The Chronicles of Justice Vol. 1: Vol.1, #1

By Shawn C. Minard Sr.

Nick Justice is a retired Navy Seal, a business man and an advocate for his fellow veterans. When his friend and mentor Jake Cunningham's daughter is abducted he agrees to help him find her. Join Nick, Jake and their fellow warriors as they hunt down the human traffickers that took her and her friends. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn C. Minard Sr.
• Release date: Dec 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386387138

Book preview

Present

I - 64 near Illinois / Kentucky Stateline

The fully loaded 18-wheeler rumbled down the highway, its high intensity lights piercing the darkness. At this time of night (or morning), there were not many other vehicles on the road. The driver had been on the road since midnight the night before. His partner on this trip was just beginning to wake, as he had taken the first shift of driving since leaving their last stop in Raleigh, N.C. They were hauling a load of cigarettes from Raleigh to St. Louis, which was there home base. They had been on the road for the last seven days and were looking forward to returning home to relax and take care of any business that needed attending to. This latest stretch of runs had started with a load of beer headed to Boston and continued with runs up and down the east coast including several runs into New York City which was always a pain in the ass.

Where are we, asked Ryan from the bunk in the back of the sleeper compartment. Nick, who was the owner of the truck and the company for that matter replied, We’re about two hours out of St. Louis. You can crash for a while longer, I’ve got enough time left to get us to our drop and you can take over from there.

You’re the boss, besides I need my beauty rest.

You need something alright! Nick laughed as he pulled around a slower moving truck and put the hammer down long enough to get by the fully loaded lumber hauler. The other truck flashed his lights to let him know he could pull back into the right lane, which he did, and eased the powerful Peterbilt back into the truck lane continuing on towards their last drop and home.

Nick Justice, who owned his own small but successful trucking business, thought about his co-driver and latest hire Ryan Nelson. Ryan had been with Nick about a month now. Although they had gotten off to a rocky start, Ryan was proving to be a great asset to the company. He knew big rigs inside and out and didn’t seem to have a problem pulling his weight. He had a temper and a smart mouth, but he seemed to be managing to control both.

Nick was thinking it may be time to send him out on his own. He just needed to know the kid wasn’t going lose it if somebody crossed him. In this business, between dealing with customers and other drivers, day in and day out, you were bound to run into some unpleasant people and you couldn’t just put every person who crossed you in the hospital.

Although Nick wasn’t about to admit it to Ryan, the kid had given him a run for his money when he and Nick had it out shortly after Nick had hired Ryan. The kid could take care of himself, no problem there. He just needed to let things slide. He planned to have a talk with Ryan when they got back.

One month prior

St. Louis, Mo.

Nick had recently added another rig and had needed another driver, maybe two. He had placed adds in a couple of local papers and contacted the local VA office to see if there were any returning vets looking for a job. He knew one of the advocates at the VA who had helped him transition back to the world as it was called by servicemen on long oversea detachments.

Regardless of the job, being at sea or detached to some remote area of world for an extended period of time usually caused some amount of culture shock when returning. When you had done and seen the kind of things Nick and many of his fellow special ops brothers had, re-acclimating to a so-called normal, modern society could be difficult and for some impossible.

Charlie Rogers, who was Nick’s advocate when he had returned a few years ago, was still grinding away, doing the peoples work, when Nick had called him. He was always glad to hear from Nick, he was one of his real success stories and they had become good friends over the years. When Nick told him what he was looking for, one name came to mind immediately, that was Ryan Nelson. Ryan had just been honorably discharged after tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Although he had performed bravely and earned a chest full of medals, including the Silver Star with V for valor, Ryan had found himself in a situation that pretty much forced him to take an honorable discharge or face a court martial. Ryan, who had once been a true believer, saw the writing on the wall and took the discharge.

