scheck, snow, or the white lady. In addition, other given such names, created by the junkies themselves, some so far addicted, called their life’s substance; simply Juice.

Once hooked and without outside help, they soon resembled the prisoners who were found at the German concentration camp at Auschwitz after world war two.

But drugs that are more commonly used in the streets daily, and also the schools, colleges and Universities, and in abundance at discos throughout the globe, are Shabu, Red Devils, and cocaine, better known as Coke. Even more recently, such synthetic drugs known as Crack and another easily manufactured drug called Ecstasy can even be formulated at College laboratories.

Acid tabs, or more popularly known as LSD, are one of the most potent psychedelic drugs that are synthesized. This drug can cause psychedelic experiences with horrific blood-curdling macabre hallucination, intimidating its awe-struck victims, to leap from high buildings or bridges screaming with fear of what they visualize or encounter. It has been recorded, that many have believed they were shrouded in flames just before they jumped, proving this an extremely dangerous and destructive drug.

All of these, plus the amphetamines called either Speed or Uppers, are public nightmares, particularly for the users parents. Mainly because neither had received any drug education that should have been enforced into the education curricula years ago. Beginning perhaps, at primary school, then later, with compulsory sex education, teaching them to say; No to drugs; definitely no; NO! NOT ME!

The D.E.A. had released further true information to all its agents that it had been published by a once Chief of the Department of Psychiatry from a Student Health Centre at the University of California. That a certain professor named Berkeley, once quoted in a special article, as saying; and quote; Marijuana is harmless! He went on to say that he found no evidence to the contrary, there were no bad effects, only that it made people feel good, and that it has never changed anyone into a criminal or a narcotic addict.

After a period of five years, he openly, in another press article, fully withdrew his first statement, and admitted regretfully that he had been totally wrong.

For during that period he took it upon himself to observe and study more than two hundred students. They sought him out for help regarding the widely spread activity of smoking joints.

They were clearly in great difficulties with some organic brain damage, for the greater number had an enormous problem in concentrating on their studies and had an inability to think logically. Some had daydream experiences with weird sensations and distortions of time and space, where objects would lose their locality and drift into the distance.

Some students became very talkative, whilst others were afraid to move or unable to co-ordinate their limbs.

Other physical reactions included nausea, diarrhea, low body temperatures, reddening of the eyes and the inability at times to focus.

They also complained about a tendency to speak in cliches and suffered frequent temporary loss of memory.

Subsequently, with this recorded data and the help of medical research, they produced firm evidence that any form of Marijuana interferes with the body’s production of DNA (Deoxyribonucleic Acids) weakening the immunity to diseases by damaging the white blood cells which consequently results in cancerous cells in the lung tissue, and at times leads to sterility and sexual impotency.

Some students prone to a more chronic state because of constant use of Marijuana or Hashish in more concentrated form; such as the oil-abstract found that it led to the deterioration of their normal body functions.

Many of these students, even with this acquired knowledge, still dropped out of the Universities to become deeply entrenched with the more serious deadly drugs.

It should therefore follow that in our modern society of dependent communities and advanced technology, that with the controlling influences of law and authorities this should influence and confine our recreations with the avoidance of excesses and exaggerations.

But, unfortunately, even with so many sport activities that most people find exhilarating and enjoyable, there are those amongst us who reject society and submit themselves to escape reality by taking or smoking drugs.

Perhaps they cannot cope with normal life and find it very intimidating and arduous, and again, perhaps it’s not entirely their fault and the responsibility should be shared amongst us all.

Drugs and its escapism can be obtained in any town, city or street anywhere in the world, for they are smuggled by the ton with little detection into any country.

The D.E.A. filled their agents with the knowledge that the worst heroin trafficking in the past to the States and to Europe, came out of Sicily where the refineries were producing more than fifty kilo’s a week of pure heroin.

The Mafia was controlling everything from gambling casinos, protection extortion, kidnapping and drug trafficking.

The few, who opposed them, were either, gunned down or blown to pieces. Therefore, the illegal drug industry grew in leaps and bounds as millions of dollars grossed into billions.

Other refineries burst into action, in Thailand, Malaysia, Mexico and South America, also, a new wave of them started up in France, mostly in Marseille by different clans and rival gangsters.

