Angela Fournier - Compromised Interests: Adventure Thriller Series, #3

By John F Russo

Angela Fournier and her elite team arrived in French Guiana fresh from the horrific plight of  one of her newest recruits to the peaceful and luxurious yacht, Claire's Sanctuary. They traveled up the coast and headed for Roatan, Honduras to inspect one of Fournier Foundations most recent water installations on the mainland only to be kidnapped by an associate of one of Honduras' most influential cartels—the Valle-Valle Brothers.

Angela managed to fight off her assailants with dire consequence and left to die, but her time was not up yet. Her husband, Jeff Malardo was not so lucky. He was taken to an undisclosed bunker where he met an U.S. Admiral of unique circumstance. Angela and her team, with the help of La Diosa and her small army searched the jungles to combat this injustice and apprehend this murdering Cartel.

A foiled plot of abduction led Angela's team into a world of espionage and corruption from the very governments we have placed in power to protect us.

PATHOS, a multi-trillion dollar corporation is on the move to maintain their collective control of the world's citizens, but can they be stopped?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John F Russo
• Release date: Feb 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734645774

Book preview

John’s Fictional Novels

The Perplexity of Engram

(A futuristic fable series)

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Enjoy Angela Fournier

Adventure Thriller Series

Tabula Rasa

Darkness After Midnight

Compromised Interests

Other titles in this series coming soon!

Whiteburn

(including excerpts from Le Journal)

Le Journal – A Novella

(e-book only)

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Web: Johnfrussoauthor.com

Instagram: @johnfrussoauthor

Facebook:  John F Russo Author

Disclaimer

Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as unsold or destroyed and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

Angela Fournier - Compromised Interests Book Three is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Artwork: John Russo

Photo: unknown

All rights reserved.

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ISBN-13:

E-book: 978-1734645774

Paperback: 978-1734645767

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Copyright © 2016 by John Francis Russo

Revised 2020

Introduction

During and after writing this book, our world has taken a dark path. ISIS has endured when we were promised a forthright victory or at least, containment. Our political climate has heated to the point of hatred between friends and even opposing family members. Corporations continue to rake in unprecedented wealth and our two party system is broken as predicted by our forefathers.

The faith we placed in the very few, our politicians, have once again failed us with the promise of change. There cannot be change because the ones that own us will not allow it. We are all subjects of the eleven families that own everything. We are their toys to play with used like pawns in a board game by egocentric hauteur.

To effect change we must gather together in solidarity as people and revolt as one against this tyranny and start again. With any luck, we will get it right this time. Clandestine forces have sacrificed us on the altar of greed stripping away our individualism to form collectivism world powers. Beware my friends! 

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at the typewriter and bleed.

Ernest Hemingway

Compromised Interests

Saturday, December 12

A dark-haired man with a round, tanned face sporting a twisted-to-the-ends moustache, sat apprehensively on the plush-pillowed rattan couch in the leisure side of the luxurious Tres Hermanas Resort’s beach bar. Its picturesque location was nestled between fingers of lush green forest and sat on a white sand beach that ran to the coral blue water’s edge of Bahia de Omoa, Honduras.

This had been only the second time as mayor, Miguel Fernandez had dared to step onto the grounds. It was rumored that one of the sisters, Alejandra, had questionable ties with a powerful man who had her father sent to prison on her command. It had also been said that, if you looked cross-eyed at her – well, it didn’t have to be spelled out on whose fish boat you would become shark bait.

Miguel waited disquietingly, perspiring more than usual for a local in his crinkled white linen suit. His bourbon sat next to a box wrapped in brown paper and divided in quarters by hemp string. It was addressed to Miguel Fernandez, La Oficina del Alcalde de La Entrada, with a return address from La Vida de Libertad, El Departamento de Seguridad y Recuperación de Agua. Next to it lay a tri-folded letter, partially opened.

