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Showing posts with label TERROR BLOODLINE Series Book 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TERROR BLOODLINE Series Book 2. Show all posts

Preview of CHAPTER TWO

INFLIGHT 
Book #2 - Terror Bloodline Series


Book #2
Terror Bloodline Series



INFLIGHT  Book #2 


Terror Bloodline Series


Featuring Ex-CIA Agent, Jon Bradley



International fast-paced Action #Thriller 

# Suspense #Adventure 

#Crime  #Mystery


Books #2 INFLIGHT continues with the action oriented plot of dangerous and intriguing, multi-dimensional  characters revolving around a family sharing a terrorist bloodline, including their agenda of personal vendetta.  


Read here the Preview of CHAPTER TWO



CHAPTER TWO   
New York City
 Crossley Apartments
 Monday – 3:00 P.M.


Elaine, the roommate of Samantha Clarke, had just revealed to him the name of the suspect, who, she believed had brutally assaulted and raped Samantha, his longstanding girlfriend.  The alleged perpetrator was still at large. Jonathan Bradley was taken aback, although he had heard that name mentioned before, he had not met the man in person.     

For a few moments, he sat there looking thoughtfully at Elaine. Then, he remembered his promise to call Samantha after having got through to her roommate.     

Elaine, however, appeared calmer than he had expected her to be, under the circumstances.  Her pretty face looked grotesque with the bruises suffered to it.     

“Excuse me, I have to call Samantha.  She’d be waiting anxiously.”     

Elaine got to her feet and said, “I will go make some coffee for us.”

Bradley nodded and started to dial Samantha’s number. She answered on the first ring.     He told her that he had finally managed to make contact with her roommate, and was waiting to talk to Elaine about the whole matter.  That he and Elaine would call her later.  Jonathan was glad that Samantha finally sounded appeased after his call.     

“’It’s Michael Cage’,” Elaine had told him.     

He was Samantha’s ex-husband.  They were childhood sweethearts and had married a year after graduation, only to divorce a year later.  Michael was now a Commissioned Officer in the U.S. Army.

Jonathan did not know the details of their separation, neither had he bothered to probe when Samantha first told him about her past.

Elaine returned with two cups of coffee, handed over one to Jon and settled herself on the couch facing him across the coffee-table between them.

“Was it also Michael, who hit out at you?”

“No.  That was Jamie… it was due to a misunderstanding between us,” she said almost casually.

The extent of injury that Jamie had caused her belied her statement.  There had to be more to it.  What’s happening here, Bradley wondered?

“What makes you suspect that Samantha’s ex-husband assaulted and raped her?  She would have sensed that it was him since they were married before?”

“Maybe she is afraid of Mike, or maybe she isn’t so sure, which is why she did not want to mention to you that she suspected him.”

Jon was finding it hard to understand. 

”Did Samantha tell you that she suspected it was her ex-husband who raped her?”

“No, not in so many words, but I knew she was holding it back from me at the time.”     

“I know that they were once married. But, as responsible adults, we did not consider it necessary to exchange personal details of our past lives.”

“He stalked her, and I think they even met.”

“When did this happen?  Samantha never once hinted at it or mentioned about this. And, if she had suspected him, she’d have certainly named him.”

“I believe he wanted to get back to her, but was posted for over a year in Germany.  He would call and come to visit her when he was on leave.  But she was refusing to go back to him.  This happened several times before the two of you got friendly. After that, he stopped coming entirely and only recently I caught him stalking her on her way back to the apartment.”

“Did she know? Did you tell her?”

“I certainly did.  Perhaps, she knew that he was in town and they may have even spoken on the phone.”     

“Why did not she or you tell me when all this was happening?   We could have prevented the rape from taking place?”

“We thought Mike would lose interest and go away now that Samantha was friendly with another man.  Being in the army, I am sure he must have found out that you are a government official.”

“Anyway, it is a serious matter now, and you will have to testify as a witness.  You will also have to make a police complaint against Jamie.”

Elaine immediately took affright at Bradley’s words.

“Please, Jonathan, you don’t have to involve me or Jamie with the police.  We will settle the differences between ourselves. Just this once, please Jonathan. I am sure Samantha will also agree with me.”