The Mafia soon heard about it and the Cosa Nostra’s most powerful and feared Capo; Gerlando Alberti sent the family soldiers (who were called lieutenants,) there to wipe out or take over the notorious ‘French Connection’.

Shortly after, the complete French operation was under the supervision of the Sicilian Mafia.

By now they had both sides of the Atlantic well established by the American Sicilian families of the Cosa Nostra, which made the trafficking of drugs, as they would say it; A piece of cake.

Millions of dollars began being laundered by banks on both sides of the ocean, and the Mafiosi troops were suddenly being replaced by lawyers, bankers, politicians and businessmen who transferred the huge amounts of money, into property, consequently, less and less of the feared Mafiosi were brought to justice.

So to this day, the drug trafficking has multiplied more than tenfold relentlessly, and still the International forces at war against illegal drugs continues with unrelenting ferocity, but even at their running pace they are virtually standing still, or more likely, going backwards.

A very penetrating and horrifying thought that such a holocaust actually exists and operates under our appointed and vigilant noses is quite horrifying.

There are thousands of narcotic agents throughout the world in combat against every small or big powerful illegal drug networks. It has become wit against wit, intellect against cunning, talent and reasoning, against inventiveness, resourcefulness against boldness, and lastly professionalism and stratagem verses contrivance and subterfuge.

At times it could take up to five years to accumulate hard evidence against many drug lord syndicates, only to disintegrate unscrupulously.

The implement being, fear and the power of money used for bribes or threats, the misguided oversight by some Judges and Mayors? Or possibly, an impasse of unyielding questions, which cannot be justified.

A heart rendering frustration for the drug law enforcers who have spent thousands of hours on dull surveillances, the rewards of which, are few and far between.

In fact, the true reality in actual existence is that its proportional struggle is like trying to dig a huge garden with a teaspoon.

Max and Ashley with all this newly acquired knowledge had vowed to spend their lives opposing the traffickers and dealers, whatever the price.

CHAPTER TWO

ASHLEY EMERGED from the shower feeling physically stronger and fresher than before. However, it did nothing for the hundreds of bees buzzing around in his head, or the grieving pain in his heart. Both clung there constantly allowing him little peace. Getting drunk everyday offered him no relief either, it just portrayed memories that were more vivid which gave him the courage to pursue Laura further.

But that tactic had failed with more stormy confrontations, for he had stalked her and her friends one evening and ended up making a damned fool of himself and probably pushed her even further away.

He cursed himself later when he had sobered up.

Somewhere in his scrambled thoughts, he heard Max calling him.

Hey Ashley! .Ashley! Are you done in there, I’ve made some coffee, you’ve been in there nearly an hour…come on out, will yer? Max shouted.

Ashley poked his head around the door jam. Okay, okay.. …you got any cigarettes?

Yeah sure, but first knock down this sweet black coffee, it’ll clear your head.

Like hell it will! Ashley thought stepping into the kitchen, wrapped only in a white fluffy bathrobe that Laura and he had purchased at the Royal Palace Hotel in Pattaya, in Thailand.

He grabbed a towel from behind the door and rubbed his head vigorously to dry his hair, then turned to face Max, Listen Max … about this morning!

Max passed him a mug of coffee, which he took eagerly.

Thanks. about this.

Max interrupted him. Forget it. He looked hard at Ashley, then his voice softened Still pretty rough huh buddy?

Ashley sat down heavily on one of the wooden high barstools.

Yeah, I guess so.it’s like all these little people running around in my head, all shouting different questions and I don’t know the answers … my nerves are all shot to hell Max…what shall I do?

Max slowly placed his empty mug down on the tiled worktop his voice almost a whisper.

Listen buddy…the first thing to do, is for you to lay off the juice, that’s what’s spooking you.. …the second thing is, that you’ve gotta keep on pitching, you can’t quit now…besides, I sure as hell need you, who’s gonna cover my back now, huh. He gave Ashley a hopeful smile, but he failed to respond.

Thanks Max.. …you’re a great friend .it’s just …

Max’s voice gathered strength for Towing the same line wasn’t going to work.

