Vindication

By E. H. Clark

Your elite team of security specialists has disbanded. When you need to contact them they are nowhere to be found. A call from the local authorities brings you to the morgue to find one team member dead. Another day goes by and another team member lies cold. A deadly chain of events transpires that proves everyone has been marked for death by an international death squad. Can you afford to meet them head on and alone? The authorities are pulled into the deadly game as a number of their men have also been targeted. The law asked for your help once before, but it ended in deception by them. You reluctantly agree to help them unaware that once you solve the crisis, they plan to get rid of you and your team once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463447304

E. H. Clark

A Pacific Northwest native and an ex-Navy man, his home is now in Minnesota with his wonderful wife, Phyllis. He is a writer bringing into play situations that allow the reader an opportunity to reach deep within them, in fiction, to rekindle feelings and hidden emotions lost in the times. He is an avid golfer and thrives on competition. His spontaneous sense of humor keeps everyone around him very loose. A mechanical designer/draftsman by trade, his common sense approach to work and life makes his writings worth investigation. In 1998, while watching a movie, he made a comment that he could write a better plot than that. Phyllis said, “Why don’t you?” From that moment on, he began writing fiction novels that give you suspense, romance, twists, and plenty of action.

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© 2011 E. H. Clark. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/15/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4730-4 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4726-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-4727-4 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914323

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 1

Federal courthouse,

Fourth floor, Room 401

John, after only two weeks of testimony by law enforcement agencies and civilian personnel, the Federal drug taskforce hearings will end today, and so far the committee has failed to turn up any information that would lead to criminal indictments. Among those who took the stand was Michael C. Canon, Owner and CEO of Canon Aeronautics, one of the largest companies in the city. Mr. Canon’s daughter died of a drug overdose from a teen-targeted transdermal patch, commonly known as a Death Pad. According to medical officials, death caused by the patch climbed at an alarming rate over a nine-month period before dropping to nearly zero fatalities in the last year. This strange turn of events still has the committee asking questions. It has been rumored that rival gangs had been fighting each other for the right to distribute the heroin and cocaine-based pads when an international crime syndicate moved in and took over. However, no evidence to support the rumor has become known, and the committee is at a loss to explain this bizarre turn of events. John, just a few minutes from now, we will be covering the conclusion of the hearings. Until then, this is Connie Sheehan, Channel 8 News.

Fact: The cartel’s hit team sadistically killed Michael’s wife and son.

Michael enlisted help from his company’s head of security, R.C. Billups. Both were ex-servicemen, and together formed a small band of men to seek out and bring down those responsible for the death of his family. Special remote-controlled aircraft, made by Canon Aeronautics especially for their war with the cartel, also aided in the operation. The plans and operation went down so cleanly that nothing could be traced back to them. Any evidence of a drug cartel in the city had literally gone up in flames. Major drug trafficking in the city stopped almost overnight. The city had returned to normal, though few knew about the vast complexity of the drug problem that had existed there.

About half of Michael’s men that survived the confrontation stayed with Canon Aero. The other half went on to make new lives for themselves. The monetary spoils of the incursion were enormous and everyone in Canon’s Rangers shared equally. Canon’s Rangers was the name they bestowed upon themselves.

Chapter 2

Sun Valley Country Club

State Line, Nevada

To call this a nice day would be the understatement of the year. At seventy-five degrees, a gentle breeze and a bird’s egg blue sky only accentuated the moment. Michael watched as Eric teed up his golf ball, and then began his agonizing routine of throwing some grass up into the air to see which direction the wind would blow it. Michael smiled, as he looked past Eric at the dead-limp flag on the par-3 green roughly one hundred and twenty-five yards away. Eric’s ball ended up in the sand bunker in front of the elevated green. Michael was not a creature of habit. He pushed the tee in the ground, placed his ball on it, and then took a step back. With a quick glance at the still limp flag, he stepped up to the ball and struck it cleanly with a 9-iron. The ball shot up very high and landed softly on the green about fifteen feet from the cup.

