Maximum Sanctions

By Mark Davis

Author Mark Davis introduces his first

work of intrigue and suspense,Maximum Sanction.

Marks crafty style of story telling keeps you

the reader, on pins and needles as he tells the

story of a desperate hunt for an ever elusive

Nazi war criminal.[www.Xlibris.com]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 7, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465317742

Mark Davis

Mark Davis is a former White House speechwriter and a senior director of the Washington-based White House Writers Group, where he has consulted with the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), as well as with some of the nation's leading telecommunications, information technology and defense-aerospace companies. He is a frequent lecturer, writer and blogger on politics, technology, and the future.

Book preview

Maximum Sanction

Mark Davis

Copyright © 2009 by Mark Davis.

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:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

57655

Contents

Prequel

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Mark Davis was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan. Writing books actually started out as a hobby. Mark lives with his mother and brother in Detroit. In his own words, he would not like to be stereotyped as just a mystery/suspense author. Mark Davis graciously thanks his audience for their interest in his novel.

Prequel

It is July 22, 1942, in Southern Stalingrad, Russia. Germany and Japan are at war with the United States and its allies. It is midafternoon in Stalingrad. A fierce battle is taking place between the German and Russian armies. Stalingrad’s population is approximately nine thousand citizens. The morale of the soldiers of the German army is beginning to get low. The Germans are beginning to feel their fight against the Russians is hopeless.

A German shell from one of their artillery batteries plies into a hotel that Russian soldiers have taken over as a base of operations. Suddenly, another German artillery shell falls down upon five Red Army soldiers charging toward the Germans who are positioned across the wide field. A German carrier truck races across the field that is being bombarded by artillery shells from both sides. There are ten German soldiers in the back of the truck. Up front is the driver and his passenger, Lieutenant Claus Straggenheimer.

Straggenheimer is in the German army’s SS Division.

Lieutenant Straggenheimer, I must warn you that this is against orders from my superior! If they find out about this, I will face the firing squad, not you! Those ten men were to report to our camp in Dachau! exclaims the driver.

Those soldiers will report to Dachau as ordered. But first I have something to do here! And if you tell a soul about this, I will see to it that your tongue is cut out! replies Straggenheimer.

The thirty-five-year-old SS officer directs the driver to pull the truck along the side of the bullet-riddled store. There are six Red Army soldiers firing their machine guns from the upstairs of the store. Claus Straggenheimer, having now gotten out of the truck and ordering the soldiers out of the back of the truck, orders one of the soldiers to toss a tear-gas grenade up into one of the upstairs windows. The soldier carries out the order. Suddenly, the Germans notice the Russian soldiers ceased firing their weapons. They hear the Russians begin to cough from the tear gas.

You five, go in! I want them alive! commands Lieutenant Straggenheimer.

The five soldiers of the Third Reich rush around to the front door of the store. One of the soldiers kicks the door open. The Germans rush inside, running up the stairway.

They rush into the tear-gas-filled room, coming up behind the six coughing men.

Halt! commands the soldier, aiming his machine gun at the Russians.

You are now prisoners of the Third Reich! exclaims the soldier.

Fifteen minutes later, the six Red Army soldiers stand in a line, one next to the other. Their hands are tied behind their backs on the side of the store. Simultaneously, the battle rages on. Unbeknown to Claus Straggenheimer, one of the Russian soldiers he has captured is the son of a prominent Stalingrad businessman.

The six of you are now condemned men! For raising that one little finger against the Third Reich, you will all be executed! exclaims Straggenheimer.

The businessman’s son spits into Straggenheimer’s face. Straggenheimer slowly wipes the spit off his face, giving the young Russian a cold look.

Hang that one! commands the SS officer. One of the German soldiers goes to the back of the truck and takes out a rope.

It is about seven feet in length. The soldier goes back inside the store and rushes upstairs. Another German soldier pulls the businessman’s son from the other five men lined up. The soldier aligns him up under one of the store’s top windows. Unbeknown to the Germans, an elderly Russian woman is watching what is taking place as she stays hidden behind a building at the end of the alleyway.

Carry out the execution! commands Straggenheimer.

Lieutenant Straggenheimer! These men are prisoners of war! exclaims the driver.

One more word out of you and you won’t live another day. Carry out the order! Three of the German soldiers line up in front of the five Russians.

