Love and Death: A Journey

By Hal Graff

Welcome to the tenth exciting episode of the Harold Gatewood mystery Series.  Gatewood relives the events and happenings that have impacted his life in the first eight episodes of the Harold Gatewood Mystery Series. 

     Now, the AIO sends another

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harold Graff II Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962569095

Hal Graff

Dr. Hal Graff holds a doctorate in business administration. He is a native of Gibson City, Illinois. Hal is a proud father and grandfather. To date, he has published 104 books, including 96 novels. He has published over 6 million 900,000, words.

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Prologue

AS HAROLD GATEWOOD sat in his living room, he watched his friends, the squirrels, scamper from tree to tree in his huge front yard,

    "It’s nice to be home.  This is my safe haven.  I can relax, be myself, and to what I want. 

    I can live a normal, safe, secure, life, away from the political espionage game, and the away from the global hot spots that provide the stage for the political elites to carry out their game of power, at the expense of the little people, we peons.

    Truthfully, I’ve had my share of that nonsense.  I want to live a quiet life here in Gibson Coty, Illinois.

My parents live here.  They live half, a mile from me,

    The people are wonderful.  For the most part, they work hard, worship God, and keep their nose clean.  They’re my kind of people.

    My parents live in the same town. They live half, a, mile from me.   

They’re great.  And, they’ve not only always been there to support me, they’re my best friends.

    I go to my boyhood, Methodist Church when I’m home, which has been far too infrequent since I first went to vet the Running of the Bulls festival in Spain.

    At that time in my life, I was injured and unable to play in the major leagues, after nine years in the show.

    Everyone thought I was done, but I knew batter.  I made to comebacks to the major leagues after everyone, except myself, and my parents, had written me off.

In Spain, I me Lori. Lehoi, and we fell in love. 

    Unfortunately, her father, and Godfather, were the masterminds of the Basque terrorist that wanted to blow up the famous stadium where they bulls faced the matadors in the ring.

    Lori was forced to cooperate with the terrorists.  It cost her dearly, as she was killed.

    Also at the festival, I helped the Spanish authorities stop the Basque plot, and helped saved thousands of lives.

    I also helped the local police catch a serial killer at the festival, Zigor Kerbasi.  He was a nasty one.  But he died while he was trying to kill me.

    I became an accidental hero, and was given an award for helping the Spanish people by the king of that country.

    While I plotted my first comeback to the major leagues, I started helping the CIO.  That association wasn’t planned.  It also wasn’t something I wanted to do. 

    I then went to Cuba to scout the World Baseball Tournament for the Major League Scouting Bureau.

    President Bertalina was a huge baseball fan.  I fell in love with his secretary, Christina Abene.

    In Cuba, the Basque terrorist group, the AIO, sent a hitman to eliminate me.  The Cuban general who wanted to kill Bertalina, also tried to kill me.

    Christina, and her mother, were killed at the airport by the AIO hitman.  I survives, but I lost another wonderful woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

    When I’d recovered from my injuries, I’d started my first baseball comeback.  I played in Central Illinois, did well, and then went to Tokyo, Japan to play for the Tokyo Giants.

    In that city, I became involved with a Yakuza chief’s daughter, who lost her mind.  The Yakuza was as dirty as any organization could be.  They were also dangerous, and tried to kill me.

    The AIO had also sent another assassin to end my life.  Both hitmen were killed.

    In Tokyo, I met a beautiful lady, who was the daughter of the vice-president of China.  We fell in love, and became engaged.  We were soul mates.

    Her name was Al Akemi Gang.  She was the woman God wanted me to spend my life with.

    My baseball skills were back, and I had a great season with the Tokyo Giants.

    Due to the assassination attempts on my life, my contract wasn’t renewed.

    Akemi and I moved to Beijing, China.  As in Tokyo, I had more assassins after my neck. The AIO, and the Yakuza both tried to eliminate me in China.

    Also in China, Akemi and I took down a rapist, who happened to be a baseball teammate of mine.

    I had a great baseball season, despite the many outside distractions.

    Also in China, Akemi’s father became the Chinese president.  He defeated his political enemy for the presidency, despite the opponent’s smear tactics on Akemi, her parents, and myself.

    The worst day of my life also happened after Akemi and I married.

    We went to Inner Mongolia to fish for taimen.  She was killed by the brother of the mafia princess I had dated, who had tried to kill Akemi in Tokyo.

    Akemi, and our unborn son, Tai, for Taimen, were both killed by the Yakuza leader in Inner Mongolia.

