Relentless Pursuit: The Jonathan Steele Adventures, #2

By Russ Snyder

George Wilson was shocked with the message left by Chief Carleton Olds of Bar Harbor, Maine. The last time he had seen him, Olds had threatened his best friend, Jonathan Steele, to "Bury him under the jail". The message was short. He had a problem and would they give him a call?

In disbelief, they return the call to find out that the Chief's granddaughter is missing and local law enforcement seemed to be doing little about it. They offer to return to Maine for a face to face meeting. The Chief discloses everything he knows. One bit of information he can provide is that her passion is riding sport-styled motorcycles. They agree to look for the girl, a decision partly based on Jonathan losing his niece just eight months prior.

Studying the two bars where she worked and two sport bike bars where she liked to hang out they discover that she is thought of as a very responsible individual. This leads credence that her disappearance is not of her own choosing.

The first break comes when a bartender remembers seeing her with a blond man who he knows is one of three brothers who live up on Moosehead Lake. Deciding to use him as a starting point, observation reveals that the three brothers are Russian which raises the suspicion level. An internet search reveals their father, Viktor Stronoff, is an obscenely rich Russian industrialist who immigrated to America eight years previously. At a local restaurant Jon sees the middle brother, the hot tempered Leonti; attempt to place a drug in his date's drink. George, following the youngest blond haired brother, is lucky enough to be able to warn his date saving her from a similar fate.

Further investigation reveals that Stronoff has a custom built estate on the shores of Moosehead Lake in northern Maine and run across a story revealing the masonry crew who built the foundations for the buildings were all killed in a vehicle crash. Jonathan hates coincidences.

They begin to believe that the Stronoff's may be hiding a kidnapping ring and finally come up with a plausible explanation; they are participating in human trafficking/sex slave trade. Close scrutiny and sound hunches fuel a plan.

Jon and George launch an attack. A hidden door in the rear wall of the guard house reveals a set of stairs leading to a long tunnel. A secret sound proofed chamber has been built under the basement of the main house. They find eight women are currently being held including Lyn Watson, the Chief's granddaughter. He catches Leonti Stronoff, out on bail from the attempted date rape charge in Portland, just as he is about to brutally rape Lyn. They also learn of a sadistic game employed by the Stronoff's. He gathers the girls and George drives them out while Jonathan stays behind to cover their escape.

Later that evening two of Stronoff's guards pays the rental cabin of Jon and George a visit. One of the guards meets Jon's two Dobermans who play distinctive roles in this story. That meeting does not go well.

Jon theorizes that an attack is imminent on him or his family at their homestead in Blue Hill. Jonathan calls his sister and orders everyone away. The trap is set.

Margot, Jon's sister, demands to know everything. Jonathan manages to duck most of her questions but George slips up. On the ride home he does the one thing George fears most. With Jon driving his Suburban with child-proof locking windows, he feeds his big male Doberman a meatball sandwich which always has dire consequences. While Jon can lower his window for fresh air, George can't. Begging Jon, "No, don't", is trapped.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Russ Snyder
• Release date: May 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393772569

Russ Snyder

The President's Weapon is actually my second work; the first in the Sgt. Marvin Styles series.  I also have two completed manuscripts in the Jonathan Steele series which will be published in 2017. Whenever I promote my work, I never use my own words.  I let the readers of my work describe it for me.  I don't presume to ever compare myself with other authors.  NEVER... Robert B. Parker was the biggest influence on me.  I just devoured his 'Spenser' series.  I personally think the dialogue between Spenser and Hawk is about the best I've read.  Just love it.

