Children of the Night: The Unmasking

By Christopher Dale Holoman

The Children of the Night is a love story disguised as a Vampire themed suspense thriller. The new twist on the Vampire myth does not require the reader to suspend rational thought, nor undergo mental contortions to imagine people turning into bats. The book follows the events of Mr. Charles Sinclair who has been fooled into accepting a disease that prolongs life at an unimaginable cost. Mr. Sinclair is basically a decent man who by an accident of birth has found himself carrying a family curse, and a debt to humanity that could never be paid. Mr. Sinclair has all the money anyone could want, but golden jewel of peace has always been one tragedy away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532079757

Christopher Dale Holoman

Christopher D. Holoman Sr, Born in New York City and graduated with a degree in psychology from Long Island University. His interest are history, politics, religion and philosophy. He has traveled to Africa, Europe, South America, the Middle East, Asia and the Caribbean.

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Copyright © 2016 Christopher Dale Holoman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-7974-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7975-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911349

iUniverse rev. date: 08/05/2019

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P rince

Agassu publicly known as Charles Sinclair III, Friday morning routine started with a two hour 5 AM work out with his estates’ security team. The pouring rain didn’t stop the two-mile daily sprint. Immediately following the race, a mixed martial arts combat match followed pitting Charles against the entire security team which often produced bruises at times broken bones. Charles offered a one-million-dollar bonus to the man who could manage to strike a decisive blow to ensure their attacks were real. The fifteen-man security detail planned elaborate attack patterns all week hoping to draw blood from Charles. To their amazement, he managed to end the sessions untouched.

His breakfast was a daily remembrance of the woman he knew as a mother, one soft boiled egg, coffee, and a slice of hearty bread toasted one side. The sixteen-ounce metal container his doctor, Dr. Stanley Johnson, prepared for him to drink daily Charles finished on his way to the helipad. The morning private helicopter commute to his midtown office building allowed him to catch up on all the national and international business and political news broadcast. The weather forecast predicted the rain to end early in the day. The welcomed change in the weather enabled him to drive his new sports car home with his trusted friend and lover, Elaine Singleton. Later that morning, he sat waiting for the comedy that was about to unfold seated at the head of a large wooden conference table in his corporate headquarter in midtown Manhattan. His mind drifted through the thirty-three years that was his life. He recalled all the people he had loved and lost. He longed to see the faces of the many loved ones lost throughout the years and wondered if he would ever look at their faces again or feel the warmth of their love. Charles was a man of unimaginable wealth and privilege. He wanted for nothing except the one thing no money could buy: to grow old and die surrounded by his two children and his cherished Nadine.

Memories of his long-lost family insidiously crept into his mind no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay. He fought back the tears that instantly welled up in his eyes when he thought of his family. He also fought back the rage that always followed the reality of their loss.

The rustling of chairs and side conversations conducted by the senior officers representing various divisions of his multinational corporate empire snapped Charles back to the situation at hand.

The Sinclair’s, as they were publicly known, often secretly floated the debts of many nations, but they went to extreme measures to hide their actual wealth. However, everyone knew Charles’s wealth was immense, and he was a powerful man born into wealth. No one could have imagined the truth hidden beneath the beautiful clothing and well-manicured man sitting at the head of the table.

Prince Agassu or Charles Sinclair, -parents migrated to America from Africa. He was the first Agassu born in America. His athletic six-foot-one physique. His hand-tailored navy-blue cashmere silk suit, custom-made gleaming black crocodile shoes, and crisp white Egyptian cotton shirt highlighted his ebony skin. His long black hair, fashioned in thin micro braids were pulled back into a ponytail hung to the center of his back, was held in place by a solid gold cylinder.

When the meeting participants entered the room one chair to the right of Charles was left curiously empty, causing curious looks. Mind-numbing terror filled the minds of the cast of characters responsible for the comedy to unfold. From his vantage point at the head of the mahogany table, he observed the body languages, and thoughts of the twelve senior executives seated around the table.

Charles gently stroked his finely manicured goatee with his impeccably manicured hands and contemplated the meeting, and the many agendas discussed.