You always do that to me, Eric said, as they began their walk up the third fairway.

I need the money, Michael said with a small grin.

Eric smiled back at Michael, a self-made millionaire. Have you given anymore thought to what we talked about?

My people are just finishing up with our proposal and you’ll have it before you leave in the morning, Michael answered. It’s probably not going to be what your partner is looking for, but the offer will be fair.

As Michael waited for Eric to dig his feet into the sand and get through his lengthy routine, his eyes scanned the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Thoughts of last year crept into his mind. For every death, there is a birth, he thought. This thought always brought mixed emotional visions to Michael. He had lost his entire livelihood to a foreign insurgent, only to have a very new life unfold. He had been confronted with a situation and he handled it without any regard to his own life. Now it was over.

Are you going to putt or stare at the mountains?

Michael snapped back into reality, as Eric asked him again. He lined up his putt and struck the ball. It rolled by the hole and stopped about six inches away. He walked up and tapped it in. As they approached the fourth tee box, Eric slipped a five-dollar bill into Michael’s shirt pocket, which already contained two more bills.

Enjoy what you’ve won so far because you’ll be digging deep yourself before this round is over, Eric said, as he watched Michael’s tee shot disappear into the woods about two hundred seventy yards out.

Michael smiled slightly. Eric raised the game stakes from five to ten dollars a hole.

Eric, like Michael, was the owner of a motorized toy company and had been a fierce competitor in their field. The economy, during the past year had taken its toll on businesses like theirs, so Eric had taken on a money partner who now wanted out of the business. Eric’s company had initiated two layoffs in the past twelve months due to very slow sales and larger inventories, not to mention several bad investments. He was here to ask Michael for ideas. Michael suggested buying his other plant and facilities in Utah. The thought was not a distasteful one to Eric, since he could finally get out from under his current partner’s obligation in that plant.

Within the past eighteen months, Michael had created something out of necessity and now it might be going somewhere. In an effort to put closure to the personal war that raged in the city, he had created two types of World War II one-quarter sized airplanes, which he used in the final battle with the drug cartel. Under the pretense of being created for the Army, Michael pulled off the perfect cover up to obtain his final objective. One member of Michael’s elite team of security men, turned temporary mercenary, made mention of the special built giant scale aircraft to his father, an army colonel in charge of tactical ground support units at Fort Collins in Colorado.

If something could come of the Army’s inquiry, then Michael acquiring Eric’s plant would enable the new planes to be developed in Salt Lake City.

I think you can buy me lunch after the ass whipping you gave me on the front nine, Mike, Eric said, as they walked to the clubhouse.

Stop complaining. Lunch was going to be on me anyway.

Playing well and playing with your luck are two different things, Eric said. You’re mine on the back nine.

Michael just smiled, as they sat down and ordered a sandwich and drink. He called R.C. at the plant to see how everything was going. R.C. reminded him of his meeting with a gemstone dealer at three o’clock.

The back nine holes of golf only took an hour and thirty-five minutes with Michael winning a total of eleven out of the eighteen holes with two ties. At ten bucks a hole, it made for a nice petty cash afternoon. Michael wasn’t a better golfer than Eric. Eric had a way of beating himself if given enough time. Michael always gave the time needed.

Michael headed for town and pulled into the Crescent Plaza parking garage. He took an elevator up to the eighth floor. When the doors opened, he could see the Universal Gold and Gems, LTD. office directly in front of him. He was escorted to a large office containing three men, one of which was a security guard.

Mr. Canon, so good to see you. Please come in. I am Pierre Jacques and I am very pleased to be able to work with you.

Jacques opened a metal briefcase on his desk.

Your gem collection is magnificent and I’d like to think we can come to an agreement with you today.

