Special Interest

By Aaron T Knight

Imagine a world no longer dependent on fossil fuels as an energy source. No more noise no more pollution of the planet. An altruistic scientist imagined it. His research uncovers an inexhaustible energy source to completely eradicate the need for fossil fuels. Special interest groups learn of the threat to their survival and the scientist is murdered. He has hidden the formula in four parts around the world. Only one person he trusted completely will know where the formulas are hidden. A wild and often humorous chase ensues in pursuit of the individual holding all of the cards.

The characters' motives were hidden well until the end of the book when the author did finally start to place doubt in your mind about who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. The science behind the energy source was unique too - would be nice if such a thing existed! 

Megan's review

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aaron T Knight
• Release date: Jan 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393732532

Book preview

Special Interest 

Aaron T. Knight

Chapter 1

A brilliant flash of lightning in the night sky briefly lit up the road in front of a speeding car and the outline of another one in front of them. The drivers were momentarily blinded by the flash. Then back to inky blackness. It was a road in a suburban neighborhood without any overhead lights. Both cars were traveling at excessive speed given the time of day and narrow street conditions.

Brake lights came on from the first car as it dove into an unmarked curve in the road. Dust and rocks began to fly as the car reached the top of the curve and nearly rolled over as the driver fought for control. Free of the curve the car sped off again at top speed. The second car was at a disadvantage since it was enveloped in a bright wall of blinding dust from the retreating car in front of them.

As that car reached the top of the curve it slid off and landed in a shallow ditch. It was silent in the car as the passengers regained their composure. One shouted,

You damned near killed us! I’ll drive from now on! Move over to the passenger side.

The new driver gunned the car raising great clouds of dust until it was back on the pavement. Now there was another surprise. The car they had been pursuing had vanished. There was nothing but their own headlights in the blackness. The driver stopped.

It was such a short period of time since the curve so we should only have to search a couple of blocks to find him. There will be some light from the car since no one could drive without some light in this lousy weather.

Driving slowly the searchers stayed on the same road to block the other car from attempting to double back. It was slow going and the air was filled with foul language. At the corner of one street there was a faint skid mark. It was their only possible clue so they decided to take a chance and enter the street. It was only two blocks in length. Nothing. As the driver had almost completed a U turn they caught a glint of light from metal in one driveway.

They quietly parked the car at the beginning of the driveway effectively blocking it. There was some construction equipment just off to the side of the driveway. It was the area that had shown the tiny beam of light. It was the parking lights from the car they were pursuing. The house and grounds were fresh from major improvements. It was unoccupied and they guessed the construction had just been completed and ready for the owner to move in.

There was a side door facing them. Before they could open the door a badly beaten man came out holding on to the door for support. They were surprised he could stand up at all. It was the man they were hunting. His face was bruised and bloody with one eye completley closed, His clothes were in tatters and he had a stab wound oozing blood. Gasping the man with great effort utter a sentence.

You lechers will never find my formula. No use beating me. I’ll die first.

He made a swift move with his hand into his clothes and pulled out a revolver. His hand was quivering from the weight of it. He pulled the trigger with great effort. The shot only went into the dirt four feet in front of him. Off balance, he fell halfway to the ground supported by one knee. One of the pursuers had a gun pointed at the badly wounded man in front of them. The other one ordered,

Go ahead. Shoot him. We can't afford to let him live now that our cover has been blown. Shoot.

I can’t do it.

Give me the gun!

There are two shots fired into the dying man’s chest.

They jumped over his body to enter the house to look for the formula papers. The dead man was half naked so there was no place to hide anything on his person. The gunman orders the other one,

Go find his car and rip it apart in case he hid his stuff there. Car  shouldn’t be far away. I’ll check out the house.

All of their efforts to locate the formula fail.

They discussed the problem of disposing of the corpse. They finally agreed it would be best to bury him in the yard. No chance of leaving any forensic evidence. It was clearly a better move than leaving him in the car. The dead man’s car was only driven a few miles to the nearest body of water and deep sixed.

Chapter 2

Major renovations had transformed the old house into a modern dwelling. It was final inspection day. Moving slowly, the young home owner inspected each room. Close behind him came the contractor looking intently over Joe's shoulder. Whenever Joe moved his head to look at something, Mr.Purdy's head instantly imitated the move to see what the owner was checking out. It was like a slow ballet, as they moved through the house with their heads shifting around in perfect synchronization.

Mr. Purdy anxiously waited for Joe to say something, This customer was the most demanding, and frustrating, Mr. Purdy ever had the misfortune to meet. Joe remained silent. They finished the inspection tour in the parlor. Mr. Purdy asked Joe nervously,

What do you think? Is everything all right?

Joe looked around the living room. It was freshly painted and the hardwood floors gleamed in the natural light streaming through the bay window.Looks fine to me Mr. Purdy. My stuff will be here this afternoon, you finished just in time. 

