Danger in Her Eyes

By A Tale of Ten

Laura Brookline, a city-streetwise detective, and her twin sister, Sara, a compassionate US Army nurse, got more than they bargained for when they won an all-expenses-paid summer vacation. Even before arriving in the seemingly peaceful resort town of Rogers Cove, New Jersey, they evade an attempted kidnapping and discover they're atop an unknown enemy's dark web hit list. In Rogers Cove, as threats mount, they team up with a local cop, Greg Waller, and his pal, Stewy Bishop--both veterans with visible and invisible war wounds. As attempts on their lives continue, new allies--including federal agents and agencies, another target of the assassins, a college professor, a retired physician, and some town locals--join the battle against a series of killers eager to collect the bounty on the twins. While countering the most professional and sadistic assassin, Monique Dumas, who in many guises, relentlessly stalks the twins, Stewy and Greg wrestle with the scars of war, Laura must confront her shattered faith in God, and Sara finds unexpected sacrificial love in a cauldron of lethal events. Each sister ultimately learns that their danger is in her eyes--one blue and one brown--making them the prime targets of shadowy, satanic, and powerful forces paying top dollar for their demise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891303065

Book preview

cover.jpg

Danger in Her Eyes

A Tale of Ten

ISBN 979-8-89130-305-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-306-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by A Tale of Ten

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Characters

Prologue

Zarathustra

Chapter 1

Spitting into the Wind

Chapter 2

A Hawaiian Interlude

Chapter 3

Vacation

Chapter 4

Reunion

Chapter 5

To Trust or Not to Trust

Chapter 6

Good Morning

Chapter 7

On the Beach

Chapter 8

Uninvited Company

Chapter 9

Ocean View Motel

Chapter 10

The Hacker

Chapter 11

Reflections

Chapter 12

And They're Off!

Chapter 13

Betrayed and Bewildered

Chapter 14

Held Hostage

Chapter 15

Murder Board

Chapter 16

The Aftermath

Chapter 17

G-Men

Chapter 18

Muddy Waters

Chapter 19

Conflicted

Chapter 20

A Break Finally Comes

Chapter 21

Cogitating over a Midnight Snack

Chapter 22

Trust

Chapter 23

Revelation

Chapter 24

Chance Meeting

Chapter 25

Teamwork

Chapter 26

Retribution

Chapter 27

No Honor among Thieves

Chapter 28

Catching Up

Chapter 29

Madrid

Chapter 30

On the Trail

Chapter 31

God's Ways Are Not Ours

Chapter 32

Godincidence

Chapter 33

The Long Way Home

Chapter 34

Deadly Heartbreakers

Chapter 35

Intervention

Chapter 36

Man Up

Chapter 37

Doppelgängers

Chapter 38

Family Ties

Chapter 39

More Questions than Answers

Chapter 40

Skipjack 30-Footer

Chapter 41

Bingo!

Chapter 42

Comparing Notes

Chapter 43

Moving Pieces

Chapter 44

Missing Pieces

Chapter 45

Extra Help

Chapter 46

Eat Thunder, Spit Lightning

Epilogue

New Beginnings and Loose Ends

About the Author

Characters

Rogers Cove residents

Andrew (Drew) Anderson: part-time IT expert for the Rogers Cove Police Department

Boyd Marlow: officer of the Rogers Cove Police Department

Dr McClain: Rogers Cove area medical examiner and area doctor

Ronald J. Nyquist: owner of the Ocean View Motel, Rogers Cove, New Jersey

Chief Fontaine: the chief of the Rogers Cove Police Department

Greg Waller: detective at the Rogers City Police Department, lifelong friend of Stewy Bishop

Jeff Wilkins: pastor of the Rogers Cove Baptist Church, Gulf War veteran

Rogers Cove visitors

Joseph E. (Stewy) Bishop: master sergeant, New Jersey Air National Guard, lifelong friend of Greg Waller

Laura Brookline: twin sister of Sara Brookline, detective, Ocean City Police Department, Maryland

Sara Brookline: twin sister of Laura Brookline, US Army major, Medical Nurses Corps

Alex Gardner: Penn State University IT professor, personal friend of SSA Alexander and Nicky Goodman