Book preview

by

Russ Snyder

Prologue

The figure that had been slumped awkwardly on the small cot began to stir.   Slowly, her senses began to return.   The first thing she noticed once she became aware was just how badly her entire body ached.   She also had a pounding headache.   She opened her eyes.   It took a few seconds before she began to focus clearly.   She tried raising her hands to her face to wipe her eyes, but to her surprise, couldn’t.   For the moment, she couldn’t understand why.   Looking around, she found herself in a very confined space.   It was dimly lit by one automotive type bulb.   The walls appeared to be bare plywood.   She began to realize that she was moving, or more accurately, the space in which she occupied was moving.   Looking around she saw there were no windows.   Now, more awake, she tried raising her arms again but this time seeing why she couldn’t.   Her wrists were secured by leather cuffs which were attached by chains affixed to the floor.   She felt a very cold chill run up the back of her spine.   She tried to stand, finding she could only obtain a crouching position.   Her waist was bound by a large leather strap that was chained to the wall, just above the thin mattress on the cot.   She could move sideways perhaps twenty inches either way, but no more.   She bumped into something beside her; a bucket with a roll of toilet paper inside.

A primal fear was starting to claw its way into her head.  She tried to scream but found she could barely make a noise.  Now she started to struggle in earnest.  The young woman was in excellent physical shape, much stronger than she appeared.  She strained as hard as she could against her bonds.  They were completely unforgiving.  She tried shouting, but only the faintest whisper emerged from her throat.  She had no way of knowing that the drug she’d been given temporarily paralyzed the vocal cords.  Panic started to envelop her.  She yanked against the heavy leather bonds with all of her available strength.  She could have been ten times stronger and it would not have mattered.  She was not going anywhere until her captor decided to release her.

She tried to think back, to decipher what had happened.  She vaguely remembered a blond haired man; shooting pool with him.  They were laughing, having a good time.  He bought her a couple of drinks.  ‘Damn that bastard!’  Panic was beginning to turn into all out terror.  She spotted two small water bottles within reach, but couldn’t have cared less.  She wanted to be free.  It was all her brain was screaming.  Try to get loose, try to get free.  She couldn’t.  Still she fought.  Then slowly the light began to fade.  She wasn’t sure if the bulb was indeed failing, or if the terror she felt was causing her vision to fade.  She couldn’t tell.  Slowly she was enveloped in total darkness.  Horror took total control of her.  She screamed as loud as she could, barely a sound was heard.  She could actually feel her eyeballs starting to bulge.  Then she got violently sick.  Over and over she vomited.  Her bladder let go.  Finally, in relief, her brain shut down and she blacked out.  Unfortunately, her relief was only temporary.

Chapter 1

George Wilson was sitting at his desk in the new office that he shared with his best friend and business partner, Jonathan Steele, staring at his answering machine in pure amazement.  ‘Unbelievable’.  He punched the replay button to be sure that he wasn’t delirious.  The message repeated itself.

Uhhh, this is Chief Carleton Olds, of the Bar Harbor Police Department.  I s’pose yer probably pretty surprised to hear from me; hell, I can’t believe I’m calling you two jackasses, but I got me a situation up here that I think I need some help with.  Much as it hurts to say this, you two done a pretty good job up here.  This thing I got might be kinda along the same lines, so if one of you two would call me back, I’d ‘preciate it.  You got no idea how much that hurt.  The message ended.  George didn’t even try to suppress his laugh.  He got up and went looking for Jon.  Walking out of the new building, that had taken much too long to complete thanks to the inane zoning restrictions of Sarasota County, he headed for the garages to check there first.  No Jon.  Then he heard Karma, one of Jon’s two Dobermans, barking out on the dock, probably at sea gulls again.  ‘Aha’!  Walking out to the dock, he found Jonathan sitting on the edge with both his dogs.  Of the group; she was the one that was always on guard.

Just as I might have suspected.  I’m in there trying to save you from financial ruin, and you’re out here with those two mutts of yours, George stated, feigning total indignation.

Is that a polite way of trying to tell me how badly you’ve screwed up? Jon asked, looking up, laughing, as Karma, the female, walked over wagging her stub.  Jaus, the big male, who was stretched out on his back, never even opened his eyes.

George reached down and scratched her between her ears, while chiding the other.  Don’t wake up on my account.  This brought a groan, but no opening of the eyes.

So, what’s up, Scally?

George went over and sat down beside Jon.  It was a beautiful day in the third week of May.  The water rushing alongside the dock seemed a particularly bright blue.  You will never guess who just left a message this morning.

Can’t be my sister, I just talked to her.

Wrong person, right location.

Huh?

