Where Eagles Fly

By Sir Charles Davis

One thing about eagles: when they fight it is to the death - either one or both will die. "We are eagles", Daniel remember hearing his father say, "And this is where eagles fly." His father would pat him on the shoulder as they looked out from the penthouse window of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Life was good for Daniel until he grew up and saw his father for what he really was - A monster, who had to be stopped by any means necessary and Daniel vowed to be the executioner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781642143409

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Where Eagles Fly

Sir Charles Davis

Copyright © 2018 Sir Charles Davis

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64214-339-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64214-340-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To Margie

I would like to dedicate this book to Kylah E. Gilbert and Christopher F. R. Gilbert, my grandchildren – the next generation

Acknowledge with special thanks to: Robin Watson, my wife of 41 years, Charles D. Watson 3, Cyntrise Watson, Margie Garrison, and Walter E. Jones for their encouraging words.

I was in the truck with my grandfather one Sunday. We were heading home from fishing when he stopped the truck and walked to the side of the road.

I rolled down the window and asked, What is it, Grandpa?

I heard him say, Come here, Lil’ Brother, I want to show you this. I got out of the truck and saw a great big bird. I asked, What is that?

He said, An eagle, and he knelt down and touched it, as I figured, it’s dead. Then he turned and walked in the opposite direction moving some bushes out of the way and said, Come here. And when I got to him, I saw another eagle, and that one was dead too.

I asked my grandpa, Did someone shoot them?

He said, No, they were fighting one another. I stared at him then he said again, No, Lil’ Brother, they were probably fighting over territory. You see when eagles fight, they sometimes lock talons, and he pointed to what looked like claws to me, and they will hold on until one of them let go. Most of the time they do, but this time, they both refused to, or they had such a tight grip on one another that their talons locked and they crashed to the ground killing both of them. Then we got back in the truck. As he drove, he sighed and said, You know, sometimes people fight the same way.

Chapter One

I t was contrary to Daniel’s nature to even consider committing a violent act, but here he was seriously contemplating and drawing in his mind a scheme to commit murder.

Daniel Horwitz went to his closet and put on his favorite pair of Nike to go for a jog. He always went for a jog in the park when he had to do some serious thinking. If, he thought as he stretched, If I could rid the world of this man, no this parasite, who feeds off the living and always manages to get away with it, then why not? Then he started his jog.

By the time he was on his fourth time around the park, the gist of a plan started to formulate. Thanks to Unsolved Murders documentaries, he recently watched on the History Channel, Daniel was confident that his gist of a plan had evolved in his mind into a surefire, albeit blueprint, for a perfect murder, and he would carry it out. But for the moment, it was in his head and he became anxious to get home to put it down on paper to visually see it. He had even considered going to India to undergo plastic surgery to completely change his ordinary look into an aquiline profile with the jutting jaw that he always envied in those male movie stars. And now, at last, he had a compelling reason to fulfill his fantasy.

When Daniel ran up the steps to his door, his mind was racing. He always hated his sandy blond hair, so while recuperating from the operation, he would dye his hair brown, the color of his natural facial hair. He smiled at the memory of the slick mustache and beard he once had but was quickly removed when his father suggested that he looked like a fop.

He got more excited and committed as he laid out the scenario on paper. He knew that for his plan to work, he would have to acquire a new identity and after surgery and before returning from India. He sat back in his chair, tapped his pencil on the table in thought then wrote, I will need a new passport, social security number, driver’s license and of course a pistol. A tedious task, he pondered, but assured himself that it was doable. He continued to write, I will need to have a mask made of my face before the surgery, a latex mask. I will wear the mask over my new face the night I take out the trash, he chuckled to himself. Then he added a silencer to the