The autumnal tranquility of Smithtown, Ohio is shattered when Dr. David Bradley arrives home to find that his wife has been raped and murdered by an intruder who has left no clues behind except the words “May Day” painted in lipstick on his victim’s body. When the police later learn that another Smithtown resident has been raped and strangled in New York City, it becomes frighteningly clear that a cunning serial killer targeting Smithtown women is on the prowl. Newspaper reporter Sam Middleton is determined to help Detective Roger Hagstrom track down the assailant of his ex-wife’s best friend and everyone is asking the same question as the mystery unfolds: Who will the killer’s next victim be?

INTRODUCTION
Abraham was a man who believed God rewarded faith so in a time past he and God had a heart-to-heart talk that resulted in a major land acquisition. Because of Abraham's great faith, God agreed to grant him the son he so desired in order to carry on his lineage. The baby would be born to Abraham's wife, Sarah. God then fattened the agreement by adding a parcel of real estate that stretched from Egypt to the Euphrates River on the east and from Syria to the Persian Gulf on the south. For his part, Abraham agreed to maintain the faith and pass it down to his heirs. Not long after this heavenly decree, Abraham tripped over his faith and slept with Hagar, an Egyptian girl who served Sarah. Because of her indiscretion, Hagar was chastised by Sarah and left the house to consider her options. While she sat by a spring pondering her condition, the angel of the Lord came to her with a promise. "I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude. Behold, thou art with child and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael,and he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him." With this guarantee in keeping, Hagar returned to the household of Abraham and birthed her baby. Thirteen years later, Abraham renewed his covenant with God and bore a son with Sarah, naming him Isaac, making Abraham the unenviable father of both Arab and Jew. These are God's final words on the matter: "As for Ishmael, I have blessed him, and will make him fruitful, and will multiply him exceedingly. But my covenant will I establish with Isaac." On that ill-fated day in September 2001, this age-old sibling conflict spilled across the wide Atlantic, brutally sending three thousand souls into eternity and radically changing the lives of Americans everywhere. The United States immediately countered by sending the most sophisticated army ever assembled into the Middle East to democratize the region on the naive belief that democracy was the solution to a four-thousand-year-old inheritance squabble.
 

PROLOGUE

 
The Capital, January 20th Standing at the podium in the hallowed chambers of the House of Representatives, the President of the United States was about to finish his State of the Union Address, summing up his administration's accomplishments in the last year.
"And finally, I think it befitting to thank the citizens of this great nation for their courage, determination, and patience in the fight against terror. You have endured wars, sorrow, and disasters of every kind while combating the enemies of peace and democratic rule. I am here this evening to proclaim that your endurance was not in vain. The enemies of liberty are on the run. Over the last year, the drumbeat of hate has been silenced. The Al Qaeda terrorist network has been reduced to a handful of rag-tag cave dwellers. Its army of Mujahadeen fighters have been routed in a joint effort on the part of the US military and regional armies who have stayed the course. Our friends in Israel, both the Israelis and the Palestinians, have made courageous concessions in the search for peace. I am happy to report tonight that those concessions are working to stabilize that country. Both sides are at the negotiating table, working out diplomatic relationships that will lead to a lasting peace...Democracy is working. Militant Palestine has agreed to put down their rifles and join in the talks. They have also conceded Israel's right to exist. Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan are all effective, functioning, free societies with democratic administrations, and have good working relations with the United States and her neighbors. Iran has agreed to comply with the United Nations mandate to allow inspections for the purpose of monitoring their nuclear ambitions. This cooperation by the Tehran government will lead to peaceful coexistence in the Middle East, and in so doing permit Iran to process nuclear energy for nonviolent purposes. For the first time in recent history, I can state with absolute confidence that the world is a safer place and its residents are at peace with one another. The efforts put forth by this great nation, the United States of America, to ensure global democracy will not go unnoticed by people around the world. As long as democracy remains the government of choice, peace will prevail. It is the supreme responsibility of all freedom-loving people throughout this great society to guarantee our neighbors that same inalienable right. I leave you with these compelling words from Abraham Lincoln: 'Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves; and, under a just God, cannot long retain it. Thank you, and may God bless America."

 

I grabbed a seat at the bar in Billy’s Bar and Grill, my favorite restaurant,
and ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey. It was unusually empty
for a Friday night, and all of the giant plasma televisions had the
Houston Lightning vs. the Phoenix Rattlers basketball game on. The
Lightning disposed of my team, the St. Louis Wolves, in seven
games, and I couldn’t bear to watch them play because the wounds
of defeat were still fresh. I would always go to Billy’s when I arrived
back in town from college, or when I finished playing pro basketball
by summer. I haven’t taken a drink in five years, but today’s drama
gave me a good reason to drink.
“Would you like some hot wings or some other appetizer with
your drinks?” the waitress asked.
“No, thanks,” I said, still in a state of shock from what took place
hours ago. I was in a daze, and I felt no signs of snapping out of it in
the immediate future.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not. I just want my drinks, please.”
“What happened, honey?” the waitress inquired. “Do you want
to talk about it?”
She was a stunningly attractive young woman who looked at me
with eyes like a nurturing and concerned mother. She also looked
familiar, but I couldn’t place her face at first. A lack of appetite coupled
with no sleep equaled a clouded brain.

