Satisfaction

By Don Allen

About the Book
Upon retirement from the Army Rangers, Sean Murphy goes to work for his former Commanding Officer, Colonel Anderson - a man with many contacts. The company’s name is Eyeball Inc. It specializes in providing unspecified services to the nation’s alphabet agencies. Sean soon finds he was safer tracking bad guys in Afghanistan. His first assignment goes sideways. North Koreans are after him, the FBI wants him, and drug dealers fear him. His adventures take him to Lakeview where he poses as a doctor, to Long Island for the rescue of his kidnapped grandchildren, and finally to Texas for the capture of a cartel drug lord in Texas’s Big Bend country. In the end, he finally gets satisfaction in Istanbul.

About the Author
Don Allen currently resides in Northern Virginia. He is a retired Civil Servant and spent twenty-four years working for the United States Navy. He has two sons who have given him three granddaughters who can’t be spoiled too much. His wife of forty-eight years is deceased. Upon HS graduation, Allen was off to see the world. After two Army enlistments, he attended the University of Massachusetts. He earned BS and MS degrees in Industrial Engineering and Operations Research. His hobbies include photography and genealogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Mar 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886835458

Book preview

Chapter One

The Diner

I arrived in Oakland earlier that day after three days driving across country. It was late in the evening; streetlights were on, and traffic had thinned. The nondescript diner I was sitting in was just south of Jack London Square. My booth was toward the back, just opposite the swinging doors to the kitchen. I was watching the front and the street.

I was booked on a tramp steamer leaving the Port of Oakland early the next morning, very early. There would be no sleep for me tonight. My berth was purchased by a reliable friend who operated on the edge of legitimacy. I was on the run. Foreign agents were after me. I was on the FBI’s wanted list. I thought I was ahead of them, or so I thought.

As I started my second cup of coffee a group of men entered the diner and took a booth about three from me. My first thought was they must have the wrong place. They were well dressed, three in tailored suits. I did a double take on the fourth. If I didn’t know better, he was my twin. Same size, same look, and similar haircut. Well-dressed but wearing an off-the-rack suit.

Sipping my coffee, I watched them and the street. A few minutes after they arrived a dark delivery van pulled up across the street. The cab light flicked on as the passenger got out. He disappeared for a moment before reappearing at the back of the van aiming an RPG at the diner. I know RPGs. After two fun tours in Afghanistan, I had a great respect for them.

I was almost under the table when I felt the flash. The diner erupted into chaos. Dazed and ears ringing I started crawling toward the kitchen’s swing doors. I bumped up against my twin. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. That piece of metal sticking out of his chest wasn’t helping. Not thinking, I fished through his pockets grabbing his wallet and car keys. It was obvious he wouldn’t be needing them. I made it into the mess of a kitchen, saw the cook plastered against the back wall and his helper on the floor. I checked for the helper’s pulse finding none I sprinted to the backdoor.

Outside I found myself in a long alley. The side street the alley emptied into was about a block south of the diner. Rushing to the end I looked around the corner and saw a multitude of flashing lights converging on the remains of the diner. The main street was about 30 yards away. I inched forward. The commotion down the street rendered me invisible.

Taking a deep breath, I walked across the main street to the parking garage. My car had probably been made. How else did they find me? Not knowing what to expect I started pushing the buttons on my twin’s car key hoping he parked close to the diner. My car was on the second deck. I walked by and kept pushing buttons.

On the third deck, success. An Audie at the far end beeped. Nice car — my twin was doing okay for himself; well, he was until ten minutes ago. Getting into the car I found his parking ticket on the dash. I needed that to get out. Down by my car I transferred a briefcase, the cause of my problems; my ‘go bag’ which contained a few tools of the trade as well as ammunition; and an unobtrusive overnight bag with toothbrush, fresh underwear, etc.

Pulling up to the parking attendants booth he asks, What’s going on up the street?

As I handed him the ticket and a $10 bill, I replied, There was a gas leak, someone lit a cigarette. Which way is the freeway to LA? Exiting, I’m two blocks down from the former diner on E 8th Street. I pull out and head south. Looking in the rear-view mirror I see a sea of flashing lights. I find a major intersection and head east to find the freeway

Once on the freeway I head north, passing Vallejo and follow the signs to I-5. My immediate plans — don’t attract attention, maintain the speed limit, and wonder, How the hell did they find me? I would head north until dawn and then reassess.

Chapter Two

In the Beginning

My name is Sean Murphy. I recently retired from the Army — twenty-years total, with fifteen of those as a Ranger. Over the years I participated in a number of black ops, some of which Navy Seals shied away from. Mostly in the middle east, a few in Africa and most recently in Afghanistan. This kind of work doesn’t require big and brawny, in fact most big guys don’t workout. I’m 5’11" and weigh in at 183 pounds. Small and flexible enough to fit into most tight spaces but still able to carry three-days of supplies and my weapon.

Prior to retirement, Colonel Anderson contacted me. Sean it’s been a while since we talked. I see you are about to retire. Any plans for civilian life? Anderson and I go back a long way. We entered Ranger School in the same class, he as a 1st Lt while I was a lowly corporal. I served under him on several ops — he was one of the good guys.

"Well Colonel I haven’t thought that far ahead. My wife died a few years ago and my kids live on the east coast. The Secret Service and a few other agencies have made overtures. But nothing