Miguel scanned the room and desperately watched each and every patron. He strained to listen to their conversations, rotating his head like a parabolic dish. Miguel loosened his tie even more and took another sip. Approaching footsteps echoed loudly in his head as the slap of cork-soled sandals were followed by the exaggerated clicking of heeled shoes. A pretty steward, a raven-haired beauty with thinly-spun wisps framing her face boasting glistening pomegranate-red lips, rounded the polished Honduran mahogany bar first. She motioned to the man she was escorting to the whereabouts of Señor Fernandez. Miguel observed the pretty steward had stopped, and with batting eyes, chatted with the handsome bartender. His lingering focus slowly panned to the approaching man; his reality, snail’s pace at best, captured his friend dressed in U.S. Navy whites, Admiral Chauncey Stone. Miguel blinked and blinked twice more.

Miguel anxiously maneuvered side-to-side to slide his butt off of the rattan couch, and as the Admiral started to hold out his hand to welcome an old friend, the Admiral’s cell phone started to vibrate. Stone reached into his pocket and answered while looking at the tri-folded letter resting on the glass coffee table. The only visible words that reached out to him were – ‘intereses comprometidos’.

The distressed voice on the other end blurted out, Admiral... get out NOW!

Stone looked at his friend with compassionate eyes, yelled, GET OUT, Miguel!, and then Stone took two steps, dove out of the mahogany-trimmed windows and rolled on the soft sand, where he scrambled to dive behind a concrete abutment that divided the beach from the palm-lined road.

Paralyzed, Miguel Fernandez looked out toward the courtyard’s archway and saw the tail-end of a Predator drone as it disappeared over the palm grove, leaving a grayish-white vapor trail – VABOOM!

The compression of the blast deafened the Admiral as shards of bamboo careened off the concrete abutment. Nearby trees that still stood were impaled with twisted forks and spoons, giving off a reflective glimmer as they shook. Stone rolled to his side, peered over the concrete and witnessed the carnage of staggering bodies with ripped clothes and bloodied appendages, while other innocent vacationers were seared in place amongst the debris. A cork-soled sandal rolled towards him.

The Admiral struggled to get to his feet and as he attempted to stand, a muzzle of an AK-47 pressed to his cheek.

Seven Weeks Prior

French Guiana

The pilot backed off the throttle of the Lockheed C-130 Hercules as they started their descent from 28,000 feet through the moist grey clouds. The interior was sparse compared to a passenger jet, with only two rows of seats that hugged the inner fuselage and faced toward the middle. Angela Fournier swallowed to equalize with the change in cabin pressure. Moisture streaked across the only porthole in the cargo bay side door of the UNMISS plane. A red light went on. Angela returned to her seat and strapped herself in as did her team. Ten minutes later, the tires screeched and let out a bellow of smoke as it hit the tarmac. The plane landed with its precious personnel at Aéroport de Cayenne, French Guiana and it was guided to a private terminal where it came to rest. Angela and her team gathered their gear, lined up and waited for the rear door to drop.

The rain clouds had subsided and the wind blew from the northeast at fourteen miles per hour with a humidity index of eighty-nine percent and an ambient temperature of ninety-two degrees, a typical October day. They felt that instant wave of humidity hit them as they headed down the ramp to a waiting van and a blacked-out SUV. Nairobi had been cooler situated at nearly 6000 feet above sea level, but here at a mere twenty-six feet above sea level and less than five degrees north of the Equator, it felt stifling.

They carried only their immediate personal needs in small duffle bags. Their heavier black cases that bore French diplomatic tags stretched across them, were handled with care as they loaded them into the van. While waiting for everyone to take their place, Angela Fournier, with the taste of Africa still in her mouth, took one final look around, she closed her passenger door.

Peter, their driver, drove off the tarmac and pulled out onto the service road, N4 and headed east. But before they reached the stop sign, Alicia asked Jeff to blindfold her.

Why? he asked curiously.

On our way here before we went to Africa, I calculated our time and our turns in the road. I want to see if I can return us to our drop-off at the docks by using my other senses other than sight.

