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    Night Eyes: The Candidate
    Night Eyes: The Candidate
    Night Eyes: The Candidate
    Ebook450 pages7 hours

    Night Eyes: The Candidate

    By Dallas Releford

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    About this ebook

    Senator Frank Norton, an aspiring candidate for President of the United States retreats to a nursing home run by his daughter Ashley Norton after a failed assassination attempt only to find more danger waiting for him. Suspecting that her father has another reason for visiting her, Ashley asks Jake McBride, a security guard at the nursing home to keep an eye on him.
    Tracy Norton, his youngest daughter, captures one of Norton’s employees and sadistically tortures him hoping to find out where her hated father has gone. His people mistakenly killed her boyfriend. They thought he was one of the assassins. When he refuses to reveal Norton’s location, she electrocutes him. Tracy has many reasons to hate her father.
    At the nursing home, a resident, Mr. Rosenberg, attempts to kill Senator Norton. Ashley and Jake arrive on the scene and are appalled to find out that Norton’s bodyguard Gerald has killed the resident. As Ashley struggles to cope with the situation and deal with the police, Jake finds a private detective Ashley hired to protect her father, dead.
    Ashley is attracted to Jake McBride and confides in him since he is the only one she really trusts. They become romantically involved.
    Continuing her rampage to find her father, Tracy makes friends with one of his secretaries, a lesbian who has just lost her lover. When the girl becomes suspicious of Tracy and fails to tell her where Norton is, Tracy places a plastic bag over her head and suffocates her during a lovemaking session.
    Continuing her brutal assault against Norton’s organization, Tracy tracks down his personal advisor, Olin Crowe and seduces the old man hoping to get vital information. Confiding in him, she tells him how her father raped her when she was young and how she ran away from home. Crowe says that Norton will kill him if he tells her anything. Desperate, she makes love to him. He dies from a heart attack. Before he dies, he whispers a single word into her ear:
    Nazi!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDallas Releford
    Release dateFeb 3, 2012
    ISBN9781465994929
    Night Eyes: The Candidate

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      Book preview

      Night Eyes - Dallas Releford

      Night Eyes

      The Candidate

      By Dallas Releford

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright (C) 2012 Dallas Releford

      * * * * *

      This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, places, events, organizations, areas, or locations are intended to provide a feeling of authenticity and are used in a fictitious manner. All other characters, dialogue and incidents are drawn from the author’s imagination and shouldn’t be accepted as real.

      No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit permission from the author or publisher except in brief quotations used in an article or in a similar way.

      Smashwords Edition, License notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      * * * *

      Introduction

      Night Eyes - The Candidate

      As lightning flashed, his mind painted a picture, albeit a grotesque one, from images his eyes sent to his brain. The images his eyes saw were difficult for his troubled brain to believe. In his heart, he knew what he saw must be the truth. Dropping to his knees, he put both of his hands to the sides of his head clamping his head between them like a vice, and screamed madly. Finally, he dropped his trembling hands down between his legs and held them there as he stared at the ancient tree standing in front of him. On his knees, he crawled forward hoping to get a better look although he was tempted to run in the other direction. He was close to it now and the screams coming from the face protruding from the tree haunted him. Two arms flailed around as if they belonged to a disturbed zombie. Norton couldn’t believe what he was seeing or what he heard. Gerald’s head protruded from the tree trunk while two arms were visible from the shoulder joints outward. The rest of him, if anything else existed, was buried in the tree.

      * * * * *

      NIGHT EYES

      Disclaimer

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS . . .

      I would like to dedicate this book to my wife, Sharon whom has stood by me while I worked on this and many other novels. Sadly, she passed away on August 18, 2010. She will always be on my mind and in my heart.

      My appreciation is extended to my agent, Harriet Smith and my business manager, Martin Smith as well as to many other people who helped me with this project.

      I am also grateful to Dr. Rashid Khan, my family doctor for his support and encouragement.

      * * * *

      AUTHOR’S NOTE . . .

      Writing a novel can be a tiring and harrowing experience, one that requires long hours of dedication and perseverance. Writing the story, developing characters and a plot is the easy part (as any honest author will tell you) and then the hard work arrives. You edit the book a dozen times wanting to do your best and then you send it to other editors who do as best as they can. Then comes the hours of revisions and further editing. No matter how hard you try, most of the time many mistakes slip through despite our dedication to make it the best book ever written. With that fact in mind, I’d like to say that any mistakes such as grammar errors, general facts and too many spaces between words are my fault. I’m the only person to blame. Sometimes, the best you can do isn’t good enough. All you can do is promise yourself that you will keep trying, no matter what. Don’t give up until you have reached the goal you have set for yourself. Despite any errors you might find, I hope you enjoy the story.