Nicolette (Nicky) Goodman: park ranger in Haleakala, Hawaii, vacationing hiking the Appalachian Trail

San Holo (a.k.a. Samuel Elijah Bailey): bounty hunter

Tom Jackson: retired lieutenant colonel, doctor, US Army, hiking the Appalachian Trail with his dog, Grace

Federal Bureau of Investigation

Supervisory Special Agent Susan Alexander: FBI, Washington, DC, office

David Dougherty: FBI, supervisor of SSA Alexander

Special Agent Fowler: FBI Red Bank, New Jersey satellite office

Vincent Marlowe: a retired professor and a retired FBI profiler, friend of SSA Alexander

John Peters: FBI special agent, friend of SSA Alexander

Villains

Luca Davenport: a minion of Monique Dumas, posing as a gardener at a villa on Saint Lucia

Monique Dumas: a.k.a. Valerie Jones, a.k.a. Nicolette Nicky Goodman, a.k.a. Connie Nash; professional assassin

Serena: a minion of Monique Dumas, posing as a housekeeper at a villa on Saint Lucia

Anatole Verbeke: a.k.a. Thomas Cooper, a Belgian international assassin, wanted by Interpol

Other characters

Allison Bailey: sister of San Holo; separated early in life

Richard (Dick) Martin: lieutenant, US Navy

Michelle and John: Michelle is a CIA operative, and John is her husband.

Josiah Rosenstein: veterinarian in Allentown, Pennsylvania

Matt Stewart: deputy sheriff; works around Bangor, Pennsylvania

Prologue

Zarathustra

Late January, present day

Z, as he preferred to be called, was excited. He got his large frame out of the chair and paced back and forth. As usual he was in the president's suite of his favorite plush hotel in New York City. Spacious as it was, it felt cramped for his size. He had the heat set on 85, but Z liked it hot, and it still seemed cold to him on this January morning. There seemed to be one snow storm after another in the Northeast this winter.

He clutched a memory stick tightly in his right hand and stared at it. The stick contained the data his minion Lars had obtained from the Federal Sight Bank. Though hacked was a better description than obtained. Everything the National Organ Donor Clearing House had on people who had heterochromia iridium, one blue eye and one brown eye, was on this stick. Some of them were his mortal enemies, bent on destroying everything his organization was working on. Z wanted even those who weren't his enemies dead. In truth he feared them, though he could never tell this to his superiors, or his own position in the organization would be in jeopardy. Kill them all and sort them out later. That was Z's plan.

Even though Z had his organization and their trained assassins behind him, he'd come up with a plan to extend his group of hit men. He'd used the dark web to invite assassins to kill everyone with one brown and one blue eye, and an account to pay for proof of death of every one of these creatures.

Z was pleased with his plan and satisfied that it was foolproof. He'd even included a fail-safe to eliminate the site from the dark web in case of emergency, which was known only to him and a trusted associate.

However, within a week of these musings, Z was dead from a shoot-out at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC, as were Lars and most of his minions.¹ But the dark web invitation to kill everyone with heterochromia iridium was still out there. Everyone with one blue and one brown eye was at risk and in danger, about 1 percent of the population.

In his eyes all was right with this plan.

Chapter 1

Spitting into the Wind

Rogers Cove, New Jersey

Early June

Drew Anderson stepped onto the wide and empty Rogers Cove beach. Inhaling deeply, he spit into the wind. Nothing happened. The spittle landed in the surf and disappeared. Having completed his circadian ritual of defiance of traditional wisdom, he smiled. Though only a symbolic, daily rebellion against parental and public-school teachings that all Rogers Cove youths were force-fed, it reinforced his sense of superiority.

Thrusting soft and plump hands into his jacket pockets, Drew squinted as he surveyed the east of the New Jersey village's portion of the Atlantic shoreline. The new day's sun had just cleared the north-south oriented Harold Ridge that defined the east side of the one-time commercial fishing port. His stout five-foot-six frame cast a long wide shadow to the west to where the beach ended and joined the mouth of the Mark River. The river flowed from headwaters some hundred miles to the north, passing under the Highway 72 Bridge before carving the west village limits. A nearly straight stretch of the tree-lined, eastbound highway set the village limits to the north and made it possible for an inattentive motorist to miss both exits to the small hamlet. As the sun warmed the sea-scented air, it backlighted the water tower that stood on the flat point of land extending from the ridge's south end. Beyond that the sharp outline of the Rogers Cove lighthouse was visible.