We got a call from none other than Chief Carleton Olds himself, President of the Jonathan Steele Fan Club, Bar Harbor Chapter.

HUH?

Yep.  Old crotchety ass himself.

What in the hell did he want? Jon asked.

Says he’s got a situation up there and, as much as it hurt to ask, he thinks he might need help.  He made a point of expressing his pain.

I’ll bet he did.  What’s his problem?

He didn’t say.  Wants a call back, replied George.

So call him.

Whoa, whoa, why do I have to call him? George questioned, exasperated.

Cause he likes you.  He hates my guts.

George was silent for a moment.  I can’t argue the latter, though I don’t necessarily agree with the former.

Oh, be a big boy and go call him.  Tell ya what; I’ll come listen on the speaker.

I am overwhelmed by your demonstration of bravery, George said sarcastically.

Together, they walked over to the new office, with both dogs falling in behind with George noticing as soon as Jonathan moved, the big male, Jaus, was on his feet per usual.

Nice to see lazybones can still get up on his own.  This brought a slight growl from the big dog.  George playfully slapped his flank, and immediately got his hand soaked thoroughly from a good licking.  Karma, as per her custom, walked ten feet ahead of them as she was always on guard.

Entering the new office, George sat at his desk, as Jon rolled his chair around from his own desk over to George’s.

Have you even tried your chair yet? George asked.

Uh, no.

Waste of money, George complained.  Hard as I work and you waste money.

Send the damned thing back then.  You know I won’t be in here much.

Then where would you sit now?

Okay, got me there.

George picked up the phone, and called Bar Harbor.

Chapter 2

Bar Harbor Police Department.

Yes, George Wilson for Chief Olds.  I believe he’s expecting my call.

Just a moment, sir.

Jon looked at George and said, Any guesses as to what this is about?

Nope.

Chief Olds here.

Chief Olds, George Wilson returning your call.

Oh, yeah.  Well, I guess this could be worse, I could be talking to Steele.

I’ve missed you too, Chief, Jonathan piped up.

Great.  Two pains in one ass.  How lucky can I get? Chief Olds countered.

Well Chief, we’re only calling because you called us.  What’s up? George asked.

First, believe me when I tell ya I couldn’t think of nobody else to try.

Chief, George continued, Stop trying to butter us up and just say what’s on your mind.

All right.  All I wanna say over the phone, is it involves my granddaughter.  She’s missing from Portland and been gone about two weeks now.  Portland PD ain’t been a lotta help.  I got a buddy who works down there, which has been able to give me some info, but officially they ain’t doin’ shit.  If I spring for plane tickets, will you two come up here and talk to me about it?

Chief, how come we can’t just go over everything over the phone? Jonathan interjected.

I’ve got paperwork to show you and other shit; too much to talk over the phone.  I wanna meet up in Portland.  Will you guys come up?

George and Jon looked at each other, but neither had anything to say.

Sure Chief, anything for an old friend, Jonathan told him.  But I won’t fly commercial anymore.  I don’t have the patience with all the new security shit.  We’ll drive.

Yeah, but it’d be faster to fly.

Unless you want to spring for a private charter, we’re driving.  We’ll drive straight through, so we’ll be there mid-day, day after tomorrow, Jon stated firmly.

They could hear Chief Olds sigh disgustedly over the phone.  How much this gonna cost me?

Again, Jon and George looked at each other without speaking.

Jonathan answered, Chief, even though we basically saved your ass up there, you could’ve caused us a hell of a lot more trouble than you did.  So what say we just come up, see what you got going on and take it from there?  We’re not doing this for the money; call it a professional courtesy.  If your granddaughter really is in trouble, well, I guess what I’m saying is that we’d like to help her out.  Plus, I like the fact of you owing us.

Steele, I really don’t like you much.

Isn’t about liking or not, it’s about helping.  I figure if you got the balls to call us, least we can do is have the balls to come up.  Sound fair?

Yeah, I reckon so, Chief Olds agreed, with reluctance.

We’ll call you when we’re six hours out of Portland and make arrangements to meet up then.

I can hardly wait, Steele.

I love you too, Chief, Jon replied, then George hung up the phone.

