What Kind of Hero

By Richard L. Dodge

After the sudden death of his father. Otto stone knew he was the sole heir to an empire his father left him. With the knowledge of many styles of martial arts and being an accomplished chemist, he makes a startling discovery of an incredible concoction from chemical reaction.

Otto feels something is wrong, but what could it be? This discovery will lead to espionage, betrayal, and love. After the events are over, a decision has to be made that could greatly benefit human kind or destroy it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662475887

Book preview

1

He stood at a window, looking out at the darkness of the night. Otto Stone had never felt closer to the black, cold color than tonight. Behind him lay a coroner’s report, a report that he requested, no, insisted on. His father had died of a sudden heart failure, so instant in nature, that it baffled the mind. Now Otto was the heir to an empire of wealth that was staggering, beyond most men’s dreams. But he found no consolation in money. He’d always lived under money that held no water for his soul. But answers did. And he was the type of man who would get them, come hell or high water.

Otto slowly closed the heavy, silk curtains on the outside world and turned with the grace of a predator. His lean and muscled body moved like flowing oil with each step. He made his way from his father’s study down a long hall that was decorated by paintings of timeless artists. One painting could support an entire family and their children’s families for a lifetime. Otto walked with precision like a machine on autopilot.

Otto loved his father with all he was. Claus Stone was a German immigrant and had made his mark in America. He was a proud and thoughtful man. Making money was a natural gift for Claus. He would make a dollar and invest fifty cents. He would make a million and invest five hundred thousand. It was his formula, and it worked. But more than that, he was a family man who treasured his wife and son beyond anything else.

A metal door lay at the end of the hall. Otto stopped before it, touching the cold steel with his hand. An imprint of his hand was etched into the door, and with his touch, a series of lights flashed entry access and a lock clicked deep within. He opened the door and an automatic lighting system activated, displaying his laboratory. His father had designed and built the lab for Otto when he was eleven. Ever since that day, Otto had spent half of his waking hours in here. The other half, studying martial arts and philosophy.

He could have walked the entire room blindfolded. He knew every corner, every cabinet, every secret, he thought. Otto pulled up a chair to his mixing table. The joy he found in experimenting with chemicals and compounds was almost unnatural. Without thinking his hands worked while his mind thought of his deceased parents. His mother was a beautiful Cherokee woman, who met and married Claus at the tender age of nineteen. Claus had told the story of seeing her for the first time so much that Otto almost felt as if he’d been there himself, although he wasn’t even a gleam in his father’s eye yet. She was walking down a dusty Oklahoma road, leading a paint mare. It was love at first sight and the two had been happy together until she drowned one late summer night, five years ago, swimming alone. Mysterious deaths haunted him.

Claus had purchased a batch of experimental and interesting oils, chemicals, and natural poisons from the Amazon yesterday for Otto. The sealed box lay open as Otto went through the vials and bottles without consciously thinking. His mind was mourning, his body moving and mixing.

He remembered the three men who had made the delivery. Their skin was the color of sand, with eyes flat and black, he thought of tiger sharks. They had been professionals, that was obvious by his quick appraisement of them yesterday. But he wondered professional what? Delivery boys—he didn’t think so. His father had invited them to his study for Cuban cigars and scotch whiskey before they departed. It wasn’t a half-hour after the three men left that his father fell in a hump, dead within seconds of his first sign of pain.

A phone rang out like an angry insect. Otto walked to his desk and answered reluctantly.

Yes? His voice was not angry, but it wasn’t welcoming either.

Otto? How are you, my friend? I just heard about Claus on the news… The voice of Slim Phoenix carried through the line, and Otto felt himself loosen up at the sound of his friend’s voice.

Hey there, Slim…I’m okay…Okay…That’s a laugh, I’m numb.

What the hell happened? I thought your old man would out live us all. Not many men were as casual with Otto as Slim, but they had been close for years. He earned it.

Me too. He suffered from heart failure. At least that’s the official report. Otto trailed off and stared at the box he had been exploring. He picked up a cordless phone and without thinking, picked up a small hot wheel car he had sitting on his desk, one of his momentous from his childhood.

You sound like you have doubts…I’ll be at the funeral tomorrow. You want me to do anything for you? Slim was a good friend, and he meant it.

Thanks, no…wait a minute… Otto reached in his shirt pocket and retrieved a piece of paper that had the names of the three men that made the drop yesterday. There’s three guys who brought some things from Brazil, play things, for my lab. I want to know who they are and where they are. You think you can help me? Otto pushed the small Corvette toy along the table with his finger.

I can try. I’ll do my best.

That’s as good as done, Otto said with a nod.

Whoa, boy. I can’t guarantee nothin’.

Otto smiled to himself. If anyone could track a man down, it was Slim. He had been a Seal, worked as an undercover cop for years, and now was doing freelance investigative work. Otto reeled off the names and gave what information he could as far as physical descriptions.

Otto took an eyedropper and filled it with the solution he mixed absentmindedly while talking to Slim.

I’ll do what I can tonight and in the morning and bring what I got to the memorial service tomorrow. Get some rest, Otto.

Otto laughed and a drop of the liquid fell from the glass eyedropper and fell onto the small car. A scream of metal on metal made Otto jump with the reflexes of a cat, and he grabbed the beaker of liquid just in time as the lab exploded with a crash of splintered wood and glass.

The phone fell and spun on the floor like a needle in a compass, out of control. Otto was laid out on his back holding the solution as if it was a bomb, and staring straight at a full-size, ready-to-ride, nineteen fifty-seven Corvette.

Otto? What’s happening? Slim’s voice carried through the phone on the floor.

Otto reached for the phone, never taking his eyes from the machine. Slim, I’ll have to get back with you. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but I just had some kind of successful chemical reaction. We’ll talk tomorrow. Otto clicked the phone off and sat for a moment just staring. His mind was ticking like a timer on a stick of dynamite. This is impossible. This is