Haha, you’re kidding, right?

No! Please let me try. Carry on with your conversations but have a little patience if I make a mistake, said Alicia.

I think that is very commendable, Alicia, said Jenna. It’s like when I cleared my mind when I was aboard the destroyer. Without sight, I had to use my other senses to figure out where I was being held.

Thank you, Jenna. Precisely.

Okay, said Jeff. Let’s give your experiment a try.

Jeff searched his duffle bag for something appropriate but could only find a t-shirt. He pulled it out.

It’s clean, I promise.

Good!, said Jenna. Don’t want Alicia’s senses to be clouded by armpit stench.

The team all laughed at Jenna’s comment, but were curious and supportive of what Alicia was attempting to do.

Okay, Alicia, said Jeff. We are stopped at the stop sign. How do you want us to proceed?

Turn right onto Route de L’est. I smelt the lusciousness of the landscape and to the right should be an apple orchard. From here, drive five minutes Peter and then turn left or south onto D6.

Jeff timed Alicia’s instructions and to the second, Peter turned south on D6 and headed toward Stoupan on the Mahury river.

In twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds veer to the left onto a gravel road, said Alicia.

The team was amazed as Jeff silently held up his watch to show everyone Alicia’s timed co-ordinates. Alicia was smiling under Jeff’s t-shirt as they veered onto the gravel road.

Okay, in four minutes seventeen seconds, please stop before we drive over the dock and plunge into the river.

As they approached the Mahury river, two of Angela’s crew that were sent by Jakok Arnaud, Claire’s Sanctuary’s captain, stood waiting. They heard an arousing boisterous laughter as they came to a stop fifteen feet from the dock’s edge.

Well done! shouted everyone.

Simply amazing, Alicia, said Jeff.

I knew my girl could do it, said Jenna.

Angela smiled with delight of Alicia’s ability and how seriously Alicia was handling her training. Stepping out of the van, Angela gave Alicia a giant hug.

The men loaded their gear into the two - twin 120 hp powered MK6 HD Zodiacs and set off down the Mahury river toward their awaiting sanctuary.

The wind blew through their hair with welcomed relief as their Zodiacs twisted and turned with each bend creating tunnels of whitewash that rolled the waterway. The smell of the ocean air impregnated their nostrils as they approached closer. Rounding the last point, they saw her. She was docked at Degrad des Cannes amidst several smaller container ships. They had picked this port because of its handling of minimal trade, which made for a more transparent arrival; they slowed to the aft of Claire’s Sanctuary. A deckhand threw them a line and then the pilot of their craft tied it off. Angela stepped over the Zodiac’s tube gunwale and onto the aft deck. Jeff followed, who held his hand out for Jenna and then Alicia. Another new guest, the injured, Lieutenant William ‘Billy’ Clark, accepted Jeff’s help.

Captain Arnaud, a man of Norwegian descent, tall with zero body fat, deep blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, welcomed them aboard. Nicolette already had martinis waiting for them in the salon. One-by-one, they shuffled in.

It is so good to see you, Miss Angela, said Nicolette.

And you as well, my sweet thing. And you have our favorite drinks ready, thank you so much. Come everyone gather around.

Nicolette distributed the liquid refreshment to the weary travelers.

Angela raised her glass. Cheers to a successful mission and the safe return of Lieutenant William Clark... welcome aboard!

Thank you, Angela. Thank you all. You pulled off a miracle. I thought for sure my time had reached its end. Thank you Jeff for your concerns and for looking after Maysa. I owe you all a great debt.

They clinked their glasses.

I know Captain Arnaud is anxious to set sail, so Jackie, if you please, show our new guest to his quarters and Jenna you know where your things are. After we clean up, let’s meet on the upper deck. It should be a pretty view while we say goodbye to French Guiana.