Seems like this place never changes, Drew thought with an old man sigh at odds with his twenty-something years. But I know it is, big time. With the tourist season still some weeks away, the beach was empty. Except for a solitary dog walker, so was Sea View Drive that ran east to Harbor Ridge and separated the village's business center and residential neighborhoods from a pleasant white beach. The sandy expanse was marred only here and there by a few low sand dunes adorned with seagrass. The time-worn village center and its beach catered to a loyal summer tourist beach crowd.

Drew's agile and brilliant mind, set behind brown eyes aided by black-rimmed glasses held in place by a blunt nose, knew that the water tower and the lighthouse defined the entrance to Rogers Cove Harbor beyond the ridge. The north-south harbor's recently refurbished docks, slips, and shops on its western shore and the new construction vacation homes and condos and motor lodge on its eastern shore attracted a richer and sharply growing summer boating crowd. In another month, he knew, the village motel, B&Bs, and the beach would be lousy with middle-class sun worshippers, but a growing number of richer and upper-class tourists would park millions of dollars' worth of boats in the harbor.

Yeah, Rogers Cove has been discovered, and it's changing fast, and it's about to change even faster, he thought with satisfaction and not with the usual villager's disdain for such progress. Most of these yokels like the tourist bucks but not the tourist. Well, too bad.

As Drew walked farther west, he found his favorite spot between a small dune and rocky Harper Bluff that rose above the west end of the village. The bluff's west side towered sharply above the river's mouth before it dumped into the ocean. The other side sloped a little less steeply to a hiking trail that ran from the beach to the campground north of the rocky rise. After one more look around to ensure he was alone, he sat with a grunt on a stool-sized boulder.

He looked at his phone. About time for her call, he concluded silently. Remembering that he was about to talk to one of the most attractive women he had ever met, he used the black-mirror face of the cell as he slicked his hair into place. He put his glasses in his shirt pocket. Rubbing his hand over a failed mustache and a two-day growth of beard that was in vogue with men his age, he frowned and shrugged. He put the glasses back on. In his more honest and lonely moments, he knew he was just lazy when it came to grooming, and the mustache and sparse chin whiskers just made him appear more of a nerd. Forget it, man, he chided himself. She won't see you anyway, and she's way out of your league. This is just business…very lucrative business that's my ticket out of here. Besides, MD's a stone-cold killer. Hell, she's likely a psychopath, but she's going to shake this burg up, and I'm going to help her. My cut will finally make it possible for me to get out of Rogers Cove for good.

Washington Dulles International Airport

After a brief stop at the airline lounge's front desk, Valerie Jones parked her black carry-on roller bag in the secure area specified by the pleasant young hostess. With the same vanilla smile and voice, the fresh-faced young woman directed Valerie to one of the empty glass-walled cubicles. Good. There's a departure board just outside the cubicle, she observed as she shouldered her purse and hefted her briefcase.

Stopping in the lady's room, Valerie checked her new look one last time. This one will be easier to pull off, she thought and smiled. It's closer to the Monique Dumas original. After smoothing her gray skirt into place, she straightened the matching jacket worn over a white blouse opened at the neck. Briefly touching the plain gold necklace, she turned her head to check the equally ordinary gold earrings. After lightly patting her long blonde hair held in an updo made possible by three invisible pins, she removed the dark-rimmed eyeglasses. The glasses along with the minimalist makeup ensured she blended in with the regular business travelers and young executives in the lounge and on board the wide-body jet taking her nonstop to Hawaii. This will do, she concluded finally.

After swinging the cubicle's door shut, Valerie placed her purse on the floor next to one of two chairs flanking a square-top table. Before sitting, she opened the briefcase on the table and selected one of three cell phones. Ignoring the pocket folder containing the Honolulu conference information as well as the green file folder labeled Martin, she pulled out an overnight delivery envelope. She arranged the phone alongside the envelope before closing the case and setting it next to her purse. As she removed the envelope's contents, the phone chirped, announcing a call.

