B-4: Special Agent II: Angel’s Revenge

By Jack McLaughlin and Harold Lea Brown

In the second book of B-4: Special Agent, Bonnie is assigned to the San Francisco office, so she can escape the enemies she made in Vegas as a rookie.

But there’s no shortage of excitement in her new surroundings, as she and her partner, Schietz, try to locate a shipment of Hitler’s Gold, experiencing Bay Area culture and meeting a cast of interesting characters along the way.

Meanwhile, Angelanne, the daughter of an underworld chief who was killed along with her mother and brother by Bonnie’s father, takes over as underworld boss by murdering several family members. She swears revenge on Bonnie’s father, Bobby Brown, and wants Bonnie to feel the pain she has felt for several years. She kidnaps Bobby and then Bonnie. Bobby is hidden and Bonnie is tortured.

After hearing Bobby was kidnapped, JJ jumps into the picture with all her resources, including the Battle Mountain Boys. Also in the picture is Benneschott, Bonnie’s half-brother unknown to her. He saves Bonnie from certain death several times but is helpless when she is kidnapped.

Find out if Bonnie escapes, whether Angelanne gets her revenge, and whether anyone ever finds Hitler’s elusive gold in this thrilling adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781663257482

Jack McLaughlin

Jack McLaughlin had a distinguished career as a California school district superintendent and Nevada state superintendent. He has won numerous awards in many literary genres as well as Writer of the Year. Harold Lea Brown is an award-winning screenwriter, playwright, producer, and author. He has won several Writer of the Year awards and gives back to the storytelling community by sponsoring awards for young writers. The two authors were named Co-Writers of the Year at the 2019 Action on Film MegaFest in Las Vegas.

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Copyright © 2023 Jack McLaughlin and Harold Lea Brown.

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.

iUniverse

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Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5747-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5749-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5748-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023921864

iUniverse rev. date: 10/25/2023

Contents

Dedication

Author’s Bio

Author’s Bio

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

BOOKS BY THE AUTHORS

Jack McLaughlin

mR. bERZERKELEY: The Naked Mayor

mR. bERZERKELEY II: Big Games, Big Lies, Big Decisions

mR. bERZERKELEY III: Gators, Guns, Goodbyes

NAIVETE: A Parent’s Trust Betrayed

Harold Lea brown

Deadly Invisible Enemies: Evil in the Air (Book 1)

Deadly Invisible Enemies: Hunt for Evil (Book 2)

Deadly Invisible Enemies: Evil Resurrection (Book 3)

Destiny of Tar and Feathers: A Harold L. Brown Screenplay

Together

B-4: Special Agent "Rookie"

DEDICATION

To Harold Lea Brown whose unlimited imagination and loving personality are only surpassed by his desire to make the world a better place for all.

AUTHOR’S BIO

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Jack W. McLaughlin

Screenwriter, Author, Executive Producer

After a successful, distinguished, award-winning career as a California School District Superintendent and Nevada State Superintendent, Jack McLaughlin’s desire to use his creativity and write stories about mythical characters and fabled stereotypes in the form of books and screenplays was energized by winning film festival recognition and acclaim.

Awards and honors include many official selections at several film festivals, first places including Makeup Man, Best Thriller; King Alphonse, Winner Sci-fi/fantasy; Moonlight Bandit, Best Family/Faith; Three times nominated Best Writer; Double Play and Remembering Sullivan nominated Best Scripts; Sins of Lily Liu Lu, Best Feature; Hog Heaven and Naivete Best Teleplays; Triple Destiny, Best Drama; B-4: Special Agent, Best Teleplay; Please, Santa, Best Teleplay; The King’s Crown, Best Screenplay NOVA. Details of Jack’s honors and awards are on IMDB.

Jack also wrote the mR. bERZERKELEY Trilogy and Naivete, A Parent’s Trust Betrayed.