A fourth German soldier stands four feet to the side of them.

Ready, aim, fire! commands the soldier.

The bullets from the German soldiers’ weapons riddle the five Russian soldiers’ bodies. All five fall to the ground dead. The rope the German soldier took from the truck suddenly starts sliding down from the opened upstairs window. The old woman watching has heard the name Straggenheimer called out. One of the German soldiers places the noose of the rope around the young Russian soldier’s neck. He tightens the noose. Claus Straggenheimer continues to stare coldly at the young Russian.

Start the execution! Straggenheimer commands.

Another soldier has joined the one who took the rope upstairs. The two soldiers begin to slowly pull the rope. They begin pulling with more force. The young Russian soldier is now off his feet. He starts gasping for air. The Germans continue pulling the rope. Then the young Russian hang lifeless.

Do not cut him down! Leave him to rot! You two, come down from there! We are leaving for Dachau, says Straggenheimer.

All twelve men get back into the truck, then they drive away. The fierce battle continues to rage on.

Chapter 1

It is 11:55 AM, June 4, 1984, at the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Agent Jordan Cochran of the foreign intelligence division arrives at work. As he walks down the sidewalk in front of the building, a black four-door sedan sits across the street. The rear window on the driver’s side comes down.

Someone in a bone-colored trench coat snaps pictures of the Central Intelligence agent.

Make sure you get his face, says the Russian-sounding voice.

On the backseat next to the man taking pictures is a newspaper with the headline reading: virginia central intelligence to search for neo-nazi terrorist group in palestine.

Yuri, you know what to do. Now get going, says the major.

A huge man wearing a gray janitor’s uniform gets out of the front of the sedan. He starts walking across the street toward the building. Jordan Cochran has made it to the second level of the building where his office is located. He is met in the hallway by Denton Cole who works in the debugging and demagnetizing division.

Good morning, Mr. Cochran. How are you today? asks Cole.

Fine, Denton. Are you ready to debug the office?

I’ll get to it in about fifteen minutes, sir, replies Denton.

Jordan walks into his office and turns on the computer. He taps in a code to open up a file. Director Mann to Hold Meeting with You at 1 PM, it reads across the screen.

Agent Cochran types Message Received. He presses the send button on his computer. He then turns the computer off and exits his office, closing the door behind him. He heads to the cafeteria located on the first floor.

At 12:15 PM, the huge Russian, Yuri, is now mopping the floor near Agent Jordan Cochran’s office. Denton Cole exits off the elevator and starts down the corridor toward Agent Cochran’s office. He has to check for possible listening devices and spy cameras that may be hidden in Agent Cochran’s office.

Denton walks pass the huge man mopping the floor. Denton reaches Cochran’s office. He takes a ring of keys out of the left pocket of his pants. He starts searching for the correct key to the office door. Denton does not take notice that the big Russian has set his mop against the wall and is sneaking up behind him with a syringe in his left hand. Suddenly, Yuri sticks the needle into Denton’s neck! Denton’s eyes suddenly open wide. He drops the keys to the floor.

Denton collapses back into Yuri’s arms. Yuri quickly looks in both directions. No one is coming down the corridor. The huge Russian quickly drags the now sleeping Denton across the corridor. As he holds Denton’s body up with his left arm, he opens the door to an office that is being painted. Yuri quickly drags Denton into the office room. He lays the sleeping man on the floor then shuts the door. Yuri reaches into his right pocket and pulls out some rope. He turns Denton over on his stomach. Yuri then ties both of Denton’s hands behind his back. The huge Russian hurries out of the office, shutting the door behind him. He quickly walks across the corridor to Agent Cochran’s office. Yuri picks up the keys off the floor. He looks at his watch realizing he doesn’t have much time. He quickly tries each key until he finds the correct key to the office. Yuri enters the office. He looks around the room and notices an abstract painting on the wall. Yuri pulls a tiny black bugging device from his pocket. He lifts the bottom of the painting from the wall and places the bugging device on the back of the painting. Yuri pushes a small button located on the side of the listening device, and a green light starts to blink.

The big Russian gently places the bottom of the painting back against the wall. He then quickly exits the office and locks the door back. He heads for the janitor’s office. Once there, he will change back into his own clothes and then exit the building.

