Love and Death in the Orient

By Hal Graff

Love And Death in the Orient 

A Love and Death Mystery & Political Espionage Novel 

Volume 16 

     

      Welcome to the sixteen

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harold Graff II Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962569217

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.

Book preview

Prologue

FLIGHT 3206 FROM PARIS TO CHICAGO now boarding. Passengers in first class may now board. Harold Gatewood walked down the ramp tp the entry door of the plane, smiled at the attractive flight attendant who welcomed him, and headed to his seat, 3A.

After settling in and becoming comfortable, he took a deep breath and thought how happy he was to be leaving Paris. The events at the Louvre had been harrowing, and he had had enough of the City of Lights.

After the remaining passengers boarded, and the plane took off, he looked at the people seated near him in the cabin area. To his right was a young family. The father and mother were intently trying to coax their newly-born baby to stop crying and take his bottle. Gatewood smiled at the thought that the baby represented the beginning of a life, the alpha, and wondered what events would shape the baby’s life in the ears to come.

In the aisle behind them, a young, blonde-haired, female college student on her way back home after the end of the semester, backpack neatly tucked under the seat, and on the floor, in front of her, and earphones plugged in her ears, grooved to the tunes on her MP3 player. Gatewood laughed as he realized she represented the young adult phase of life.

Seated next to him, in the seats to his left, were an elderly couple, the wife next to him, and her husband intently gazing out the window, in the window seat. He looked at them as they talked in a calm, relaxed manner that bespoke of their compatibility and many years of love. To Harold, they represented the omega, the near end, part of life’s journey.

Gatewood pondered his own life. He was approaching middle-age, and was unsure of what laid ahead of him on his life journey. He was tired and did not want to delve into such a deep subject at the moment. To escape the topic, he decided to close his eyes and rest.

His thoughts returned to the scene in Colette Fleur’s office in the Louvre. He tried to free his mind from the tragic events and venture into deep rem sleep but he could not do so. The vison of USFF terrorist and religious zealot Asim Izz Al-Din’s finger on the detonator of the pompe sale, dirty bomb, was haunting.

The thought that he, and most of the people in Paris, had been an instant away from oblivion, was burned into his mind. The result would have represented the omega of Gatewood’s own life journey.

The rifle shot that had torn through Al-Din’s head had been the omega of the religious zealot’s life, and the liberation of Gatewood’s premature departure from the earth. Al-Din had deserved to die, as his motives were in opposition to human decency, and Gatewood was happy he was gone.

Gatewood remembered that time from Al-Din’s death to the point when he found Colette in his arms had seemed to stand still. He had not seen, or recalled, her running to him for safety, and putting her arms around him. He did remember looking into Colette’s eyes as she started to talk. He could not forget the puzzled look on her face when the sniper’s second shot had exploded through her head.

He had no memory of events after that horrifying experience. The French police SWAT team had rushed into the office, and led him outside to safety. The follow-up questioning by the authorities was a blur, and he had no memory of any of it.

He had not known who had fired the shots. At first, he had thought Jack Taylor had once again saved his life, but that had proven to be false. The French authorities had said that they had not fired the killing shots. He knew that only one of other person, Susana Richards, could have pulled the trigger.

He was grateful to her for killing Al-Din and for saving countless lives, including his own. He would thank her in his own special way the next time they were together. But, why kill Colette? He wondered why Susana did not realize that Colette was not going to be a lasting presence in his life, but was only a good friend. She had not deserved to die. Harold knew that he must talk to Susana about her actions.

Gatewood let his mind wander and he soon fell asleep, and dreamed of happier times. Later in the flight, his dreams turned into nightmares. He tossed and turned in his seat, he became hot, sweat rolled down his face, and he talked in his sleep. He jerked violently, and he was dragged back into consciousness and reality.

The older lady seated next to him spoke, Young man, are you alright?

Yes, thank you. I was having a nightmare.

You certainly were. You were talking in your sleep about Akemi. Who I she?

She was my wife?

Was your wife?

Yes. She is dead.

I am sorry. It is obvious that you loved her very much.

Yes. She is the only woman I have ever loved.

Who is Tai?

He was our unborn son.

The elderly lady touched Harold’s arm, then said, It will be alright. God loves you.

Harold thanked her and tried to relax. He wanted to be home, away from terrorists, killers, and political situations.