Jack McLaughlin’s stories are unending as is his desire to entertain and provide an enjoyable experience for all those looking for an escape, at least for a few moments.

Jack and Harold were named Co-Writers of the Year at the 2019 Action on Film MegaFest in Las Vegas, and teamed up to write B-4: Special Agent as a novel.

AUTHOR’S BIO

image%203.jpg

Harold Lea Brown

Screenwriter, Author, Producer, Publisher

Harold believes that story is life well told and a way to explore the human condition. It has always been a part of who he is—it is in his blood. His family roots are Norwegian and Finnish, where story is core to passing on history to future generations. In his teens, he told story through music when he played in a rock band. Later he told story through award winning poetry and used story as a way of communicating corporate history and vision as a chief business strategist.

After a distinguished thirty-five year career serving in a number of government portfolios in professional, management and executive roles, he refocused his talents on storytelling, evolving into an international award winning screenwriter and author. His story library catalog includes screenplays, miniseries, limited and ongoing series, teleplays and novels which have garnered recognition at more than one hundred film festivals and competitions around the world, including Canada, the United States, Mexico, Spain, Australia, Germany, Sweden, Ireland, The Netherlands, Indonesia, Italy, India, Romania, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, China and Hong Kong. His screenplays/teleplays have received more than seventy awards and a further seventy-nine nominations, and his techno-thriller book series, Deadly Invisible Enemies, has received seven awards.

Harold has also received festival Writer of the Year honors three times, the Aristotle Award For Excellence in Writing and the Melissa Goodman Caregiver Award. He is featured in the The Top 100 Indie Writers in the World Part 1 by Del Weston and Theresa Weston, and is a recipient of the Mico Award for Innovation, Courage and Excellence in Film Arts and the Producer Emergence Program Gerri Cook Memorial Award for Most Promising Producer and is a producer of television, feature and new media projects.

He gives back to the storytelling community, regularly contributing articles as a senior staff writer, co-sponsoring the annual Young Storyteller Awards at the Action on Film MegaFest, and sponsoring the Harold L. Brown Award of Excellence – 1st Time Writer Award at The Northern Virginia International Film & Music Festival.

Harold teamed up with fellow writer and friend, Jack W. McLaughlin, to write B-4: Special Agent.

For more information about Jack W. McLaughlin and his creative endeavors go to:

http://drjacksscreenplays.com

For more information about Harold Lea Brown and his creative endeavors go to:

www.storychaser.com

CHAPTER 1

S pecial Agent Bonnie Brown—B-4—rolled around in a king-size bed. Streaks of light were coming through the almost closed curtain in the Las Vegas motel room. The visions that crept in and out of her head reminded her of the short time she had been with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. Her brief stint as a rookie agent had been very stressful. She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t sleep. She rolled from side to side as the visions continued.

She’d chased local militia, who had just picked up arms and bombs, across the desert, a boiling sun beating down on the jeep she was in. She had used her revolver, nicknamed Johnnson, and twelve shots, one to kill each of the bad guys she was chasing. She was investigated by Internal Affairs for that.

She had been kidnapped at gunpoint by friends of those revolutionaries at the request of an underworld chief and had escaped by using a machete and a stolen rifle and killing more men. She was investigated for that.

She was taken prisoner in a pot factory and escaped after meeting a young guy, Joe Benneschott, who called himself her guardian angel. Escaping, she and Benneschott killed four more men. She was investigated for that.

She and Benneschott barely escaped the underworld chief’s men dining at a derelict desert café, zooming away on a dune buggy. She didn’t get criticized for that, but the experience took her breath away.

At a shooting range, she spotted a sniper on an overlooking hill and shot him dead at three hundred yards after the sniper killed an ATF Internal Affairs agent. The FBI put her in jail for that.

In prison, she had two fights to the death with an inmate and a guard who were the relatives of the underworld chief. She got cut up for that.