Yeah. yeah I know . it’s shit, but for now I really need you, and as my best friend and partner you’ve gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself …I know this sounds heartless, but sometimes the worst tasting medicine does the most good, besides. Max stood, and started pacing the floor. Besides, you don’t know for sure that she’ll never come back. who knows you may open your door one day and she’ll be standing there. He leaned over and patted Ashley on the shoulder.

And you can’t let her see you like this, no woman wants a broken man, you have to pull yourself together . for her . and for me, but mostly for yourself.

If Ashley had been standing, he would have hugged him. Ashley tried a weak smile and lifted his eyes from staring at the floor.

I guess you’re right Max . sorry, I keep letting you down, I’ll try harder . I know now that I have to move on.

Max beamed at him.

Sure you will buddy, that’s the spirit .but for now I’ve put my arse on the line with the Captain, I’ve left Al and Mitch covering for us, they’re nice guys, they know your situation and wanna help out . sorry buddy, I had no choice but to tell them.

Great! I guess I’m in a greater mess than I thought. He gestured to Max to throw over his other shoe. And who are we supposed to be watching . I can’t think. He moaned inwardly.

Christ Ash, can’t you remember anything, you’re a real bonehead? He said grinning. "You see what the booze is doing, it’s messing with your head . anyway we’re keeping an eye on that bastard Carlo Fellino and that other piece of shit, Petros .what’s his . ah Luigi, that’s it Luigi Patros, they’re the ones who beat down on that hooker

Gina .pretty near killed her, remember now?" He threw the shoe over, harder than necessary.

Yeah, yeah, Christ Max! I was only kidding, he slipped the shoes on, then, remembered he wasn’t dressed yet. Wow! He thought bewildered. That’s the last hard drinking I’m gonna do for a long while … I can’t even think straight. He stood slowly turning to Max. I’ll just sling some gear on then we can split.

Sure, go ahead I’ve waited this long. Max threw back at him.

Ashley finished dressing quickly, putting on a white shirt and jeans and returned to the kitchen to find Max rinsing the mugs.

You don’t have to do that, he said sounding embarrassed.

No sweat, Max answered glancing up, you look fine . can we go now? He dried his hands and led the way out. Ashley grabbed his wallet and keys and called after Max who was already out of the apartment.

Hey Max . could you stop at the pharmacy on the way, my head’s killing me!

Max shouted back over his shoulder.

Sure, but let’s move it huh!

Ashley caught up with him and matched his stride.

How’s Gina anyway? he asked.

Max threw him a pleasing glance and smiled.

Hey buddy, there’s hope for you yet, he suddenly lost his smile, but it’s not good news, she’s back on the needle again and probably trying to score some more H shit from the two bastards who beat down on her, stupid bitch .anyway, that’s why we’re keeping a surveillance on her place."

Ashley interrupted. Are we going to haul them in if they show up?

Nah! We’re gonna tail their butts to what ever hole they crawled out from, and hope it’ll lead us to the snow source.

Max’s car was on old 89 Chevy, a dull grey in color and inconspicuous, which made it ideal for surveillance and under cover work, for the only interest it would draw, would be for some enthusiastic collector, which wouldn’t be many! It was roomy and fast, which suited Max . besides he couldn’t afford anything more elaborate, for his family came first.

Max was whistling the old; Saints come marching home, tune as he drove, whilst Ashley recalled Max’s advice and how damned right he was, no more spitting in the wind, for it was only a damn fool who would put his own writing on the wall.

Laura is alive isn’t she, and breathing the same air, surely that’s something?

His mouth felt dry and rasp like he had been eating sand, he longed for another slug of bourbon or scotch, but when Max pulled over at a pharmacy he just purchased a couple of cokes and the pain killers, which the former impressed Max anyway.

When they arrived at the surveillance location Max slipped out to offer their apologies to the other team, whilst Ashley settled back to watch the entrance to Gina’s apartment building, he quickly run over in his mind what he knew about Gina Walters.

"An established prostitute whose bad company of recent years led her to expand her talents into becoming a heroin addict.

But the one heroic character she possessed for which there was no comparison or measurement, was that even through her in virtue and self punishing life, she continued to care for her alcoholic mother Dora and supply her needs and feed her addiction.

Dora was also dysphonic, the result of a throat infection that occurred after the tragic bar brawl that Gina’s father was involved in, and in which he died nestled sadly in Dora’s arms shortly after being struck on the head by a beer bottle.