Well then, will you sign this release for the mortgage company? The paper says you’re satisfied with the remodeling work. Sort of a waiver.

This was a big move for Joe. Actually, his ex-father-in-law-to-be had engineered this major change in his life. Joe was an accountant for a large corporation in New York and Bradford Harrington, the ex-father-in-law-to-be, was a managing director. Joe had been engaged to Harrington’s daughter for three years. Then without warning, Kimberly dumped him. She had called off their engagement just six months before the wedding day. Kimberly was afraid of her father so she had lied and blamed Joe for the break up.

She knew her father would have been furious with her if he found out she had made the mistake. He would see it as a wasted three precious years on the wrong man. So, Joe became the victim. He realized it was useless to deny Kimberly’s allegations to Harrington. He would appear to be a cad, if he refuted Kimberly’s story. Besides, Joe was certain Harrington would have sided with his daughter anyway.

Auditing work for large defense contractors doing business with the Pentagon was a significant part of their business activities. It had been Joe’s own suggestion that the company should open an office in Northern Virginia near the Pentagon to save on traveling expenses. Mr. Harrington had grabbed Joe’s idea quickly after the break up of the engagement.

He carried the branch office idea one step further than Joe had suggested. Harrington recommended the auditing duties be spun off from the company entirely. He recommended to the board of directors that Joe should be become an independent contractor for them, thus severing all ties to the company. Not to mention the savings to the firm in fringe benefits. It was a stunning blow. But such corporate moves had become somewhat commonplace in the American business culture.

Now an entrepreneur, Joe had decided to purchase a home in the small village of Moccaquon in Northern Virginia. It was situated about twenty miles from Washington DC. It was an ideal location for Joe’s frequent trips to the Pentagon. Armed with stacks of data, he descended upon Mrs. Williams. Hour after hour, day after day, the patient, but frazzled, realtor showed houses to Joe.

Six weeks of searching had finally produced the house he eventually purchased. Negotiations on the price were intense, Joe maneuvered for every advantage. The mortgage company hadn’t gotten off lightly either. Joe eventually received the lowest interest rate they had granted in five years. Somehow, the firm found itself paying all of his closing costs too.

By the following morning, Joe’s office was functioning. Emails flew to New York and back to him. Joe carefully laid out his schedule for the week. His most immediate problem involved a Navy contract. He called the Pentagon and made an appointment to see the Naval contact officer the following day. Joe knew the officer well from previous trips to Washington.

At the end of the day Joe inspected his yard. It was the first week in June and the neighborhood was alive with blossoming flowers of all descriptions. He was checking a list of all the plants the landscaper, who Mrs. Williams had insisted he would need, was supposed to have planted. The landscaper had been insulted when Joe had demanded a detailed drawing of the grounds showing each and every flower and its price. Joe was now using the drawing to inventory the flora. He came up short by two pansies.

He decided to wait until the following day to complain to the landscaper.

Joe completed his tour of the yard near the front porch. He was admiring the large brick planters located on each side of the front porch. His landscaper had talked Joe into installing the expensive brick flower beds. As much as the thought of the cost to him was painful, he had to admit the large variety of flowers around the front porch added a great deal of beauty to the house. It had been difficult for him to count each individual plant in the beds.

A week later, Joe noticed the flower bed on the right side of his front porch was growing more rapidly than the bed on the left side. Studying them closely, he estimated the flowers on the right side were at least four inches taller. He called the landscaper. Mr. Burns cringed inwardly when he heard Joe’s voice on the phone. Trying to be pleasant he said,

Yes sir Mr. Vance. What can I do for you today ?

Joe explained the uneven growth in the flower beds, intimating in the process that maybe some plants were inferior.

Could you come out right away and take a look? 

Sir, sometimes the soil is a little better in one place than another. Give it a little time. The other side will probably grow out just fine. Then the beds will appear even. Why don’t you call me in a week?

As time went by, the uneven growth in the flower beds was more pronounced. Now, the flowers in the right hand bed were beginning to grow into a shape resembling a human form. Other people in the neighborhood had also begun to notice the odd phenomenon in Joe’s yard. Several people, including Mrs. Tadwell his neighbor from next door couldn’t resist having a closer look at the flowers. Looking guilty they crept up Joe’s walkway for a closer look. It was starting to irritate Joe. He tried to ignore them.

Mr. Burns the landscaper, finally arrived to inspect the flower beds. He spent nearly an hour inspecting the plants Each variety was closely inspected for disease. Burns carefully looked at the soil.  He finished his inspection and told Joe,

The plants are perfectly healthy. I can’t guarantee a uniform shape of the flowers. Burns left abruptly in his truck. 

Joe was livid. Frantic calls were made to other landscapers. For a small fee, each of the experts came out and inspected the flowers. The verdict was unanimous. Nothing wrong here Mr. Vance, they all said. He suspected a conspiracy. Probably protecting each other, he silently fumed. Feeling helpless over the situation, Joe decided to drop it.