      Dallas Releford

      Night Eyes

      The Candidate

      Chapter 1

      Gazing out across a wide valley below, he whis-pered to a hot wind that slapped his face with a hand of searing heat. Despite the heat, a cold chill developed between his shoulders and quickly vanished when his next words escaped from his dry, parched lips.

      I will make the world mine. Blood must flow to cleanse the evil from this earth. Only then will I be able to make it better with a new world order. Nothing must stand in my way or deter me from my mission. Today is the beginning of a new era that will be endorsed by a billion voices united as one. That I vow to the many Gods that rule the universe.

      Senator Frank Norton wiped perspiration from his worried face with a white handkerchief. Cursing a ninety-five degree temperature that caused his body to feel as if he were swimming in an ocean of warm water, the aspiring presidential candidate watched as two black limousines slowly crawled up a steep, dusty mountain road toward his campsite. In an isolated area such as this, he would be safe to conduct his business without interference from those nosey reporters, inquisitive FBI agents—who were assigned to protect him—and anyone that wanted to prevent him from becoming the next President of the United States. There were many who didn’t approve of his agenda. A few of them violently opposed him. Even they could not stop him if things went well today, as he knew it would.

      Warm wind tossed his graying brown hair while his sky blue eyes surveyed the sky for any sign of danger. Dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt and blue tie, he wished his dress could have been more casual, except he rarely dressed otherwise. His appearance was vital to his success. Impressing his guests was more important than his comfort.

      The hills remained as silent and bleak as they had always been. With a slender figure, he hardly looked his age. At forty-nine years old, he was the picture of health, a venerable public official who got enough sleep, watched his diet and walked five miles every day.

      Wondering if everything was in order to receive his honored guests, he turned around and surveyed the area around him. Not trusting anyone except himself to make sure preparations had been completed satisfactorily, he noted each minor detail of his surroundings. The site, near Billings, Montana had been chosen a long time ago with great care and deliberation. There were few ranches here in these low hills and deep rocky valleys. It was the perfect place to meet seven of the most important, powerful men on earth. These elite men were extraordinary people. They were his most affluent supporters. Norton trusted few people.

      Gerald, his faithful bodyguard stood no more than ten feet from him with a stern, attentive look on his face. His hand rested under his gray jacket on the handle of his Beretta Px4 Storm 9mm pistol. Gerald, a man of many talents, was an expert marksman and familiar with most weapons. In fact, Gerald was a weapon.

      Several other workers, mostly assistants, wait-ers and support personnel busied themselves aware that the time was drawing near for them to be on their toes. The senator didn’t like sloppy workers any more than he liked sloppy dressers. Norton’s campaign entourage had been left back in Washington, except for a few key personnel he trusted as much as he trusted Gerald.

      Strategically positioned on low hills around the campsite, dark shadows could be seen behind rocks and outcroppings where Gerald had select-ively placed them. They were nothing more than dark shadows with a deadly bite. Armed with high-powered rifles—conveniently imported from Chile—fitted with the best telescopic equipment money could buy, their job was to prevent anyone from firing down into the campsite. Norton felt a little tinge of pride flow through him when he realized that Gerald had done such a splendid job.

      Where are the security guards?

      Right where you told me to put them, Senator Norton, Gerald reminded him. Pointing down toward the valley, beyond the confines of the small town, he said, Out there all around us, on horses, just as you wished.

      If something happens, do you think they can get to us in time, Gerald?

      I’m sure they can. They won’t be more than a couple of miles away from us. Their orders are to circle the perimeter continuously looking for anything suspicious. Nothing is going to happen, so quit worrying. Any of the locals seeing them will just think they are cowboys or someone else that belong here.

      Norton heard a familiar sound and looked up, shielding his eyes from the midday sun with his hand as a black helicopter fully equipped with a .50 caliber machine gun swooped over them and disappeared into the light blue Montana sky. Four missiles were attached to the bottom of the craft. Norton didn’t know much about such things except he knew they looked intimidating. Feeling a little more secure, he turned to Gerald, held his fisted hand out with his right thumb up and smiled. It wasn’t often he was pleased with the work of his faithful companion as he was now. He also felt more secure knowing that four heavily armored vehicles were hidden nearby in case they were needed. Each of them carried rocket launchers, a fifty-caliber machine gun on top and even a modern version of the bazooka. The old men would appreciate his cunning.