Since that day, the mother and the daughter relationship had reversed, and Gina took care of her in the same apartment that they had occupied over the last ten years.

Gina was only sixteen when she hit the streets and started her career.

The perplexities and the burden of the responsibility soon led her to drugs. She hated every chapter of her life. The police, who constantly tried but in vain, to stop her deliberating her trade, whilst others used her body frequently to return the favors of supplying drugs, constantly molested her.

Anxiety and paranoia swept the streets when many of the prostitutes had been found beaten up or dead, presumably by their drugs suppliers, but they continually refused to identify their assailants. They were obviously dominated and stricken by fear, for even though a few had been found dead, either in a wayside parking lot or some dirty back alley, they still refused to talk.

Gina’s hatred of the police and authority lessened after those two same bastards who supplied the heroin raped her in front of her mother, who was oblivious at the time to what was actually happening, and in the beginning, drunkenly cheered them on before collapsing to a heap on the floor.

This brutal attack had manifested because Gina had refused to accommodate their sexual needs because she had caught some kind of flu virus and felt weak and unwell.

They left after beating her mercilessly, breaking her nose, fracturing her jaw, and busting two of her ribs. After that, she was willing to help the police put away her vicious aggressors, and had called the precinct from her hospital bed.

Ashley and Max were the particular formula assigned to the case because of the drug involvement. The police had already questioned the two suspects who were found too easily playing poker in a cheap hotel room over in Manhattan for last ten hours. This period covered the time of the alleged assault.

Gina’s statement stood alone, and without anyone to backup her complaint, the police were left holding an empty bag!

Gina’s suspicion of the police and their inability to arrest the two suspects was amended tentatively a few degrees later, by the gentle compassion of both Ashley and Max. Especially by Max, who although being a huge man, and well past middle age, however that can be refined, was extremely gentle? His hair had long deserted the growth line and was graced with grey, and although his face looked rugged and heavily lined, he had a heart of gold.

He spent many hours by her bedsides, holding her hand and gave her his solemn promise that he wouldn’t give up until those two scum bastards paid for what they did to her.

Ashley was too absorbed at that time in his own pain to be much help to Gina’s misfortune, for her hospitalization transpired just two days after Laura had walked out on him. That was exactly ninety-two days hence and the pain of her last words as she abandoned him, still burned vibrantly in his mind.

I’m leaving you Ashley … don’t say or do anything … it’s over. I’m truly sorry, but this time you’ve left me no alternative.

She stood there firmly, her eyes dared him to speak but he had been too shocked, his mind scrambled to plea with her, but he could see that her mind was set and beyond approach.

He slumped into an armchair and stared in disbelief as she and her friend Julia, carried out her cases and personal belongings.

She had often threatened this very thing, but it hadn’t dawned on him that she would actually carry out her warning, even after the extremely bad argument the previous night when his shift on surveillance ended four hours later than was intended because of a F.B…I. involvement.

The devastating complexity of this was that it was their wedding anniversary, which he had completely forgotten.

The prepared dinner occasion, complete with candles, he found later when he arrived home was strewn across the floor in anger. It wasn’t completely his fault, his mind had been preoccupied with the assignment that had encountered an indiscriminate number of hours, as the D.E.A. was about to crack wide open an expansive drug syndicate

An Argentinean Ambassador, who based in America, mastered the syndicate, this made the case extremely difficult because his status gave him Diplomatic Immunity, an exemption from arrest and taxation.

This absurd collaboration between governments only bring frustration, grievance, and discontentment amongst worldwide law enforcers, who are compelled to just observe and dignify the embarrassment when someone with this privilege to abuse the law.

To hell with the tax exemptions, but to be immune from arrest thoroughly embalmed the senses.

A few members of this drug lord’s organization had already been busted on possession and were being held indefinitely in prison. They were continually being questioned, and threatened harshly with the maximum attainable sentences if they didn’t talk.

Structured secret deals were made between the D.E.A, the police and the F.B…I. to pressure them further with fabricated evidence that involved them with an International terrorist group with the threat of a sentence of death over them. Each prisoner was kept in solitude, and very soon after, they felt so forlorn and discouraged that they eventually decided to turn state’s evidence, especially when short sentences were secured from the justice department.