Granddaughter, what the hell you think that’s about? George wondered.

Damned if I know.  It sounds like Portland PD isn’t taking it too seriously.  I wonder what makes Olds think differently?

Well he must if he called us.

I can’t argue that.  I still can’t get over that old cuss was ever romantic enough to have a kid.

What do you want to take up?

Dunno.  Want to take the dogs?

Fuck no, George exploded.  That big mutt of yours will con you into giving him a meatball sandwich, and he’ll fart us out of the damned whatever we’re in.

"What if I promise no meatball sandwiches?  It’s been a while since they’ve been on a road trip."

I want separate rooms.  Fuckin’ dog snores too.

You know, George, he’s gonna start to get the feeling you don’t like him, Jon kidded his friend.

That’s the problem, he knows I love’em, that’s why he pulls all the shit he knows I can’t stand.  Karma is a princess, but that big moose is one giant loveable pain in the ass.  He farts, he snores, and he hogs every stinking piece of furniture he can haul his big ass up on.

He has saved your ass a couple of times.

Yeah, so??

So I guess we’re taking the Suburban huh?

Guess so, George groaned.

George would’ve sworn he saw Jaus laughing at him.

Chapter 3

Two hours later, Jon, George, and the two Dobermans were packed and on the road.  They decided to travel light, as they weren’t sure yet what they were getting into.

George insisted on driving, freeing Jonathan up for ‘gas control’, as George put it.  The second and third row seats had been removed, making for one large flat surface, perfect for baggage, and two large dogs.  Jonathan had thrown in a single twin-sized mattress, to give the dogs plenty of room, to stretch out.  Both usually preferred looking out the windows.  They thoroughly enjoyed traveling.  Jonathan had spent a great deal of time teaching and training them as pups, and both could be walked off leash always under complete control, a sight that tended to make many people nervous.  Jonathan could have cared less.  There had been more than one encounter with local LEO’s, with regard to leash laws.  Jonathan had been required to appear in court three times, for violation of such.  Finally, in frustration, he had taken a million dollar liability insurance out covering the dogs or, perhaps more importantly, their actions.  This satisfied the judge, who had threatened Jonathan with jail time the next time he appeared before him on a similar charge.

The trip was uneventful and every three hours or so they would stop for a few minutes at a rest stop to let the dogs stretch their legs.

Jonathan would always follow the same routine.  Before letting them out, he would command, "Pay attention," which both dogs understood that they were in command mode, where they would stay until Jon would release them by saying, Off duty.  George was always impressed, with just how well the dogs responded.  When they were in command mode, they were as well trained as any dog alive.  Both dogs had a quirk of clacking their teeth twice when they sensed a stranger, or to make a point.  Not meant so much as a threat, but more of a warning for their master of an unfamiliar presence.  Either dog would do this, and often in tandem.  Together, they were a very intimidating pair of dogs.

The weather was nice, and they only had one construction tie-up in North Carolina.  Interstate 95 was in good shape all the way up.  George’s girlfriend, Anna, had agreed to stay in George’s house on the property, to keep an eye on everything.  She was an author who could just as easily work from there as her own home.  She brought her own dog, an Australian Cattle Dog named Daffy, to keep her company and give her a sense of security.  ‘Daff’ was a formidable protector in her own right.  Having them on the property was a relief for both Jon and George, since the Dobermans were with them.

Two hours south of Boston, George called Chief Olds.  We’ll be staying at the Comfort Inn in South Portland.  We should be there between two and three this afternoon.  You want to come down then, or meet up in the morning?

Why don’t we plan on supper somewhere?

That sounds good for us, Chief.  Call me when you get here.

That’ll be fine.  Uh, I want to thank you boys for coming up.  I’m really worried about my granddaughter.  The cops there are ‘bout as worthless as tits on a boar hog.  I’d thought seein’ as I’m Chief in Bar Harbor, they might’a got off their asses a bit, but that didn’t mean shit to them.  Anyway, thanks.

Let’s just talk over what’s going on, Chief, and take it from there, okay?

Yeah, that sounds ‘bout right.  Call ya when I’m in Portland.  George laid his cell phone back in a spare cup holder designed into the flip up center console.

