The Pact: A Howard Watson Intrigue

By JoAnn Fastoff

Three women carry out a vendetta against a drug dealer and secretly execute him in the Forest Preserves of Chicago. Unfortunately they do not end the mans life; someone else doestheir new enemy.

Across the country in Washington, D.C., FBI Special Agent Howard Watson is brought into the mix. Watson, a seasoned professional, has been summoned to Chicago to assist the Chicago P.D. in unraveling a mystery: Why a seemingly insignificant drug dealer was murdered by an international drug lord who slipped from Howards grasp five years earlier? Watson is forced to join forces with the Chicago PD,the DEA and the ATF in order to nab the Peruvian drug lord who seemed to be conducting business under their very noses. Racing against the clock, Watson must figure out what the drug dealer and the drug lord have in common before the drug lord flees the U.S. Unbeknownst to the three women, they have opened a Pandoras Box that holds the keys to unlocking answers for everyone involved.

"Once again, JoAnn Fastoff has written a novel that you will find yourself unable to put down, in her latest continuation of the Howard Watson Intrigue series, The Pact. What I loved most about The Pact is that when a double homicide occurs, you immediately think you know who did it, you just dont know why or how complicated matters truly are. Instead of a typical mystery where you try to find out who did it, in this case you try to figure out how and why the other elements of the plot tie together. I love a book that makes you think, and in The Pact, I totally enjoyed discovering the answers as the story unfolded.

Events leading to a modern day double homicide actually begin 1966, in western Africa. As the story unfolds, Ms. Fastoff fills in the history of many of the characters. She shows how deep friendships were established among the main characters, especially four women. Their loyalty to each other is unwavering. I really appreciate the depth of her character development; this adds some great touches to the storyline.

Close female friends who have banded together to help one of their own against her abusive partner, become embroiled in the plot when a crime that they are tying to cover up is intricately tied into one committed by a hit man who has no desire to leave witnesses around to identify him. The FBI also becomes involved with the case. This is where Special Agent Howard Watson steps in. Howard Watson does, and using modern technology, the FBI and Chicago P.D. try to gather their own clues before any more deaths occur.

Spouse abuse, illegal drug sales, illegal arms, murder, betrayalthe list goes on. The Pact has it all. It takes talent to put such a complete tale together in a relatively short novel. JoAnn Fastoff obviously has that talent. I read The Pact in one sitting and loved all of it. I look forward to Howard Watsons next adventure."

--Reviewed by Paige Lovitt for Reader Views--

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 20, 2007
• ISBN: 9781469100173

JoAnn Fastoff

JoAnn Fastoff has written extensively for Chicago, New York and Philadelphia publications. In addition, she was publicist for the musical group “Kool and the Gang”, an event coordinator for Graham Kerr “The Galloping Gourmet”, and has interviewed over 100 celebrities, including award winning photographer Gordon Parks, and Grammy award winning blues singer B.B. King. She lives in Chicago and has two adult children Angela and David. The Pact is her second novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2007 by JoAnn Fastoff.

Book Design cover by WE Dunbar 2007

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]

44100

Contents

Acknowledgements

PART ONE

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

(Chapter 4)

(Chapter 5)

(Chapter 6)

(Chapter 7)

(Chapter 8)

PART TWO

(Chapter 10)

(Chapter 11)

(Chapter 12)

(Chapter 13)

(Chapter 14)

(Chapter 15)

(Chapter 16)

(Chapter 17)

(Chapter 18)

(Chapter 19)

(Chapter 20)

(Chapter 21)

PART THREE

(Chapter 23)

(Chapter 24)

(Chapter 25)

(Chapter 26)

(Chapter 27)

(Chapter 28)

(Chapter 29)

(Chapter 30)

(Chapter 31)

(Chapter 32)

(Chapter 33)

(Chapter 34)

(Chapter 35)

(Chapter 36)

(Chapter 37)

(Chapter 38)

(Chapter 39)

(Chapter 40)

(Chapter 41)

Also by JoAnn Fastoff—The Gordian Knot

Acknowledgements

As always, my writing is dedicated to you, my offspring Angela and David, and my adopted daughters Angelita and Lavanya. To my wonderful, dear, smart consultant and friend George Patton, retired Chicago P.D. Cold Case, for your razor sharp view of law enforcement and helping me keep my word that some of the bad guys won’t get away; to my smart got my back editing sisters Rebecca Dobbs and Carol Cohn—thank you so much for reading this so much. To my brilliant Japanese consultants Reverend Floyd Knight and William Hayashi; my mom Sarah, who emerged as my biggest fan; my friend Inspector Jermaine Jones, for never letting up in the argument and imparting true wisdom regarding municipal law enforcement. To William Dunbar—you’re the man. Of course I can’t leave you out—Rev. James L. Demus III—for keeping me from imploding from the weight of a split. To Joshua Newitt, at Xlibris Books—thank you. To Gwynne Nettles and Trudy Murrell who each offered me a place to lay my head when I needed it most. To my late dad Norman, I miss you.

Thank you God for Howard Watson.

JF

Pact: (noun) an agreement made; a promise—Webster’s unabridged dictionary.

Bakassi Peninsula, near Limbe, a village in Cameroon, a republic in Western Africa.

(1966)

The boy unpacked the box and handed his father, grandfather, two uncles, and two older brothers the AK-47 assault rifles. How did it come to this? When will this fighting stop he asked himself over and over again. His mother was dead. His two sisters were dead. His younger brother was dead. His grandmother was dead. When will the killing of his people end? He was thinking that if he ever got out of this place he would obtain enough guns to stop the enemy. He would make them pay for all his pain.