Right on time, she thought, sitting back, crossing her legs, and placing the phone to her ear. Yes?

Hello…, Drew Anderson started nervously. He cleared his throat and with more timber and conviction said, Hello. You at the airport?

Yes, and I don't have much time, Drew, Valerie answered curtly, glancing at the flat screen departure display visible through the glass front wall. So I'll talk and you'll answer.

Sure, but did you get the package?

Yes. It was delivered this morning at the hotel, she replied, flipping through the double-spaced typewritten pages. This is it? she added crossly, picking up the hardcover novel with a black dust jacket, the title and author in red letters and nothing else but two eyes, one brown and the other blue. Like the people on our hit list, she thought. "In Our Own Eyes—what's this got to do with anything?"

That's all of it, boss, Drew answered with some pride and confidence. The transcript is a must-read before you land.

And the book? Valerie asked impatiently, thinking of the green file folder. As you know, I don't have time to waste, Drew. I have a little bit of homework to do on Martin.

The book will make sense once you read the transcript. If you have time, the book is worth a read. There's lots of chatter on the dark web claiming the novel ain't the fiction it's advertised to be. I normally don't put much credence in these conspiracy nuts, but in this case, they may be on to something here and…

So? Valerie drummed the table top with the fingers of her free hand.

So, you should…you may want to reconsider this whole op.

Hmm, I'll look at it, she said noncommittally, skimming the notes on the dust jacket flaps. Are the authors all conspiracy nuts?

Not really. Except for one or two, they're serious people with respectable day jobs. So…

Okay, okay, Drew, I'll skim it on the plane, she sighed, looking at the time display on the phone. My flight will be called shortly. Are all the other pieces in place for the opening gambit?

Yeah, but promise you'll read the transcript. I…

I said I'd read it, Valerie snapped. She softened her voice before continuing, Now, are all the contest winners in play?

Flyboy, for sure. He's checked in. He's got a seat near yours like you wanted.

Yes. I saw him at the gate seating area on my way to the club lounge, she said with a smile, recalling the solidly built young man with pleasing dark features and thinking, He should be fun. And the twins?"

Took several calls and certified mail to get them on board, but they're both looking forward to taking advantage of the first prize of an all-expense paid vacation to my hometown. The cop, as I expected, was a hard sell. She was at first kind of rude and skeptical, but I eventually convinced her that the prize package was genuine and not a marketing scam. So, she called back after checking with her sister. She was all sunshine.

Their dates still work?

That's a slight problem, Drew replied with obvious trepidation. Boss, your intel was correct. The twins have some kind of annual summer vacation tradition. But the nurse's vacation dates lined up with a week earlier check-in.

Hmm, that squeezes the Hawaiian operation a bit, Valerie said.

Yeah, but I figured it wasn't a showstopper, Drew ventured. I recall you said that there was some slop in the timing, right?

Right, Valerie said, concluding that the planned handful of days between ops for rest and some personal Rogers Cove scouting could be cut with minimal risk. She'd have to rely on Drew a bit more than she'd like. Considering the size of the payday, it would work. Did San get the word about the date change?

Yes, but he didn't seem too happy about it, Drew answered quickly before adding, but if you want my opinion…

I don't, Valerie said, cutting him off in a tone at odds with her poised and calm business demeanor. She took a deep breath and let some of the air out of her impatience. Is his sister taken care of?

Yeah, she was easy. She was all kind of happy about her prize. She'll be on an island a day or two before the twins get checked in here. You want me to call Serena and Luca?

Good, and no. I'll take care of that call, Valerie said quietly, biting her lower lip. Though they need less pressure than San, they need to hear it from me to stay in line, she added to herself.

Okay, Drew said and gulped. I…I got the truck and boat all lined up and supplied like you wanted.

And the special packages?

Yes, one's in the truck, and I'll have the other assembled shortly. Local druggist ran out of one of the ingredients. I'll have the second package ready and some place safe at my house if you need it.

Oh, what about the park ranger? Valerie asked.

Yes, yes, she'll still be off the grid with the new dates.