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UN Camp - Kenya

Colonel Dimitri stood at the entrance to the UN camp they had just defended a week prior. He hugged Maysa and helped with getting her kids onboard the helicopter that was going to take her home. A small bud of a tear formed at the corner of his eye. Josef, Maysa’s young friend that she had met in Nairobi, shook the Colonel’s hand with overwhelming appreciation; he too, boarded the helicopter.

Dr. Amelie Thorsten, the camp director, put her arm around the waist of the Colonel. They waved goodbye and watched the gunner signal the pilot, all were on board. The quad blades of the Sikorsky HH-60 Pave Hawk whirled and the dust kicked up; they began to rise.

Maysa looked down with mixed emotions. She had witnessed so much pain in her country. And after almost two years of fighting, she heard that Kiir and Machar had rhetorically settled their differences. However, Machar still hadn’t returned to Juba, the capital of South Sudan. Would these atrocities never end.

The blades whirled overhead. Maysa kept a watchful eye on the gunner seated next to a large machine gun. He continually searched the ground below them, while the flight engineer yelled coordinates to the pilot. Two years, she thought, she had been on the road alone, until she met her Mr. Clark. He had saved her in more ways than one. Maysa blocked out the noise and looked across to her Ateefah, and then to two new additions to her small family, Mosi and Jamila. Will she tell them what happened to their parents or let them believe she is their mother? The two girls seemed to play together like sisters; would she leave it like that? She watched Mosi playing with his giraffes; would he miss the white man with the hairy face?

Josef had his strong hand around Maysa cupping her shoulder. She hadn’t remembered him being so lean and strong, like that of her Mr. Clark. He had dark eyes like a moonless night, but a kind smile; she sensed there was more to him than what he had told her. He hadn’t just seen her picture in the newspaper and arrived the next day from their village. No, he had been in Nairobi for a while and he was shocked when he did see Maysa’s photo in the newspaper. His intentions in the beginning when he was still in their village and obtained the scarf from her mother might have been sincere, but she felt he wasn’t telling her everything. Mr. Clark, even with his strange idiomatic phrases spoke truth... she would miss her Mr. Clark. Her sweetness in this chaos. Maysa lowered her head into her hands and fought back tears. Ateefah stretched her little hands out to her and said, DaDa. Maysa felt a warm surge overwhelm her and she wept.

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Claire’s Sanctuary

Are you going to be okay in here? asked Jeff as he opened the ornately carved door leading into Clark’s guest stateroom.

Clark looked around, Right, you got to be kidding me? I’ve never seen anything so posh... and on a boat no less.

Ah, ship, my friend. Don’t say boat, THEY don’t like that term, laughed Jeff.

I better read up on my nautical terms, smiled Clark. Yes, this will do nicely, thank you so much for everything. And Jeff, please call me Bill or Billy. I guess I feel more at home with you all.

Not a problem and it is our pleasure; it’s what my wife does... sort of.

Harbor criminals of the state?

Not exactly but her foundation will help you sort all that out. So, for now, I would think relaxation and rehabilitation. I’ll see you on the upper deck in 20.

It was apparent, Billy was a fast healer; however, burnt hands and three bullet wounds would most definitely take the giddy-up out of any rational person. Jeff smiled and closed the door for Billy’s privacy.

Jeff headed to his and Angela’s cabin. It had been more than a while since they had spent any quality time with each other. Angela was already in the shower when Jeff arrived. He watched her for a moment before stripping down; he joined her. She responded to his touches as she had in Belgium the first time they were together. He too felt the excitement rising to the occasion. He thought of their night of passion, which altered their ‘deal’ of waiting two years before having a child. She felt divine as she backed into him. His hands reached around and caressed her breasts. She loved his touch, strong but gentle. His hands soaped from her lather, toyed with her nipples. She could feel him stiffen. She rose up onto her tip toes and slowly lowered herself back down onto him. The warm water rained down on them. He moved his hands down her flat stomach and she raised hers to cradle his head next to hers. His kisses smothered her neck as his hands explored her freshly shaved mound and his fingers danced upon her engorged pleasure zone.