Jonathan, who was driving, looked over and asked, So we set for dinner?

Yeah, he sounds pretty upset.

As much as the last time we saw him?

Nah, not near that much.  Hell, last time he was screaming at you about burying your ass under the jail.

Yeah, Jon laughed, I remember.

Jon?

Yeah?

"Would you please tell that dog of yours to stop breathing on the back of my neck?"

Chapter 4

Jonathan Steele, George Wilson, and the two dogs were checked into the Comfort Inn, located in South Portland.  They had requested adjoining rooms.  Both featured double queen-sized beds, two overstuffed sitting chairs, and a table with seating for four.  A coffee maker was also included, which was a nice surprise.  They had arrived shortly before three in the afternoon.  Arrangements had been made with Chief Olds, to meet Jon and George in their rooms, then proceed to dinner.  The Chief had told them to expect him around six-thirty that evening.  George immediately got out his laptop, while Jon decided to go for a run.

Watch the dogs for me, will ya? John asked.  I’ll be back in an hour and a half.

Well, as long as nobody tries to steal the mattress, we should be okay, George replied sarcastically.  Both dogs were stretched out on one bed in Jon’s room.  An audible groan was heard from Jaus.  Jon and George couldn’t help but laugh.

Watch out George, he’s in condition yellow.

Yeah, I feel so safe.

Jon changed into his running attire, and then walked out the door into the hallway.  Be back in a bit.

Gotcha, Jon.  I’m just checking out some stuff here on the Internet, and answering a few emails.  Oh yeah, Anna says hi.

That girl sure does like her messaging, emails, and texting.

I’ll say.  Bet if you took a comparison, she sends more words than she speaks over a phone.

Consider yourself lucky, ‘G’.

No complaints from this end, my friend.

Jon stuck his head back into his room and said to his dogs, I’ll be right back, right back.  Neither dog moved.  Don’t miss me too much.  Then he was off.

By six that evening, both Jon and George had showered, and were ready for Chief Olds arrival.

Jon walked into George’s room and said, Hey, want to have some fun with Olds?

George looked up from his laptop.  What do you mean? he said, with a suspicious look in his eyes.

Nothing serious.  Just go along with me.  Let him in your room, and then bring him over to mine.

George winced, as he knew where this was leading.  Jon, do you purposely try to start things off in the shitter?

Whaaat?  Just gonna break the ice a bit, with some humor.

George just shook his head.  All right, but keep a muzzle on’em.

Jon just grinned.

At six thirty-five George’s phone rang.  Yeah, Chief.

I’m in the parking lot.

Come up to room 214.  Door’s unlocked, come on in.

Be up theah in a minute.

Ninety seconds later, there was a slight knock, then Chief Carleton Olds walked into George’s room.  George got up from the table, walked over to Chief Olds, and extended his hand to shake it.  Chief Olds hesitated for a second, and then shook George’s hand.

Not quite sure what I should say, Wilson.  Can’t say I expected this.

Neither did we; Chief.

Speaking of we, where’s the other one?

Through here.  He motioned for the Chief to follow.

George walked into Jon’s room first, and stepped aside allowing Chief Olds to enter.  His mouth hit the floor.  Sitting straight up in the two upholstered chairs, were two very big Dobermans.  Both instantly clacked their teeth twice at him.  Then he heard Jonathan Steele speak.

Chief Olds, I’d like to introduce Jaus and Karma to you.  Kids, this is Chief Olds.

Again, both dogs clacked their teeth.

Chief Olds didn’t really know what to do.  Finally he stammered, That’s the biggest fuckin’ Doberman I ever seen.  Dogs don’t normally bother me too much, but that one makes me a mite nervous.

Don’t worry Chief; he’s harmless until he needs not to be.  They won’t bother you.

Realizing he’d been set up for the joke, Chief Olds looked over at Jonathan.  Steele, you got a fucked up sense of humor.

Yeah, been told that before.  He walked over to the Chief and extended his hand.

Carleton Olds just looked at him for a couple of seconds, then shook hands.  Like I told Wilson here, I didn’t expect this.