She found out she had a sister, a very wealthy sister named JJ Wellington from Washington, DC. She got the help of one of her sister’s best friends, a lawyer, to get her out of jail. She was surprised and thankful for that.

Her father, Bobby Brown; Curley; and the Battle Mountain Boys were trapped in an isolated desert shootout by the underworld’s chief’s men and almost killed—until they were saved by B-4’s newly found sister and two helicopters full of hired guns. She had been in jail and couldn’t get out to help with that.

An alleged hit man, who was hired by the underworld chief to kill her, turned out to be Benneschott in disguise and saved her from a certain death, after he shot the underworld chief. She was cleared of that.

She was dropped off in the desert by Benneschott with a suitcase full of jewels and cash after escaping the underworld chief’s demise. What would she do with that?

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The blazing sun didn’t stop the hordes of people walking on the Las Vegas Strip’s sidewalks or driving on Las Vegas Boulevard looking for a place to try their luck or see a fabulous show. About a mile off the strip at ATF headquarters, the parking lot was almost full as B-4’s unmarked government car pulled in and parked.

B-4 got out and walked into the building, making sure the collar on her short, lightweight coat was in place. She patted Johnnson in her belt behind her, opened the door, and walked inside. She made her way to Agent Silva’s office and walked through the open door. He was sitting behind his desk with his back turned, working on a printer. Damn technology. Fireball, he yelled.

B-4 sat down in a wooden chair in front of Silva’s desk just as Fireball ran in. He went to Silva’s printer, pushed a couple of buttons, and left. Silva turned around and sat hard in his swivel chair. Why do we have to upgrade our equipment so often? I’m still happy with the old Xerox we had to use, not these desk inkjets.

Progress, like my Mama used to say, is like a snake that sneaks up and bites you on the ass when you’re not looking.

I sure would have liked to have met your Mama. I’ll bet she gave your father a hard time.

I don’t think they took much time getting acquainted, sir, at least from the way she tells it. Speaking of time, why am I here?

Agent Brown, the inquest is over and you have been cleared of any wrongdoings over the past several days. I’m sure you’re happy with that.

Very pleased, sir. Kept me from my duties in the field.

You did cause quite a bit of uneasiness, shall we say, in your first few months as a rookie.

Sorry about the body count, sir. It is what it is.

The body count, a pile of dead guys. Yes. You were involved in killing more bad guys in your short employment than most of us have in our entire careers—all together.

Guess I come by it genetically, sir.

How is your father? Before B-4 could answer, Silva continued, He’s been cleared of any wrongdoing in the massacre near Battle Mountain, along with your friends and your sister. She must be quite a lady, from all the descriptions.

Runs in the genes, too, I guess. Daddy? He’s doing just fine behind the bar at the Roadkill and overseeing Lilly’s out back. He sends his regards.

Well, it’s better than looking through jail bars, Silva said as he shuffled papers. Now, about your future.

I’m ready for my next assignment now that I have been cleared. So are Agent Schietz and Agent Ruben, although I haven’t seen either of them lately.

You haven’t seen them for a reason. Agent Ruben is already back in Canada. Agent Schietz is being assigned back to the FBI in San Francisco. They are severely shorthanded with layoffs, dismissals, the pandemic, and the trouble in DC.

What about me?

Frankly, I think it’s best to get you out of here. The underworld chief you offed—or whose killing you were at least were present for—has a very large family. And after what happened, you will be a target for sure—as will we. You know, more dead bodies piling up, and we don’t want any of them to be ours.

So?

Silva pushed back and stepped out from behind his desk and behind B-4. San Francisco needs another agent, so I am sending you with Agent Schietz until things cool down around here.

San Francisco, Daddy’s old stomping ground.

I know, he had quite a body count there himself. But that was a few years ago. Hopefully, you’ll be incognito and just keep that weapon of yours holstered.

Yes, sir. Johnnson and I will be on our best behavior. Are we on the next plane out?

ASAP, Agent Brown, ASAP.