He handed Michael a five by eight inch leather pouch. Michael unzipped it, exposing a wire transfer. The amount was for one million four hundred ninety-one thousand dollars. His mind flashed back to a room in Santurio’s mansion, to him and Scott bending down behind the large desk. The gems he was selling were the ones in the drawer of that desk. Like with all the monies confiscated in the war with the Colombians, the proceeds from this transaction would pay for all of the expenses incurred, with the remainder being equally divided amongst the team.

Mr. Canon?

I’m sorry, where were we? Michael said looking back at Jacques.

Jacques glanced at his associate and nodded his head.

The associate placed a large flat teak wood case in front of him. A few months ago you made an inquiry of several Morgan silver dollar sets, which we did not have at the time. We would like to present you with this complete collection of silver dollars for allowing us to handle your gem collection. As you can see they are all un-circulated in proof condition.

Michael stood up and extended his hand.

Thank you Gentlemen, I am most pleased.

Michael may have gotten another hundred thousand or so for the gemstones had he taken the time to search the market to a greater degree. He was content with the deal. Actually, he thought a half a million was reaching when he looked for a broker. After a stop at the bank, where he left the coins in his safety deposit box, Michael headed home.

Chapter 3

Thunderbird Estates

West of the city

"Good afternoon Mr. Canon. How was the golf game?" the guard at the entrance gate asked.

Just fine, Rich. Just fine.

Michael and Andrea had moved into the Thunderbird complex about six months earlier. Michael met Andrea Lane when she came to Canon Aeronautics as a mechanical engineer. Over a year after Michael’s family was killed, he began dating Andrea. She had been drawn into his private war with the Colombians and was saved by Michael. The mental scare of that ordeal remained inside her, but her love for Michael overrode the scars.

Michael liked the Thunderbird’s security procedures and Andrea felt very safe there.

Andrea wasn’t in the townhouse when he got there so, grabbing a soda from the refrigerator; he headed out to the pool area. He saw her lying on one of the lounges absorbing the sun’s dominating rays. He bent down and gave her a kiss on her sun-warmed lips.

I missed you today, my tall handsome man.

He sat next to her, as she stretched back out on the lounge. She welcomed the cold drink, but almost dropped it when he bent over and kissed her flat stomach.

You know big guy that kind of behavior will only lead to no good, she said smiling from ear to ear.

Would you like to go inside and discuss the ins and outs of good behavior? Michael asked.

You are so bad, and for that remark, you will pay later. Oh, R.C. and Monica will be here soon so we should go and get dressed for dinner.

At Michael’s urging, his best friend R.C. also purchased a townhouse in the complex. R.C., and his long time lady friend, Monica, finally decided it was time to live together. Society’s words, marital and bliss were just that, two words to them. If someone in the close foursome were marked for marriage, it would likely be Michael and Andrea. Between them, Michael had occasional thoughts on the subject, where Andrea thought about it quite often. Deep down she still had very emotional flashbacks to the cartel confrontation. She relived the moment she realized he wouldn’t be coming back alive. The waters they were sailing on were very smooth now, but the thoughts of the past happening again, kept her from pushing the subject. Only time would set the ball in motion and she would wait.

It got dark quickly once the sun dropped down behind the mountains. Their drive to Carson City was always an enjoyable one, with R.C. telling jokes he heard during the week. In the mixed company, he made a special effort to clean everything up. On the jokes he would forget the punch line to, everyone jumped in and made up their own. Those were usually funnier than the original ending line might have been. They looked forward to the grand dining room, as tonight’s highlight was a seafood buffet.

Good evening Andre, Michael said, as he shook hands with the maitre d’, and handed him a folded twenty.

Mr. Canon. It’s so nice to see you and your party again. Please come this way.

They were escorted to a table down next to the windows. The women felt like they were on a South Sea island seeing all the palm trees and the Polynesian décor. Sitting next to the window Andrea was electrified by the fish in the lighted manmade aqueduct that flowed gently by only inches below their feet. Michael excused himself and headed to the men’s room. As Michael exited, he saw an old acquaintance talking loudly with Andre. Michael walked over to them and heard Andre say to the man that no reservations were made under his name and they were booked solid.