      Turning away from Gerald, he walked toward the edge of the flat area they had chosen for the meeting and looked down at the small town he was responsible for building in the valley below. It wasn’t much now, however, it would become much more advanced than it was now. It was his research center, the pride of his life and the hope for the world he would build. Deep under that town was something only he and a few select other people knew existed.

      The two limos drove closer leaving a telltale cloud of gray dust behind them. Norton felt something move in his stomach and attributed it to nervous jitters. This was the most important moment of his career, and maybe the most important event in his life. Nothing must go wrong now. His preparations assured him that nothing would occur here, except in situations where important people were concerned you never knew what might happen. It was his style to always be prepared for anything.

      Norton heard footsteps behind him. Turning once again with the hot sun blazing down on his shoulders, head and back, he saw Gerald standing a few feet behind him.

      Worried?

      Everything will be fine, Norton assured him. They’ll tell us what we want to know. It’s in their best interest to do so. We’re all in this together.

      And if they don’t?

      We’ll make them talk.

      They’re old. They have been through more than we can imagine, and survived it all.

      Yeah, Norton replied with a grim smile on his face. I suppose so, Gerald. They couldn’t stand much torture, huh? We can always try though. We do have other, more subtle methods of persuasion.

      Suppose they do give us the location of the item we are looking for, what do we do then? Do you want them around?

      After we find out what we need to know, and confirm the information is correct, we’ll get rid of them. After they give us that item and the information we seek, they will be virtually worthless to us.

      Gerald stepped a few paces forward. His voice a whisper, barely audible above the wind, he stood close to the senator watching his face for any sign that he was stressed or not feeling well. His health was important to him and he had taken it on his own shoulders to notice such things. I thought so. Maybe it’s the best way.

      The truth is that this is a high-stake game. Norton remembered the trouble he had gone through in order to find the old men and shuddered when he realized how much power they possessed. Regardless, their power would be his, very soon. We can’t take chances. They are getting closer. The moment of truth is at hand. Let’s go down and meet them.

      A few minutes later, seven old men, wrinkled and feeling the rage of time, crawled out of dusty limos and stood facing Norton and Gerald. Few words other than a casual greeting were uttered. Some used canes and many needed to be assisted by Norton’s bodyguards as they followed him to several tables under a large canopy that protected them from the searing heat of the sun. The awning fluttered as a gentle breeze carried hot wind to their blistered faces.

      Once they all were seated waiters provided drinks, fruit salads and other food that would help cool them from the midday heat. Watermelon seemed to be their favorite. Norton stood and proposed a toast of sparkling champagne. They all turned their attention to him and raised their glasses. They drank in silence as their evil eyes watched every move Norton made. Those eyes had seen the march of death across Europe in the 40’s and barely escaped seeing their capture after the war was over. Now they were about to make more history. If they cooperated with this man that was just as mad and insane as they were, they would become the first to actually conquer the world. Napoleon had failed. Hitler had lost. They were ensured that the world would be theirs. Senator Norton would see to it.

      Norton stood looking at them trying not to feel intimidated by their presence. Hadn’t he been working with these people to bring about his dream for a very long time, and hadn’t they provided him with money and resources for his projects? What was there to fear from them? They were all old men who were about to leave this world with a new hope. They were advocates of an ordered society where peace would be in abundance and everyone would be happy. Still, standing looking at them, being in their presence, sent a shiver down his spine nearly paralyzing him. When he was in their presence—which had only been on two other occasions—Norton felt as if they were gods and he was a lowly peasant.

      Gentlemen, enjoy the food and when we are finished, we will conclude our business. Your final contribution will ensure that our plan will become a huge success. I cannot entirely express my gratitude to you enough. Our race will long remember your dedication to our cause.