Unbeknownst to everyone sitting around the conference table, their every thought and emotion could be read by Charles better than the expressions on their faces. Charles accidentally discovered this ability; at first, he thought he was losing his mind. The random thoughts were coming from nowhere, but then he realized the thoughts came from people who were near him. After many years of self-training, Charles Sinclair had learned how to ignore the personal and intimate feelings of people to avoid going insane.

Charles found it ironic one of the new rising stars in his multinational corporation was foolish enough to investigate his family and friends to find a weakness to exploit. He was equally amused to learn how many of the men sitting around the table were foolish enough to join Derek Fishman’s plot.

Charles needed an outlet for the quiet rage brewing in his soul, fortuitously the pathetic souls who imprudently joined the conspiracy against him had unknowingly volunteered to be the channel. The average age of the participants in this meeting was fifty-five. Each senior officer was an expert in shipping, banking, construction, investments, politics, media, technology, or other areas of business and government. Among the twelve senior executives, a brash, brilliant, and ruthless twenty-nine-year-old brash, intelligent and roofless young man stood out. Derek Fishman was a six-foot-tall, athletically built, blond-haired, white man, with crystal-blue eyes. Derek came from the wrong side of the tracks, but he had used his good looks, athletic abilities, and intellect to muscle his way to the top.

Derek Fishman fascinated Charles. Fishman had been a prodigy throughout his life and excelled in everything he did. His only failing was being born with psychopathic tendencies. Charles was reminded of his father’s admonishment; i.e., that all free people should be treated equally and be allowed to pursue their dreams. The senior Sinclair warned Prince Agassu on many occasions—given a chance—the very people you lend a hand would use that kindness to destroy you. While some of Charles’s life experiences had proven his father wrong, sitting in front of him was a prime example of his father’s advice ringing true.

Derek Fishman had been in negotiations with what he thought was a rival corporation seeking to take over the Sinclair Corporation’s offshore oil drilling operations. Unbeknownst to Fishman, Charles was immediately notified by his business rivals fearing Charles’s retaliation. Charles secretly provided the funds to purchase the shares the conspirators needed to gain a controlling interest in the drilling company. Initially, Fishman’s betrayal enraged Charles—not because of the threat Fishman sought to cause his corporation but for the trust and opportunity Charles had given Derek straight out of college. A gut feeling told Charles there was more to Derek’s’ betrayal than just pure greed. He could not read any additional motivations behind the young man’s actions. It had been decades since he had reason to fear Dechontee meddling into his affairs or the Serapeans sick obsessions. Charles was aware of Derek’s narcissistic and psychopathic tendencies, but most executives he met shared those characteristics. Charles hoped the opportunities he presented the young man would outweigh Derek’s desire to obtain power at any cost.

Hostile takeovers and backstabbing were nothing new to Charles, but Fishman had made a deadly mistake. Derek was always in over his head and was dealing with powers he could never understand. Charles had not been around Derek long enough to thoroughly read Derek’s inquisitive mind. He received an immediate notification of Derek’s attempts to investigate his background and seek an upper hand in negotiations.

Charles secretly provided Derek Fishman with resources designed to lead him in the wrong direction and into a trap. Charles was aware of Fishman’s investigation into his family lineage, but he sensed something more sinister than greed was driving Derek Fishman.

Fishman discovered Charles was having an intimate relationship with a female leader of one of the major international drug cartels. Fishman gambled the news of Charles’s dealing with such an infamous person like Elaine Singleton would be something Charles would not want to be publicized. If necessary, Fishman had no problem exposing Charles and ruining his reputation.

Regardless of what Charles agreed to, Derek had already threatened Elaine with revealing her relationship with Charles. Fishman threatened to erroneously link Charles to her operations if he was not paid $5 million that afternoon.