Now that he was back in the world he really had no idea what to do with himself. He was an expert marksman, trained in the use of all the latest and deadliest weapons in the U.S. arsenal as well as those of most of our enemies. Before his particular gifts had been identified, his original training was on trucks and heavy equipment, so the problem for him wouldn’t be a lack of transferable skills. There was however, the fact that he was potentially a ticking time bomb. He certainly had many of the skills that would do him well in some type of law enforcement capacity, unfortunately, he felt like he had used up all of his tolerance for assholes in positions of authority, so pursuing that would probably end up in some kind of disaster. He knew he could maintain or drive any kind of vehicle out there but once again there was the problem of dealing with dumb asses. In short, he had not, so far, been able to adjust his shitty attitude enough be a productive member of society.

Charlie thought if anybody can get this guy’s head out of his ass, Nick can. He told Nick that he had somebody in mind. A young marine discharged less than a month ago. The kid was marine-recon. He was trained in heavy equipment and truck maintenance and operation, as well as an expert with just about anything that fired a projectile. He had done six years and advanced to the rank of sergeant. In addition, he had attained a level of expertise in several forms of unarmed combat. He had excelled at every task the marines could throw at him and would have had a bright career if the military had not (in their infinite wisdom) seen fit to attach him to a prisoner transfer unit.

Charlie decided to fill Nick in on the details so, if he took this kid on, he knew what he was getting into. Although the report had been classified, Charlie had a lot of friends in the right places. He decided to have Nick come in and take a look at the file for himself. Nick was in town at the time, so he and Charlie decided to meet that afternoon. When Nick arrived, Charlie’s assistant ushered him into the office. Charlie rose from his desk and the two shook hands. Charlie waited for his assistant to leave the room.

This file is confidential. I’m going to get us some coffee, might take me a few. Charlie walked out, locking the door behind him. Nick understood Charlie's meaning; he quickly began to read the open file from a standing position. If someone other than Charlie walked in he could he could quickly close the file and step away.

As Nick read the file he found himself relating to the young marine’s predicament. The kid reminded him of himself 20 years ago. It looked like the kid had done all the right things, until the government had asked him to do the wrong thing. A transcription of the kid’s version of events was included in the file and it reminded Nick of some of the lesser known facts of his own involvement in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

While delivering a load of prisoners to a prison in Afghanistan, (one of many that supposedly didn’t exist) Ryan had witnessed two CIA agents and an Army captain interrogating a prisoner. Although Ryan was young, he was not squeamish and had already killed too many enemies throughout Iraq and Afghanistan to count but he still knew the difference between right and wrong. War can and does blur the lines, he knew that too, but we were supposed to be the fucking good guys! Good guys don’t hang teenage prisoners by their shackles and beat them until they are unrecognizable as a human being.

He had radioed his superior to report the abuse and was told that he hadn’t seen anything, and Marines keep their fucking mouths shut and do their job, and if he had a problem with that his career was going to take a nose dive real fast.

It might have ended there if the kid hadn’t screamed yet another blood curdling scream. Ryan had made his way back to the cell where the interrogation was taking place. Because they thought they were in a secure environment the interrogators didn’t bother locking the door, for their sake they should have. Ryan had entered the room quietly; all three of the interrogators backs were to the door. The young Afghan was hanging in the middle of the room. His face was hardly recognizable from the blood and the swelling.

One of the CIA agents was about to land yet another blow, he never made it. The young marine approached from the rear and kicked the man that was in mid swing right in the balls, as that man fell, Ryan turned, and head-butted the man to his right, knocking him out cold. It happened so fast that the Army captain was just beginning to react. He began to yell, WHAT THE, that was all he got out before Ryan smashed his fist into the man’s face, breaking his nose and knocking out two of his teeth.

The captain’s scream brought more guards who were armed with Tasers and used them, subduing the young marine until he could be cuffed and shackled. Thus ended the promising career of Ryan Nelson. He was lucky the military, CIA, and the U.S. government in general, didn’t want the existence of this facility known or he would have been rotting in a federal prison for years to come. Ultimately, he agreed to keep their secret to gain his own freedom, something he could never forgive himself or his government for.  

