Ghost Dance Vol 1

By Pablo Amarna

London 2050, where only the rich have access to advanced health care and cybernetic enhancements, Jason Dean small time burglar and former gang member, is hustling to escape the noise and grant himself the life of the privileged rich. Trouble is Jason's hit serious problems. With a debt from a vicious crime boss looming, time is ticking. A mysterious associate offers Jason the heist of the century and a chance to ghost. But in the ensuing drama, he realises there are bigger players involved with higher stakes, that may change his life and the lives of those around him and possibly the world forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pablo Amarna
• Release date: Dec 26, 2020

Pablo Amarna

Pablo Amarna is an exciting new independent fiction writer with a deep passion for technology, culture, music and film. With a keen insight, his works are challenging and thought provoking. His globetrotting adventures have led him far and wide, and provides the material that helps him explore & explain this mad wonderful world!He is currently working on various projects, including a new short story collection, An Interview in Paradise, and a thrilling new action-adventure graphic novel. Discover more at https://www.pabloamarna.com.

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Ghost Dance

Pablo Amarna

Ghost Dance

Pablo Amarna

Copyright © 2019 by Paul Daley

License Notes

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in the novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon.

Published by Paul Daley at Kindle Direct Publishing

ISBN:

The child who is not embraced by the village, will burn it down to feel its warmth.

- African Proverb

The Ghost Dance (Caddo: Nanissaanah, also called the Ghost Dance of 1890) was a new religious movement incorporated into numerous Native American belief systems. According to the teachings of the Northern Paiute spiritual leader Wovoka, proper practice of the dance would reunite the living with spirits of the dead, bring the spirits to fight on their behalf, end westward expansion, and bring peace, prosperity, and unity to Native American peoples throughout the region.

- Mooney, James (August 15, 2012). The Ghost-Dance Religion and Wounded Knee.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

About Pablo Amarna

Connect with Pablo Amarna

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to those people who helped with this book; my editors and to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, assisted in the editing, proofreading and design.

Prologue

And so I says to her, like take the fucking house, but not my kids, sighed Sergeant Boyd as he eased the patrol car into one of Fitzrovia's side streets.

So it's gone that far then? Weren't slipping her enough of the old snake, said PC Randall as he tried to survey the street ahead.

Fuck you, Boyd retorted.

Too much of that Metro man shit. That empathy training fucked you over Sarge. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen is the only way, said Randall.

Well sorry if we all don't follow your brand of gag 'em and bang him…

Wait. What's that? asked Randall peering forward.

Beyond the street light further down, a figure stood in shadow. Boyd and Randall could only discern that they were positioned with their back to the street.

Let's light them up, said Boyd as he flicked the patrol car's lights and flooded the street with an intense full beam.

Gotcha, said Randall.

Caught in the beam's glare before them was what appeared at first look to be a young male in casual biker gear. Gore-tex jacket with jeans and boots. But a closer look revealed a more tactical and military style to their wear.

Randall flicked the loudspeaker, Hands on your head and step into the road!

Turn around slowly. This area is under lock down. What’s your business here?

Now you know officer we're blocks away from any curfew zone, said the man, his voice young and fearless.

Quiet! Remove the shades and bandana! Ordered Boyd.

Please go about your business, said the young man trying the old Jedi mind trick.

What did you say? said Randall.

It worked for Obi Wan.

Whose Obi Wan? You trying to be funny or something?! said Randall. Remove the fucking shades and bandana! Keep your hands raised!

Oh well. Here we go.

The young man gestured toward his goggles, then suddenly splayed his left fingers out all in one motion. The narrow street lit up as the flash grenade detonated.

ARGGH! FUCK! screamed Randall as he received the full brunt of the glare.

Fuck indeed, said the young man, as he spun around and sprinted down the road. Hey bike! Bike! rendezvous ahead of my location, he shouted into his wrist comms.

BRAATA TA TA TA TA! Disorientated. Officer Randall stumbled back ripping into the air with his semi-automatic rifle in a blind arc. Bullets seared over the suspect’s head and pierced the side of the building, as he veered round the corner.

Fuck Randall! You serious? I don't want another night filing reports! shouted Sergeant Boyd as they rushed back to the patrol vehicle.