Squeeze my nipples, baby...ah yes. She let go of his neck and bent forward. Grab my hips, baby... yes, rock me! Yes baby, that’s it. She put her hands against the granite walls, the rain head showered down on them. Harder... faster... Ahhhhhhhh! He collapsed onto her back in a spooning position and held her tight. She squeezed her legs tight around him reacting to each after buck.

You are incredible, my love. I needed that! said Angela.

Angela, you are amazing and I love you with all my heart. And thank you for our daughter.

Angela turned and nestled into Jeff, they held each other in a loving brace as the water soaked their bodies.

. . .

Nicolette had been busy and had spotless martini glasses displayed on top of the Italian marble bar waiting for the guests to arrive in the grand salon before they were to meet on the upper deck. Alicia came in first and sat at the bar wearing a white lace cover-up.

Pink Lady with vodka, Miss Alicia?

Yes, thank you, Miss Nikki.

We missed your smiling face. I glad to see everyone came home safe. I worry always when you all go out on those missions. How is your elbow? I hear you had a nasty altercation, said Nicolette in her cute French accent.

More like she busted a bitch’s face, interjected Jenna overhearing their conversation as she came up the circular staircase.

I think she startled me more than anything, and I just reacted, laughed Alicia.

"Ouch! Oui mama, sighed Nicolette. And how about you, Miss Jenna... how is your foot doing?"

Never better, Nicolette, thank you for asking.

What can I serve you?

How about a Mojito? We had one in Nairobi, but my mind was a little preoccupied to enjoy it.

As you wish, Miss Jenna.

Jenna leaned into Alicia, I suppose we will have to wear swimsuits on the upper deck now that there are new men on board?

I would say, it’s your comfort level. The invitation Angela implied was meant just for the five of us. The rest of the guys have work to do on board. Not that it would matter, but just saying, it is all about respect here. I’m one of the lucky ones. As her personal assistant, I’m allowed to enjoy more of the social aspects.

You are definitely that, smiled Jenna. Nicolette placed Jenna’s Mojito on the bar. Cheers to you, Alicia. Nicolette, will you not join us?

"Non, Miss Jenna, perhaps after dinner when all is put away."

Well then, I look forward to that, said Jenna.

The curved elevator’s door slid open and Billy slowly walked out. From the stairwell they all could hear the laughter and giggling of Jeff and Angela as they walked up from below.

Sorry we are a little late ladies and William, said Angela with a grin on her face.

Say no more please, Angela. Your glow says it all, laughed Jenna.

Angela, wearing a slight silk robe, walked over to the ladies and placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. She turned to Billy and gave him a hug.

You all look marvie, she said with dancing eyes. What would you like to drink, William?

I don’t know. What are you having, Jeff?

Um, how about a Löwenbräu, Nicolette?

A Löwenbräu! I haven’t had one of those since I left Canada. I’ll have the same please, Nicolette.

Stein, gentlemen? They are well frosted.

Yes, please.

Angela gathered everyone for a toast and a talk on a possible embarrassing subject.

I should explain the anti-rules of the upper deck before we go up. If anyone is uncomfortable with naked bodies then I suggest you get over it real quick. However, we will have to be clothed until we clear the city of Cayenne and get to open waters, unless you are lying lower than the Sunbrella side rails. Sorry but those are the upper deck anti-rules, shared Angela with a grin on her face.

Not one opposed Angela’s upper deck anti-rules as they filed out onto the aft deck with drinks in hand and took the stairs to the upper deck. Captain Arnaud had already engaged the bow and aft thrusters as lines were dropped and the crew began to deflate the monogrammed fenders. The diesel M.A.N. engines purred as they left the dock and slowly maneuvered its way into the middle channel. They sailed east by northeast, the island of La Mère sat off to the starboard side, and pristine mainland beaches sat to port. When they had cleared the outer islands, they headed for open blue water and a leisurely trip home up along the coast of South America, past Suriname, Guyana, and Venezuela at a compass setting of 326° NW.