      The man sitting nearest to Norton finished his drink and put the glass back on the table in front of him. Looking up at Norton, he stared for a moment before speaking. Why wait? We have waited a long time for you to finish the laboratory and the first batch of experiments. You tell us that everything is going as planned. We have seen some of those experiments. You have impressed us. We are grateful you allowed us to participate in your plans. I have the map that will lead you to what you seek. We all are old. However, we still retain faint hope our kind will survive and flourish as we planned years ago. We have remained hidden deep in the shadows all these years. My heart and my mind tell me most of us will not live to see your glorious dream come true. None-theless, it is still a worthy cause and we will support you with everything we have to offer.

      The trim around the canopy flopped back and forth emitting a popping sound, something like popcorn on a hot stove, as warm wind blew under the covering that provided them with shade from a sun now sinking lower in the sky with each passing moment. Even though it was almost one o’clock before they finished their lunch, talk of politics had been heavy amongst the men.

      Wiping perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand, Norton felt as if he were in an oven. Even though they had set up the tents under large trees with spreading limbs close to the cool stream, the blistering sun was peppering down on the area turning it into an inferno.

      Someone had set up a podium so Norton could address his guests. Taking his place in front of the podium, Norton waited until everyone was seated in wooden folding chairs. Norton was surprised to find the wind was now much cooler as it passed through nearby trees. Nature’s air conditioner, he mumbled shuffling sheets of legal paper that held his scribbled notes. Let’s get down to business, he said loudly hoping the old men could hear him clearly. He had the map within his grasp. Now, all he had to do was get it from whoever had it.

      * * *

      Gerald stood at the back of the tent looking at Senator Norton as he prepared to address the seven old men and his staff members. Slightly nervous about the old men he never trusted, he kept assuring himself that the security team he had put together would protect the senator from harm. Still, a voice deep in his subconscious kept warn-ing him that something was about to go wrong. Trying to convince himself that everything was just fine, he turned around and walked out of the tent into the shade under the trees. He looked down the wide stream and then up at the high hills to the south and west. He could see his security people up there with their weapons trained on the camp. Sighing, he walked down to the creek and tossed a few stones into the water and watched the ripples. He never liked political speeches and the senator wouldn’t miss him for a few minutes while he thought about his own problems.

      Movement on the other side of the creek caught his attention and he pretended he never saw anything. Keeping his head low, he watched with his eyes focused on the far shore as dark figures made their way through bushes in the shade of tall trees. They were there and he was convinced that he wasn’t imagining things. The figures were dressed in long black robes like something terrorists might wear. With his heart beating faster, a sure sign that he was fatigued, Gerald knew he didn’t have time to alert his security people, he had to act now. There wasn’t enough time to do anything except take immediate action. Still crouching by the creek, he watched as twelve men moved through the bushes. He saw that a few of them carried rifles. They were not up to any good and he didn’t know who they were.

      Without hesitation, he turned and walked casually up a path by the stream toward a shallow part of the creek where he would be able to cross without being seen. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw shadows in the woods on the other side of the creek. There wasn’t any time to waste so he walked across the creek being as quiet as he could. Standing on the far shore, he crept carefully through bushes watching for any sign of the intruders. He could hear the senator’s voice as they tested the audio system to make sure it was working correctly. Some of the old men had auditory problems. Senator Norton had insisted on good acoustics.

      With something pressing against his chest, Gerald moved as cautiously as possible. As he passed between a tree trunk and thick bushes, he felt something prod him in his back. Straightening up, shocked, he knew it was the barrel of a rifle. Move forward and keep quite. The voice was quiet and foreign, possibly Arabic. Gerald did as he was told.

      Gerald found himself facing twelve dark figures hidden in the trees. Fearing for his life, he wondered how he could have been so stupid to come out here by himself thinking he could take them all by himself. Before he could react, he felt himself being shoved toward a tall man dressed in a dark robe with his face covered. His cold dark eyes looked defiantly at Gerald. The man behind him forced him to his knees with a swift kick to the back of his legs. Kneeling before the enemy, Gerald knew they would cut his head off before he could do anything to defend himself. A few of them carried curved swords. He figured they were experts in the use of the weapons.

      Speak. Who are you and what are you doing here?

      Gerald knew that the longer they talked, the longer he lived. "I was about to ask you the same thing. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

      His insolence angered the leader. His eyes sparkled as if they had fire in them. Before Gerald could retreat, the man kicked him in his stomach and Gerald fell backward and rolled over several times. Before their surprised faces, he leaped to his feet and pointed his middle finger of his right hand at the leader. Answer my questions, if you have a desire to live, otherwise, you will die a horrible death.

