The Hand That Feeds You

By Amos Cartell

The Hand That Feeds You begins with two murders, a man and his wife killed in their home by an assassin sent by a shadowy organization called The Network. Away from home, eighteen-year-old son survives the massacre. Several years later, Gabriel, now a college football star, decides he can no longer live without knowing who ordered his parents killed, and why.

The book follows two parallel stories, that of Gabriel as he returns to his street roots and reconnects with loyal friends and that of Marquis DeLeon, The Network’s principal assassin. Marquis’s terrifying slide off the rails into sociopathy draws him into inevitable conflict with The Director of The Network, even as Gabriel’s investigation leads him in the same direction. When both stories collide, the book comes to an exciting climax not everyone will survive.

For even more details visit: amoscartell.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387215089

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The Hand That Feeds You

THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU

Amos Cartell

Copyright © 2017 by Amos Cartell

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used

in any manner whatsoever without the express written

permission of the publisher except for the use of brief

quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2017

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-387-21508-9

More information can be found at:

www.amoscartell.com

www.lulu.com

Cover design by Amos Cartell

For my mother: Tami Vonyetta Christina (Robinson) Brown

Rest in Heaven

Prologue

Marquis DeLeόn parked the black luxury Audi sedan at the curb approximately a quarter of a block away from the opulent Tudor home. He killed the engine and leaned back into the plush leather seat. After a deep toke on the blunt, he tilted his head upwards and blew out the smoke in a slow, steady stream. He turned towards the passenger seat to the only other occupant in the vehicle.

Are you ready? asked Marquis with a slight Caribbean accent.

No doubt, replied Clive.

Clive was Marquis’s assistant... his only assistant.

The Dominican killer continued to look at Clive and formed his mouth into a sinister grin. He generally despised people, but Clive was alright. He could tolerate Clive. Clive wasn't a bitch.

Marquis then looked through the windshield of the Audi into the night sky. A full moon and stars supplied the earth with adequate light. What a perfect setting for the work at hand, he thought.

Marquis DeLeόn pulled on the door handle of the Audi and hopped out. Clive followed suit. As Marquis flicked the remainder of the blunt onto the ground and grinded it into the asphalt with his boot, he thought about how easy this job was going to be. When The Director ran down the details to him he couldn’t believe that a man of Clarence Michaels’ caliber would leave himself so vulnerable. This was going to be easier than taking candy from a baby.

Now remember, said Marquis, we do this just like we planned.

Clive merely nodded.

Both men were nicely equipped. Clive was armed with two special edition Beretta M9s outfitted with silencers and Infrared lasers. They were tucked into his waistband, concealed under his black goose down coat. Marquis had an M9 as well, but his weapon of choice was his trusty, custom Mossberg 500 Cruiser Pump. It was concealed in the special compartment sewn into the lining of his black trench coat.

The two killers were on the backroad of the house. They briskly walked a short distance until they reached a copse of trees that separated them from their destination. They efficiently made their way through the trees until they reached the outer edge of the backyard. They surveyed the area but there was nothing to be concerned about. There were no surveillance cameras, or even any dogs. The entry had already been prepared for them by The Director. He had supplied them with the blueprints of the house, copies of the front and backdoor keys, and the code to deactivate the security system. Marquis never knew how The Director did it, he just knew that he did.

They jogged diligently through the yard and up to the back door of the Tudor style home. Marquis slid the key into the deadbolt lock and turned it. ‘Click’. He gingerly twisted the doorknob and pushed. The assassins cautiously stepped into the house, and Clive quickly located the security system’s control panel and typed in the digits: three, zero, seven, eight... deactivated.

They made a swift evaluation of the immediate area as they both reached for their Berettas. They were in the kitchen. All the appliances were the newest in technology: Stove, dishwasher, fridge etc. There was a set of non-stick cookware dangling from hooks attached to a set of cabinets in the center island of the room. A basket of fruit sat on one of the countertops, and Marquis noticed that they were kiwis, his favorite. He signaled with a nod and he and Clive split up to make a quick inspection of the rest of the first floor... No life down here.

There were two sets of stairs leading up, one in the living room and one in the kitchen. Marquis ascended the set in the kitchen and Clive took the set in the living room. They already knew which one led where.

Once upstairs, Clive crept up to a bedroom door and placed his ear against it. Since he didn’t hear a sound, he gently turned the knob and inched it open. He had one of the Beretta M9s drawn in his right hand. He quickly stuck the weapon into the room and swept it from side to side. The infrared laser marked every object with pinpoint accuracy. Seeing nothing, Clive entered further into the room. First, he threw back the comforter and checked in and under the bed. Next, he made his way to the closet and snatched open the door. There was nothing in there but a rack full of clothes and entirely too many sneakers...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, Marquis put his ear against the door of the master bedroom. Unlike Clive, he did hear something. What was this?

Mmmm... oh yes baby it feels sooo good, purred a female voice with lust.

Marquis continued to listen as a bulge started to grow in the crotch of his pants. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had caught Clarence Michaels and his wife fucking. How lucky was this? There was only one thing he liked to do as much as kill, and that was to fuck. This was really turning him on.

As Marquis listened, he sensed a presence behind him and turned. It was Clive striding up to him.

The boy ain’t here, whispered Clive.

Marquis thought for a moment. This was the only slight hiccup of the night. The Director had specifically told him to kill Clarence, his wife, and their eighteen-year-old son, but the matter was out of his hands. There was nothing he could do if the boy wasn’t here.

Forget it, said Marquis, we’ve got a job to finish.