The information concerning Charles Sinclair and Elaine was delivered by his new girlfriend, Stephany. She gave him the courage and vision to challenge that uppity nigger, Mr. Charles Sinclair III. She also helped him convivence the cowardly members of the board who did not have the guts to challenge Charles directly. Stephanie was all Derek could think of since the first day he met her. He remembered seeing her at the other side of an overpriced coffee bar. He could not remember how it happened, but he found himself locked in a deep and passionate kiss even before he knew her name. Ever since then, she has given his passions and desires direction and purpose.

Derek managed to convince other senior officers to go along with this hostile takeover plan; each one stood to make millions on the deal. Each conspirator sold their shares of stocks in the Sinclair Corporation to an investment group to gain a controlling interest in the drilling company. However, none knew of Derek Fishman’s blackmail schemes or his investigation into Charles’s family. Ironically, many of the stocks sold were given by Charles as gifts or allowed to purchase in an exclusive offering.

As the meeting continued, Charles never showed any indication he knew of the plots cooked up by Derek Fishman or his pending lunch meeting with Elaine. Charles could read the remorse and guilt in the minds of the three senior executives drawn into Fishman’s plot. He had to wait until all the facts were on the table before he could determine what their future fates. Charles could not help notice the discomfort of the senior executives who were part of the plot. The managers involved witnessed Charles uncanny ability to be one step ahead of his opposition. Yet, they were convinced Derek Fishman’s plan was foolproof, yet the sight of the empty chair to the right of Charles filled them with a feeling of pending doom.

Charles noticed the discomfort of the senior executives who were part of the plot against him. Regardless of their foolish participation in the plot, none of the men sitting around the table were members or agents of the Serapeans. It would be tough to replace any of them without opening the possibility of recruiting one of those bastards in the process.

Finally, the moment came that he was waiting for. Fishman could hardly contain himself with his eagerness to take down the elusive Charles Sinclair.

Fishman, I understand you have a matter to bring before the group, Charles announced, leaving Derek Fishman’s presentation for the last quarterly business report.

Thank you, Charles. I will get straight to the point. After shocking everyone around the table with his casual use of Charles Sinclair’s first name, he stood up to ensure his contempt for Charles did not go unnoticed.

As I have reported several times, our offshore drilling operations have attracted many interested buyers who are willing to pay top dollar to acquire the drilling rights and significantly improve our financial standings. Derek placed one hand in his pocket as he pretended to review the papers in front of him.

Fishman, we have gone over that before. I am not interested in selling or developing any drilling operations that may endanger the fragile ecosystem, Charles said, baiting Derek Fishman to make his announcement.

Charles, the decision is no longer yours to make, Derek Fishman boldly said. The executives who were part of the plot and those not in on the plot to gasped, not only by Derek Fishman’s bold statement but also for the brash continued use of Charles Sinclair’s first name.

I beg your pardon, Charles said, pretending not to know what Derek Fishman was thinking—and Derek’s next move.

As I said before, Charles, there is lots of money to be made for our shareholders, which seems no longer important to you, Derek Fishman boldly stated.

I have taken the liberty—I mean we—have taken the liberty to acquire the necessary financial support to gain the controlling interest in the offshore drilling corporation and remove you from the company’s board of directors. Derek Fishman smugly concluded.

Is that right, Derek? And what do you mean by we? Charles asked, pretending not to know who Fishman’s coconspirators were.

One of the senior executives said, Mr. Sinclair, we assure you that you have our full respect. We thank you for all your generous support over the years. We had no choice but to seek outside assistance to protect our shareholders’ interest. "the senior executive volunteered to try to soften the blow of their betrayal.

What’s done is done, Derek Fishman said. What we need to know is if you are going to try to block our efforts to obtain the necessary drilling permits with the EPA.

Charles sat back in his chair and listened to Fishman’s inner thoughts, marveling at the level of malice and resentment Fishman harbored for him. Charles never could understand how such hate and ill will could be generated without any actions on his part other than being a man in a position other people envied. Charles knew when he hired Fishman that Fishman was ruthless and had unbridled ambition, but he had not realized how reckless Fishman could be until now Still, Charles could not shake the feeling there was something driving this young man to be so bold and reckless.

The other plotters tried to explain their reasons for siding with Fishman.