    I have never recovered from Akemi, and Tai’s murders.  I never will.  She was the only woman I will ever truly love. 

    The CIO then contacted me and asked me to help them spy on North Korea’s unusual, quirky, dangerous dictator. 

    I accepted by agreeing to train the North Korean National team for a month. My quarters were in the presidential palace.

    A female North Korean spy Miss Yeong Hyeon, seduced me, and the fell in love with me before I left for Seoul, South Korea to play baseball for the Seoul, Cranes.

    Yeong volunteered to take a spy mission in Seoul, South Korea to be with me.

    I played so well in South Korea, that I finally made my first comeback to major league baseball.

    Before I left for Miami, Florida, to join that professional baseball team, the AIO sent another hitman to end my days on earth.  He failed, like all the others.

    My baseball success with the Miami team, helped them win the World Series, as I hit a single to win the seventh game, and the title.

    It was a bittersweet happening for me, as I blew out my arm, and faced another end of my baseball career.

    Yeong and I stayed in Islamorada in the Florida Keys while I tried to think how I was going to get healthy, and make another baseball comeback.

    I had also worked with the CIO to get Yeong clearance so she could tell our government about the North Koreans’ spy secrets.

    While we were scuba diving, she suffered the most-gruesome death imaginable.  The memory of it still haunts me today.

    I then lost my direction in life, 

    Naturally, I came back to Gibson City to pick up the pieces of my life, and start another baseball comeback.

    Every person in baseball had written me off as too injured, too fragile, and too old, to make it back to major league baseball.  I knew better,

    The CIO then asked me to help them address the problems the Venezuelan drug cartels, and the terrorist organizations were causing America.

    I agree, and went there as a scout for professional baseball, and as a spy for the CIO. 

    The secretary of the biggest drug cartel in Venezuela, and I met, and became lovers.  Her name as Luisa Gaicia.

    With her help, I was able to send information about the cartels to the CIO.  Also, I had to deal with the dangerous terrorist organization in the country, as they were partners with the drug lords,

    Both organizations tried to kill me.  I was able to escape when Venezuela collapsed, but Luisa wasn’t.  I heard that she was killed by the drug cartels.

    I then did more scouting for major league baseball, and additional work for the CIO, in Mexico.

    My CIO spying activities were centered on the Mexican drug cartels. 

    The organizations, and the rouge nations my work with the CIO, and the constant ‘accidental heroics’; that came with those efforts, also led to more hitmen trying to kill me.

    Fate brought Luisa Gaicia back into my life in Mexico.  I then brought her back to Gibson City, Illinois to live with me.

    Unfortunately, a groupie I had met years before, Susana Richards, killed Luisa in Gibson City.  Susana had become a female, professional, contract, assassin.

    Susana killed Luisa out of jealousy, because she loved me.  She did it for free, a pro, bono, hit, to get Luisa permanently out of my life.

    My next stop was in the Dominican Republic to scout for major league baseball, and to do more spy work for the CIO.

    While I was infiltrating the drug cartels, and the voodoo culture in that country, I met a beautiful television reporter, Juliana Callejas.  We became close, until she died in a plane crash. 

    I also dealt with Susana Richards again. 

    In the years since I first went to the Running of the Bulls festival, my life has become a non-stop battle with terrorists, drug lords, dictators, spies, hitmen, hit women, groupies, gorgeous, fantastic  ladies, and tragedy, destruction, danger, killing, and death, 

    What I have gone through would kill lesser men, but I have survived. 

    I really don’t know how I managed to make that happen, but I’m happy I haven’t; meet my maker, yet.   

    The truth is that I’m exhausted, both physically, and mentally.

    I’ve suffered so much grief.  I’ve lost the woman I will always love, my wife, Al Akemi Gang Gatewood, and my son Tai.

    This list of the other ladies I’ve lost to death is so long, I’ve started saying that ‘The Gatewood Curse’ strikes down every nice lady I’m with, in whatever country I happen to be working in, 

    I’ve lost count on how many hitmen, and hit women, have tried to kill me.  They keep coming at me, without end. 

    I take out one of them, and another one pops up with a gun, a knife, a machete, or a new concoction of poison

    But I’m in great physical condition.  I know I can still play baseball in the big leagues, despite my age.  I’m almost ready to try again.

    I’ll go anywhere, and play at any level, so I can prove that I can still play.  That’s my main priority,

    My days of working for the CIO have come to an end,

    I don’t want to deal with killers, and others in the lowest rung of society.  The scum that I’ve had to deal with are, frankly, stating to get to me.

