Dawn over Europe

By Ronald Beach and Lee Pitts

Fighting a war against a known enemy is difficult enough, but it is made even more arduous when you dont know the face of your enemy. In the novel Dawn over Europe, private detectives Reggie Nutsbagh and Toby Preston, are chased by a faceless foe across Europe, where they not only are forced to confront unknown opponents but an unfamiliar culture and language.
The tale begins when a plain brown envelope arrives at the Las Vegas office of Broken Dreams Detective Agency and is accidentally sealed in a packing box, as the agency is in the process of moving to larger quarters. While the envelope sits in a packing box Nutsbagh receives a phone call, purportedly from Luxembourg, asking for the agencys help. The caller, a man with a Spanish accent, mentions an envelope sent to the agency and addressed to Toby Preston, but before he is able to continue, the conversation is interrupted by what sounds like gunfire. Moments later a different voice with an indistinguishable accent comes on the line enquiring as to who is on the other end of the phone. Assuming the call is a prank Reggie answers with a terse rejoinder, and then ends the conversation.
Later that night Reggie and Toby surprise and kill three burglars who forcibly break into their office. Two other men are seen speeding out of the parking lot and are assumed to be in league with the dead intruders. As the dead men were of Saudi Arabian descent and in possession of Pakistani passports, the FBI becomes involved and puts the two detectives under surveillance.
Days pass and the missing envelope is forgotten until Toby receives a letter from his Israeli brother-in-law, Joel Garza, in which is enclosed a newspaper article from a Luxembourg newspaper describing a massacre. Three of the dead in the massacre are identified as scientists formerly attending school in the United States. Police at the scene mentioned the name of Broken Dreams, which is the reason Joel sent the newspaper article to Toby, as being the last number called from the room where the bodies were discovered. But the police assume, because of the name Broken Dreams, that it is a company dealing with affairs of the heart and disregard the phone call.
This creates a renewed search for the envelope and the secretary finds it, as she empties one of the packing boxes. Once opened its contents reveal a complicated chemistry formula, a crude, coded map and two first-class airline tickets to Munich, Germany, along with hotel reservations, and a hand-written note. The note detailed some of what the unknown caller was trying to tell Toby before he was silenced listing also a contact number should something happen to the men who sent the envelope.
Disposing of the formula, which Reggie from his rudimentary chemistry knowledge determines to be some kind of anthrax, the two men agree they need to go to Europe and locate the formula for the antidote
Convincing their two wives in the final trimester of pregnancy that they must leave the country for a mission in Europe proves to be a battle in itself. But with the assurance it is merely a short search and find task, the ladies reluctantly relent.

Meanwhile from within a cave deep in the mountains of Pakistan, a terrorist whose name is known to the world summons a world-renowned assassin, Abdullah Taqir, to his mountain hideaway. When the huge professional killer leaves the secluded cave he carries with him instructions to steal the formula and kill Nutsbagh and Preston.

Upon arrival in Munich Nutsbagh and Preston take time out for a meal in their hotels restaurant, but it is interrupted by a phone message. Toby accepts the call to find its a woman seeking to meet with them in regards to locating the hidden formula. After a few contentious words with the caller, who refused to give her name, a small farming community named Dorfen was settled on for the meeting.
As detectives Reggie and Toby

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462888245

Ronald Beach

The authors, Ronald Beach and Lee Pitts, are natives of Bremerton, Washington, and have been friends since childhood. Both are retired veterans of the US Army. Ronald Beach did his twenty-four years in the military in the Armored Cavalry and Tank Battalions and eventually rose to the rank of command sergeant major (E9). Ron served a tour of combat duty in Vietnam in the Twenty-Fifth Division and later as a civilian volunteered as an advisor to the Eleventh Armored Cavalry during the first Gulf War on the M1 and M1A1 Tanks. Lee Pitts served as a combat engineer and was also in the Vietnam War and rose to the rank of first sergeant (E8) and retired after twenty years of service.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Ronald Beach and Lee Pitts.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011909855

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4628-8823-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4628-8822-1

