Let the Games Begin

By Mike Rocker

Let the Games Begin is a thriller filled with mystery, suspense, and enough sexual sensations to whet your appetite. The book is about private investigator Mike Wayne, who takes on a case that leads him down dark streets and avenues. He enlists the help of his best friend, police detective Dave Lewsa, but bad things follow him everywhere, almost killing him. Even though he seems to have a little bit of luck, he does succumb to all this tragedy.

He gets thrown into an organized crime syndicate bent on terrorism and espionage, with plans sold to the highest bidder. Mike Wayne has more love interests than James Bond. He is not your typical investigator; he stops at nothing and has that I dont give a damn attitude. His main goal is to get to the bottom of the case. You will not be disappointed in this book of crime drama, with more twists and turns than you can imagine. Let the games begin!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504927550

Book preview

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

MIKE ROCKER

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Michael Folge. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/26/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-2753-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-2754-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-2755-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912616

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter I   Angelica Ross

Chapter II   Angry Notes

Chapter III   Hospital Bound

Chapter IV   Play Time

Chapter V   Another Attack!!!!!

Chapter VI   Still, Another Attack!!!!

Chapter VII   Back for More

Chapter VIII   The Bracelet

Chapter IX   Carlton Ross

Chapter X   192

Chapter XI   ‘Ace of Spades’

Chapter XII   The Crooked Nail

Chapter XIII   Wendy & Nancy

Chapter XIV   Lucinda, Nancy, & Mike

Chapter XV   Sally, Wendy, & Mike

Chapter XVI   Dan Toler

Chapter XVII   The Break-In

Chapter XVIII   What Else, Could Happen?

Chapter XIX   Hospital Bound!!!!

Chapter XX   The Plot Thickens!

Chapter XXI   Nurse Brenda at the Jail

Chapter XXII   Mike & Dave, Sally & Nurse Brenda

Chapter XXIII   The Crooked Nail, Sally & Nurse Brenda

Chapter XXIV   Nurse Brenda & the Convict

Chapter XXV   Brenda and Lucinda at the Crooked Nail

Chapter XXVI   The 2ND Meeting, with the Prisoner

Chapter XXVII   Kidnaped!!!!!!

Chapter XXVIII   Raped & Tortured

Chapter XXIX   Dave Finds Out!!!!

Chapter XXX   The Kidnapers are Found

Chapter XXXI   Hijacked!!!!!!!

Chapter XXXII   Betrayal Sucks!!!!!!

ANGELICA ROSS

I was awoken by a pounding on my door. I had fallen asleep on the couch and had been startled. I opened the door to find this very attractive woman standing in front of me. She was so well dressed that had she not had that business attire on, I would have thought she was a woman of the street. Her makeup was a work of art, her skin was so pale white, and her cheeks were covered by red, rosy blush. As I opened my screen door, I was transfixed by her presence. Dear Lord, forgive me for my thoughts. I myself was wearing a sweatshirt and jogging pants—not very becoming, but I was in la-la Land. I was sleeping, and I was not happy about being woken up. Do you blame me? It’s hard to get good sleep these days, and my damn knee was killing me.

Anyway, that visitor was the beginning of the end for me. I was left motionless and quite caught up in the moment. This woman was truly a magnificent specimen. It was like God made her and broke the mold. Now here she was standing in front of me. Was it luck or unluck? You be the judge. I can’t be—I’m like that American Idol judge who sat at the end. You may think I’m a horny devil, and I may be, but the facts are laid out for you. She was so damn beautiful. But enough of that. Truth be told, I was admiring her lips and what I could put in that mouth of hers. Okay, now you’ve got it out of me: I’m a bad boy. Now spank me, baby—or maybe you want me to spank you? Hey, I’m getting off track here.

So why are you here? I said, even though I knew the answer to that. She was gonna tell me a short story that would turn into a long one, and maybe after a couple of drinks, when all was said and done, I would add my own chapter with her. Nevertheless, I had to listen to her story; it would become very intriguing. First off, always listen to the person; never be distracted by anyone around you. Possibly tape the conversation, or at least take decent notes. I prefer the taping part because that way I can always go back to it, and I may find some small detail that I may have overlooked, or holes in the story.