Nick could certainly understand where Ryan’s anger came from. The problem was how to help this damaged young man regain enough control of himself to keep him from ruining the rest of his life.

By the time Charlie returned, Nick had finished the file. Charlie asked Nick what he thought. Nick wasn’t ready to give him an answer just yet. After a pause, he asked Charlie how things had been going since the kid’s return.

Not great, was Charlie’s reply.

Since his return to the states Ryan had been in two brawls that Charlie knew of and was lucky he wasn’t already in jail. Charlie, a veteran himself, knew it was just a matter of time before something happened that couldn’t be fixed.

I seem to remember, you were a little rough around the edges when you first got back. The kid needs something to believe in and he needs to give himself a break. To be honest, if you can’t use him, I don’t know what my next step with him is going to be. Again, Nick paused and continued to thumb through the file. While Nick mulled over his decision Charlie considered the kid’s chances and the obstacles could jeopardize his chances with Nick.

Although Charlie’s war was by this time decades behind him, he had brought back many of the same kind of demons from his time in Vietnam. He had been lucky enough to be assigned to a pretty, young therapist who had done nothing short of saving his life and miracle of miracles he had persuaded her to marry him. With her help he managed to find his way back to his humanity and followed in her footsteps to help others like him. He had managed to earn himself a degree and landed a spot as an advocate for his fellow veterans.

Along the way he had won more battles than he had lost but, he had seen symptoms like Ryan’s before and some of these once proud men had not made it. Some were lost to drugs and homelessness, some committed horrible acts of violence and were rotting in prison, still others had taken the only way they could see out and ended their own tortured life. This Ryan kid had gotten a raw deal and Charlie was damn well not going lose another good man without a fight.

Nick’s phone call could not have come at a more opportune time. Nick of course had his own demons, but he had managed to begin to rebuild his life. If they didn’t kill each other Nick might be the right man to help this kid save his own life. Charlie knew Nick could relate to Ryan’s self-inflicted pain. The question was this. Was Nick ready himself and willing to allow Ryan into his close-knit world? He knew Nick would have to consider the other employees of his company, who were really more like family than employees.

There were two that Charlie knew of. There was House, Charlie didn’t even know his given name. He did know he had grown up on the streets of East St. Louis and had been a member of Nick’s seal team. He and Nick shared a bond closer than that of family; they had killed together and survived together. He also knew that House was an appropriate moniker for him. At 6’ 8 and easily 300 lbs. House" was one of the most intimidating men Charlie had ever seen.

He also knew of Nick’s assistant and office manager Jesse. He didn’t know her story but, he could tell there was a closeness and fierce protectiveness among these three. He could only hope that Nick could somehow find a spot for one more and that they could make it work.

Tell him to come by my office tomorrow. I need to meet him, get a sense of him. If that goes well, I’ll give him a shot. It wasn’t a done deal yet, but Nick’s response gave him some hope that he might be help this kid find his way back and that’s what he lived for. He nodded his agreement to Nick and added, Thanks Nick I really hope we can help this kid.

Me too. Nick responded. Let me meet him and get a sense of him. If I think I can do him any good without too much of a burden on House and Jesse I’ll give him a shot. With that, the two agreed to talk again the following day and Nick took his leave.

Charlie thought back to his first meeting with Nick. Although he usually had the advantage of going through his prospective client’s personnel file, he had not had a chance to do so the day he met Nick Justice for the first time. He didn’t need a file to tell him this guy was more than your average grunt.

Something happens to the soul of men who have endured the hardship of prolonged combat. Something even deeper happens to those who, for whatever reason, embrace the danger and the hardship. Those who become hunters, those with the ability to lie in wait for hours, even days, behind enemy lines, without the benefit of support of any kind waiting for the perfect opportunity to end someone’s life, those who can stalk their prey and quietly slip into the one spot their target feels safe and quietly execute them, simply because that’s their job.

These men wear these spiritual scars in their eyes, in their movements, in their manner of speaking, or their lack of bothering to speak when others would. In short, for those who spend time with military types, when you meet one of the true black ops professionals, no one has to tell you.