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-8824-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Prologue

CHAPTER ONE: A Call in the Night

CHAPTER TWO: Change

CHAPTER THREE: The Brown Envelope

CHAPTER FOUR: The Odyssey Begins

CHAPTER FIVE: Love at First Sight

CHAPTER SIX: Deadly Intent

CHAPTER SEVEN: Las Vegas Shows its Ugly Side

CHAPTER EIGHT: Pursuit and Escape

CHAPTER NINE: A Turn for the Worse

CHAPTER TEN: Thad Gets a Life

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Back on Track

CHAPTER TWELVE: Arrested and Jailed

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Deadly Premonitions

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Running from the Law

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Pursuit

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Not so Lucky

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A Shoot Out

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Life after Death

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Good Versus Evil

CHAPTER TWENTY: Honors and Accolades

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Homeward Bound

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Joel Returns

EPILOGUE

DEDICATION

We dedicate this, our third venture into the world of fiction, to Jayne, sister and friend, for her invaluable assistance in editing our novel. Her tireless devotion included telling us what we often did not want to hear and having the tenacity to ‘stick to her guns’ against two strong-willed men. Grammar, sentence structure and punctuation suggestions only enhanced the book and for that we are grateful. Thanks Jayne

Prologue

Mondorf-des-Bains, LUXEMBOURG—In a poorly lit room in a casino hotel three men in their early twenties sat huddled around a small table—a pall of fear hung over them. Dim light from the bedside lamps appeared to cast eerie shadows across the room as one of the men rose and walked to the window overlooking the lush greenery of the well-manicured grounds. With fearful apprehension he slid the heavy drapes aside scanning the crowd of people two stories below as they headed happily into the brightly lit casino, passing not so happy people on their way out.

They never expected to be running for their lives simply because of their desire to benefit mankind, but here they were; in unfamiliar surroundings, flinching at shadows and shunning contact with strangers. Their involvement began as an experiment; three friends seeking to add a little adventure to the tedium of college studies and at the same time aid the country they had come to love. They were brilliant students from three of Europe’s wealthiest and most influential families. They met during their freshman year at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA, a technical institution befitting their intelligence.

Dieter Wilhelm Kaiser, IV, was from Germany. His father, Dieter Wilhelm, III, who claimed to be a direct descendant of Kaiser Wilhelm, was the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Germany’s largest weapon’s manufacturing company. Jean-Pierre Paul Marquis was the only child of General Jacques Marquis; a French Legionnaire turned shipping magnate and Antoinette Katerine Leone, world-renowned ballerina. Both of his parents were considered French national treasures. Raul Juan Alvarez-Ruiz, was the only child of Spanish bullfighter Raul Santiago Alvarez and Maria Guadalupe Teresa Ruiz, heiress of the largest wine producer in Spain.

They had become fast friends when they realized each other’s affluence didn’t set well with their less fortunate American classmates, most of whom were attending this prestigious school on scholarships. Upon making a pact of friendship they discovered that each possessed intelligence at the genius level, which made their union even firmer.

For the first three years of school they devoted most of their attention to learning English and its American idioms, and doing the things young male college students are known for. In addition to the youthful distractions, their intelligence had been recognized by college officials, gaining them a place on the quiz team of the school, a venture that took up a good portion of their free time. However, during the summer break after their junior year they became involved in the hype surrounding anthrax and vowed they would experiment until they had created an antidote for the deadly virus.

It began as a secret project done late at night in one of the school’s laboratories. They had bribed a janitor; assuring him they were doing nothing harmful and would clean up each night after finishing. To create an antidote they had to first make the anthrax bug, and it was during this part of the project that they were discovered.

One of their professors, Mohammed Abdul Moamar, was working late preparing for a seminar he was to present at an international symposium in Cairo, Egypt. The professor was a member of a program, which paired scientists from Cairo University with their counterparts in biotechnology at American universities. After months of working with the Americans he was finally scheduled to share his new knowledge with his fellow Egyptian scientists.