Hello Conrad, we waited, but Andre seated us early. Andre, I meant to tell you, Mr. Stiles was with our party. Please forgive me, Michael said, handing Andre another twenty.

Oh that’s quite all right Mr. Canon. Mr. Stiles…my most sincere apology. Please go in.

As they walked, Michael said, It’s been a couple of years since we last talked, Conrad, how have you been?

Michael isn’t it? I never forget a face or name. Are you here alone?

No I’m with my fiancé and friends. Why don’t you join us at our table for a drink?

That’s very kind of you. I will, Conrad said.

They walked back to the table. Michael made the introductions and R.C. was beside himself, as the women knew nothing of their outing at the Stiles Mansion. Conrad surprised Michael by not mentioning the night and talked about fashion trends and his trips to the Mediterranean. Conrad had one drink, and then put a hundred dollar bill on the table, saying to have dinner on him.

I love you all, Conrad said, and then walked away.

What a nice man, Andrea said. I don’t think I know his fashions, but I like him. I thought he was going to stay for dinner.

I think he just wanted to be with friends and we fit the bill, Michael answered.

I know his fashions and they’re a little out of our price range, darling, Monica said. If I came home with some of his stuff, R.C. would never want to go to work again.

The women laughed, and then decided to freshen up before going up to the buffet.

Michael told R.C. how he rescued Conrad.

Think his clientele dropped off after we eliminated his supplier? R.C. asked.

I wouldn’t be surprised, Michael said, lighting a cigarette. I admire his business drive, the kind I once had. It seems strange not to be spending those long hours at the plant as I use to. With it all over now it’s just nice to get some time away.

That’s a credit to you and the way you set the entire organization up, R.C. stated. I don’t think I would want to work someplace where everything stopped because you or I weren’t there. We have very good people, I mean real self-starters who know how to communicate.

Thank God for that. Do you think the authorities’ legal tidal wave is finally quiet?

Haven’t received any subpoenas to appear anywhere in a long time, R.C. answered. And as for our game with the Colombians, it was kind of a blessing in disguise. Many good things came of what we did and the financial gains reaped by everybody made them all appreciate what they could do.

What do you hear from the team? Michael asked.

I’ve had a few calls from the guys. Scott and Victor are doing fine in Seattle. Mason is up to his eyeballs in sports cars, oh, and Connors is spending his spare time working in some state run program thing with kids.

I couldn’t be more pleased. I just hated to see some of them leave, especially Scotty. I guess I just wanted it to all end, as much as I wanted it to continue. You know what I mean?

I feel the same, but we’re better off now. Oh no, here come a couple of strange women.

Hello gentlemen, we’re lost and hungry. Do you think you could help out a couple of wayward women? Monica asked, and then gave R.C. a little kiss.

In a short time their drinks were finished, so Michael led the way to the start of the buffet line. Most of the people had already been through, so they took their time and let their eyes have a field day. Andrea still absorbed every sound and sight, as she relished their outings, exactly like the first time they went out. Within the hour the four just sat and sipped coffee, too full to move. Several ducks landed on the water outside where others swam in a group. Michael had his arm lightly resting on Andrea’s shoulder. She raised his hand and kissed it, as she gazed out at the water. He couldn’t have been more content with his life.

I think we need to walk off some of this seafood people, Michael said. Let’s stroll around the casino some.

As much as it hurt to move, they all knew Michael was right. The bright flashing lights, plus the sounds of all the games seemed to bring them back to some resemblance of life. Andrea held Michael’s arm as they watched R.C. play some blackjack. He was doing well, so they walked around the outside of the main casino floor. Andrea saw the casino’s giant slot machine, and was awed by its size. The person playing it finally walked away. She asked if she could try it. Michael put a fifty-dollar bill in the dollar slot machine, hit the five coin maximum button, and then told her to pull the handle. It took all she had to pull it towards her. The reels on the five-reel machine spun slowly and each one stopped just as