Little did he know that his stay in Gibson City would be short, as dangerous events in the Orient would soon pull him away from the peace and quiet he not only craved, but needed.

Chapter 1

Sanctuary

April 16

MUCH LIKE QUSIMODO THE BELL RINGER in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, Gatewood needed sanctuary from the vicious treadmill of events in Paris that had sapped his spirit and drained his energy. He found it at his home in Gibson City.

He had spent a week hiding from the outside world, and spending time with his parents. Planting season for the corn and beans was fast approaching and he had accompanied his dad when he made the rounds to check on the farms. It had felt good to walk in the rich, black dirt of Central Illinois and look at the farm ground he loved.

He had gone to the golf course with his parents, and had driven the cart while his dad and mom tried to remove the rust that had accumulated in their swings over the Winter. There were no holes-in-ones this time but the trip did remind him of the first time he had brought Akemi Gang, his future wife, to Gibson City.

His thoughts were pleasant. As he recounted the details of the trip, and his opportunity to introduce the woman he loved to his parents. His laughed as he remembered when, in Tokyo, Akemi had declared herself ready for the trip, and had closed the lid on her suitcase even before Harold had started to pack. With some prodding, she admitted that her suitcase had been packed for two days before Harold had told her they would be leaving, as she had seen the tickets he had left on the bedroom chest of drawers.

Harold loved the fact that she was observant, and was usually on pace, and often ahead of him, in all matters.

Harold’s packing had also been also quick, as he had clothes in his home in Central Illinois, and would only need a skeleton list of items. Yong Wei, her bodyguard, also traveled light, with dark clothes, personal items, and his Chinese stars, which had been used to dispatch Kimiko Hayato during her assault on Akemi. They would travel light, as there were laundry facilities in his house.

The plan was to spend two weeks in Illinois, as Harold wanted Akemi to meet his parents, and needed to discuss some business matters with his parents and his lawyer. They would then return to Tokyo for a week when Harold would discuss his contract offer from the Tokyo Cardinals , then head to Beijing for two weeks to meet her parents and get permission to marry Akemi.

The flight was an easy one, with no safety episodes. Despite its length, it gave everyone a chance to relax. Akemi worked on her thesis, and listened to the inflight entertainment. She was intrigued by watching old

television sitcom reruns.

A few hours into the trip she fell asleep, resting her head on Harold’s shoulder.

While she was napping, Harold had thought about how the trip had reminded him of several of the events of the previous three years that had impacted his life. He thought back to the initial trip to Spain when he had first become ostracized from baseball.

He had remembered meeting Lore Lehoi, falling in love with her, meeting her parents, helping solve the San Toro de Lidia murder spree killings, dealing with the killer Zigor Kerbasi, helping Agence de Renseignement and the local police department prevent the AIO terrorist organization plot Operation Ice Chest, which was designed to blow up the Plaza de Toros Bullring Stadium in Pamplona, a national symbol.

He had painfully recalled how Zigor and Lore had both tried to kill him, and the attack by Lore’s jilted ex-fiance and bullfighter Andoni Mikola. Both times his life had been saved by San Toro de Lidia detectives Jakome and Iker.

Other memories flooded his mind. He had remembered the year after the initial trip to the festival, when he was honored by the King of Spain to receive the Order of Civil Merit for his contributions in preventing the AIO‘s plot, and his return a few months later to be honored by the city of San Toro de Lidia by officially opening the festival of San Toro de Lidia and the Running of The Bulls.

He had then recalled how he had left Spain for Cuba, to scout the World Baseball Games for major league baseball, and how he had met and fallen in love with the beautiful Christina Abene, the secretary for the president of Cuba, Alberto Bertalina.

He shuddered as he remembered how he had become embroiled in the coup attempt to overthrow the Cuban government, had helped save the president’s life, had survived two brutal assassination attempts by AIO assassin Bakar Kemen at Jucaro and Pinar Del Rio on his life, and had endured Christina dying in his arms at the airport the day they were to leave, a victim of the Kemen’s gunfire.

He had also thought about the events of the next chapter of his life, going to Tokyo to continue his baseball comeback with the Cardinals, dealing with the mentally challenged female Yakuza crime princess Kimiko Hayato, surviving AIO hitman Bittor Kemen’s attacks, and almost seeing Akemi being killed a few days before they had left on the trip back to America.