During one of the occasional late nights the professor discovered one of the labs was being used at night for some reason and being curious, he used the key entrusted to him by the school and silently opened the door to the lab. He observed in stunned silence the three European students, who were in one of his classes, bent over a table talking in hushed tones. Behind them on a blackboard was a complex formula, which he couldn’t decipher entirely, but knowing enough about scientific terms he realized it was a formula for anthrax. Leaving the door open a crack he copied the formula as fast as he could and then, certain he hadn’t been seen, he quietly pulled the door shut and hurried down the hall to his tiny cubicle.

Since the events of September 11, 2001 all persons of Arab descent had been under constant surveillance; even a person with his credentials was suspect and it meant dire consequences to be caught with this formula in his possession. But he must get it to his friends in Baghdad, for with what this formula offered, the plan to defeat the Great Satan could be advanced. Carefully folding the copied formula, he placed it in his wallet, gathered his papers and left the building.

However the professor’s presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, for the opening of the door had created a slight draft causing the papers on the table to flutter slightly and Dieter, who was in a better position to see the door without being detected, had seen the dark face of their Professor of Genetics as he wrote down the formula. After the door closed, Dieter told his friends about the professor spying on them and copying the formula.

If he took the formula intending to use it he will be terribly disappointed to find it is not all there, Raul commented, as he used a wet sponge to eliminate all traces of the formula. Now I am glad we had to continue the formula on the other sliding blackboard.

We have something here which, in the wrong hands, could be lethal, voiced Dieter, perhaps we should discontinue our work.

There had never been an established leader among the three. None of them possessed an ego that demanded he be in charge as they saw each other as equals. So it wasn’t unusual for one to make a suggestion and the others to agree without taking offense.

Better still, perhaps we should leave the United States, suggested Jean-Pierre. We can tell our parents that our studies are getting to be too much and we want to take a year’s sabbatical. I do not think my parents would object.

Nor would mine, affirmed Dieter.

I am sure my mother and father would welcome me home also, added Raul.

It should have ended there, but as things have a way of going in directions least expected so did the plans of the promising young scientists. After returning to Europe and spending an appropriate amount of time with their families, they once again bid their loved ones farewell and moved to Luxembourg to complete the fulfillment of their dreams—the creation of the antidote for the anthrax they had formulated.

Unknown to them Mohammed Moamar’s friends were seeking their whereabouts and the rest of the anthrax formula. Using a fabricated story of a seriously ill college chum, they tricked Dieter’s family into telling them where the three had gone, and tracked the young men to their small laboratory in Mondorf-des-Bains.

As good fortune would have it, the three were out when a group of black-clad men burst into their laboratory, ransacking it as they searched for the notes which would complete the deadly formula. The three friends returned just as the four burglars were leaving and hid behind some shrubs until their departure was completed.

It had been Raul’s suspicious nature that caused him look in a side window before they entered and in doing so he spied one of the black-clad men closing the door behind him. Leaving their car parked where it was they ran through back alleys and side streets toward the center of town in search of a safe place to spend the night. Even the modest chalet they rented on the other side of town would not be safe. Spotting a nearby casino, and liking the activity surrounding it, they used Jean-Pierre’s American Express card to register, requesting a room overlooking the casino’s entrance.

Once in the room, Dieter opened a briefcase, which he always carried for the trio and pulled out an American newspaper. Spreading it on the table in front of them, he explained, This is the newspaper I picked up in the Montreal airport before we left North America.

They had all read the article that Dieter now pointed at, FBI UNCOVERS AMERICAN TERRORIST CELL. The story in itself had no interest to the three, but what caught their attention was a simple line, which many American readers would likely have passed over. The line read, "Months of investigative work by government agents and an anonymous group of ex-policemen working together—" Their attention had centered on the part of the line referring to the anonymous group of ex-policemen.

It was costly, but through a friend of Jean-Pierre’s father, who was high up in the Israeli government, they were given the name of a former Mossad agent who had just returned from the United States with gunshot wounds. The agent’s brother-in-law just happened to be an ex-police officer, who was also recovering from gunshot wounds. Digging deeper they discovered that the brother-in-law’s partner in a private detective agency, another former police officer, was also mending after being hurt during some type of confrontation. The coincidences were too great.