2006

St. Louis, Mo

When Charlie met Nick, his background was obvious. He found Nick in the waiting area of the local VA hospital where Charlie’s office was located. Charlie had approached the man sitting ramrod straight. He looked to be around fortyish with dark, close cut, wavy hair, and a slightly dark complexion, the kind that could have been Mediterranean or even middle eastern. The type you couldn’t really put your finger on.

As he approached he offered his hand and introduced himself. Hi, I’m Charlie, you must be Nick!

Nick rose and took his hand; he looked Charlie in the eye and said, that’s right. No hello, how are you, nothing and the manner with which he stood and the strength of his grip made Charlie step back a bit. He broke the hand shake and asked Nick to come into his office.

Once they were in his office, Charlie walked around his desk and took his customary seat, offering Nick a seat across the desk from him. Nick looked at the chair and the office door and moved the chair to the side so that he could see both Charlie and the door.

You worried about something, asked Charlie?

Old habits, Nick replied.

Charlie’s reply was measured, to elicit a response. One of the tricks of the trade he had learned from his wife.

I haven’t been able to review your file yet; maybe you can fill me in. Maybe you could elaborate on the old habits.

I was Special Ops for the last 20 years and did what spec-ops does. Anything more than that is classified. I’d suggest we leave it at that. Besides, that was the past; I’m more concerned about the future.

Nick’s curt reply gave Charlie his answer. Nick was one of those who perceived the past as something to be left behind. He was not interested in any soul searching or dredging up all the unpleasantness of the things he had seen and done. Charlie knew this worked for some, for others the past had a way of reasserting itself, whether they wanted it to or not.

There was no way to know for sure which Nick might be. Charlie decided to let it go for the time being.

Fair enough, I assume you picked St. Louis as your home of record because you grew up here. So, what are your plans? Any family locally? How about a wife and kids?

You know what they say about assuming right, so let’s not waste time with that. I’m hoping you’re more intelligent than that. As for the rest, I don’t have any family here married or otherwise. I do have some land that was left to me in an inheritance. It’s not much, an old farm with a little acreage and a rundown warehouse here in town. Neither is worth a whole lot. That’s where you come in; I need to find out what it’s going to take to use my VA loan to get these properties up to snuff. Oh, I’m gonna need some startup money. I figure I’m in a good spot to start a little trucking business. 

Whoa, slow down a minute, you don’t just automatically qualify for a VA loan, there are a lot hoops we need to jump through before we even know what you qualify for.

The sign on your door says Veteran Advocate, that’s you, right, so start advocating.

Listen, things don’t work that way. We need documentation on the properties, a business plan, loan application papers, just to start and you would do well to remember a couple of things.

Really, what’s that? Nick replied in a quiet voice that relayed not a hint of emotion.

One, you’re not my only client and two, I don’t work for you. You may be some kind of special ops bad ass but you’re not the first of your kind I’ve had to deal with, we do things my way, by the book, or no way. The choice is yours.

Look... Charlie, right? While you’ve been back here in your little office advocating, I spent the last two fucking decades of my life in every shithole around the world, doing Uncle Sam’s dirty work and I’m not a badass. When the powers that be need a bad ass taken care of, I’m the one they call and you would do well to remember that!

Now Charlie was pissed, this son of a bitch just threatened him!

Before I have you removed I’m going to tell you something, before I ever took this job, which I took to help my fellow veterans, I did my time in a little hell hole called Vietnam and I don’t have to take this shit from you or anybody else, I’ve earned that much.

Nick looked Charlie in the eye and slowly eased into his seat.

What outfit? his tone had eased a bit.

Army, 1st cav, I was a door gunner.

Ya know, you guys pulled me and mine out of a few tight spots. Maybe I over-reacted. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll see if I can be a bit less of an asshole. From what I’ve heard about door gunners in Nam, you’re lucky to be here.

Ya, lucky me! Look, let me go over your file. In the mean time I’ve got some papers you can take with you and fill out. We have to take this one step at a time but, I know how to do this. You’re going to have to trust me on that.