They spent the afternoon taking advantage of the amenities of the upper deck. Nicolette was responsive in keeping their beverages cold and filled. Jeff and Alicia floated in the pool while Billy dangled his legs in the refreshing water. His bandages still bore stains of recovery. Angela and Jenna opted for the privacy of the hot tub to ease their tired bones. Jenna sat next to Angela in one of the tub’s pre-formed loungers.

Angela, I have something of grave importance to ask of you, she said in a soft, low voice.

What is it, Jenna?

You know I belong to... an organization that needs to hold their identity private and extremely secured. I had been entrusted, along with a fellow team member who was murdered, with certain documents that need to be kept apart, but in safe keeping. I know I can trust you and you are probably involved with this organization in some form anyway, otherwise all of this that happened in Africa, my escape and PAG would not have been possible. I need to get back to Washington as soon as possible to retrieve these documents. I have already spoken by coded text to my superior who agreed to your entrustment of a set of documents. Can I count on you, Angela?

Angela reached for Jenna’s hand and held it tight.

Jenna, I would be honored and I am flattered you asked.

Thank you, Angela. That really takes a load off of my mind. Your security systems are equal or above anything we have. I have to tell you though; there is a high level of risk in holding these.

I’ll... the Foundation will most certainly protect them at all costs.

The two ladies embraced and while doing so, slipped off of the loungers and plunged into the foot-well of the hot tub. They came up with plastered down hair and huge smiles, laughing. As they both knelt on the bottom, they embraced tighter and enjoyed the curves and companionship of each other.

Jeff is one lucky man, whispered Jenna into Angela’s ear.

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Arlington, Virginia – The Pentagon

Petty Officer Derrick Smyth sat at his cubicle at the Pentagon that was located off of the ‘flight path’ working on his computer. His desk phone rang.

Where is he? asked the Director of CTA, Jack Tomlinson, abruptly.

I don’t know, sir. The pilot took him to Switzerland for treatment and then he vanished from the hospital.

I cannot fucking believe that our country, with all of our intel and eavesdropping equipment, can lose someone like Nigel Redman. He is a HUGE man for fuck sake, and has the demeanor of a raging bull.

I don’t know what to say, sir. I’ll make some calls overseas and see what comes up. Sir, you have to know, he has a lot of friends in the underground that can keep him well hidden if he so chooses.

I understand that, Smyth. Just get word to him.

Yes sir, I’ll do my best.

Petty Officer Derrick Smyth wanted to find Redman for a different reason than that of Director Tomlinson. Redman had murdered his friend, Terry Tanega, and was linked to the death of Jenna’s twin sister, Marsha.

Wow, he thought... What a twist of events. First, Marsha was working here at PAG, and then disappears; then we find out she is not Marsha, but her twin sister Jenna, who is now on a ship somewhere owned by Fournier Foundation. You got to love this espionage stuff. I need to call Sam to see if she has heard any news. Even my clearance can’t find Miss Jenna.

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Jones was sitting in her Virginia office, at the Pentagon, the headquarters of SAS. She was overseeing her team leaders of PAG, Paul Hawkins and Carmen Sanchez, who were plotting the coordinates for a rescue in the Italian Alps. The son of a rich businessman had been caught in an avalanche produced from the fresh build-up of snow. An early October storm had dropped an unprecedented amount of snow on Mount Nevoso that caused this unfortunate climbing accident. SAS was doing what PAG was designed to do and this interaction was just the right type of publicity PAG needed. They hurriedly plotted PAG’s coordinates and relayed their information to the Italian rescue teams headed by CNSAS (corpo nazionale soccorso alpino e speleologico). Luckily this family had their auras scanned before this happened. PAG was able to pin-point the exact location, and with any hope, their acquired speed from their past assignment in Africa just might have saved the young man’s life. They watched over the monitors as the rescuers dug frantically. 

Their concentrated interests were jarred when the director’s phone rang.

Hello, Director Jones speaking.