Good. The bank still open?

As of this morning it was. I'm keeping my eye on it and on the list. No changes on either. You sure it was wise to send the list to…to your…associates like that? I think…

Don't think about that, Drew, Valerie commanded sharply and softened her voice. That's my worry. They'll act and react as I expect. The ruckus and their bungling will keep law enforcement off our back while we take out the primary targets.

Okay, you're the boss, Drew said, sounding enticed and frightened all at once by Valerie's lethal prediction. But you really need to read that transcript. It relates to the list and the bank. Something is… is weird about this one. Though there are fewer players than the European job, there may be more risk than…

"Drew, I'll read it. Just focus. This number will be no good in about fifteen minutes. Throw an extra burner in the truck. Use the next number for Jones until further notice.

Will do.

You clear on the code word?

Yeah, yeah, is that really necessary?

Drew, are we clear? Valerie asked coldly.

I…yes, ma'am, muddy waters.

Good. They're calling my flight. Bye.

Aloha, she heard just before the line went dead.

Valerie returned the papers to the mailer before throwing it and the novel in her briefcase. Claiming her bag, she placed the cell phone just used in a similar bag with a name tag indicating it would eventually end up in Chicago, thousands of miles from Honolulu where she'd land in about eleven hours.

As Valerie passed through first-class queue onto her flight's Jetway, she looked back over her shoulder. Lieutenant Richard Martin, US Navy, attired in denim trousers and a tropical floral shirt, was not far behind in the line of first-class passengers.

Thirty-five thousand feet over Kansas

After the initial service concluded in the first-class cabin of Flight 50 to Honolulu, Valerie Jones knew she'd not be bothered by a crew member for a while. Likewise, fellow passengers were occupied with smart devices, videos, and laptops. Also, the first-class seat next to hers was empty. So, confident it was extremely unlikely anyone would read over her shoulder, she pulled the reading material Drew had provided.

The transcript was a transcribed phone conversation. She flipped through the pages, noting that the document was heavily redacted. It must have been highly classified, she thought, returning to the first page.

How'd he get this? As much as Drew is a pain in the butt at times, he's demonstrated flashes of brilliance even beyond his unmatched computer expertise, she thought as she started to read.

Phone Conversation XX January XX between Zarathustra (Z, Unknown Affiliation) and Lawrence Logan (L, Owner and CEO of Surplus E Corporation), Transcript XX April XX by XX and verified by XX. Start time XXXX. Following a brief greeting, Z put L on hold for ten minutes before conversation resumed.

Lawrence Logan. I know that name from somewhere, Valerie thought.

Analyst Note: Though Z's affiliation is undetermined, he appears to be L's superior from the nature of conversation. This is consistent with relationship described in the novel by multiple authors In Our Own Eyes (Meadville, PA, Christian Faith Publishing, Inc., 2019). PDF file of manuscript provided separately.

I see now, Valerie whispered, eyeing the book stuffed into a seat side pocket.

Z: Those thoughts are bordering on the dangerous, Lars.

L: Sorry, sir.

Z: (chuckles) I hope this call is about the related side project as well as the green light for the near-term affairs in Northern Virginia.

Analyst Note: Side project is the dark web hit list of current concern, and "near-term affairs in N. VA equates to the novel's events at the National Cathedral. The hit list is suspected to have been assembled from data obtained by hack of a national database in January XX. It is a list of American citizens who have heterochromia iridium (HI), one brown and one blue eye, a common trait of those members identified in the novel as the Guardians, a secret paramilitary Christian group formed in the late eighteenth century. The Guardians are the novel's protagonists. Z and L and their followers are the antagonists.

That explains the eyes on the book cover.

L: Yes sir. We're a go.

Z: And the side project?

L: Same.

Z: Just as I directed, right?

L: Absolutely. Even in the very unlikely event those blue-and-brown-eyed grape-juice-guzzling cracker eaters get the best of us, the pieces are in place to ensure their ultimate downfall.

Analyst Note: Blue-and-brown-eyed grape-juice-guzzling cracker eaters is another reference to the novel's heroes, the Guardians.

Z: Well done, Lars.

L: Thank you, sir.