Charles held up his hand, silencing the room.

Tell me, Derek—what makes you think I would have to do anything to block your drilling efforts? Charles asked. The question took Derek and everyone in the room entirely by surprise.

Fishman said, Look, we know your influence with the United States government, especially the EPA, but you no longer have a controlling interest in the oil corporation. I don’t think it would be in your best interest to fight us on this, Derek continued with a smirk on his face while looking intently into Charles’ eyes to savor the shock and outrage he expected to see.

Young man, you are very sadly mistaken. You should have looked closer at who you are doing business. The money you borrowed came from me. Thanks to you, I now own all the shares of the corporation you sold, Charles said, enjoying the shock and terror that filled the room, and especially the bewildered look on Derek’s face.

Bullshit! Derek replied.

Charles pressed the intercom button on the phone.

Yes, Mr. Sinclair, a female voice greeted him on the speakerphone.

Gladys, would you please send in Stanton?

The mention of Stanton’s name sent a cold chill down Derek Fishman’s spine.

When George Stanton walked into the room and sat in the empty chair, Fishman knew he’d been duped. Stanton had approached Derek and floated the idea of the hostile takeover of the oil corporation, helped him convince the other board members to go along with them. Stanton found the buyers for the Sinclair shares and provided the additional financing they needed.

Derek tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. He was now broke—and owed more than $5 million to Charles Sinclair. A sudden smile came over his face. He remembered his upcoming lunch date with Elaine and the $2 million she would have waiting for him. He knew that would only be the beginning of the money he intended to squeeze out of her and Charles.

I don’t think introductions are needed for you, Fishman, but for the rest of you, this is George Stanton, the new CEO of our offshore oil drilling corporation.

Stanton stood to address the room.

I look forward to working with each of you, and I want to especially give thanks to Derek Fishman for ensuring the Sinclair family’s commitment to the environment is upheld. I am sure you will be pleased to know that you will serve as my administrative assistant. I look forward to your reporting to work in the morning. By the way, I like my coffee black. Stanton sat down.

Derek slammed his hands on the table, causing his chair to fall backward onto the floor.

This is not over yet! He stormed out of the room.

Please enjoy your lunch—and don’t worry; your office is already cleaned out and moved downstairs to the administrative section, Charles said as Derek left the room humiliated.

Well, gentlemen, if there is nothing more anyone would like to bring to our attention, I think we are done for today, Charles said as Fishman’s coconspirators pondered their futures. He knew each officer who had cosigned the loan was millions of dollars in debt to him.

The officers all stood and quickly left the room before Charles could change his mind.

Charles shook Stanton’s hand and thanked him before returning to his office. As he walked to his office, he could not help but chuckle at the prospects of what awaited Derek with his luncheon with Elaine. Lunch with Elaine? What a stupid son of a bitch. Charles laughed and shook his head, making everyone to turn baffled at his sudden outbreak of laughter.

After a long debate earlier in the week with his chief of security, Mr. Samuel Scales, he was now finally driving home in his new Bentley Continental Super Sports Convertible. The security chief always preferred Charles use one of his private helicopters to fly from New York City back the Sinclair Estate located north of the city, or one of his armored limousines escorted by members of his security force. However, the security chief understood a mans need for privacy, and Samuel knew Charles could defend himself.

Friday had been a long day, starting with a board meeting to discuss new shipping opportunities between China and Africa. He looked forward to finally having dinner and relaxing with Elaine Singleton. After an enjoyable night at the Oasis restaurant, the elegantly dressed couple enjoyed the cool mid-summer breeze of the air rushing past the open cockpit of Charles new sports car. The passengers imagined they were just an ordinary couple enjoying a night out on the town after a grueling workweek. Of all the holdings in the Sinclair business portfolio, none allowed Charles Sinclair to connect with people like the Oasis restaurant and his modernized converted cargo clipper the La Mujer Morena to sail the seven seas. Charles looked over to his lovely passenger, thankful for the companionship she had provided for the past ten years. The transition from the eternally busy streets of Midtown Manhattan, through the magical streets of Harlem to the Hudson River Parkway on the way to the suburbs north of the Bronx County line, was like leaving one world of mass chaos to ever-growing streams of tranquility. The stars became brighter as they left the noise and artificial lights of the city behind. Charles enjoyed the tranquility of the countryside and more with someone to share the sound of the wind dancing through the trees and the smell of flowers in the air.