Marquis turned back to the bedroom door, replaced his Beretta, and slid the Mossberg out of his trench coat. He took a step back then vehemently kicked in the door.

Clarence and Gloria Michaels both perked up and turned towards the door like deer in headlights when they heard the sound of the intruders. Gloria pulled up the bed sheet to cover her breasts. It was too late though. Marquis specifically noticed how her ample breasts swung around when she turned to face the doorway. He locked them into his mind.

Sexy motherfucker, he thought, too bad I have to kill the bitch.

Gloria screamed, Ahhhh! Oh my God! Get out of...

Before she could finish the sentence, Marquis dashed to the foot of the bed, and with one fluid motion flipped and cocked the Mossberg with one hand and pulled the trigger at point blank range of Gloria Michaels’ face. Her head exploded like a large firecracker. Fragments of flesh and blood rained down upon the bed and floor. Her naked corpse was still sitting atop Clarence’s penis. Two seconds later it tumbled to the floor with a thud.

Jesus Christ! cried Clarence. Who are you? What have you done to my wife? an expression of horror was plastered on his face.

Clive stood in the doorway with both of his pistols aimed at the terrified man. The infrared beams aligned at the center of his forehead. Marquis leisurely walked to the side of the bed and stood directly in front of Clarence Michaels.

I did to her the same thing that I’m about to do to you. You of all people should have heeded to the warnings of The Network. Let this be a lesson to you and to others who choose to defy our authority.

A wicked smile formed on Marquis’s face and Clarence swore that he could see the flames of hell in his eyes.

In one last attempt for his life, Clarence extended his hands in a feeble protest.

Please, wait, you don’t have to do this, he begged.

Still smiling, Marquis pointed the Mossberg at Clarence’s trembling face and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 1

(3 years later...)

The campus of Pennsylvania State University was thriving with activity. Hordes of students hustled to classes, dorm rooms, cafeterias, and various other university buildings. The remaining masses loitered outside either on cellphones or discussing everything from microbiology to where the next frat party was going to be held. A beautiful girl with two afro puffs stood on a platform in front of a small audience animatedly reciting her spoken-word poetry.

Gabriel Michaels overheard the poem as he walked past the gathering. It was beautiful. He loved his fellow unique students that didn’t just follow the fads of the moment. Actually, Gabriel relished the entire college experience. The learning, the diversity, the activities, and of course the ladies.

Heyyyy Gabriel, purred two inviting coeds in unison as they walked towards him, eyes twinkling.

What’s up ladies, he replied smoothly after licking his lips like LL Cool J.

As they strolled past him he turned to catch a glimpse of their backsides. He shook his head. Mm mm mm scrumptious, he thought. He especially enjoyed the ladies. Gabriel smiled to himself. If his girlfriend Tia knew what he was thinking she would have murdered him in cold blood.

Gabriel Michaels was the prototype of tall, dark, and handsome. Fitted thermal, distressed jeans, and cinnamon-suede Timbs adorned his athletic, six-foot one frame. His features were flawlessly proportioned, and his hair was trimmed with a barber’s preciseness. His eighteen-karat gold Figaro link chain and diamond earrings glistened in the sunlight. A Christian Dior backpack was slung over his right shoulder.

Gabriel didn’t know the two females that just passed him by, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people he didn’t know to speak to him. Besides his looks, he was the star cornerback of the Penn State Nittany Lions football team. This year, his junior, he was an all-American. The twenty-year-old was considered by many to be the best defensive player in the country.

Life was good, but it could always be better...

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his Google Pixel and checked the time. He picked up his pace. His chemistry class started in two minutes.

Seamus Montgomery Smith stood with his back to the students scribbling mathematical formulas and other technical scientific jargon onto the chalkboard. He was of average height and had a slim, frail build. His beige skin was withered and spotted with blemishes. Small, sunken, black eyes sat behind thick reading glasses and gray stubble was starting was starting to sprout from his scalp and chin. He wore a white, unbuttoned lab jacket, khakis, and tan hush puppies. He was brilliant and eccentric. A genius by birth, he’d graduated from the University of Cambridge at the age of twenty-three with Master’s degrees in both chemistry and advanced mathematics. In the years that followed he’d made many notable achievements in his specialized fields. Now, at the ripe old age of sixty-two, he had been teaching chemistry for twenty-five years. He was so intelligent that he was on the brink of insanity. Due to his humorously quirky behavior, he was one of the university’s most popular professors.

Professor Smith laughed like the mad scientist he was as he put the finishing touches on a formula that was nearly the entire length of the chalkboard. He turned around to face the class and peered over the top of his spectacles.

The classroom walls were decorated with posters of elements, formulas, and pictures of scientific icons. There were twelve workstations in the room arranged in two parallel rows of six. Each workstation seated two people and their tops were littered with test tubes, chemicals, and other related paraphernalia.

So, began Professor Smith as his hands fidgeted each other in restless activity, your assignment for today is to test and hypothesize the effects that chlorofluorocarbons may have on the earth’s ozone layer. I’ve written some notes on the board that may be helpful to you. If you have any questions feel free to ask. He smiled and spread his arms out wide like Willy Wonka inviting guests to his chocolate factory. Begin!

All the students donned lab coats, goggles, and rubber gloves as they started to busy themselves with their assignment. Gabriel was seated near the back of the room, and his lab partner for the day was Bobby McBroydle. Bobby was short, chubby, and extremely pale. He tried to give the impression that he was exceedingly intelligent but he really wasn’t. The one thing Bobby was good at was computers. He could fix them and hack into other people’s systems, but when it was all said and done all he really wanted to do was play video games.

"Gabe