Can we— I have until morning?

One last fling in Sin City?

Something like that.

You and Schietz on the town? Please, leave your weapons in a safe or something.

No problem, sir, no problem at all.

As B-4 left ATF headquarters and headed back to her motel room, she called Bobby Brown.

A hot wind blew sand and dirt on the shiny new red truck with an oversize king cab and red mag wheels parked in front of the Roadkill. Battle Mountain was quiet except for an occasional gunshot. The parking area beside Lilly’s was full.

Inside the Roadkill, Curley wore several days’ old jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt with holes in it. He slept on top of his favorite slot, his sweaty Stetson laid to his right. The five Battle Mountain Boys argued over several slots across the room from the bar top. Benneschott, disguised as an old man, played a bar slot at the other end of the bar from Curley.

Behind the bar, Bobby Brown sat on a wooden chair leaning back against a wall. He talked on the house phone. Thanks, Bonnie. Yes, there’s no place like San Francisco. Enjoy but be safe. Bye.

Benneschott’s ears perked up when he heard the words San Francisco.

Bobby started to hang up the house phone, thought for a moment, and then dialed a number. Daughter, some news. Bonnie’s been assigned to San Francisco.

JJ sat at a table in a patio overlooking the Potomac in back of the Wellington Estate in Mt. Vernon. Jennifer, her old friend, sat near her drinking a tall glass of Bombay. Six five and large, African American Rosie, JJ’s newest employee and friend, could be seen gardening in the small forest with the family gravestones fifty yards away. JJ talked on her cell. That’s great. You and the boys going to visit in that replacement truck I bought you?

Maybe. It’s out front. The boys named it the ‘JJ Posse Express II’ in your honor.

That’s nice of them. They sure are a fun and feisty bunch.

Daughter, where’s young Connie?

Thirteen going on twenty-one down at the river trying out the casting technique you showed him during our Zoom meeting.

Love to see him in person again. I’ll never forget his visit at the beginning of summer. He’s gonna be a fine young man.

All he talks about is shooting jackrabbits. When do I get to meet my half-sister anyhow?

You mean Bonnie?

She’s the only one I have, isn’t she?

As far as I know. She’s going to help out the FBI and get out of Vegas after the business with the underworld boss.

That’s good and that’s bad from what little I know about your time in the city. Maybe she’ll meet more half-sisters or half-brothers.

San Francisco is your birthplace, as I recall. But, yes, I did leave a few friends standing. Other sisters or brothers? Who knows?

What about that young girl—the mafia chief’s daughter? The one with ‘the eyes.’

Good old Angelanne. How could I ever forget ‘Angel Eyes’? I’m sure she’s still there. I’m hoping my connection with Bonnie won’t be made by her or her underworld family.

Didn’t she come to Battle Mountain and meet her?

She did visit to pick up the body of her brother. That was a few years ago. I think she was eighteen. She wasn’t too happy finding Junior hanging like a slab of beef in Moose’s freezer. She set fire to Moose’s and shot the Roadkill full of holes. I don’t think she ever met Bonnie, though.

I’d say my sister should at least know how dangerous Angelanne and her family can be just in case, don’t you think?

You’re right. I’ll fill her in.

Seriously, I really would like to meet Bonnie and compare notes. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.

In time, in time. Besides, she doesn’t know about all my exploits.

Maybe we can both get you drunk, and you’ll spill the beans.

What’s past is past, daughter.

Remember, I have a whole research department at the firm.

Good luck. The X-rated stuff has all been exaggerated, I’m sure.

Ha!

A loud noise could be heard inside the Roadkill, followed by several bangs against the back wall.

Whoops! I gotta grab my shotgun and keep the boys from tearing down the saloon.

Bye. Reunion. Remember! Love you.

Love you back. Give Connie a hug for me.

Jennifer interrupted, You love me too, don’t you, hon?

I’m on speaker? Is that who I think it is?