Director, it is Derrick. Have you heard anything from Mar... I mean Jenna?

Not yet, Derrick... OH WAIT, she said with an elated voice. The Italian rescue team just dug out that young man. He is alive! Oh my god, I am so thankful for all your hard work.

We did it, Director! said Paul.

So sorry, Derrick, but we have been watching a rescue mission from Italy and thanks to PAG we were able to find him.

Well done, Sam.

And to get back to Jenna, we have not heard anything since she left Africa. I was hoping to hear from her soon.

Excuse me, ma’am, said Carmen, a little alarmed.

Wait a minute, Derrick. Samantha put Derrick on hold.

Ma’am, as PAG was pulling back from its pin-point observation, it sensed a strange ping. It was in a retracting elevation of two miles with a dedicated zone of 30 miles when it just pinged, said Carmen, questioning PAG’s observation.

Paul rushed to her station and started to type feverishly.

I installed a code of a random search if PAG was in any general area of known persons of interest. When we tried to notify the authorities in Nairobi of Redman’s whereabouts given to us by Jeff Malardo’s GPS, PAG set a tone on Redman as he climbed aboard his waiting plane. It’s not his aura so we can’t pin-point him with any accuracy, but we do have a small generated tone for him.

The director was in awe of Paul’s clever maneuvers. Her phone’s red light blinked. She remembered Derrick was waiting patiently on the other end. She picked it up.

Derrick, you need to get up here, immediately.

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Lucerne, Switzerland - Clinique

Nigel Redman had been flown to Lucerne, Switzerland to a private hospital that was sandwiched between two mountains and sat on the edge of a deep blue lake. He was to be treated for his badly burnt hands and lacerations from embedded glass that covered half of his face and neck. He knew if he stayed too long at this private hospital, someone would eventually get wind of him being there. Any visitor was not an option and he knew if one showed up it wouldn’t go well – for them, that is. Redman had hired a driver, well known in his underground circle to come and pick him up. He left the hospital a few days short of a week after arriving. His driver, Mako, met him at the carved granite steps that lead to the brick-inlayed driveway where the rumblings of the 5.2 V10 plus, 610 hp all satin black Audi R8 Coupe waited. Redman sat down in the Nappa leather passenger seat. The interior was surrounded with a protective chrome-moly-tubed roll cage and Luis Capella-designed five point racing harness.

Let’s get the fuck out of here!

With that, Mako paddle-shifted the R Tronic seven speed transmission into first gear and with precise movements, shifted it into second gear at 100 km/h in only 2.7 seconds. The Google Earth interface displayed exactly where they were on its 12.3 inch screen that was incorporated into his dash. Redman would find his recovery home without outside influences.

They wound through the lush green-manicured landscape of the hospital’s private road and jumped onto Luzernerstrasse, which quickly turned into Bernstrasse.

You know how to get out of here, don’t ya? asked Redman.

Watch, smiled Mako.

They took a slight right, rounded the round-about and headed straight over the Reuss River and then a quick left onto St. Karlistrasse, past the tunnel entrance and slipped onto E35/2 heading north, paralleling the Reuss River. The road forked and they stayed to the right taking Hwy 14 towards Zurich/Zug; they streaked out of Lucerne.

Ya, I guess you know, complimented Redman.

The Eurovignette auto toll pass that was stuck to the windshield allowed smooth transitions as they continued onto A4a. Mako pressed the gas pedal down and shifted into forth as they came out of another round-about and hit an 8 km straight-away. Mako shifted again, to fifth. His digital screen highlighted his route with dedication as they sped down the Swiss Autobahn at 192 km/h. The engine pitched as only a fine-tuned race engine can.

How far to Innsbruck? asked Redman.

Eying his Google map, Mako said, It says, 309 km – three hours twenty-eight minutes.

How fast can this car go?

They say, 330 km/h. Mako eased the machine through a curve in the road.

Well then, we should arrive in less than an hour, smirked Redman.

Mako raised a slight smile as his trained hands