At 12:32 PM, the huge Russian with the grayish head of hair comes out of the front door.

He casually walks across the street to the waiting black sedan. Yuri gets back into the front passenger seat.

The office is now bugged, Major, says Yuri.

Well done, Yuri. I will have to inform Mr. Petrovsky, replies the major.

The injection I gave him should keep him asleep for another two hours, Major, says Yuri.

Good. Remember, Agent Cochran will receive the same once he comes out, replies the major.

At 1 PM, Agent Jordan Cochran has returned to his office. He sits down at the computer and turns it on. He types in the secret code that is needed to commence his conference with the director. Central Intelligence Director Thomas Mann’s image comes up on the screen.

Hello, grandson, mighty nice weather we’re having, says Director Mann. Jordan puts on his headset with a microphone connected.

Yes, grandfather, not a cloud in the sky, answers Agent Cochran.

Grandson, I want to recruit Jonathan Hayes for this mission, says Mann.

Our old buddy Hayes, eh? Where is he? I haven’t seen him since France.

I believe he’s in New York. I remember him telling me right after the France sanction that he wanted to join the police force. I say New York because he has a sister who lives there.

Meanwhile, in the black sedan across the street, the major listens in on the conversation. In the inside pocket of his bone-colored trench coat is a microcassette recorder.

Back in Agent Cochran’s office, You’re going to have to check all precincts until you find the one he’s employed at. Once you find him, do not meet with him. You contact me back here, grandson, says Mann.

In the sedan, Yuri, write down that name, Jonathan Hayes. Instructs the major.

Jonathan said something about being interested in the narcotics division of the police department. You can start checking there, says Mann.

So when do you want me on a plane, grandfather? asks Jordan.

I would like you on the 8 PM flight. Once you’re in New York, get yourself a hotel room. Fax your arrival time to my computer, says Mann.

All right, grandfather, 8 PM I’m on that plane, replies Jordan. Director Mann’s image disappears from the screen.

Newark, New Jersey, 1:45 PM

At a pool hall on the east side of town, Jimmy Hagel and his entourage arrive. The pool hall is owned by Hagel. Four well-dressed men get out of the first four-door black Lincoln. Jimmy Hagel is one of the four wearing a lime green double-breasted suit. Jimmy is thirty-eight years old. He is a protégé of mafia kingpin, Andolini Mercusio. Before he died, Mercusio gave Jimmy Hagel territory on the westside of New Jersey. Two more men of Hagel’s crime family get out of the second Lincoln, which is light gray in color. The six men walk into the pool hall. Five minutes later, a cherry red Corvette pulls up on the opposite side of the street from where the Lincolns are parked.

A medium-built brunette who looks to be five feet six inches tall gets out of the car. In her right hand, she grips a black leather satchel bag. She is wearing a black leather trench coat. Under the coat, she has on royal blue leather pants and a white silk blouse. The woman wearing dark sunglasses crosses the street and goes into the pool hall. Inside, two of Jimmy Hagel’s men play a game of pool. Jimmy has gone into his office located in the rear of the pool hall. One of his men, Carmine, is in the office with him.

That million five was a nice take last week, boss. Including Freda’s take, says Carmine.

You hit the bull’s eye when you say that, Carmine. Hopefully we’ll bring in a fuckin’ bigger take by the end of this week, replies Jimmy, sitting behind the desk.

The phone on Jimmy’s desk rings. He picks up the receiver.

What is it, Richie?

Boss, Freda is here, says the voice on the other end of the phone.

All right, Richie, send her back, says Jimmy.

He hangs up the phone. Three minutes later, a knock comes at the office door.

Come on in, Freda, says Jimmy.

The brunette enters the office.

Hello, boys, says Freda, closing the door behind her. She tosses the black satchel onto Jimmy’s desk.

That’s a little bit extra the girls made yesterday, says Freda removing her shades.

She is a beautiful woman, thirty-two years old. Freda Patelle runs Jimmy Hagel’s prostitution ring. There are twelve women who work for her. They are all high-class prostitutes. Their clients are lawyers, judges, and television news anchors; even the police commissioner has been known to be a client of Freda’s criminal business. Freda is an Indian.

Good job, Freda baby. The girls should be on a roll next week. I have a few new clients for you, says Jimmy.

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