Yes, Father, with a half-full glass of Bombay.

I want to see you again, soon. Speaking of X rated, we have some catching up to do, too, hon.

When I catch my breath from the last time.

You, hon? Give me a break.

Another loud boom hit the back wall.

I really do have to go. Guess I will have to visit DC.

I can’t wait, hon.

Another loud blast hit the wall.

At the Wellington Estate, an excited, thirteen-year-old Connie came running up the hill holding a fishing rod in one hand and a small fish in the other. Mother, Mother! I caught a fish using Grandpa’s cast.

My darling son has caught a minnow using your technique.

Glad I am good at something other than spawning daughters. When you got it, you got it.

You’ve got it, hon.

Goodbye, Father!

Bobby grabbed a shotgun from under the bar. He fired one shot into the ceiling. The banging suddenly stopped. He looked over. Benneschott was gone, and the machine he’d been playing had hit a jackpot.

CHAPTER 2

I n the late-summer afternoon heat, B-4 walked from a hotel and casino. It had become her temporary home away from home while she had been working in Las Vegas. She surveyed the parking lot, something that had become second nature. She moved through a full parking lot to her unmarked ATF government car. She opened the trunk and looked at the bulging suitcase full of jewels and cash she and Benneschott had taken from the home of Castillo, the underworld boss, after Benneschott had killed him. She fingered a valuable diamond necklace as she contemplated whether to turn it over to the ATF. But then what? It was probably going to be more trouble for her.

Moments later, she sat at the steering wheel inside the car. Holy shit! I don’t know who that guy Joe was, but he sure left me with a quandary and a lot of valuable shit.

The experience a few nights earlier hit her like a ton of bricks.

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It was a warm summer night and Benneschott, disguised as the hired Texas killer Dooley, had just shot and killed Castillo. He grabbed the suitcase full of jewels and cash Castillo was going to escape the country with and pulled B-4 outside the home with him. They jumped on an ATV and escaped the oncoming police and ATF agents, riding like a bat out of hell through the desert sage.

After disappearing out of sight of Castillo’s isolated compound, they stopped in a cloud of dust and sand. The lights and glimmer of the Las Vegas skyline were visible in the distance. If I drop you here, you can find your way, can’t you? Benneschott said as he dropped the fake Texas accent he’d used on Castillo.

Yes, but who are you? You hinted earlier you know my Mama?

Go on. Climb out. Take the suitcase. Donate it to someone in need, maybe in Battle Mountain.

All right. Who are you? And how do you know about Battle Mountain?

Benneschott took off the mustache and the rest of his facial disguise. Me? I’m your guardian angel. See you next time you’re in trouble. And your Mama is my …

The ATV roared off in a cloud of sand and dust, his last words trailing as he vanished.

Mama is your what? B-4 yelled as she pulled out Johnnson and stood off-kilter after she dropped the bulging suitcase to the desert floor.

Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!

Benneschott had disappeared into the desert.

B-4 looked down at the suitcase and pondered what she was going to do with a suitcase full of jewels and money. Whatever she did, it had to be something good.

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In the late afternoon, B-4 walked from the Vegas Detention Center. It was familiar, the place she had spent a night full of confrontations and possible fights to the death—with one broad in particular—Cecilia. At the time, she had been accused of murdering several militias and a sniper on the hill. As she unlocked her unmarked ATF car door, she reflected on the latest intel she’d received on Cecilia’s whereabouts. Her cousin, still in detention, told her Cecilia was back home, living in Laughlin.

Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display. It was her ATF partner Special Agent Suzanne Schietz. Suzanne? she answered.

Agent Schietz sat at a blackjack table inside the Bellagio. She seemed to be talking to an invisible person sitting beside her. In fact, she had an earpiece and was talking on her cell. You coming or not? she said softly. We have a plane to Frisco in the morning. Let’s party!