Analyst Notes: Found seven monitored phone calls between L and Z in the last five months before this call. Transcripts are available upon request.

Z: No hollow compliment. You've done an excellent job in making the preparations for our success. I'm confident that all the finger-pointing will be where we want it. The next best thing to making people think God doesn't exist…

L: Is making them think the devil does not.

Z: This is likely our final conversation before zero hour and the last chance to discuss…ah, our side project list.

L: Yes. In addition to confirming the identity of all our East Coast competitors, I have executed your plan to permanently neutralize the rest since they are the likely other competitors and the pool of future recruits. Do you have the pages I sent you on the secure line?

Analyst Note: The East Coast competitors is another Guardian reference. Lists attached. Lists were downloaded from XX website on XX. (Pause and sound of papers)

Z: They are here in front of me.

L: The short list is of our East Coast competition for the next game.

Z: Yes. I recognize many of the names. You should know, Lars, I've crossed paths with a few of these HIs before. They're capable but not infallible. Remember the college admissions scandal at OSU?

L: Yep. That was an HI?

Z: Suicide kept him off your list. I'm rather proud of that one.

L: Wow, sir, I never would have…Did you look at the longer list?

Analyst Note: Admissions scandal at Ohio State University spring of XX. See XXX case file R644-7.

Z: That the hit list?

L: Yes. As you always say, No good plan is complete without a good backup plan. So I crafted, if I may be so bold, a very creative backup using limited assets. Actually, it is more a secondary or complementary plan than a backup.

Z: Agreed, but tell me again why. I need to know we're crystal clear on how this goes down.

L: As you reasoned, sir, when we eliminate the East Coast competition, their national leadership will recruit replacements. They'll essentially work from the same long list, vetting it to identify the most qualified Americans who have the HI trait. So, as you wisely directed, I utilized the still extensive IT resources not tied up in our current ops to scrub a wide number of databases to assemble a smaller list of the top twenty-five likely candidates. Since our human and not-so-human resources are spread thin by the pending DC operations, we'll have to go after the top candidates on the cheap.

Z: The dark web thing? That's very creative indeed, Lars. It is a shame we can't spare a few of our more talented operatives.

L: Yes. As we speak, the list and offered bounty is posted on the dark web. It's been up for ten days. Fifty thousand is the reward for confirmed elimination of number eleven to twenty-five and a hundred thousand for each in the top ten.

Z: Anticipated results?

L: For the eleven-to-twenty-five bunch, I suspect it will be mixed results. Some success, but mostly failed—bungled—attempts by, let's say the least expert freelance operatives. That's why in our last meeting I said it was unfortunate we didn't have enough spare cash to double everything. I expect the capable operatives will quickly and efficiently take out the top ten.

Z: How can you be so sure?

L: Check the list.

Z: Shades of hell, Lars. Is that right, number ten is already gone?

L: Yes, sir.

Analyst Note: See tenth name on the short list lined through with red ink with Dead written at the end of the line.

Z: Who is this remarkable gun for hire?

L: You should have received a photo of her with the lists. (Pause and sound of papers)

Z: Got it. Who is she? Pretty, she looks like the girl-next-door, prom-queen type.

L: The lady goes by many names. Her actual name is Monique Dumas, and looks aside, or perhaps because of, she is the high-end, efficient…ah, neutralizer type that a hundred grand attracts. From what my analysts tells me, we'll pay her again.

Analyst Note: File photo of Monique Dumas attached. She is XXX agency POI and number three on XXX most wanted list. Her whereabouts are unknown. She's not mentioned in the novel.

Not in the novel, Valerie thought and nodded. That's good, but it's still disturbing that my name is included here. I'd love to see what photo they have. Person of interest and most wanted—no wonder Drew is more rattled than usual. She looked up and around, verifying continued privacy before she resumed reading.

Z: Excellent, Lars, but…but can any of this be traced back to us or our higher-ups?

L: No way. Dumas and any others seeking the reward must apply and will be paid in Bitcoin through several layers of secure communications and protocols. Similarly, and I think this is another beauty of this backup, the money is likewise separated from us.

Z: So, in the unlikely event you and I are…not around afterward, the backup plan operates in auto.