I actually wasn’t in the mood to sit there. I was so tired because I hadn’t been getting much sleep. However, I couldn’t tell her to come back because she may go to someone else, and I couldn’t have that. Did I really want to help her, take her money, or try to get her in bed? Boy, I’d be thinking of her tonight. It had to be better than counting sheep, although her skin appears to be as white.

I told her, Before you get started, I need to get a drink of diet soda. You just woke me up.

She smiled, apologized, and said, But it’s twelve o’clock.

I know, but I don’t get much sleep these days. It’s my knee, and I don’t want to get in the habit of taking pills because then I’ll have another problem, and I don’t want that. Anyway, you didn’t come to listen to me whine. Would you like something to drink? She shook her head. Okay, sit down, and please forgive the mess and my appearance. Tell me your story.

Well, it’s about my father. Something’s wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it.

What is so strange? I said.

He comes and goes. I try to talk about it, but he just goes into his shell. One day I followed him by car, and then on foot. Maybe he knew I was there, who knows. He parked here, and then he marched to the seedy part of town, she said.

Why? I asked.

There’s no explanation for this behavior. I sat there transfixed, trying to help her in her hour of need. I don’t know what to do, she admitted.

He hasn’t broken any laws, has he?

I don’t know, she cried as tears poured from her eyes, ruining that marvelous mascara look.

I had to get tissues to help her out. Now she was snuggled into my chest. She was crying like a waterfall; I didn’t know a woman could produce so much water. I tried to calm her, but it did no good. A nerve had been struck, and I didn’t know what to do or say. I could not smooth it over. Listen, if you want me to do some investigating, I will. You need to tell me why you came here.

She pulled away from me, stopped, walked around the room, and then turned and said, I’m sorry to have bothered you! I’m leaving now. Thanks for listening. Bye, take care. With that she opened the door and left as quickly as she came.

Life is so strange sometimes. I was so tired that I could go back to sleep. I mean, she did wake me out of a sound sleep. I went back to the couch, put the blanket over my head, and fell fast asleep.

I didn’t know how long I had slept, but when I woke up, I went to the bathroom and then went back to the couch. It was dark outside; I didn’t know what time it was and didn’t care. Many nights I didn’t get any sleep due to the pain. It was one of those old athletic injuries from college, and the pain just, wouldn’t go away. Sometimes the simpler things bother me more. One of these days I’d get that amazing surgery that would fix it all. When you get down to it, I’m always on a case. Vacation, what’s that? I hadn’t had one in about twenty-five years, so the answer probably was that I didn’t want to go under the blade because I was scared. I’ll admit it worried me to go under and have somebody cut me up. Many, many stories are told of things going wrong. Maybe someday I would get it done, but for now I’d live with the pain.

I was not working on a case, so I had a lot of free time. I needed to take it easy because my last case was a doozy. I didn’t like running and chasing bad guys. The only running I want to do is to catch a cab, the bus, or the train. I’m not lazy, but basically I don’t want to give extra effort to catch the bad guy.

The phone rang. It was just some guy trying to sell me something over the phone. After that I decided to do some errands and grab a bite to eat. I’d been cooped up in the house for a while, and I needed to get out and breathe the air. Maybe I’d check out a new restaurant, get some beers, and be merry. Sometimes driving around and cranking out the tunes was a cool thing, especially in the summer with the windows down. I may be crazy, but I’m harmless—unless of course you fuck with me, in which case it might get you shot. It’s sad to say, but that woman who visited me, crying on my shoulder, was the closest that I’d come to getting some in a while. Damn, she was real pretty, no denying that. I would have been her slave any day. She looked good, smelled good, and even smoked a cigarette like a woman should smoke it.

If I kept thinking about that bitch, I’d wind up crashing my car, and right now I didn’t need that. One thing was for sure: I could get lost in a song, think of things, and daydream. It was hard to get her out of my mind, though. It was rather strange, the way she came and went. I couldn’t figure it out. She was good looking, but besides that, I really wanted to help her out. That’s the business—my business. I’m a private eye, or investigator. When I’m told a story, I want to get to the bottom of it, and then suddenly I’m told no? It ain’t right; it’s wrong, but I can’t make people do things. Well, really I can. But I can’t twist her arm to do the case, although maybe she’ll be back. Maybe she’ll call me up tonight and ask me to dinner. Yeah, and I’m the fucking pope. I always want to help people, because, that’s what Mike Wayne does, but at this point, I can always use the money.