By the weekend, the flowers had arranged themselves into a more definitive form. The body of a man was clearly distinguishable and facial features were forming. This is really weird, Joe thought to himself, as he stared at the flower bed. Word had spread around town about the unusual floral design. People slowly strolled by Joe’s house staring at the flowers. He closed his window blinds and vowed to remain calm.

That night he was awakened by lights playing back and forth outside the front window. Joe peered around the corner of a curtain with one eye. There were six young people with flashlights staring at his flower bed. Indignant, Joe walked out onto his front porch,

What are you doing out there ? he demanded to know.

Sorry sir. a young man replied. We heard about your weird flowers, and we thought we’d take a look. We’re sorry to have disturbed you.  They left quickly..

But it wasn’t the end of the disturbances. Cars kept passing by slowly. Then a few more people showed up on the lawn. Joe was wild with frustration. Joe stepped out onto the front porch. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he looked down. Overnight the flowers had arranged themselves into a perfect sculpture of a man. Even the man’s facial features could be easily recognized. Two blue pansies represented the man’s eyes, the nose was there and red flowers made up his mouth.

Joe felt creepy as he stared at the flower man.

What the hell is this ? he said aloud.

Just then a car pulled up to the curb. A young woman and a photographer came up the walk.

Mr. Vance ? the young woman inquired.

That’s me. Joe replied.

We heard about your unusual flowers. Mind if we take some pictures for the local newspaper ?

Joe was scowling and he looked at her suspiciously.

Please? 

I guess so. Joe mumbled.

I would like to interview you about the flowers Mr. Vance. If you don’t mind.

Oh sure. Joe murmured..

After an hour of shooting pictures, and asking questions the news people left. But, there was to be no peace this day. Crowds of the curious passed by during the daylight hours. It became impossible to keep them from coming up the sidewalk for a closer look at the flower man.

There was a front page story in the local newspaper about the flower man. It was picked up by a DC television station. A TV news crew showed up at Joe’s house late in the afternoon. It was becoming a circus. Joe desperately wished the damned flowers would just die so he would be left alone. He had tried to rustle up the courage to yank all of the flowers out of the brick planter, but his frugal side wouldn’t allow it. He grimly went through with the TV interview.

Now, the flower man was completely detailed out. All finished with the news guys, Joe thought to himself, as the TV crew left the house. He would deal with the curious showing up at his house at all hours by ignoring them. It can’t last forever, he thought, flowers do die off eventually.

Joe went to bed exhausted. It was only ten o’clock when he fell into a deep sleep. Within an hour of reaching this blissful state, Joe was awakened by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Joe rolled over, determined to ignore whoever was out there. Soon a heavy fist was pounding on his front door. Slipping on his jeans, Joe stumbled down stairs. Controlling his temper the best he could, he opened the door.

Mr. Joe Vance ? a uniformed policeman inquired.

Yes.

We’re here about your flower bed.

Joe looked past the cop. There was a weeping woman staring at the flower man. The woman suddenly shrieked,

It’s my Edgar ! Oh my God ! It’s my Edgar !

Then she threw herself onto the flower bed.

Joe sort of snapped as he saw his flowers being crushed by the woman’s body.

Hey! I paid a lot of money for those plants ! Get out of there !

Joe was restrained by the policeman as he attempted to take her off the crushed flowers. He continued to struggle.

Easy, Mr. Vance. Her husband has been missing. She swears the flowers are a perfect likeness of her husband.

That’s absolutely crazy, Joe yelled, you’re all nuts !

Police Sergeant Miller who had been standing beside the crying woman walked over to Joe,

Mr. Vance. We have an unusual situation here. Mrs. Black has a photograph of her husband with her. It’s a perfect likeness to the flowers in your yard. I know this sounds incredible, but we’re now forced to dig up your flower bed.

Dig up my flower bed? Joe shouted, What for ?

Easy Mr. Vance, the sergeant replied, we officially have to ascertain whether Mr. Black is or isn’t buried in your flower bed.

It s the most outrageous idea I’ve ever heard.

Joe protested as he struggled to comprehend it all.

Look Mr. Vance, the sergeant said gently, if there is no body buried in your planter, we’ll have the city reimburse you for your flowers. How would that be?

Joe was somewhat mollified at the sound of money and reimbursement.

If you don’t let us dig voluntarily, you will force me to wake up the judge and have him issue a search warrant. Either way, we’re going to dig up the flower bed. Our judge doesn’t appreciate being dragged out of bed. He might refuse to allow us to reimburse you for your loss.

A threat of financial loss made Joe much more cooperative,

Well okay. Do what you have to do.

Under floodlights, with a few neighbors watching from the sidewalk the police ordered two workers to dig up the flower bed. Mrs. Black stood close to the work wringing her hands. Her eyes