      The man threw his head back and laughed. The others chuckled. The sight of a man standing with his arm extended out toward their leader with the middle finger pointing at him was hilarious. You must be crazy. What are you going to do, stick your finger in my eye or did you have something else in mind?

      Gerald didn’t answer. The look on his face was less than humorous. With his face serious and his mouth tight, he looked at the leader. If he could destroy him, the rest would be easy. The tip of his finger fell away and a small, long tube moved forward until it had moved about an inch from the extended finger. Gerald moved his thumb until it touched the base of his middle finger. A long blue ray of light flashed out from his finger. The ray struck the leader in his throat and he fell to the ground. The rest of the strange men came to life as Gerald swept his arm back and forth as if he were cutting bushes with a machete. Four of the enemy fell to the power of the laser and Gerald felt confident that the others would die too. Choosing two more targets as they rushed him, Gerald aimed the beam and cut their heads off before they could reach him. One of the heads fell to the ground and rolled up to his feet. Refusing to stare at it, knowing he had other enemies, he turned just as two of the black warriors came at him with swords in their hands confident they could take this man with the beam of death light coming out of his finger. As they approached him, the laser beam faded and vanished. Gerald looked at his finger as the two deadly terrorists laughed and charged. The capacitor embedded in his stomach was dead and it would take a long time to recharge so he could use it again. Gerald stepped back until a large tree trunk stopped him. He was trapped. They would cut him to ribbons and even if he could stop them, there were still four more to worry about. His situation looked hopeless.

      Except he wasn’t ready to give up and never would until they were all destroyed. Before the two terrorists—he could not think of a better word to describe them—reached him Gerald jumped away from the tree into an open area where he had a better advantage over them. Considering the weapons he had available to him, he reached under his jacket and pulled out his pistol. The terrorists hadn’t had time to disarm him or hadn’t considered him a danger to them. In fact, he realized that they hadn’t known who he was or what he was doing here. Aiming the pistol, he shot the first warrior in his chest before he could reach him. As life quickly drained out of him, he slumped to the ground dropping his sword on the forest floor. The other terrorist hesitated just long enough for Gerald to pump two bullets into his chest and head. He too dropped to the ground. Gerald took a deep breath and turned to face the others. There were four more of them. Two were behind trees with rifles aimed at him while the other two were armed with swords and knives. They were creeping toward Gerald as if he was a rat and they were cats. He knew that he had to kill them quickly, so he picked up one of the swords and threw it like a spear. The blade struck the first man so hard it penetrated his stomach and severed his spine. He plunged forward just as the men behind the trees stepped out and began shooting at Gerald. Gerald retreated to a nearby tree and took cover. He’d never felt so alone in his entire life as he did now. Nonetheless, he only had three enemies left. He knew that any one of them could easily kill him if he didn’t watch what he was doing.

      Using automatic weapons, they were now laying down such an intensive fire that he could not move away from the tree far enough to return their fire. He was trapped. Their strategy became apparent to him. They would keep him trapped behind the tree until the man with the sword was close enough to take him out, except Gerald didn’t intend staying behind the tree. A slight embankment was behind the tree where he was positioned. The bank led down to the creek. Sliding down the bank on his back, he rolled over until he was away from the tree and out of sight of the men above him. Working his way around to his left, he rushed up the bank using smaller trees for cover. He’d covered several yards before they realized he wasn’t behind the tree anymore. Gerald killed the sword-fighter with his first shot and hit one of the rifle-bearers with his first attempt. The other man was firing at Gerald now and he fired back twice and missed. The enemy was on the move using whatever cover he could find. Before Gerald could move from behind a tree where he had taken cover, the man was coming at him with is weapon blazing away. Gerald knew he didn’t have a chance. It was a P4 against an automatic weapon that spewed out hundreds of rounds per minute. Just when he thought it was all over, he heard several other shots ring out and then there was nothing except silence in the forest.

      Gerald turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. Next time you go hunting, please invite us along. You seem to find more interesting things to do than us.

      Gerald recognized Steven Clay’s voice at once and soon saw his tall, well-muscled frame emerge from the bushes to his left. Four other well-armed men followed him. As Steven approached him, the other men checked the bodies scattered around on the ground. They came on kind of sudden. I didn’t have time to call for help. Thanks, Steven. I guess I owe you my life. Do you have any idea who these men are?

