One Little Lie

By Philip A. Bawol

Dan Adams is a young man who told one little lie that changes the course of his life. That lie leads him to become the greatest marksman ever trained by the Marine Corps. Adams must deal with the number of kills adding up, both during his tour in combat and after his discharge. Now he kills for the federal government as a government operational specialist. While dealing with his feelings about killing, he meets and marries the woman of his dreams. But how does he tell her what he does for a living?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546270515

Philip A. Bawol

Philip Bawol, served as a United States Marines from 1966 to 1970 as a crash rescue and fire fighter. Honorable Discharge. He has a degree in criminal justice and spent years in the Michigan Dept. of Corrections. His past experience and knowledge give him the back ground for the contents of this novel.

Book preview

bbie,

This one is for you.

A Dan Adams Novel

ONE LITTLE LIE

Philip A. Bawol

64332.png

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

Copyright © 2018 Philip A. Bawol. 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   03/13/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7050-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7052-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7051-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914123

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

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

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Ninteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Fourty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five 

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

About The Author

PROLOGUE

It was 3 a.m. the full moon was hanging just above the tree tops. The only light I had. Dark storm clouds hung in the sky and at any given time drifted in front of it and turned my light off. That moon was the only thing that was in my favor. The weather was miserable, the cool dampness of the fall hung in the air and a blanket of frost covered the grass.

I had been woken at two-thirty this morning and by helicopter brought to this location. On the way to this assignment I was informed as to where I was going. We would land just outside of a small town called Maysonville. Most of my assignments were in the rural area outside of some small town. Bigger cities like Detroit, Chicago and Philadelphia had their own people to handle what I did.

I was always informed about where I was going by the pilot, what was happening he might not know, but where we were going. Tonight, early in the morning hours I lay at the end of the woods in the tall damp grass. The sun would not be up for hours.

Bryan O’Hara dressed all in black stood his full height of six feet. With a face that only a mother could love. The FBI and local police had been hunting him and in communication with him for nine weeks. He had been calling them and taunting them about his whereabouts and doings.

After doing crimes that crossed state lines Bryan O’Hara is wanted for kidnapping and murder. He had made himself one of the FBI’s most dangerous and wanted men in a brief period of time. The FBI had O’Hara profiled as a psychopath with a sixth-grade education. When O’Hara said that he was going to do something you better believe that he was crazy enough to do it. His past proved he did what he said he would do. Killing this child if he didn’t get what he wanted was his threat. Life, even human life meant nothing to O’Hara.

Nine weeks ago, an innocent family was to be out for the night. Their plans changed and so did their lives. O’Hara’s plan was to rob them and get out before anybody seen him. He shot and killed both parents and both children. Apparently not wanting to leave behind any witness, but did leave behind a finger print. His car was found three miles away, out of gas, where he high jacked a woman’s car and shot her in the head. Tracing his movements to a party store where for a bag of chips and a soda, the clerk paid with his life. Looking for a place to hide for the night just outside Maysonville another father was killed.

His child kidnapped. It was believed at the time O’Hara wanted a bargaining chip.

O’Hara stood in the window of the cabin holding a gun to the head of the child. He was trapped in an old abandoned farm house. A tip from a local grocer had pointed the F.B.I. in the right direction. With him is the child from the last overnight stay where he kidnapped the child and killed the father. Hoping he had a bargaining chip. His ransom demands and hide out had failed him.

Police negotiator Dallas a twelve-year vet with the police is talking with O’Hara. Dallas stalled for time waiting till he received the word that ‘the ghost’ had been located and delivered to the edge of the woods.

O’Hara wanted a million dollars and a plane to take him out of the states.

I had been positioned in the tall grass at the edge of the woods. In my scope I could see the amber-colored shape of my target. With the target was a scared small child.

The shot was a good 650 yards. The wind was in my favor, gently blowing from the west. I reached out in front of myself and grabbed a hand full of grass. Tossing it gently into the air I watched it drift back down to the ground shifting to the right. The target was up hill at least forty feet higher than from where I laid.