Elaine lifted her head from her laid-back position and looked at Charles and smiled with worshiping emerald green eyes that to this day made him feel uncomfortable.

I am happy to hear the intrigue going on in your company is now over, Elaine said, not lifting her head from the seat headrest.

Yes, but I still can’t shake the feeling there was something more behind it, Charles replied.

Well you don’t have to worry about little Derek bothering any of us anymore, Elaine said still in her reclined position.

Did you kill him, Elaine? Charles asked pretending real concern for Fishman.

Elaine let out a high-pitched burst of laughter.

Let’s say I put him in a room for some quiet time to think about the errors of his ways, and in a few days, he is going to wish I did kill him, Elaine said playfully with a huge grin on her face.

The response was the last thing Charles was expecting and wondered how Mr. Derek Fishman was no longer a problem if he was not dead.

Wow, Charles replied, trying to not to imagine the hell Derek had gotten himself into. Charles knew better than to dig further into her cryptic response. He would have been shocked to learn that Mr. Fishman was exposed to the same disease that gave Charles unnatural long life and placed in an iron box, which was then buried deep underground in the wetlands of Central Park.

The thought of Mr. Fishman suffering a slow never-ending death trapped in the dark, cramped, cold iron box gave Elaine immense satisfaction; while conjuring up the pain and suffering Elaine was going to inflict upon Derek, she thought to herself, she just might dig him up in a few years to inflict even more punishment upon him if she was feeling bored.

He was always amazed by her beauty, but her love and adoration for him filled him with dread and sorrow. He had seen that look before, and it ended with a piece of his heart being ripped away. He thought, maybe it will last this time. Maybe Dechontee will leave me in peace.

Have you given my offer more consideration? Charles asked.

Yes Charles, you know that I have many people to think about other than myself. She replied.

Charles replied, I realize that, but you do not have to be involved in that business anymore. You have many people in your organization who could take it over without much conflict.

While complete opposites in so many ways, he grew to admire Elaine before their union. She had been a frequent customer at his favorite restaurant, the Oasis. He was a respected businessman and renowned philanthropist from one of the oldest New York family’s, while Elaine was the leader of one of the most successful drug cartels in the world. He watched as she ran her organization with ruthless efficiency, never tolerating the slightest disloyalty. When a rival group tried to muscle in on her territory, she showed up at one of his nightclubs earlier than usual with the leader of the Philadelphia cartel and bought out the bar. Charles thought she was having her last night of fun before going to war with the rival drug cartel—or maybe she was trying to broker a truce with the loud thuggish man to avoid a conflict between them.

The next day’s headlines told the real story. The bodies of at least twenty men were found decomposing in a large tub of acid. The police could only assume there were twenty bodies because there were twenty sets of clothes and wallets full of money next to the vats of acid. The personal belongings and identification showed the Philadelphia addresses of high-ranking mobsters from different syndicates.

The next night, Elaine arrived alone at her usual time, looking sexy and innocent as ever. She flashed an innocent, seductive smile in Charles’s direction. He knew the ringleader of the Philadelphia drug ring had suffered an agonizing death.

Making love with her was like fucking a tiger. Her raw, no-holds-barred sex tourneys were shocking to him at times. There was nothing she was not willing to do. At times, he did not understand what she got out of the sex acts she performs with him. One of her greatest delights was seducing her enemies into going to bed with her. Once she had drained every ounce of sperm out of their bodies, she would signal for her men to subdue her victim. After the man was tied naked to a chair, she would castrate him and then masturbate in front of her victim with the man’s castrated penis as he was slowly tortured to death.

Charles figured that it took a psychopath with an exceptionally high IQ like Elaine to know there was something not