Because of our situation, Dieter declared, I took it upon myself to send our completed work along with other needed items to the office of the two American detectives.

Shouldn’t we place a telephone call to tell them what we have sent them? asked Raul.

Even as he asked his hand was reaching out for the bedside telephone. Speaking to the hotel operator, he requested an overseas operator. Using the name of the agency, with the unlikely name of Broken Dreams, located in Las Vegas, Nevada, he requested the number be called and, Yes, I’ll hold while the connection is made.

What seemed like minutes later with the sound of clicking indicating the operator’s negotiating through the many trunk lines, Raul heard the phone ringing on the other end. After only two rings the phone was picked up, Good evening, Broken Dreams; this is Reggie Nutsbagh speaking. How may I help you?

Senor Nutsbagh, please do not interrupt or hang up. This is not a prank call, but I must tell you some things while there is time. I am calling from Luxembourg in Europe. We have sent some very important papers to your office there in Las Vegas, Nevada. We must go into hiding but, if you are good detectives, you will find us. There are two first class airplane tickets to Munich, Germany inside and—

The conversation abruptly ended. There had been no distinctive sound such as the phone being set back on its cradle, so Reggie kept his ear to the phone not sure what to expect. Through the phone he could hear crashes and yelling, then the very distinct sound of a silenced pistol. More yelling, and then another shot followed by two more. By now he figured it was a prank and was about to hang up when an entirely different voice came on the phone speaking poor English in a thick accent, Hello, my friend go away. Who do I speak to?

Convinced it was a joke, Reggie’s parting shot as he hung up the receiver was, If you don’t know have your friend call when he gets back.

Turning off the lights and locking the door behind him he was unaware that the phone call would embroil Broken Dreams in the biggest challenge they had faced to date.

CHAPTER ONE

A Call in the Night

As afternoon gave way to dusk a light came on in a window of the two story office building, sending out a strange glow on the parking lot below. A car with its lights off coasted quietly to a stop alongside the stucco edifice, as the ringing of a telephone harshly invaded the stillness of the night. Were lovers seeking privacy from prying eyes?

Unaware of anything transpiring outside, the man inside the dimly lit building answered the offensive instrument, Good evening, Broken Dreams; this is Reggie Nutsbagh speaking, how may I help you?

Without the courtesy of identification, a voice speaking perfect English with a Spanish accent answered, Senor Nutsbagh, please do not interrupt or hang up, as I am calling with some urgency. I am calling from Luxembourg in Europe and my friends and I have sent some very important papers to your office in Las Vegas, Nevada. The papers are in a brown envelope and addressed to your partner Toby Preston. We fear for our lives and must go into hiding but, if you are good detectives you will find us. There are two first class airplane tickets to Munich, Germany inside and— the conversation ended abruptly however as Reggie hadn’t heard the distinctive click of the call being terminated he kept his ear to the phone.

Through the phone’s open connection Reggie could hear crashes and yelling, then the familiar sound of a silenced or muffled pistol. More yelling, and then another shot followed by two more. By now, figuring it was a prank call, he was about to hang up when a different voice come on the phone speaking poor English in a thick, indistinguishable accent, Hello, my friend go away. Who do I speak to?

Now really convinced it was a joke, Reggie angrily replied, If you don’t know, then why don’t you have your friend call back when he has time, then he hung up.

Thinking the almost theatrical sounding second voice was a very poor attempt at humor, he thought, ‘I wonder what that was all about? It must be someone’s idea of a joke.’

Resuming the task of emptying his desk for the upcoming move he reached into a drawer of the large oak desk and removed his .38 caliber service revolver. Sticking the weapon behind his belt he locked the desk and then headed for the door.

Looking around the office he thought again of the disturbing phone call, ‘The first caller sounded sincere and I was about to be reeled in until the interruption and the second jerk came on—a scam maybe, or a college prank? Oh well,’ he thought as he turned off the single burning light and then locked the outer office door, ‘it’s nothing I’m going to lose sleep over.’