I’d love to, but, B-4 said as she navigated out of the detention center parking lot, and then turned on a signal light, I have something to do first. Don’t lose too much at the table while you’re waiting. It’ll be at least three hours.

Three hours? Agent Schietz said, glancing at the sexy dealer and a waitress with a tray full of drinks. I’ll be drunk, broke, and picked up by then. The dealer’s eyebrows raised, and Schietz flashed a smile at him.

If I don’t find you, I’ll see you at Southwest in the morning.

What are you doing? You holding out on me? You find a sugar daddy?

Just taking care of a loose end like my Mama taught me.

You are your Mama! Two of a kind.

I could only hope.

A tall, good-looking African American male with casino security walked up to Schietz. Ma’am, no cell phones at the table—and that includes concealed hands-free devices.

Sorry, B-4. My black knight in shining armor has just arrived, or at least I’m hoping so.

See ya! B-4 said. She pushed off on her cell.

Agent Schietz pulled out her earpiece, showed it to the man, and placed it in her pocket. We OK? she asked.

He nodded, flashed his perfect teeth, and left.

B-4 entered an address into the GPS. It was time to take the heat off her and ATF and move on to whatever was next.

Her unmarked car traveled on the highway to Laughlin in the late afternoon. The sun had disappeared as she approached Laughlin lights in the distance. She passed a couple of casinos and turned into a neighborhood with several manufactured homes, derelict cars, sagging chain-link fences, and large barking dogs. She stopped the car by a blue sedan with no hood next to a leaning chain-link fence with bits of dead vegetation woven in and out of the bottom links.

A German shepherd with its teeth bared charged the fence. B-4 got out of the car, went to the trunk, opened it, and took out the heavy suitcase. Cecilia, the prisoner who she’d had a knife fight with, still wearing her jail garb, leaned on the open front door’s jamb. Two Hispanic men covered in tattoos holding weapons walked out passed her and stood defiantly, pointing their guns at B-4. The German shepherd continued to bark and growl, rising to look over the top of the fence and baring its teeth, spraying saliva at B-4. I have my knife. You ready for round two? Cecilia yelled.

You want me to whip your ass again? B-4 yelled back.

Cecilia yelled again. I hear you offed my uncle. If I’m not the one to do you, someone will. Uncle Castillo was very good to us, very good, a Mexican Robin Hood.

B-4 yelled over the dog’s barking, He was a crook, a murderer, and a slimeball, and the world is now a better place with him gone.

An angry Cecilia continued to yell. The only thing that will make this a better world is when you are gone.

B-4’s voice, although loud, had a calmer tone. Can you call off your watchdogs—all three of them? I have a peace offering.

And you with that big gun stuck up your ass? No way!

B-4 reached behind her and took out Johnnson. She laid it on the roof of her car. Cecilia yelled at the dog, who ran to her. The men retreated with the dog. She put the shepherd inside, shut the door, and walked across the barren lawn. Still brandishing the knife, she stopped yards from B-4.

Laboring, B-4 dropped the suitcase with a thud over the fence. It opened when it hit the ground, revealing jewels and cash. Go ahead. It won’t bite you or explode.

B-4 backed away from the fence as Cecilia approached the suitcase. She reached down and opened it wide. She looked up. What is this?

I was given this by someone who just might have visited your uncle’s home. He would have wanted you to have it.

This is a trick, right? I take this, and you will arrest me.

All I want is peace. Leave me and my family alone and forget about doing anything stupid to those I work with. Spread the word. There should be enough for you and your uncle’s relatives. Peace!

You are really a crazy bitch, aren’t you?

That’s what they used to call my Mama. I’ll take that as a compliment. We cool?

This is a good start. I suggest you leave while I consider your offer.

B-4 took Johnnson off her car’s roof and stuck it in the belt behind her. She opened the car door and climbed inside. She fired up the car and peeled out. Crazy bitch, huh? Like a fox, just like Mama.

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An excited young