As he was talking, Charlie was going through his filing cabinet, pulling out the necessary forms to get the ball rolling. This guy had some issues, but at least he had a plan. Charlie decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now, at least.

Take these with you, get as much done on them as you can today, and I’ll see you at 10:00 AM tomorrow and we’ll get things moving.

Thanks, I think, Nick said as he took the stack of forms from Charlie.

That may seem like a lot of paperwork but, we’re just getting started. The money is there to be had and with your pension you’ll probably qualify but you have to play by the rules.

You could have told me that from the start.

You didn’t ask!

You’re right. I apologize for my behavior. I’ll see you in the morning.

Thanks. I appreciate that. I know it’s tough adjusting to the world we used to think of as normal. I’ll see you in the morning.

As Nick left the complex, he decided to go by the warehouse his grandfather had left him. As he had told Charlie, it wasn’t much but, with a little work he thought it would suit his needs, at least to start with.

Nick headed north on Grand, then east on Cass to take him down to the warehouse district. This area had been in use for storage and transportation long before there were 18 wheelers, or highways for that matter. Although, I-70 ran right through it, this area had been shipping all manner of goods since the early 1800’s as it was located right on the banks of the Mississippi river and it had always been a rough and tumble working class area.

This was an area where people worked, not lived. There was of course a high crime rate in the area as it was surrounded on three sides by low income neighborhoods, and where there were warehouses, there were all manner of goods that were easy to get rid of, to be had.

Nick pulled up to the padlocked gate, hopped out of the black Chevy 4X4 he had purchased on his arrival in St. Louis, just days before. It wasn’t new but, it seemed to be a strong runner and should work well for hauling all of the equipment and supplies he would be using to get the farm and warehouse into working order. As he approached the gate, he noticed three young black kids walking in his direction. Hats sideways, pants hanging below their asses, T-shirts that were at least 4 sizes too big. What a bunch of clowns, he thought to himself. They approached him, swaggering as if this was their street. The tallest of the three, who looked to be a little over six feet, looked at Nick eye to eye.

Whachu doin on our street man?

"I’m opening the gate to my property and as far as I can tell, this ain’t your street. So, why don’t you and your little boyfriends run along and play!"

Mothafucka, you calling me a faggot, the leader of the three replied. The other two took a step forward and did their best to give Nick their hardest look.

Yea, white boy, what the fuck you tryin to say?

I’m sayin this. I don’t know who the fuck you punks think you are, or what you think you own but, this is my property, and this is a public street. For every other punk you may have capped I’ve capped at least a dozen actual men, who weren’t dressed like fucking clowns and walking around like they got somebody’s dick up their ass. So, if you think you boys scare me, your barking up the wrong fucking tree, now get the fuck outta here, before you get hurt!

Who you callin boy, you honkey muthafucka?

The leader began to pull his T-shirt up to pull out his piece. He’d bust a cap on this cracker right here, dump him in the river, and take his shit. This dude didn’t know who he was fucking with. Nick almost laughed. What kind of idiot carried a gun in a pocket he had to reach half way to his ankles just to find? As the punk reached for his gun, Nick pinned his hand to his body and head-butted him square in the nose. As the leader fell back, the second one was already swinging a 6" blade at Nick’s throat, Nick stepped inside the arc of the swing. He grabbed his attacker’s wrist and twisted as he continued to spin, he heard the loud pop as the shoulder separated from its socket. The kid screamed in pain as Nick used the damaged arm for leverage and threw the kid head first into the front grill of his truck. The third tough guy finally had his gun out and was raising it at Nick. Nick sent a perfectly aimed kick at his attacker’s gun hand, sending the gun flying and leaving his assailant totally exposed. Nick actually had time to think, this is too fucking easy, as he delivered a bone cracking blow to the punk’s ribs, hearing them crack. As the kid doubled over in pain he dropped an elbow to the back of his neck, knocking him unconscious. By now Mr. badass was getting to his feet, once again digging for his gun. Nick shook his head in disgust and hit the kid with an uppercut that put his lights out. Nick couldn’t believe that this was what passed for tough guys. He’d seen little kids and women in some of the places he'd been over the years who would have been more than a match for these punks.