“Understand, Elaine, that I cannot promise anything.  The least I can do, before going to the police, is to conduct my own investigation of Michael Cage.  I will also need to speak to James. Let me have his number and address.”

She was reluctant to do so.  “Please… Jonathan, let it go…”

“Listen to me, Elaine.  It’ll be easy for him after the first time. James must understand the far-reaching consequences of such grievous assaults.  It’s better that he learns to control himself now, than when he is behind bars.”

Elaine gave him the Jamie’s number and address.  “I’ll have to tell him that you wish to speak to him.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Jonathan glanced at his watch, “Elaine, I think I will leave now. Will you be safe?”

“Yes… Yes, Jonathan.” She responded rather quickly, trying to convince him, “I will take care of myself.”

“Call up Samantha. She’s waiting by the phone.  She would want to know that you are safe and sound,” Bradley told her as he walked to the door.     

“I will, Jonathan.  You take care too.” Elaine softly closed the door after him.

***

What was going on?  Why hadn’t Samantha told him that she suspected her ex-husband of sexually assaulting her?  Certainly Samantha would have known, despite the mask, that it was Michael since she had lived with him before? Had he done it for revenge? 

Could he believe Elaine? As a woman herself, Elaine understood the trauma a woman goes through after a horrible rape. Why was she telling him now, several weeks after the incident? Moreover, what was the cause or reason for the NBA player assaulting her so badly?

These thoughts were running through his mind, as he decided to visit the Crossley Apartments real-estate office located on the first floor of the building, since he already happened to be in the area.

He walked into the office and asked one of the female-clerks there to see the Manager or Supervisor.      

“I am Jonathan Bradley,” he said, producing and showing her his FBI badge.

To be continued...







Preview of CHAPTER ONE

INFLIGHT 
Book #2 - Terror Bloodline Series

Book #2
Terror Bloodline Series



INFLIGHT  Book #2 


Terror Bloodline Series


Featuring Ex-CIA Agent, Jon Bradley



International fast-paced Action #Thriller 

# Suspense #Adventure 

#Crime  #Mystery


Books #2 INFLIGHT continues with the action oriented plot of dangerous and intriguing, multi-dimensional  characters revolving around a family sharing a terrorist bloodline, including their agenda of personal vendetta.  


Read here the Preview of CHAPTER ONE


CHAPTER ONE   
2006   
Yonkers, New York City. 
FBI Informant, Youssef Hariri 
Monday - Morning       


     Youssef Hariri was highly distressed, demoralized, and at the same time extremely outrageous with the FBI, holding them responsible for the turnout of the disastrous events which led to the killing of his father by the Mossad when they raided the terror-cell.     

     He was now full of remorse.  He couldn’t believe that he, born of a race of the true believers of Allah, had collaborated with both the FBI and the Israeli intelligence - the sworn enemies of Islam.     

     The blood of his father’s death was equally upon his head.  He had tried to make amends with his father, if only to spy on his tenants.      

     Youssef was now convinced that his father had paid a heavy price to redeem his son.  He’d immediately give up his present decadent and wicked lifestyle, and seek the tender mercies of Allah to walk in His righteous path.

     Youssef had made up his mind.  Only his ultimate martyrdom would truly evoke the Merciful Allah to absolve him of his past sinful life.  He would become a Jihadist, and get his revenge on the Great Satan and its ally.     

     The Lebanese-American continued to reside in his city apartment since his father’s house was still cordoned as the crime scene area.  Despite their alienation, his father had nominated Youssef as the heir to his house and the other property in Yonkers.     

     Youssef, however, planned to sell it all after the legalities of his entitlement had been completed.     

     Abdullah, the errand man in and around Yonkers, among the Arab communities, had interacted with Youssef as a low-level informant.  He had no permanent residence. After his father’s death, Youssef asked Abdullah, the short, past fifty years something, near-bald, Lebanese man, to come over and stay in his Lower Manhattan apartment. Abdullah also served as a cook, which naturally took care of their meals.     

     They had been keeping to themselves, Youssef refusing to take calls from his usual wayward friends.  In fact, he had removed the SIM card from his cellphone and switched to a new phone.  He had instructed Abdullah to turn back any visitors at the door by telling them that he was away.     

     On this Monday morning, the two of them had been sitting in the small lounge, looking out of the glass windows of the third floor apartment, overlooking the busy traffic in the street down below.     