This wasn’t the first time I had worked with Dallas. I had met Dallas months before. On that occasion I took out a drug crazed lunatic that was shooting hostages and dropping them out of a third-floor hotel window in order to set his brother free from jail.

Dallas was dressed in old jeans and a sweat shirt. Not his usual three piece suit and tie. This told me that he to have been dragged from his warm bed. Dallas as well as I knew all the signals. He was given the signal that I was in position and ready.

Dallas would work the word ‘green’ into his conversation with O’Hara. Green was the standard ‘go’ word for all neutralization’s. If only the criminals lived long enough, they could pass this along to each other. If you hear ‘green’ duck.

This meant that O’Hara could not be trusted to let the child go. That Dallas believed he was going to carry out his threat. When I heard ‘green’ over my head set the shot would be made.

Waiting was the hardest part. While you waited for the signal to shoot all the past neutralization’s wormed through your head. How many people have been neutralized by me in the past years? All the places that I have been sent to just to perform what I do best, shoot to kill, take out the scum of the world.

Over my head set I caught the word ‘green’ come from Dallas. Dallas played it smooth by asking O’Hara if the car he wanted to take him to the airport would by alright if it was green.

In my sights I saw O’Hara’s face almost covered by the child. I laid their calm. Not a bead of sweat could be seen on my forehead. A thin line at most, two inches wide, was all I could see between O’Hara and the child. O’Hara was holding him in both arms close to his chest a .357 was pointed at the child’s head. I did what I always do. I ignored the fear I seen in the eyes of the child. The two inches between O’Hara’s head and the head of the child was more than I had in some of my previous shots.

I drew in a large breath and let out half, steadied myself and started to squeeze the trigger. As I started to squeeze the trigger O’Hara turned to his side. I backed off just in time the head of the child was in my sights. It’s been awhile since I had to face a shot like what I was looking at now. This is going to be a hard one to make. I waited for seconds before O’Hara turned toward me again. With a squeeze of the trigger my days’ work was over.

O’Hara seamed to drop to his knees and place the child gently on the ground. It appeared to be his last act of kindness before he died. He opened his arms and let the child go. I knew that it was O’Hara’s first act of kindness after his death.

Standing next to me was Officer Stubbs. Looks like a kill from here, he said.

Early that morning when I had arrived, it was Stubbs that had my coffee ready. Stubbs also offered me a head set along with all the information about Dallas and O’Hara. I put the head set on as I looked at Stubbs who wore a police uniform of a SWAT team. Baby faced looking too young to be a police officer. Stubbs observed the complete situation threw a pair of binoculars.

I stood and removed the brass from my custom-made automatic rifle. Reaching into my pocket I retrieved a felt tip pen. After writing O’Hara on the brass I gently placed it into my shirt pocket. This brass along with all the others from the past would be stored to remind me that I hated this job. My targets not only had names, they had faces. Scum of the earth or not they were people. But I can’t help but think that every time I kill somebody no matter how bad, there is somebody out there who will cry for them.

I didn’t need to hear that it was a hit; I already knew another scar was on my soul. I never miss.

ONE

It was another one of those nights. No sleep again, tossed and turned. It didn’t matter what position I lay in; the muscles of my body wouldn’t relax. Couldn’t get the pillow right, and that was after punching it till dawn.

The water in the coffeepot started to gurgle, telling me the coffee was done. The aroma filled the air as if telling me, come and get that first cup of the morning. I glanced over at the clock on the mantel: 6:45 a.m. What a way to start the new day.

As I raised the cup to my lips, I turned and looked in the mirror across the room. The mirror reflected a well-built man of 180 pounds. I still have the well-sculptured body of a weight lifter. I arched my back and stretched to my full height of five feet eleven inches.

I was still a good-looking man with black hair that showed a few strands of gray along the temple. However, my hair didn’t hide the scar running horizontal along my left temple. My blue eyes still sparkled, and I still had a smile the women love me for.

I follow a daily exercise routine. My waistline went from a slim twenty-eight inches as a teenager to thirty-two inches today. My weight had gone up from 117 as a teenager to 180 today. The sixty-three pounds I put on are all muscle. From a slim teenager I grew into a well-formed man.