The circumstances that made the Argentinean government renounce their Ambassador of his position and immunity privilege, and allowed the F.B…I. department to swoop down on him and charge him with espionage . remains a mystery.

Furthermore, he didn’t go to trial, but disappeared forever to an unknown concealment somewhere in Argentina.

When the media questioned his government’s ministers, or the newly appointed Ambassador of his disappearance, they simply replied, Who?

For a while, Ashley’s thoughts were bitter, he resented that his dedication to his work had cost him the only dearest love of his life, and the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Laura had pleaded with him on many heated occasions to apply for a less consuming position, not only because of the many lonely hours and nights, but she couldn’t continue to live a life of fear and uncertainly, it scared her, for perhaps one day, he may never return.

She had even spoken to a very affluent client about a position for Ashley in his company, although he agreed, she dared not tell Ashley. The client; Roger Sinclair, had purchased a four million dollar property, through the real estate office called Wayside which belonged to Laura and her friend, Julia Kenton.

The property consisted of an eight front-pillared mansion, set in twenty hectors of beautiful wooded countryside, nestled beside a glorious lake.

The sale gave Laura and Julia their largest coup of commission ever. This was badly needed, because a few months before they had faced their Bank Manager, who had abandoned his customary smiles and courteous manner, for harsh words that were brief and to the point. He barked out his concern for their heavily overloaded overdraft, which hadn’t seen a forward trend since it had been established three years earlier, eighteen months after her marriage to Ashley. Julia had produced most of the collateral, which she had pledged for the loan to start the business.

Laura and Julia worked together previously over many years in a large real estate company, and had boasted how well they could do if they started their own business. Consequently, a strong bond of friendship had grown between them.

After the sale, Sinclair became very friendly with them both, to the point where Ashley became a little jealous and uncomfortable whenever Laura was seeing him. However, to Ashley’s knowledge, Sinclair was never alone with Laura. Sinclair frequently invited Julia and Laura along to parties and business dinners, telling them that they enhanced the occasions with their presence, and also, that it wouldn’t do their business any harm either.

Ashley had met Roger several times when he had collected Laura in his white limousine, he often asked Ashley to accompany them but he had always declined, as in that kind of society he felt way out of his league.

Ashley’s impression of Sinclair was, that with his white teeth and dazzling grin, this guy could disarm a band of Cut-throats.

His body language also simulated that of Fred Astair acting in some musical charade. Although his opinion of him was obviously extremely biased, he had to admit that probably from a woman’s point of view Rogers overall appearance, charm, sleek, blond hair, broad shoulders and debonair manner, that most women would be attracted to him.

On the other hand, like himself, he could imagine that most men would hate him and call him a pansy.

The appearance of this man became an intrusion into the lives of Laura and Ashley, for every discussion about him seemed to elevate into a disagreement or argument. The more Ashley spoke ill of him the more Laura would leap to his defence and praise him.

The other major disagreement in their transformed relationship was his line of work and the unpredictable length of hours.

He argued that he loved his work and that she knew from when they first met that his career was always as a law enforcer, and that she had no right to ask him to change.

Then one day he made the mistake of saying, Anyway, where would that leave Max!

That of course infuriated her. Are you choosing Max over me! She screamed.

Of course not he quickly defended his out burst. I just needed another pointer to back me up that’s all.

The slamming of doors followed, accompanied by distant muttering and then the inevitable silence, which would sometimes last for days.

Other times she would revert to softer persuasions, as she would plumb down into the depths of the pillowed settee, her voice tendered to a sexy murmur. Darling, you know I earn enough now for both of us . just think of all the tennis we could play and the picnics we could have? But before he could retaliate, she quickly continued. "And just think of all the museums we would visit together and all the evenings . home movies, Chinese take-always . lots of sex and cuddles.She left the excitement hanging there, her eyes wide and inviting as her tongue caressed her moist upper lip, side to side slowly.

Ashley gulped and felt like the hatchet man.

I know, I know that darling. he tried to soften the blow.

I wish I could just walk away from my job, but I can’t .and besides, being a kept man would never wash with me. and secondly, I really can’t give up my work, ever, it’s my whole life . it’s who l am for Christ sake! He gestured with his hands the desperation he