Walking down the stairs, he secured that door also, and then continued out to the parking lot where his car was parked. As he neared his silver BMW convertible the security lights for the lot came on. Eyes only on the car and his thoughts now on home and Brandy he merely glanced up at the sudden introduction of light and continued walking. An uncharacteristic move for him, as he was so intent on getting home he failed to notice the compact car parked in the shadows next to the building.

Climbing into the sporty car, he started the engine of the super charged BMW and with accelerated speed raced out of the parking lot spewing loose gravel in his trail.

As he sped away the back doors of the hidden car opened and three of the five men sitting inside got out and walked to the front door of the building. A few minutes later, after forcing the door open, they walked into the building and up the steps to the Broken Dreams office. Forcing this door open also, they walked into the dark office, relying on flashlights to illumine their way in the unfamiliar rooms.

One man, obviously in charge of the intruding force, motioned the others to go into adjoining offices. No conversation was necessary, as their mission had been discussed prior to entry and they knew what they were looking for.

Reggie was only minutes away from the office when his cell phone rang. Pulling over to the side of the street before answering, he said, Hello, this is Reggie.

Brandy’s voice sounded, Darling, are you still in the office?

No, sweetheart, I’ve just left, did you need me to pick up something before coming home.

He could hear a loud sigh and then Brandy answered in a disappointing voice, Darn, I need some addresses from your Rolodex and was hoping you would bring it home.

What’s up with that? he asked.

A friend from the hospital is planning a baby shower for me and I need addresses for all your co-workers and Toby’s office too, even though I don’t expect them to attend.

Okay, no problem. I’ll just swing back and get it.

Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.

Love you too.

Ending the call Reggie made a u-turn and drove back to the office. Pulling into the spot he had just vacated he glanced up at his office window and saw light wash across the window. The light lasted for a short time and then was gone.

Turning off the engine of the car he looked up again thinking the light might have come from the headlights of a passing car and saw the flicker of light again.

Everyone went home long ago and even if someone had to come back they would turn on the overhead lights, he said aloud.

Before getting out of the car and, out of a long ingrained habit stemming from police training, he removed his pistol and rechecked its load. Walking up to the front door of the building with his gun hanging at his side he saw it had been forced open. Seeing this he cocked his weapon and holding it at the ready started in through the door.

Had his mind been focused on other than the light and the jimmied door he might have noticed the car parked alongside the building, its occupants watching with apprehension as the powerfully built man stealthily entered the building where their comrades were. Watching the drama unfold the two men realized there was nothing they could do short of confronting the man, which would surely bring the law. Getting out of their car they walked to the corner of the building stopping there trying to decide what to do.

Entering cautiously Reggie slowly made his way up the stairs to the office, walking as near to the wall as possible to eliminate creaky stairs. As he reached the office door he saw the signs of forced entry there also.

‘Wish there was more than one of me,’ he thought. ‘What did they teach you about calling for backup at that academy you went to, Nutsbagh? No time for that now!’

Positioning himself to the side of the door he placed his hand on it and threw it open, diving left ending up behind Hilda’s desk. Looking up he saw a man silhouetted against the window. The man had a pistol in his hand and was bringing it to bear when Reggie fired striking the silhouetted figure in the center of the forehead, dropping him with a loud thud to the floor.

In the other room, the two men heard the gunshot and looked around fearfully seeking cover. One of them dropped down behind Reggie’s desk and the other slid behind a closet door.

Hearing noise coming from his office Reggie rose from his concealed position and edged along the wall advancing to the open door of his office. No longer able to hear any sound he inched further along the wall and slowly slid his hand around the corner. With his fingers he felt on the other side of the door for the light switch. Finding the switch he flipped it on.