He stripped them of their weapons and bound their hands and feet with duct tape he had just bought, thinking it was something you could always use, although he hadn’t planned on using it for this. After they were bound, he called the cops and told them what had happened. The dispatcher asked incredulously if he needed an ambulance. He responded that he personally was fine, but the bad guys might need some help. She assured him not to worry; police and an ambulance were on the way. He explained that he wasn’t worried; he just had more important things to do and hung up.

By the time the police arrived, Nick had opened the gate and pulled his truck up to the office area of the warehouse. He had also moved the three stooges inside, in case there were any of their fellow geniuses were in the area. Three cruisers pulled up, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Nick walked out with his hands above his head.

Ya think you could kill the sirens?

Down on your knees, interlock your fingers behind you head, cuff him. The man with sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve ordered one of his subordinates as he instructed the others to turn off the sirens and search the premises. Nick obliged the aging sergeant and knelt down as he had been ordered. After Nick was cuffed the sergeant asked him what was going on.

I’m the one who called. My name is Nick Justice, and this is my property. I was unlocking the gate and the three inside jumped.

If they jumped you at the gate, what are they doing inside?

They attacked me, we fought, they lost, so I secured them and moved them inside to avoid advertising to any of their friends.

How many were there?

Three; Two had guns, one had a knife. Their weapons are in the office.

Wait a minute. You’re telling me three armed men jumped you, you subdued them, tied them up and moved them inside and you don’t appear to have a scratch on you. You expect me to believe that? So, I’ll ask you again, what’s going on and who the hell are you?

First of all, you and me must have a different definition of the word men. Secondly, their techniques, if that’s what you want to call them, were less than effective, thus the lack of injury to me. Look, officer-

That’s Sergeant!

Alright then, look Sergeant I received this property in an inheritance. I just got into town and was coming down to start putting this place back in shape. I’m not looking for any trouble. Had those punks inside won; I would be on my way to the morgue right now and these guys would be looking for another score. So, how bouts getting these cuffs off me and I’ll show you all the necessary documentation to prove I am who I say I am. Before the sergeant could reply, they were interrupted by one of the officers that had entered the building.

Hey Sarge, you need to see this. The Sergeant gave Nick a slightly disapproving, slightly quizzical look.

Watch him, he said to the officer who had remained outside with him. He walked inside to see three local thugs who were well known to him. They looked to be in pretty rough shape. Each looked as if they had received a pretty good beating and all three were securely duct taped to the same pole. The 20-year veteran could barely stifle a laugh. He had seen a lot in his career but, this was something new. He couldn’t say it bothered him whole lot.

Check on the ambulance. I don’t want any of these scumbags getting off because they were denied care.

He walked back out to the front of the building where Nick was still on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back.

Uncuff him. He told the junior officer. To Nick he said, Let’s see what you have. 

Nick led the sergeant into the unused office. He pulled a packet of files out of the drawer of an old steel desk and handed them over.

So, Ed was your grandfather?

That’s right.

He was a good man. I knew him for years before he passed away. The world could use more men like him. I don’t recall seeing you at the funeral.

I was on the other side of the world when he passed. Under the circumstances, there was no way I could get back.

If I remember right, you left with your mother after your father passed. You moved back to her home town, didn’t you?

Yah, we moved back to Detroit. I stayed until I finished high school. After that I enlisted in the Navy to get the hell outta there.

A fellow navy man, hey. I was on the Indy, that’s The USS Independence, military police. How about you?

Seals, Nick replied. I choppered off the Indy a couple of times.

"Seals, huh. That explains a few things. Listen, your granddad was a good man and I’m thinking you’re not so different. I believe you didn’t have any choice with these guys. To tell you the truth, I’m glad these thugs finally got what was coming to them. Unfortunately, my opinion