Everything was ready.
She laid the syringe on the edge of the washbasin and stowed the instruments
neatly away in her handbag. The sounds of voices and laughter filtered dimly down
from the floor above. The party was in full swing. She had made the call from the
basement storeroom five minutes ago. Even if Roland had heard the sound of the phone
being replaced in its cradle, there was nothing he could do about it. The new exhibition
had attracted a lot of attention and there were at least fifty people in the gallery. In any
case, he had no reason to be suspicious. She brushed her hair carefully back from her
face and applied fresh lipstick. Death was a friend: one should go to meet him looking
one's best. There was a whole gram of heroin in the syringe, ten times the normal dose.
She had left nothing to chance.
She sat down on the closed toilet seat and rolled up her sleeve. Since she had
made her decision two days earlier she had been conscious of a vast inner lightness, as if
a weight had been lifted from her heart. Subconsciously she had known for a long time
that this was how it would end. Heroin was another country: it had no frontiers. No
one escaped. There was only one way to get free of it. She had tried five times to give
it up and she was weary of struggling. Even if Philip hadn't been coming back next
week, she might have done it now anyway.
Someone tried the door handle. "Just a minute," she called, and picked up the
syringe. Time was running out. Soon Roland would notice her absence and start
fretting that there was no one to replenish the glasses and hand round the petits fours.
She started looking for a vein in her left arm. Faintly in the distance came the sound of
police sirens, growing closer. She was not afraid. Now at this moment, all she could
think of was the shoot. Still she had a moment's fleeting regret for Philip. It was a
shabby way to treat him after all he had done for her. But he had always understood
her, better even than their parents, and maybe, after reading the note she had left in the
flat, he would understand this too.
She found the vein on the third try. Now that the shoot was just seconds away,
everything else was wiped out of her mind. Blood began to seep up into the syringe.
The sirens stopped. There was a sudden silence on the floor above. Now. She pressed
the plunger. Her heart felt as if it was being torn apart and her skull wrenched off her
head. The flash, the glorious, the ultimate flash. And then the darkness hit her like a
dead weight.
When the police arrived three minutes later and broke the door down, she had
slipped off the seat on to the floor. She was lying on her back with her eyes open. The
needle was still stuck in the vein. Her heart had ceased to beat.

 

This is a story about a terrorist cell smuggling two dirty bombs into the United States from Canada. They intend on killing as many Americans as possible. The terrorists are being chased by Navy ex-SEAL John Graves and Senior Special Agent Jill Mayfield across the country following a path of death.                                                                               

I hate to say it, but this could be a real situation someday soon!!
                              

Excerpt:                                                                                                                Bullets flew around the truck. Petty Officer Holgren took his shot and killed the driver instantly. The machine-gunner again fired off a volley of shots. Most went wide, since the Jeep was now slowing down and losing control. Despite this, it didn’t flip like the first one. It slowly made its way to the side of the road, and came to a stop with a very dead driver.
The machine-gunner looked back expecting to see the truck with reinforcements. But all he saw were the remains of the burning truck.

                                                 As the Jeep rolled to a stop, the machine-gunner started to take aim. But before he could pull the trigger, a round caught him in the throat, severing his head.
                                                    Holgren kept a watch out the back as the others tended to Loop. In the cab of the truck, Graves watched the battle out of the rearview mirror. When he saw the last Jeep came to a stop at the side of the road, he looked to his left, and saw Chief Dewalter holding his knee with blood gushing from a wound.
                                                    “Dewalter, you're shot!” cried Graves. “Yes, sir, that appears to be the case. I knew I couldn’t fool you, sir,” moaned Dewalter.
                                                    Graves pulled off his shirt, and wrapped it around the wound. He reached down to the floor, found a piece of metal, inserting it into the shirt, and turned it to keep pressure on the wound.
                                                    It was now after 5:00 a.m. The sky was starting to show signs of the coming dawn. They were still a half-hour from the rendezvous point at Sierra Tango. Graves kept his eyes to the sky out of the passenger window. In the back, Holgren did the same, knowing that helicopters would soon arrive. They all knew the choppers would go to the bunker first, and then start a sweep of the area, making bigger grids with each circle of their target area.
                                                    

In a stroke of luck, Graves and his crew proceeded undetected. They arrived at the beach in less than 45 minutes. They scrambled off the truck. The sun was starting to rise over the distant horizon. “Get the rafts inflated ASAP!” yelled Graves. Three men went to the beach and found the homing beacons. They pulled the rafts out of the sand, and pulled the secondary CO-2 charges. The rafts quickly filled with air.    

                                          

“Leave the wetsuits! Put the Chief and Loop in Raft One, Rodriguez and Holgren go with them!” He turned to Phillips, the youngest of the SEALs. “Load the dead on Two, and take it with the Ensign. NOW! The rest of you, go in Raft Three with me and the other wounded. Let’s get the hell outta here before we have company!” 

Nurse Becky Gets Shot
Gary Baker
A psychological and philosophical thriller, a
black comedy crime caper.

'... one of the best thrillers I've read in a long, long
time.' – ' ... provides enough mysteries, clues, red herrings and
twists and turns to last a life time.' ... Editor, Writer's
Workshop.

This free e-book released in 2007
is not intended for re-sale.

No part may be reproduced in any form whatsoever
without the author's consent except as a free e-book in its
present form. All characters, situations and persons depicted
are fictitious.

Copyright (c) Gary Baker 2005
All Rights Reserved.