The sudden introduction of light into the room revealed a man partially concealed behind his desk. Taken by surprise, the man made the fatal mistake of rising from behind the desk and was immediately brought down by a single shot from Reggie’s .38. Then a shot rang out, shattering the doorframe just inches from Reggie’s head followed by another shot, which tore up the floor. Firing into the closet from where the shots came, Reggie heard the sickening thud of bullets striking flesh and then silence. The acrid smell of gunpowder hung heavily in the room, as Reggie slowly advanced into the room. Ducking behind the desk, Reggie checked the pulse of the man there. Finding him dead he went over to the crumpled body of the third man lying behind the closet door. He was also dead.

Outside the building the two men stood listening to the exchange of gunfire coming from the floor above them. The ensuing silence didn’t bode well for their comrades and without speaking a word they quickly retreated back to their parked car.

Reggie was behind his desk when he heard a car engine start. He rushed to the window in time to see a car roar out of the parking lot. When the car passed under a streetlight he caught a glimpse of what looked to be a dark skinned man at the wheel and one passenger, and then the car disappeared down the street.

Uncertain if curious passersby had called the police he placed a call to 911 and reported the break in and shooting. While he waited he conducted a search of the fallen men and came up with Pakistani passports, wads of twenty dollar bills and some loose change.

Less than five minutes later the sound of sirens permeated the evening air as three police cars sped into the parking lot. Several policemen dismounted and ran toward the building with guns drawn. Observing from the window Reggie put his gun away so there would be no question as to his intent when the police officers stormed into the office.

The first policeman through the door ordered him to stand against the wall with hands over his head. In the ensuing search his gun was removed and handcuffs were being applied when a familiar voice spoke up, There’s no need for the handcuffs, George. Hey, Reggie, what are you up to now?

Reggie turned around, Not much, Sal. Three guys apparently wanted something we have in the office, although I can assure you, I have no idea what. When I came into my darkened office they objected and I was just a little bit smarter and a whole lot faster.

Meanwhile the police were searching the bodies of the three dead men so Reggie called Brandy, saying he had been delayed a bit but was on the way home with the requested Rolodex.

Before leaving he called a local security company and contracted to have them maintain surveillance on the office.

The security set he walked down the stairs and out to his car, not knowing that the events of this night would send him and Toby on a journey; a journey that would tax them to the limits of their endurance and professional skills.

The swarthy, turbaned man paced back and forth in the dimly lit cave, his long flowing robe hanging loosely from his thin frame. Occasionally he reached out to touch the sides of the cave that had become home since the American invasion of Afghanistan. It was by the grace of Allah he had survived the massive bombings and the searches, which followed. His pacing was not because of worry for his well being, but for that of the faithful followers he had dispatched to the most evil city of the Great Satan’s empire—Las Vegas, Nevada.

He hadn’t sent them on a suicide mission like their brothers who had gone to Allah after their successful airplane hijackings. The mission of these followers was merely to retrieve an envelope, which they believed had been sent there by the scientists his followers had dealt with in Luxembourg days ago. If his men retrieved the formula, which had been created, he would unleash a terror on the Great Satan, and they would pay for their crimes against Allah and Islam.

The reclusive terrorist leader ceased his pacing and sat cross-legged on a plush cushion in the middle of his carpeted den. Privately he enjoyed an occasional American cigarette and lit one now as he thought of how he would use the dreaded anthrax germ against the American devils and their Zionist puppets. A smile slowly creased his homely, weathered face; ‘I will avenge myself against my enemies and add to my wealth with my faithful followers none the wiser. Even they are pawns.’

Taking a last puff of the unfiltered cigarette, he extinguished it, turned facing east toward Mecca and began his ritual prayers, asking Allah for guidance for the true believer of Islam and the destruction of its enemies.

Not too much later the man received a long distance phone call, one that would dictate another course of action.

As the most sought after man in the world sat cross-legged on the expensive Persian rug in the candle-lit cave, his countenance reflected his angry mood. Angrily he raised his hand to the large tasseled cord hanging just above his head. Giving it a single tug he closed his eyes in mediation. With eyes still closed he sensed a presence in the cavernous room and without looking up he spoke, Abdullah, go to the German City of Munich and wait at the airport for two infidels from the Satan United States. Here, I have written all the information you will need to recognize them. Kill them you must, but not until they lead you to where the formulas are. We need those for our final and most lethal attack on the American infidel nation.