The fighting sounded closer. His father yelled for them to run. If they could just reach Cameroon Mountain they could duck for cover behind the trees and at least have a decent chance of lasting through the night. The shell of a building peeked from behind thick moss. It was about 100 yards away. They ran as fast as they could. When they reached the edifice the boy quickly realized that one of his uncles was not among them. The boy’s father called and called but gunfire quickly drowned out any words. The boy peeked through the planks substituting as a wall and became aware of a man on the ground waving furiously. It was his uncle. His father saw him too, but they had to wait. Two hours later when the gunfire quieted, the boy’s father ran to the man on the ground. By then the uncle was dead. The boy was only 14 years old. He was a boy without money, without dreams, without hope.

He was now a man with a gun.

PART ONE

Thirty Years Later

(Chicago, Illinois)

Drew Hardiman was slim, handsome, and in his late 40’s. Although he was a flamboyant dresser, he was still admired by most women. He sat behind the wheel of his parked late model BMW. Ana Lenard, the mother of his 10-year old son, sat in the passenger seat. Ana was good looking and slightly overweight, but possessed with a killer smile which seemed to make most men regard her weight as secondary. Her dimples rounded out her beige features and deepened when she was mad, or embarrassed. She was more than perturbed with Drew because her dimples looked like hollow depressions in her face. He was trying to talk her into something she had been saying no to all day. Although Drew was the king of manipulation, Ana wasn’t giving in.

You’ve got to do this one last job for me Ana Hardiman pleaded. Otherwise I mean it, they’re gonna kill us. Ana, trying desperately to ignore his scare tactics, decided she was not going to be moved into a position by his bullying. I’ve done enough for you already, she told Drew. You should have thought of this before you decided to spend Cruz’s money. What were you thinking? Let me out of this car! Hardiman, in a piercing manner, grabbed her by her arm, yelling, No! You have to help me. If you don’t they will kill us!

Ana wrestled herself from his grip. "What do you mean us? Are you threatening me again Drew? Because if you are, this time I will go to the police. Hardiman reached over and struck her in the face. She was bleeding profusely from her nose but he didn’t care. They were arguing in what they thought was a secluded area in the Forest Preserves. Tired of Drew’s threatening manner, Ana jumped out of the car. Drew followed. She had finally had enough. While simultaneously wiping the blood from her face, she pulled the .25 caliber Colt semi-automatic pistol from her purse, the one she hoped she would never have to use, and pointed it at him. This caused Drew to laugh out loud. Are you going to shoot me with that little gun? he asked sarcastically. If so, you’d better shoot me at least twice to kill me! Ana held her ground and while spewing out blood, exclaimed, Drew, I want you to stay out of our lives. I’m not going to tell you again. Just get out!"

Barely were the words out of her mouth when three women stormed onto the scene from seemingly out of thin air. Leave her alone Drew! one woman shouted. Drew heard her but ignored her. Getting over quickly the shock of these women appearing out of nowhere, he grabbed the gun from Ana’s hand and pointed it straight at her face. Keeping the gun on Ana, he yelled to the other women. "Get out of here right now, all of you, or I will kill her! One woman yelled back, Screw you Drew", and with support from the other two women, converged on him in an effort to wrestle the gun out of his hand. The gun went off.

#

A stranger wearing green fatigues was peering from behind a large tree listening attentively to the heated argument. The stranger did not make a sound even when the three women rushed onto the scene and started beating the man. Suddenly gun fire pierced the air and one of the women fell to the ground. No more than a minute later, more gunfire, and then the man fell to the ground. Two of the women dragged the man’s body behind bushes not far from where the stranger was standing. The third woman was so busy covering up the drag marks on the ground that she did not notice the stranger. She then darted off. One of the women threw the gun into bushes away from where they dumped the man’s body. Minutes later a car careened in to the picture and the three women placed the dead woman’s body in the trunk of the car and sped off.

The stranger dialed a number on his cell phone. Hola, soy yo, he said in Spanish. You not gonna beleeb dis amigo, job’s been done. (Pause.) Hasta luego." Although it was summer, the stranger donned black leather gloves and ducked behind the bushes, emerging a few minutes later with a small black plastic bag. He looked around for a trash can. He spied one about 20 feet away and dumped the gloves and the plastic bag in the receptacle. He casually walked in the opposite direction.

#

A man and woman sitting on a blanket were enjoying each other’s company beneath a grove of trees and lilac bushes. It was a beautiful summer day and they were drinking champagne and eating lunch. He raised his champagne glass to her. Honey, I sure hope you like this surprise. She gushed out, Wayne, this was the best idea. Taking the afternoon off on such a beautiful day to be together was so thoughtful. Feeling complete, she continued with I love you. Before he could recite his feelings, the sounds of voices were heard coming from the other side of the bushes. He stopped in mid-thought. He and his companion heard a bang, then the scream of a woman’s voice. Then a thud. Seconds later they heard a man say look what you bitches made me do! A woman’s voice pierced the air with Oh my God, you shot her! You shot her. Now we have to take care of you!

The man motioned to his companion to be quiet and not make a move—she didn’t. Three bangs sounded again and the couple once again heard the man’s voice, this time as if he was in agony. The sound of another thud. The couple continued their silence. The woman, finally unable to imagine any longer, whispered to the man to look through the bushes to see what was happening. After a few moments, the man whispered back to her I think someone was shot and killed. The woman, frozen with fear whispered, Let’s gets out of here . . . now! The man ignored her plea and continued to watch through the bushes as two women dragged a man’s body behind thick brush on the other side of the trees. Another woman threw what looked like a gun into brush away from where they dragged the man’s body. While the couple quietly gathered their picnic utensils, a car drove within feet of them and parked. The couple held their breaths. The man peered