L: Yes, sir. The top twenty-five are all proclaimed Bible-thumpers. The competition will have a hard time recruiting from a group of people who are tripping over their so-called good book because they must live their lives looking over their shoulder.

Analyst Note: Competition is another reference to the Guardians.

Z: Lars, can we still turn this off if we decide to?

L: Yes, sir. I included the instructions in your packet. I memorized my copy before I destroyed it. One other copy is held by an associate who I trust. (Silence on line)

That's why the bank is still open, Valerie thought, nodding. I wonder if Drew can find Lars's trusted associate so he or she can be eliminated or sidelined. Tapping the page with her index finger, she made a mental note to task Drew before reading the last page.

L: Sir, are you still there?

Analyst Note: Copy of instructions not available.

Z: Oh, yes. I was just reviewing the names on the top twenty-five list. No one I recognize, but I note that the top two have the same last name. Who are they?

L: This is interesting. They're identical twin sisters. One's a cop and the other's an Army nurse.

Analyst Note: Laura Brookline, Ocean City PD, and Sara Brookline, MAJ, USA, Walter Reed Medical Center.

Z: Interesting indeed. Let's talk after the current ops conclude, and we'll see if we can reassign some of our agents to help Ms. Dumas.

Call ended XXXX.

Analyst Recommendation: In the novel, the Z character and Lars both die in terrorist attack at National Cathedral. Lars Logan is not a fictional character, and he is listed among the casualties at the National Cathedral. According to the novel, Z or Zarathustra is a Nephilim who, according to biblical text, is a demigod with a demonic affiliation and possessed supernatural powers. As in the case of the pastor, Z and the Nephilim are evaluated to be purely the fictional creation of the authors of the novel. Given this mix of fantasy and fact, recommend XXX to take no action to prevent the novel's publication and return the manuscript to the authors without comment.

Valerie folded the transcript and returned the pages to the envelope. I'll skim the novel before we land, she decided silently. Drew may have something here.

After looking up and down the aisle, she grabbed her purse, got up, and went to the restroom. Within its narrow confines, she removed the three pins holding her updo in place. After shaking out and smoothing her shoulder-length hair into place, she touched up her lips with a shade darker red lip gloss. Removing the glasses, she added some light-blue eyeshadow before unbuttoning one more of the blouse's top buttons. Tugging the collar apart, she checked her reflection one more time and grinned. Time to meet Lieutenant Martin, she said, her grin growing into a broad smile.

Chapter 2

A Hawaiian Interlude

Oahu, Hawaii

Valerie Martin, I like the sound of that, Dick Martin mused as he drank the last of his second gin and tonic. Though now more water than gin or tonic, the last gulp slaked a thirst still prompted by residual tropical heat of another remarkable Hawaiian day just ended by a spectacular sunset. To Dick it was all the more remarkable since it was a day of trade wind-bathed tropical sun and fun with Valerie, the future Mrs. Dick… 

Whoa, you're getting ahead of yourself, he cautioned. He signaled Joe, the poolside bartender, for another gin and tonic as he reminded his love- and/or lust-infused self that he had only met the lovely Valerie barely forty-eight hours ago. The afternoon trade winds had moderated to evening breezes that still carried the scent of tourists, suntan lotion, and tropical flowers. Perhaps it's this place, he reasoned, scanning the faithfully restored Victorian-era hotel and considering its beach now bathed in the light of several tiki torches. Beyond the hotel's slice of Waikiki beach lapped by gentle surf, a full moon hung over Diamond Head. It could also be, Lieutenant Martin, the recent six months of flying off an aircraft carrier. Not enough sleep and too much tedious routine broken without warning with too many near-death, adrenaline-pumping and heart-pounding events can take its toll. So maybe I'm just tired, worn-out, incapable of thinking straight.

The third gin and tonic arrived, breaking his reverie, but not before thoughts of the recently completed deployment had broken a sweat. He raised the already moist-covered glass. To Moose and Sloop, he said quietly, recalling the unfortunate naval aviator duo in his squadron who substantiated the statistics of at least one fighter crew will be lost in any six-month carrier deployment. Poor guys, he said, setting the now half-empty glass upon