I turned my attention from the mirror and looked out the window. The sky was the worst I remembered in the summers I lived in this rural area. I had to have a yard big enough to land a helicopter, so a rural area was my best place to live. I could be called on to work at any time of day or night.

Dark gray clouds hung in the air, waiting for the signal to drop the rain they held inside. I had been waiting for the weather to give me seventy-two hours of sun, so I could stain my deck. The deck was also the project the summer before. That summer, every day was the perfect day. The sun was never too hot. The breeze always carried the fragrance of the flowers my wife planted outside the windows. They’re called phlox, and you’re going to love the fragrance when it comes through the window, she had said. That was the year I promised myself the deck would be built and the following year stained. You have to make sure the wood is dry so the stain will sink deep into it.

I wish I had the power to exchange the summers. Building the deck with two working days on and then a day off would have been great. Digging the holes for the footings by hand took me three days. I always built everything by hand. Renting machines made the work faster, but it took away the pride of the work. I was never someone who was afraid to pick up a tool to do the job or to help a neighbor.

Working with my hands was what I loved to do most. Take a raw piece of material and shape it into something that all could view and enjoy; that was the value of a job well done. I grumbled about the hard work on the deck now, after the fact, but truth be known, I loved every minute of building it.

How it was the end of July. Not once has it not rained in three days. It was a bad year; things were not going well at all. The weather was not cooperating, and nor were my emotions. The weather was keeping up to me step for step. I was miserable every other day and so was the weather. Try as I might, I couldn’t shake off the ghosts from my past that were, for reasons I couldn’t understand, still haunting me.

The coffee went down smooth. The thick black taste made me think back to when I first drank coffee this way. That was where it all started. I still drink my coffee the same as I did back then.

Looking down into the coffee, I drifted back to the age of seventeen. Things at home with my parents never went well. No matter how hard I tried to please them, whatever I did was never good enough. Praise was something they never gave out. I never seemed to fit in with family or school. School was something I went to because I had to. Family was something that yelled at you for no reason or beat you for the same. Some of my worst memories are from when I lived with my parents. I’m not going into my childhood; basically, it was the same as most. After I was born, I sucked my mother’s breast. I ate, I shit, I slept, and I played in the park. And I don’t remember most of it. I had good times; I had bad times. At times it seemed like there were more worse than good days.

I do remember the day my father stood next to my mother in the living room of the house we lived in at that time. I remember my father saying, you joined the Marines; we won’t have a killer in this house. If you go, don’t write and don’t come back home. My mother stood next to him, nodding in agreement.

In the winter of the year I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. Within the next two months, I stood on a pair of painted footprints in San Diego, California. That was when I was a slim twenty-eight inches and weighed 117 pounds.

TWO

It was a warm day as I sat in the bleachers at the edge of the parade ground. We had just finished breakfast and the feeling of a full stomach was contentment in my mind.

The instructor stood in front of us and explained it was the first time the test attached to the clipboard we had was given to new recruits. We were to look the questions over and determine if we could answer yes or no to each one. There was a time limit, so we were told not to dawdle, just answer with the first thought that came to our minds. Then he spoke the magic words. All right, begin.

I read the first question: Did you ever cut the head off any animal? I studied this question and searched my past for the correct answer. I thought that telling one little lie shouldn’t change what this test was about, so I answered yes. It was one little lie, but I wanted to fit in. I glanced down at the rest of the test; many bizarre questions were on the test that morning. But I was wasting my time looking when I had to answer.

Have you ever seen an animal strangled? Well, I thought, yes. I spent days at Aunt Bertha’s farm. Junior was bringing in the hay for the season. My father and uncle went to help bring in the hay every year. As a young boy, I went with them.

Junior was a tall man, six feet four inches, and weighed in at 220. Farmers’ coveralls were the only thing I saw Junior wear. He worked with his shirt off, and the sweat glistened off his body in the summer sun. Not one ounce of fat could be seen on him. As a boy, I looked up to him. He could hold his arm straight out, and I would try and do a pull-up by holding onto his wrist.