    At least its safe in Gibson City, Illinois.  No one even knows where my hometown is located.  No one is going to send a killer her to take me out.  Thank you, God, for that fact."

    While Harold Gatewood thought that the terrorist organizations had forgotten about him, he was mistaken.  He would never get so lucky.

    The same was true for the drug cartels, the crooked politicians, the rogue countries and their deranged leaders.

    Ditto for the hitmen, and the hit women, who wanted his scalp on their lodge pole.

    In the American, Old West, John Jerimiah Garrison Johnston, aka John Liver-Eating Johnson, became a mountain man.  He was known for his killing spree of three hundred Crow Indians.

    His rampage was forged to gain revenge on the Crow for killing his wife.

    Harold Gatewood was just getting started in the killing business, and he would never make a dent in "Liver-Eating: Johnson’s total.

    But Gatewood had proved to those who wanted him dead, that he wasn’t a man to mess with. 

    While Johnson worked alone, Gatewood had a lover, a female hit woman, Susana Richards, who protected him.

    Better than her, and best of all, was the guardian angel God sent to protect him.

    Liver-Eating Johnson did not victim fall victim to the Crow Indians.  In fact, he died in the Santa Monica, California National Soldiers Home on January 21sr, 1900, at age seventy-nine, years of age.

    The liver eating?  Who know if that was fact, or fiction?

    Ironically, Harold Gatewood was a vegan.

    But for safety’s sake, Gatewood always wore his sidearm, even in Gibson City.

    He always wanted to be ready in case the unforeseen arose. 

Chapter 1

The Black Van

HAROLD GATEWOOD WAS up early, as was his custom.  He spent the morning doing his baseball workout exercises, and then eating a late breakfast.

    He then relaxed in his favorite, easy, chair, watching out the living room window at his friends the squirrels, and the hummingbirds that frequented the beautiful flowers around the exterior of his home.

    His plans for the afternoon included mowing his large yard with his riding lawn mower.  Strapped on his side was his .38 caliber revolver.

    His glock handgun was in dry dock while he was in Gibson City, as he didn’t think he’d need the extra firepower in his quaint, sleepy, little, hometown.

    Unknown to Gatewood was the fact that danger had arrived in Gibson, City, Illinois from a location overseas, one few people in his small hometown had ever visited.

    Gatewood was clueless, as his mind was on his baseball comeback. 

    He wanted nothing to do with the CIO, or the political espionage, spy, game.  He’d decided to wash his hands of those matters, once and for all.

    While Gatewood was eating a healthy lunch, He had no idea that a meeting had been conducted in Spain three days earlier, and that he was the main topic on the agenda.

    The routine of the meeting half almost become depressing, as it had repeated itself countless times since Gatewood had gone to the Running of the Bulls festival when he was first out of baseball, and his career looked like it had ended.

    Twelve men, loyal patriots at heart, had come to the national headquarters to promote AIO operations that would protect their members and further the goal of self-determination for the Basque people of Northern Spain and Southwestern France. 

    Each meeting had seen the committee members say their helloes, and take their appropriate seats at a large rectangular-shaped table.

    They would all gaze at the wall above the chair at the far end of the table and look at the red, green and white flag of the Basque people. 

    Each meeting, the tall, black-haired mustachioed man who was the national commander would rise from his chair and speak the same words.

    Welcome fellow freedom fighters.  Long Live the Basque people.

    Thank you, sir.  We salute you.

    To some of the committee members he looked even older than he was at the first meeting when Harold Gatewood had traveled to Spain for a vacation.

    More gray hair had invaded his sideburns, and around the tops of his ears.

      His face was drawn even more than in the past, and when he spoke his voice was not as strong as before. 

    His spirit had plunged after suffering several hits over the last four years, the timeframe in which their hated enemy, Harold Gatewood, had entered their sphere of operation. 

    Failure of one operation after another had accentuated his passage from black hair into gray.

    Their leader would always open the ask the scribe to note the presence of the five Regional Commanders, their Assistant Regional Commanders, the Assistant National Commander, and himself, Ekain Koldo, the National Commander."

    Koldo would always say, With our attended members, all three areas of our AIO organization are represented.  Those areas are our logistics, political, and military divisions.

    Then each member would nod their heads to acknowledge each of the division representatives.

    The national commander would then call for the reports with the same words, "Tonight, we continue our long struggle for self-determination, establishment of our country borders, the free use of our language, and the enjoyment of our proud culture. 

    May we always be free, never again to suffer the