      None at all. I’d guess that they are members of a hit squad sent here to kill Senator Norton. They look like they might be associated to some Middle Eastern group. We better be on our toes. I just hope the senator gets this business taken care of and gets his ass back to Washington where we can protect him a little better. Out here in the wild, he is an easy target and I’m thinking we have a lot of hunters to contend with.

      Gerald shook his head. Well, let’s get these men out of here and clean up this mess. Make it look as if nothing happened. I hope Senator Norton didn’t hear the gunfire. He has enough to worry about, you know. Do what you can, Steven. Instruct everyone to be on their toes. An attack can come from just about anywhere, and this attack proves it. I’ll go back and see if he heard anything. Let’s hope the audio amplifier was loud enough to cover all the noise.

      After leaving the men to clean up the mess he had made, Gerald hurried back toward the camp. After he crossed the creek, he stopped a safe distance from the camp and looked at his left hand. Holding it up in front of his eyes, he marveled at its abilities and the technological advances that had made it possible. Gerald had balked when Norton told him that he wanted to use him as a willing subject in an experiment. As Norton explained about the new genetically engineered materials they had discovered, he became less worried about something going wrong. Norton wanted to give him a new arm and a new hand. The bones were grown using a new metal like stainless steel, except it was more biological than it was metal. The flesh and skin were also grown onto the arm and hand before it replaced his old arm. A super cell in his stomach powered the weapons in the fingers of his left hand. Four of his fingers were actually weapons. There was a laser ray, a vial and needle that contained a quick acting poison; a stun gun and a gun that fired paralyzing needles. His legs were also artificial. They were powerful and strong. Gerald could run almost thirty miles an hour as long as his lungs held out. Using his mental abilities, he caused the ends of his fingers to close over the weapons he had used. Smiling, he turned and walked toward the camp hoping that Senator Norton hadn’t been alerted to the attack.

      * * *

      Weary of being exposed in open country where anything might happen, even though he had taken all the precautions he could think of, Norton looked out through the side of the tent to the creek beyond and wondered why he wasn’t out there in a little boat taking in some leisurely fishing. The flaps on three sides of the tent had been pulled up and tied so air could circulate. He thought he heard gunfire in the distance, or was it thunder he heard? The old men sat around the long table talking while other members of the staff used folding chairs anxiously waiting to hear the senator speak. Sensing that the amplifier system wasn’t working to his satisfaction, Norton noticed for the technician to take care of it. Norton walked to the edge of the tent and stared outside. Taking a few steps forward, he looked up the stream and when he saw or heard nothing, he gazed down the creek. The sky above him was clear and blue. Shaking his head, he walked back into the tent unconcerned about the noise he had heard.

      The technician signaled that the audio system was ready. Norton walked calmly back to the podium. Bracing himself to speak, Norton was suddenly disturbed by a flock of birds that unexpectedly dashed into the hot afternoon sky as if something had disturbed them. Then he heard the cause of their distress. A helicopter passed over the camp and turned south for another pass. Norton wondered what the bastards meant by interrupting his meeting. He would have to remind that pilot not to fly so close to his campsite. Flying debris might injure someone. What was he thinking? Norton glanced toward the back of the tent and saw Gerald walking toward him. He held a two-way radio in his hand and could easily get in contact with the pilot. Norton turned toward Gerald intending to instruct him to inform the pilot he was in big trouble. He never completed the turn as a bullet tore into the podium splattering wood splinters all over him. Some of them penetrated his skin just as another bullet tore through his shoulder dropping him to the ground. In agony he had never experienced before, with blurry vision obstructing his view, he saw Gerald kneeling over him as more shots were fired. He was sure he heard automatic weapons fire and he most certainly heard other horrible sounds around him, sounds he would just as soon not hear. Sounds of death surrounded him.

      Norton turned on his side keeping his wounded shoulder away from the hard ground. What’s going on? From his position on the ground, he could see bullets tearing into the bodies of the old men. Others in his party were down, either wounded or dead. Death and blood were everywhere. Where are our security people?

      Stay still, Gerald ordered. We have to get you out of here. We’re under attack. I’m afraid we have been betrayed by some of our own people.

      Infiltrators, Norton shouted above the noise of gunfire and screaming people. The pain in his shoulder was now almost unbearable. He wanted to scream himself. However, he fought the urge to cry out and let the world know he was suffering. Get that damned map and then get me out of here. I don’t know who to trust now. Norton knew he must never show weakness, even when he was in pain.