Just hit the gas and get after the cunt! Randall replied.

Boyd gunned the patrol car down the street as Randall whipped out the radio comms.

SO: All units from Sierra Oscar possible BIP in progress 113 Scala street. Suspect IC9 wearing goggles and bandana last seen heading West on Scala street.

S1: Sierra Oscar from Sierra One we are active over.

SO: Sierra Oscar received.

S1: We are north of you on A501 junction Hampstead Road

Ah fuck, fuck! How'd they catch me slipping? cursed the young man as he fled on, aware of the patrol car gaining on him.

Then just at that point a black and crimson riderless bike barrelled in from a side street just behind. A bright green READY! flashed on his wrist comms screen. He leapt astride the powerful bike and switched the rider mode to manual.

SO: Sierra Oscar to all units not involved in pursuit. Please switch to channel two. Suspect on bike heading towards Great Portland Street…

In full pursuit, sirens blazing and lights flashing, the patrol car was now just fifty metres behind. The bike computer warned him via earbud comms, and flashed the police car's distance on the bike dash. 45 metres… 40 metres… The suspect waited until twenty metres and flicked a switch that unlocked a compartment on the pillion. He then quickly checked his rear view mirror and uttered the command, RELEASE DRONE! A small black and crimson winged drone shot straight up fifty metres into the air and kept pace with the pursuit below. Now the bike's dash showed an aerial view of the street.

EVASIVE ACTION 999! he ordered.

The drone dropped a small payload which locked onto the patrol car bonnet. Electricity pulsed from it and the car swerved to the side as the steering locked in Boyd's hands.

FUCK! he cursed, smashing his fists into the steering wheel.

Engine dead, the patrol car screeched to a halt. Long black skid marks trailed an arc across the street. The drone then released a smoke bomb that obscured the street and filled the night scene.

You saucy cunt, breathed Randall. The two officers sat in silence and exchanged glances. Then Randall reached for the comms.

Dispatch cancel that last one.

The masked biker had vanished.

The drone's aerial view on the biker's dash showed no unusual Police activity in the vicinity. It seemed as if the pursuit had been called off. Lucky for him as he didn't fancy contending with a bunch of trigger happy ARV units.

DRONE BACK TO DADDY! The drone swooped back down through the hot night sky. It hovered for a moment before it slotted and locked back into place in the pillion.

He changed direction and headed northbound through Primrose Hill and South Hampstead before he switched southbound and finally settled in Little Venice.

Chapter 1

The house was slightly isolated from the rest of the street, with much of the spacious front garden secluded by trees and creepers. Jason had chosen it for this very reason, all paid for through a front company set up by his mysterious associate Shimada. Of whom he really didn't know that much about, but that was just the arrangement both parties wanted. Shimada would sometimes provide details of major heists, or fence other loot he couldn't shift elsewhere, but their relationship was restricted to a professional one. The enigmatic Japanese was also invaluable to him as Shimada was the brains behind most of his tech, including the custom self-riding Kawasaki. A beast of a machine he truly appreciated, as he relied so much upon it for work. Now it glided almost silently into the underground garage, then shut itself down as the modified garage doors slid firmly and quietly into place.

Upstairs he entered a high ceilinged warehouse-style room.

Lights. Low, he said.

Welcome home Jason, the home system's voice permeated the air.

Hey NAOMI, he replied.

Yes he was home. Another job complete. Just one more to go now and he could retire. Go fully legit, or maybe even ghost this place. He kicked his gear off leaving them on the floor and crashed back on the sofa for a while. Trappings of his success peered down at him from all around. Exquisite and tasteful art from all regions of the globe. He drank it all in as if for the last time, and thought that's all they were. Mere trophies of criminal conquests rather than any real appreciation. Who was he kidding? Just some youth from Kensal Rise trying to act stush. Although he had been careful and had never brought anyone back here, friends or even the odd girl, he realised this materialism could just as well weaken him the same as a life of drug fuelled parties. Could he still give it up just like that? Could he still walk away in thirty seconds as Aaron often chided him in the past? For all Aaron's ruthlessness in thievery, Jason knew money wasn't really his motivation.

Fucking Aaron. He was always annoyingly correct, in that quiet condescending tone