     “Abdullah,” Youssef declared firmly, “I have made up my mind. I am going back to Lebanon.  You can accompany me, if you wish to.  You have a family there, don’t you?”     

     “Yes.  But haven’t been in touch with my family for years.”     
     They were speaking alternately in English and Arabic.  This conversation was a part of Hariri’s plan to mislead the clandestine eavesdropping and wiretapping equipment installed in his apartment. He had discovered that he was under surveillance even as he began his double-life as an intelligence informant.  

     All important oral conversations were carried out outdoors – in the park, street, cafeterias and the metro.  If at all it had to be in the apartment, then the exchange was in written Arabic.     
     Neither had he, his FBI control, William Bank, nor the Mossad Sayan, Shimon, contacted each other after the Mossad’s recent raid on the Yonkers terror cell.  He knew they were lying low because his father was a collateral victim. The spies, however, would be watching his every move outside the apartment.     

     Sooner or later, they’d make contact offering excuses and sympathies and even monetary compensation.  Having lived the lives they do, Youssef was wise to their ways.  Now, it was time for payback. 

     Taking a pad of writing paper, Hariri wrote on it in Arabic for a few minutes. There was a possibility that Abdullah was not a known face to some of the watchers.  He had to risk him to make contact outside.      

     Abdullah was fluent in Arabic, being a native Lebanese.  In his youth, he’d learned to memorize verses from the Koran.  He was the Mullah’s favorite student.     

     He now took pride in mentally learning by rot the whole written message within a few minutes and nodded bemusedly at Youssef.     

     Next, Abdullah went to the kitchen, burnt the paper note completely over a steel tray and dumped the ash into the wash-basin, opening the tap to let the water drain away the paper trail.  He would be repeating this task a few more times.     

     Later,  as the older Lebanese made ready to leave the apartment, Youssef said to him, “Abdullah, we need to restock our grocery.  On your way to the Mosque, leave a list of the items we need at our regular grocer and ask for door-delivery.“     
     “Tayyeb, alright, ya Youssef.   I should be back by afternoon. Ma’ah Salaama.”     

     “Inshallah. Fi Amanillah.”     

     Half an hour before Abdullah left, Youssef had called the NYPD Mortuary office of the Chief Medical Examiner and was informed that the autopsy was yet to be conducted.  Hopefully, as a next of kin, he could claim his father’s body on Wednesday or Thursday, if there was no objection from the NYPD investigation team.

     Abdullah would convey that message to the Imam at the Anjuman Mosque, in addition to the secret contents of Youssef’s message.       

     Hariri would make his move only after his beloved father’s remains were interred.


  

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INFLIGHT

INFLIGHT 
Book #2 - Terror Bloodline Series


Book #2
Terror Bloodline Series





INFLIGHT  Book #2 


Terror Bloodline Series


Featuring Ex-CIA Agent, Jon Bradley



By Paul Rodricks



International fast-paced Action #Thriller 

# Suspense #Adventure 

#Crime  #Mystery





Books #2 INFLIGHT continues with the action oriented plot of dangerous and intriguing, multi-dimensional  characters revolving around a family sharing a terrorist bloodline, including their agenda of personal vendetta.  




Request for a honest REVIEW



Paul Rodricks,  Author


















TERROR BLOODLINE Series Book 2


TERROR BLOODLINE Series

INFLIGHT  BOOK #2


#Fiction   #Suspense     #Adventure    #Crime

NEW RELEASE #Thriller  

Terror Bloodline Series
Featuring Ex-CIA Agent - Jon Bradley





Read here the Prologue of the #Thriller, INFLIGHT:



PROLOGUE


“Suqr” – The Hunting Falcon

IRAN

Tehran City – Milad Tower



Back in the city of Tehran, travelling on a false Spanish passport, Mohammed  al-Abbasi found his mind wandering to the events he had planned in the New York City, which would receive international attention, thereby etching another notch on his destructive agenda of terror exploits.  In a way, this was becoming a cat and mouse game for him.

    Now sitting in the lounge of his hotel room on the seventh floor of the Milad Tower, one of the tallest structures in the world, he was watching the panoramic view of the city-lights glimmer and the traffic lights streaming below against the mountainous backdrop. 