      Nobody, Gerald said trying to stop the bleeding. We have to get our chopper down here and get you to a hospital. You are going to bleed to death if we don’t do something soon.

      Do it, man, Norton ordered. We have to find a place to hide until I can figure out what is going on. Norton knew he had a problem. If he didn’t get the map, it might all be over for him and his cause. All his hard work and planning would go down the drain. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

      He watched through blurry eyes as Gerald hurried away to do his bidding. He could see his security people rushing toward the assassins with guns blazing. Chaos reigned and the sound of battle was unmistakable. He was in a virtual battle zone. Several minutes later, Gerald returned with a grim look on his face. Norton knew what he had to say wasn’t good.

      Two of those old men got away, he said with a frown on his mouth. Maybe they were in on it.

      Why would they be? They had as much to gain as we did. And, they had as much to lose.

      Don’t worry. I know who they are and where they’re going.

      Where?

      One of them is from that nursing home in West Virginia your daughter runs. They’ll probably go there.

      You’re a good investigator, Gerald. I don’t know what I would do without you.

      Gerald ignored him. He knew Norton would kill him if he thought he couldn’t trust him. He was always on his toes when he dealt with the senator. What are we going to do?

      Norton’s face seemed to brighten despite his pain and anxiety as an idea came to his mind. That’s where we’re going, he decided. Who would suspect me of going to live in a retirement home?

      Not many people would think of it, Gerald agreed. When do we leave?

      Just as soon as I can get this wound taken care of. Is the chopper coming in for me?

      It’s on its way, Gerald had found a first aid kit and was busy trying to stop the bleeding. Emergency Medical Technicians who were members of Norton’s staff rushed forward to help him as bullets flew all around them. In twenty-four hours, we’ll be in West Virginia. Our security team got two of the snipers and they’re chasing another one. The men on horseback will capture that bastard and then we’ll know who is behind this.

      How many snipers were there?

      At least ten, Gerald said even though he was sure there must have been many more. Some of them had automatic weapons. They killed all of the old men, except the two that escaped.

      Norton groaned as Gerald helped him toward the helicopter that was now landing in a secluded area away from the campsite. He wondered how his daughter, Ashley Norton would respond to seeing him. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time. He couldn’t even remember the last time they had met. Straining against the urge to pass out, he felt a cramp develop in his stomach when he thought about visiting a daughter that hated his guts. As the chopper lifted into the air, he wondered if he would be any safer with her than he was with his bitter enemies. He had created her in his own image, after all.

      * * *

      Demons could not have stopped Jake McBride from coming to work at the nursing home on this Friday night. Decked out in his clean white shirt, dark tie and gray pants with a fresh shine on his sparkling black shoes, he pulled into an empty space in the parking lot and glanced up at the rear view mirror to ensure his weary mind that nobody was in the backseat. Wondering why he even bothered, nothing was back there—never was, in fact—he inspected his silver security guard badge to make sure it was not blemished after he had spent considerable time polishing it. Being perfect was something he hoped to achieve someday. Forced into a complacent state of constant suspicion—something just short of being paranoid, he figured—by years of working in the security industry, he prided himself in being the best there was. Nothing escaped his watchful eyes. Someone told him he had night eyes although he never quite figured out what they meant. Cat eyes meant night vision, a sharp ability to see in the dark, yet he was positive he couldn’t see in the dark any better than anybody else.

      Death rode in the back seat with him. That was what he expected to see back there in the darkness sometimes, a skull with two black orbs that contained nothingness. Since he found out he had diabetes he had worried about dying from the disease. Dr. Rashid Khan, his doctor and friend had assured him that it could be controlled. Using medication, exercise and proper dieting he had accomplished that, except he thought of the disease as a deadly creature that lurked in his body just waiting to take him whenever it wished. Sometimes the loathsome creature appeared in other places such as the back seat of his car or his bedroom closet when he wasn’t looking. He kept assuring himself it was just his imagination. Except, he had great difficulty convincing himself that was true. Shaking his head, he tried to think of something else, of things that had to be done and how he could retain a pleasant attitude just like the doctors suggested. Maybe it would go away, if he could stop thinking about it, he thought. Maybe it would.

      Everything must be perfect. He must not let his fears take him someplace he did not want to go. He would keep that monster at bay. He knew he could. Jake wondered why Ashley Norton, the pretty administrator who

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