Aunt Bertha was out in the yard, chasing a chicken. Short and stumpy Aunt Bertha was. She looked like she would never catch a chicken while it was running. Aunt Bertha wore a dress that looked like the same one she had worn since she was a little girl. Never looked like she changed in the six years I could remember traveling to see her.

I remembered how I would feel sorry for that chicken if she caught it. Little did the chicken know that when Aunt Bertha caught it, she would wring its neck. I stood there and watched. That was the first time I witnessed the killing of a chicken. Poor chicken, hung upside down by its legs. Squawking and screeching. Must have known her time for this world was up. Aunt Berth took out that big carving knife from her apron and ran it across the chicken’s neck. The blood started running to the ground faster than I had ever seen blood run. Watching that chicken die turned my stomach so that I couldn’t eat my chicken soup that night. I was only eleven years old. But I answered yes. After all, I saw an animal get its neck wrung.

Most of the questions on the test were about killing or something getting killed. Hell, I was in the U. S. Marine Corps, and they were looking for killers. Marines are tough guys who could take it as well as give it out. Things were going to change for me, starting today. If I had to lie just a little to fit in with this elite group of men, then I would. It’s what I wanted more than anything.

I tried to reason with each and every question on the test. I had seen lots of bugs and birds killed by cars along the highway. I remembered seeing a dead deer alongside the road one summer. The deer looked like it had been dead for some time. The skeleton had started to show, and most of the meat was gone. The birds had plucked its eyes out. I remembered how I felt sorry for the deer. I grew up in the city, and if you went out to the country often enough, you saw all kinds of strange things. But death and dead animals were not ones I was used to seeing.

Another question asked; ‘Have you ever in your life participate in the sacrifice of a living thing?’ The question brought back a day in my life that till then had been forgotten.

Playing out in the yard one summer day I came across a spider web on the back of the garage. The web amazed me in its construction and strength. I observed that there were lots of flies on the garage wall. None of the flies seems to fly near the web. Did they know about the spider? Lifting a rolled paper, I gently swatted one fly. Dropping the fly into the web gently, the show began. When I watched the spider jump at the fly and devoured it, I watched as the spider wrapped it in a web. I swear never again to interfere with Mother Nature. Let her do her own dirty work.

Even thought I was young and still learning about life, I answered ‘yes’ to that question also. After all, if you want to make some sense out of these questions and answer them right it could be done. I wanted to fit so I found a way to answer ‘yes’ to most of the questions. As the test went on many memories flooded me, I found myself answering ‘yes’ to most of the questions. There are things in my life that would fit a question in some way or another. Of the battery of test the Marines were giving me, this was by far the strangest.

All right girls you have two minutes to complete this test. The voice of the instructor was strong as all the instructors in the Corps were. I realized that I had been day dreaming thought most of the test. Get your head out of your ass I thought to myself. So, like most of the test in my life I did not want to leave any question unanswered, I went down the line and answered ‘yes’ to the last two out of three questions that remained on the test. After all what harm could it do.

THREE

Captain Amos arrived at the back door of the general’s office made of cherry wood. He knew that what was going to be discussed was private. That was the purposes of using the back door. As he entered, he remembered that the walls like the door were paneled in cherry wood.

Along the back wall hung a large banner with the insignia of the II Marine Division. Standing like two guards along each side of the banner were flags. One the flag of the United States the other a United States Marine Corps flag. The right wall proudly displayed a case with all the ribbons and medals awarded to the general for combat missions and campaigns. Displayed were ribbons and medals from WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.

The desk was no different it to was made from cherry. The desk contained only one item. A framed photograph; of a woman, good looking with blond hair it was his wife.

General Jarden a veteran of the United Stated Marines for seventeen years stood in front of his desk. He wore the dress uniform of the day. ‘Jarhead’, as his closes friends called him, stood 5’ 8" in his stocking feet. His big beefy built made him look like he could kick the fat out of a charging bull. There are some who said that it has been done.

Captain James Amos took the plush leather chair across from him. Amos has been a Marine for ten years. Amos made captain the hard way, from private to captain through the ranks. Amos like Jarhead was dressed in the uniform of the day. He was a tall man with a good built.

Amos has known the general for three years. The general