Not much was coming down the pipe as far as jobs. It was real quiet, so tonight I figured I would go to the local watering hole, hear some music, and drink some alcohol. Then when the time came, I’d go back home and sleep it off. After many, many beers, it was time to get going. I still had my resources with me, got up, and made my way home, I didn’t have that far to go; the Crooked Nail wasn’t far from home, my office. Once I walked across the parking lot, I was there.

As I made my way back, I saw someone sitting on my front steps. Who could it be? I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was that woman who was so beautiful and didn’t want me to take the case. I couldn’t believe it. Why was she here? Well, I wouldn’t know till I talked to her. I was trying to get this chick out of my head, and voila, here she was. Was God punishing me? No use in speculating. I’d find out what she wanted. Hi, what brings you out late at night?

Well, I came here to talk to you. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting a long time, she replied.

Business is slow, so I decided to go out and treat myself.

Alone?

Well, yeah. You didn’t ask me to dinner, so I went alone. Anyway, why are you here?

I need your help.

Come on inside, and let’s talk—again. I opened the door, turned the light on, took off my jacket, and asked, Do you want a drink?

No, she replied.

Okay, first off, can you please tell me your name?

Yes, of course.

Well, you never told me.

She half smiled. That’s because you never asked me.

Well, what is it? The tone of my voice showed my annoyance.

Angelica Ross, she said. And yours?

It’s Mike Wayne. Now that we have been formally introduced, and you’re here for the second time, what’s up?

What’s up is that my father is missing.

What is his name?

She said, Carlton Ross.

You’re gonna have to tell me the whole story, or at least what you know.

It’s so hard, to talk, she said, sobbing in between words.

Take your time. Do you want some water?

No, thanks. I just can’t believe it. I was talking to him, and then hours later he’s gone.

How do you know he’s missing? Maybe he decided to take a little vacay, I said.

No, you don’t know my father. That’s not like him, to not tell me what he’s doing.

Miss Ross, forgive me, but wasn’t it you who was tailing your father? I mean, you didn’t know what he was doing, right?

Mr. Wayne, are you trying to give me a hard time?

No, no, just trying to make a point. If you didn’t know what he was doing before, then why wouldn’t he have taken off?

I thought it was a valid point, but she stared at me and gave me that evil eye. Obviously I’m wasting your time. She grabbed her jacket to put it on.

Hey now, wait a minute. Don’t go, I said. Don’t you want to find out what’s going on with your father?

Of course I do, but you seem to be making light of the situation! she shot back.

What? No I’m not! I’m just pointing out what you told me last time. Listen, instead of fighting me on this whole mess, let’s work together. Start by giving me a retainer. If I don’t use all the money, you get it back. I usually ask for five thousand dollars, and I work off of that—expenses, travel gas, and the like. This way I don’t have to constantly ask you for money. At the end of the week, I’ll give a typed report, or if you want it verbal, either one will do. It’s up to you. Now, instead of bitchin’, get me the money so that I can start on this case.

She took her jacket off and said, Okay, agreed. She went to her pocketbook, pulled out a yellow envelope, tossed it to me, and said, I want you to sign for that money.

No problem, I said, but you should trust me if I’m gonna be working for you.

I know, but this will make an honest man out of you.

Like I said, no problem. I grabbed a piece of paper and started to make out a document she would be satisfied with. It met with her approval. Let the games begin.

She then gave me the keys to her father’s apartment. On a piece of paper she wrote down his address, 125 Cedar Street, apartment 10, third floor. I told her, I’ll get on it first thing in the morning, since it’s so late.

Yes, of course. I’m not a slave master. She laughed.

You could have fooled me, I joked.

Listen, Mike, I don’t expect to get any crap from you. Be a good little boy, and we’ll get along fine.

Yeah, sure. Since you don’t want a drink, how about a smoke?

Yeah, why not, tough guy.

"At that point we exchanged small talk while getting our nicotine fix. We must have talked for hours. Finally she told me she had to get up early tomorrow morning, and that was that. I wanted to pull her close and plant a wet one on those fabulous lips, but I didn’t. I’m still scared of the opposite sex.