Jonathan looked Chief Olds square in the eye.  Tell you what.  Why don’t we just try to start from scratch?  Like I told you last year, George and I didn’t mean to try to make you look bad or show you up in any way.  I just had this feeling about my niece’s death, and I act on my feelings.  And I’ll say it straight up, I don’t much give a fuck what anybody thinks about that.  I smelled something fishy, so I went fishing, and we caught a pretty big fish.  If anything bad came from that for you, I’m sorry.  But it was my sister I was worried about.  I’d just soon there weren’t any hard feelings.  If there were from our side, we wouldn’t be here.

Chief Olds was quiet for a few seconds, and then simply stated, I can live with that.

Then let’s go get some dinner, and talk about what’s on your mind.  There’s an Outback Steakhouse just down the road.  Will that work for you?

Ayah, that’d be ‘bout fine.

Let’s go, I’m hungry, offered George.

Never heard that before, exclaimed Jonathan.

Chapter 5

Walking across the parking lot, Chief Olds stated he would take his own car over to the restaurant, as he was planning on heading home directly after dinner.

Upon arriving, they were immediately seated by the hostess.  Jonathan had requested to be seated in a quieter area of the restaurant as they had business to discuss.  They were brought menus and glasses of water quickly.  All three looked over the menu and within seconds had made their choices.  The three thanked the server after taking their food order.  Both Jon and George were enjoying an ice cold Molson Red Ale, while Chief Olds had ice tea.

Now ain’t the time for me to be drinkin’ beer, he said.

George pulled a small recording device from his pocket.

What’s that? Chief Olds asked.

It’s a tape recorder, Chief.  I don’t want to have to rely on memory for any information concerning what you’re about to tell us and it’s a lot easier than taking notes.

Yeah, guess that makes sense.

Jon spoke up.  Chief, take your time, and start from the beginning.

Okay.  Let’s see, my granddaughter’s name is Marilyn Watson.  She goes by Lyn.  She’s uhh, must be twenty-seven now.  Single.  Bit on the hard headed side, gets that from her mother.  Responsible girl, though.  Her father, my son, left them when she was six.  Her mother always held that against me.  Don’t think we’ve spoke a hundred words since he left.  Lyn and I get along pretty good.  I always drive down to Portland, that’s where her mother moved to after the split.  Anyway, I always drive down on her birthday, and over Christmas, and we spend time together.  She likes the fact that I don’t give her shit about what she chooses to do.

What kind of stuff does she choose to do? George asked.

Her big interest is motorcycles.  Not Harleys.  Those, whadaya call ‘em, sport bikes, I think.  She bought herself a new one last fall, just after you two boys left your mark on Bar Harbor.  Think it was some kind of Kawasaki, don’t know what size.  I know she said it was green.  Her mother gives her all kinds of shit over them bikes.  She always seemed to like’em, even though they was always causing trouble between them.  At least that’s what she said.  She moved out on her own, on her eighteenth birthday.  Another thing that pissed Marie off.

Marie your daughter-in-law? Jon asked.

Ex.

George and Jon nodded.

Chief Olds continued.  Well, she goes and gets this apartment.  She’d finished high school.  Did pretty well, but didn’t want to go to college.  She bounced around at various waitress jobs.  Ended up bartending at two different bars down here.  One is a place called the Port Tavern over on Moulton Street.  The other is a place called Dock’s End, he said in a particular Maine vernacular.  I got a call from Dock’s End when she’d missed two shifts, and wasn’t answering her phone.  Guess somebody there went to her apartment, and couldn’t find her there either.  What little I got from Portland PD was they questioned the mother, and they got the feeling that she didn’t give a shit about her own daughter.  Guess she was pretty rude.  Marie always was a fuckin’ bitch, far as I’m concerned.  Got no idea what the hell my kid ever saw in her.  He paused, and took a long drink from his ice tea.  "When I got told Lyn was missing, I came down here for a couple of days but I didn’t find out anything.  Portland PD didn’t do shit until I started makin’ a stink.  Said no official missing person report had been filed, so I filed one.  Dumb asses.  I drove over to try to talk to Marie, and she slammed the damn