Adding the end of his baseball playing days at the highest level in the world, the pain from the multiple surgeries on his arm and shoulder, and the uncertainty if he would ever regain his dream of returning to the big leagues, the totality of what had taken place in the last three years had taken a toll on him.

But, as he had looked at Akemi napping next to him, he knew it had all been worth the pain, torment, dismay, danger, and depression to get to this point. He was tired, but very happy. He had wanted to see his parents, and then settle into his new life, whatever that would bring, with the beautiful Asian woman next to him.

Gatewood smiled and remembered the rest of the flight to the Central Illinois airport.

It had been evening when the commuter flight from Chicago O’Hare airport landed in Bloomington. Harold saw his parents waving and smiling as he and Akemi walked toward the receiving area beyond the security and entry area. He pointed out his parents to Akemi, and they both smiled and waved in return.

After they had all hugged and said hello, he had smiled and said, This is Akemi. He also introduced Akemi’s bodyguard, Yong Wei. Harold had covered the reason why Yong was with them on the trip, saying that he was assigned the task of protecting Akemi, as her father was a man of importance in China. Everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves, asking and talking about the two flights that had brought the couple to Bloomington.

The conversation had continued at the baggage claim area, on the walk to the car in short term parking in front of the airport, and on the thirty minute ride to Harold’s hometown, Gibson City, Illinois. The ride had been a short, yet an enjoyable one, as Yong Wei took up half of the back seat due to his size, forcing Akemi to sit on Harold’s lap, which was fine for both of them.

They had then stopped at Harold’s parents’ house, eaten, and relaxed until it was time to retire for the evening. Harold and Akemi would stay in his house, less than a mile from his parents’ home on the outskirts of town. Young Wei would stay in the guest room in Harold’s home.

His home had always been his refuge from the outside world, a place of peace where he could surround himself with the things most important to him, his books, his hobbies, his thoughts, and his family. His abode was a beautiful brick ranch with a massive cathedral ceiling living room at the rear of the home, a large foyer, five bedrooms, three baths, a large den that also served as his office, a dining room, a large kitchen area, a workshop, and a four-car garage.

On the walls of the living room were the his hunting and fishing trophies including a wild boar shot in Tennessee, a pheasant shot in Illinois, a swan taken in North Carolina, a Canadian goose killed in Illinois, a kudu, a gemsbok, a blesbuck, a steenbuck, and three springbucks, a white, black, and common-brown colored, all from South Africa, and a large Northern Pike fish caught in Ontario, Canada.

Akemi had been amazed and had looked at the taxidermy mounts for several minutes, asking Harold about each of the animals and what it was like to have had the experience of taking them, and the details of each trip. He had been glad she liked the outdoors, and planned to take her on many nice trips.

A fully-finished basement was stocked with a pool table, ping pong table, a collection of big screen televisions, and a theater-style room for watching movies and tapes his father had compiled of Harold’s hitting and fielding mechanics over his nine year career. The garage was home to his luxury car, and his full-size pickup truck.

He was not a car guy, but his one antique car, bought for investment purposes and as a reminder of the first car he had legally driven, a 1959 four-door hardtop Plymouth Belvidere, with push-button drive on the dashboard and high tailfins at the back of the vehicle. He had always enjoyed a special memory of an important period in his life, the car that sat at home in the spacious garage.

Behind the house was a matching red brick, with white-rough finish, building stocked with a pitching machine, netted hitting cage, various models of batting tees and hitting aides, workout machines, and an office with baseball related training materials and results of his doctoral dissertation on the motivation factors that impacted performance results of major league baseball players .

The home was set on a hill, on five acres, just North of his hometown, and his parent’s home. Large hardwood trees formed perfect additions to the view of the home from the road. The property behind the home, eighty acres of farmland, was also owned by Gatewood, and provided an area where he could hunt the few remaining pheasants in Illinois in November and December, even though the hunting had deteriorated to that of taking a nice walk.

After the guided tour of his home, he had asked Akemi if she was tired, and ready for bed. They retired for the night, made love for the first time in America, and then settled in for a long sleep, awaking at ten the next morning. Refreshed, and having conquered jet lag, the couple was ready for breakfast. He doubted there was anything in the refrigerator or cupboards, but had been surprised to see both were full, as his mom had made sure they would not go hungry, after making a stop at the grocery store.

The next two weeks would include relaxation, having Akemi