ANGRY NOTES

In the morning the sun peeked through my window—no wake-up alarm needed. I got up, shaved, showered, and dressed. Got a diet soda and put some english muffins in the toaster, and put on jam and butter. Then I had a smoke and finished my soda. I was going to need my car today; it was in the lot next door. Many people from the street parked there, and it was almost like a safe haven. I drove a 1968 Ford Falcon, and it was a classic. It was maroon and had some things done to spruce it up, like the interior lights and custom-made cloth interior. It screwed down the street like any sports car out there, I shit you not. I’ve kept it, and it just doesn’t want to break down, but when I’m in a jam, it gets me out, pronto.

When I got to the old man’s apartment, it looked like a hurricane had hit it. Everywhere there were scattered papers and bookcases turned over. I had my work cut out for me. I started to organize the place as best as I could, to give it some order. Then I started to dissect the room again. I read slips of papers and notebooks, and I came across something that reminded me of a diary, but not quite. I could see that my hands were full on this one. I was trying to paint a picture of the person, looking for the real Carlton Ross. I can find out a lot about a man from the stuff that he owns. One thing was for certain: he was a cigar smoker. It looked like a man with no woman. He wore glasses and was a timid man, but he was very set in his ways. He was tough in one way but very weak in others. He lived a hard life, and nothing came easy. There was no telling what mess he got himself into. I didn’t think he was dead, but where the hell was he?

After my search it was one o’clock in the afternoon. I needed food and was still feeling the after effects from last night’s bender. A steak and mashed potatoes would be nice. I left the apartment looking for a place to eat on foot, instead of using my prized possession. I made my way down the street to find a place to eat and hopefully get a beer or two. I kept my money at home, but I did have the envelope on me. I never did count it but figured it was a lot of big bills. I couldn’t go into a hole-in-the-wall with hundred-dollar bills.

I saw a corner phone booth and pretended like I was making a call. Just as I’d suspected, the smallest bill was a hundred. Maybe there was a bank around there so that I could change it. I kept walking and came across an old man. I asked him for the nearest bank, and he told me it was a couple of blocks way, on the other side. I thanked him, and as I was walking, I found a place that I thought would be good for some food, and they served beer. I soon found the bank; soon I’d have my food and drink. I’d be able to think straight with a full stomach. Especially after all the drinking that I did the night before, eating would put me on the mend.

After a couple of beers and a good steak, I made my way back to Carlton Ross’s apartment. It was time to shift this investigation into high gear. As I stood in the middle of the room, with one swoop I spun around the room, gazing and trying to get a grasp on the situation. I continued organizing the room. I picked up a book, an Encyclopedia Britannica volume, and sticking out from it was a playing card. Maybe it was a bookmark. I opened to the page, and right in the middle was a picture of a magic square; the playing card was the ace of spades. What did it all mean? Was the card just a bookmark? I’d found something, but where would it lead?

I sat in a chair, gazing back and forth between the book and the card. I was looking for answers and had none. Nothing popped out at me. I took out my smokes and lit one. Sometimes having a smoke made me think, but I spaced out. I quietly fell asleep, and when I awoke the sun was gone; it was dusk. I continued to sit and contemplate.

All of a sudden, I heard someone at the door. I heard the knob tweak, and then there was silence. I sat there, trying not to breathe or make the slightest noise. I made my way to the closet and I left it ajar. Whoever came in, I’d be able to see them. The tension was mounting. Finally the door opened up, and the light turned on. Who was that? A man probably about forty years old—not exactly your man of the year, but he came to find something. He started searching the room. Oh shit, I left the book out. Hopefully he won’t look at it or pick it up. At least the playing card was in my jacket. The man quickly left, but my guess was that he’d be back. He shut the light off and closed the door, and I heard his footsteps walk away.

What did he want? What was he looking for? Was he looking for what I had found? Who the fuck was he, and why was he here? So many questions, so little answers. I knew I should follow him, but I was also sure our paths would cross again. I’d study the clues, the card, the encyclopedia, the magic square. Carlton Ross, what were you thinking?

My cell phone rang: it was Ms. Ross, and she wanted to know how things were going. I didn’t tell her much. Things are going slow, I said. Spent the whole day here at your father’s.