     Mohammed stretched his limbs as he felt relaxed sipping from a glass of ‎Hennessy Cognac, smuggled into his room by one of the hotel staff having black market sources.

    A few moments later, he found himself drifting into a rare, reminiscent mood; thinking back what was it that had made his life change so much from a normal fun-loving Lebanese youth to eventually becoming a hated man and a fugitive, the notoriety he had gained today.

    His father, Amin Darwich, was one of the powerful founding figures of the Maronite Christians political party - Ḥizb al-Katā’ib al-Lubnānīya –The Lebanese Phalanges Party – founded since 1936.

    When Imad Darwish, now popularly known as Mohammed al-Abbasi, returned to Lebanon in 1976 from America, the country was already embroiled in a fierce civil war.  The conflict would last for 14 long years, that is, up to 1990. 

    Meantime, many of his father’s businesses and assets would be destroyed along with most of the infrastructure, trade and industries in Lebanon, while the party’s political influence went into a decline.

    Imad was a party member and he joined the Phalangists Lebanese Forces, fighting in the civil war against the Palestinians and Muslim factions. 

    At one time, his father held a government license to supply arms and weapons to the Phalangist army.  That firm had now become defunct.
                         
    While still in the army, trying to revive this business, Imad found his task becoming less complicated and more lucrative by brokering deals with various infighting factions, buying and selling guns and weapons to all the sides involved in whatever the conflict or causes. Soon, having his hands full, he developed vested partnerships to harness the resources, among the Syrians, Iranians, and even the Russians and Ukrainians, for a full-time contraband gun running from light to heavy weaponry.

  Controls and embargoes did little to regulate the international arms trade, and there was a widespread clandestine flow of the arms and weapons in the black-market, including government surplus stocks, and the factories manufacturing them in secret locations.

      By the time the civil war ended, Imad Darwish, had become a leading business figure in Lebanon, and an important member of the Christian Phalangist party and the community.  All this time, he had been a pro-American and almost a pro-everyone else.

    In the year 1992, during the presence of the Syrian peacekeeping troops in Lebanon his father, Amin Darwish, and mother were travelling with a top Syrian politician visiting Beirut, when they were ambushed and killed by a group of rival Phalangists militia, who opposed the Syrian intervention in Lebanon, allying themselves with Israel.

    That was the blackest year in the life of the young Imad.  From then on, he would use all his efforts and resources to build up a reputation only a few of his fellow conspirators could match. 

    He forever shifted his allegiance to the Hezbollah and their allies, doing their bidding and reaping a good harvest in return, against the enemies - the Americans and Israelis. Other than revenge for his parents’ killing and love for wealth and power, Imad Darwish had no ideological interests.

    By the year 2002 he had come under the scanner of the intelligence agencies, some of which never felt shy of using his services, both as an ally and a foe. Imad never knowing who would turn against him and when.

    He could now-a-days rarely visit his wife and his two college-going teenage girls, but it satisfied him that they were safe and well-provided for.  It also pleased him that his first-born bastard son from his on-and-off-relationship with the Palestinian woman; his dark beauty, letting him sow his seed in her ever willing furrow, had taken after him and was now holding the reins of his various business fronts.

    A brief interlude did occur in his life way back in 1998 when his love-life reignited.  She had suddenly shown up in his world again, more ravishing than before.  Mature and wise to the ways of the world. They were meeting after a long lapse of twenty-two years. Like her parents, she was in the British Civil Service, often rotating in the middle-east, now being posted in Beirut. 

    Again, as everything else now in his life, the secret encounters were like stolen moments to cherish and incentives to look forward, in a life plagued by unpredictable mélange of all sorts.

    He hated to have his suspicions confirmed through his usual underground sources that the enigmatic Claire O’Neal was a British MI6 spy.    

    Imad Darwish was not the person to give up easily.  Three years later, he would ensnare her into a trap of her own making.

    It was a long while, and the Cognac bottle was three-quarters gone, before Mohammed al-Abbasi ordered for room-service.  He took a long cold-water shower to awaken and stimulate his body and senses. Then the rest followed.

    Early next morning he was at the Tehran airport to catch the first 1800 miles one-stop flight, Tehran-Iran to Khartoum -Sudan, and soon to be en route to Uganda, Kenya and Somalia.

 ***


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