Picking up a piece of paper lying on a small table, the man known as Abdullah Haziz Taqir, backed out of the dimly lit room, bowing until he had cleared the beaded curtain. The evil smile on his face was usually the last thing any of his enemies ever saw. He called himself a terrorist, yet he was better known as an assassin. Once in the daylight he opened the folded piece of paper and quietly spoke the names in English, Reggie Nutsbagh and Toby Preston.

CHAPTER TWO

Change

Reggie Nutsbagh sat quietly in his office, his mind not on the stack of files Hilda, his office manager, had placed on his desk but on the events that had taken place only hours earlier. After briefly explaining the mess in the office to Hilda, he had asked her to arrange for repairs of the bullet-scarred walls and door frame, and then asked her to leave him undisturbed for a while.

‘Since meeting Toby Preston in Salt Lake months ago,’ he thought, ‘there have been a lot of bullets coming my way. Not that Toby has been the cause, but ever since we agreed to open Broken Dreams Detective Agency it seems the lead hasn’t stopped flying.’

Sitting back in his chair, he grinned as he recalled how the meeting in the airport of Salt Lake City, had begun a friendship that turned into more of a brotherhood. He reflected on how they were thrown together while helping a frustrated mother chase down an errant youngster, laughing as he remembered how he had inadvertently slammed his heavy briefcase into Toby’s midriff.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice from the radio on a nearby shelf, The weather today in the beautiful Las Vegas valley will be hot with temperatures hovering around 115 degrees, the weatherman on the radio announced. We expect this trend to continue for the next several days as a high pressure ridge is centered over the valley.

The sudden blaring of the radio station was an alarm feature he had placed on his radio and it was set to sound off at the same time each morning. It was programmed to shut itself off after ten minutes, but as it interfered with his thoughts he reached over and abruptly ended the weatherman’s pronouncements.

‘That reminds me, Toby and his family are flying in today, now he’ll be able to see Las Vegas at its finest. Their flight is due in at one PM so I suppose I should get on the move shortly to meet them.’

However, the thought of flying caused tears to well up in his eyes and his mind turned to the deaths of his mother and father in a midair explosion; an explosion, it was learned later, that had been ordered by Zachariah Rodzinski. Zachariah Rodzinski; there had been a lot of tears shed and many deaths attributed to that evil man and his scheme to control American politics.

Sometime earlier Reggie’s father, an Air Force General, had been released from an assignment in Israel because he was too close to finding out about Zachariah’s desire to wreak havoc on US soil to bring down the then political regime. Sent home to finish out his distinguished military career, Dominic Nutsbagh had not given up on his quest and was sent to a fiery death, along with his lovely wife Dorothy, in a Cessna he was piloting. A death plotted by Mr. Big, a name they had given Rodzinski until his true identity had been discovered.

Rodzinski had met his end in the Colorado Rockies, but not before kidnapping Toby’s daughter, Renie, and sending the men of Broken Dreams in a relentless pursuit. In the end the evil man made the young girl one of the richest persons in the world by bestowing his wealth on her, funds which were used to fight terrorism.

Again Reggie’s thoughts were interrupted, but this time by a tap on his door, followed by Hilda’s voice, Boss, the limo has arrived, you better get moving.

I’m on my way, he answered, pushing away from his desk.

‘Strange how my mind keeps going back to the way it all began, and except for the loss of life of some of my family and friends, things have turned out pretty well. Now my best friend is coming for a visit and I will make it a visit to remember.’

Reggie had thought about inviting Toby and his family to spend some time with them in Las Vegas, but was caught completely by surprise when Toby called saying they were arriving in Las Vegas on Alaska Airlines at 1:00 pm. I swear there must be physic powers at play, as he seems to be reading my mind, he remarked to himself.

Toby, Ruth and Renie had been in Israel where Ruth and Toby were remarried in a traditional Jewish ceremony. Miriam, Ruth’s mother, had insisted her daughter have a formal Jewish wedding ceremony for