Really?

Yeah. It was a mess.

Can’t be. My father’s apartment?

Somebody turned it upside down. I organized it as best as I could. I have some thoughts.

Thoughts? she echoed.

Yeah, thoughts. That’s all I’m saying. Tomorrow is a new day. With that, she was gone, and I was left standing in her father’s apartment.

I decided to pack it in for the day. Maybe I could go down to the beach and enjoy the scenery. Nothing like bikini-clad women to feast my eyes on. I drove to the beach, parked, got out, and walked around, and the sights were unbelievable. I always liked what I saw. Wouldn’t it be nice to get one of those lovely ladies to my abode? As I looked around, I couldn’t stop thinking about the case. Was Carlton Ross really missing, or did he just hightail it? I decided to take off my socks and shoes and walk the beach. I was out for what seemed like eternity. Man oh man, the women. I was daydreaming and thinking bad, bad thoughts. Eventually there was no use hanging around here, not unless I was gonna get some action, so I headed back to the car.

A flyer was on my windshield, probably selling me something. However, it turned out to be a note written like chicken scratch. Warning: get off this case, if you value your fucking life! Well, wasn’t that nice? This had turned out great. In some strange way, I was getting close. Who would have thought? Maybe I’d stumbled on something that was more than it seemed.

I got in my car and drove home. Boy, I could use a drink. I parked my car at the lot and walked to the Crooked Nail. I sat at the bar and pulled out the note to examine it further. When I looked at it, I did not open the note the whole way; this time I flattened it on the bar counter. The note looked like it had been crinkled, like somebody was gonna throw it away. I wish they had. As I took a sip from my beer, I held up the note and noticed something on the bottom. It looked like a picture of a playing card. Somebody had drawn a picture of the ace of spades. I finished my beer, got another one, and held the note up to the light. Something else didn’t look right. The note was written with a magic marker. It was written fast and with attitude. I finished my second beer, paid my tab, and left.

When I got to my home, somebody had left me something sticking out of my mailbox. As I grabbed the mail, I took the slip, went inside the house, and opened the piece of paper. Right in the middle was a picture of the magic square. I put the mail down, sat in my chair, grabbed a smoke, and stared at the magic square. Nothing else was written, just that picture staring at me. I was perplexed. I looked and looked at it, but I had no thoughts at all. Somebody was definitely watching me and knew my every move, or close to it. I put down the note and looked at the mail. There was an envelope with a stamp but no forwarding address. I grabbed my letter opener and cut it open. There was a single piece of paper with a message in big letters: Stay the fuck away if you know what’s good for you! Well, wasn’t that nice? At this rate with all these notes, I’d be able to open up my own recycle stand.

This had turned into an eventful day, with so many warnings. It was time to pull my case out of the closet. Oh yes, it was time to get Rebecca involved. I put down the case on the table and opened it up. There she was, my real girlfriend, and it was time to load it up. I’d be carrying this from now on. I was dealing with some people who didn’t care too much for me. Well, homey don’t play that way. I could play as rough as the next guy. You wanna play rough? Let the games begin. I picked up Rebecca and proceeded to fill her up with five bullets. She was a Smith and Wesson model 500, .50 caliber magnum. This motherfucker wasn’t playing nice anymore. I’d be sleeping with Rebecca right under my pillow.

I needed a drink. For someone who liked to have a beer, one would think I would have a refrigerator full of them, but no. That was why I liked the Crooked Nail. It was within walking distance, and I liked the atmosphere. Sometimes that place got jumping.

First I called my friend on the force, Dave Lewsa, to see if he’d meet me for a beer so that I could talk about my case. He agreed and said he’d meet me in half an hour.

We ordered beers, and I told him about my case and showed him the notes. We drank some more, and he had some ideas. He told me to be careful and wished me luck. He also asked me to call him in a couple of days; he was going to check on a few things and might have something for me. My interest was piqued, and I wanted more information, but he said to me, You are not dealin’ with one guy. I believe it’s a gang, and they’re not friendly. As I said before, be very, very careful. These guys got a fully loaded deck.

Back at my home/office, I still puzzled over the notes, but what really bothered me was the magic square. I knew if I wanted to add up the columns straight