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94 pages

English

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The second American Revolution lasted just three years.

For three years the nation experienced an economic tsunami, political stability, judicial equality and social prosperity on levels never before seen in our history.

The secret society of assassins – PIPER'S, INC. – America's vigilant watchdog, had all but eliminated the puppet masters of our corrupt Congress, eviscerated the overseers of a degenerate criminal justice system, and culled most of the corporate Capitalist oligarchy.

So terrifyingly efficient were PIPER'S, INC.'s methods of retribution that the nation entered a cultural renaissance, and the 'American Dream' - once a national joke - became an international success story. But the story has changed.

Under President Sanchez, a new Supreme Court and a political system guided by a rewritten Constitution - corruption, duplicity and the national crime rate plummeted.

This left PIPER'S, INC. running out of criminals, missions and relevance. Now downsizing its once-feared yet celebrated Ghost forces, it's now become a particularly opportune time to turn the tables and destroy the heralded organization for good.

From within.

A force unseen throughout history has waited for this very moment. A slow poison now seeps into the cracks of the organization's once-mighty armor.

An Achilles Heel has been discovered, and after three years, the betrayal of PIPER'S, INC., and the utter destruction of its place in history, now lay in the hands of just one man.

Sujets

Policier & Thriller

Thriller

Fiction

Suspense

Thrillers

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	28 septembre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781456627515
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0400€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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PIPER’S, INC. 2
- JUDAS KISS -

by

Joaquin De Torres

Edited by:
Dr. Joseph De Torres

Copyright 2016 Joaquin De Torres,
All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN: 9781456627515

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

For My Children,
who have grown and developed into people so much
better than I could have ever dreamed of being.

“And now...farewell to kindness, humanity and gratitude. I have substituted myself for Providence in rewarding the good; may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked.”
Alexandre Dumas

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.
George Orwell
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Permission to use actual names of real people who have a relationship with the author, and are characters in the book, was granted beforehand by the actual people via personal correspondence, and/or per their requests.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, controversies, conspiracies, or real persons– living or dead-is entirely coincidental. Content of this work is protected by the 1st Amendment of the Constitution of the United States:

The First Amendment to the United States Constitution prohibits the making of any law respecting an establishment of religion, impeding the free exercise of religion, abridging the freedom of speech, infringing on the freedom of the press. . .
Foreword
Before the blood spilled out, her blood , there were the deafening blasts. They were short, rapid, snapping explosions so loud that conscious thought seemed to freeze instantly.
Her reflexes went dull, her movements ground down to lethargic lurches, as if her body was injected with muscle relaxers. The ringing in her ears was now a hollow, distant drone. She clenched her eyes shut then opened them again for clarity.
The mist was still thick, billowing green and ominous in some places. She didn’t know who was killing or who was being killed. The shapes and shadows moved so fast, frantically bouncing, rolling and dodging in and out of her vision that she could not identify the people on the ground until she tripped over them. Confusion, panic and chaos blurred in the fury of the ear-splitting mayhem. It was all around her when she approached blindly and cautiously into the wall of green fog.
FOCUS, GODDAMN IT! she yelled within herself, THEY NEED HELP! The wailing and moaning were haunting, but more chilling were the screams – twisted mouths expelling their last breaths and cries for help, for loved ones and for religious redemption.
I’M NOT WAITING ANY LONGER! She rushed in despite the warnings, and made it only a few steps into the mist before she was hit – twice – in rapid succession. A sizzling pain tore through both her leg and her chest, penetrating flesh then bone. Her body burned as if impaled by two lightning bolts but she dared not scream. In truth, she couldn’t scream if she wanted to; the impacts slammed the wind out of her and all she could do was pant.
Dr. Katarina Valero, callsign Stroke , collapsed when the bullets struck her left thigh, just missing her pelvic bone and femoral artery, and her upper chest just below the clavicle. Her motor functions ceased and she went limp. The natural organic scent of freshly cut grass entered her nose as her body slammed onto the green. She struggled to roll over to keep the wounds facing upwards so she wouldn’t bleed out into the soil.
She swallowed but her throat was dry. Her heart stammered erratically in her bleeding chest. She turned her head as the blasts of gunfire continued without abatement above her through the mist. Now at ground level, hidden by other fallen bodies, she looked from side to side viewing all the horrific carnage. Another slice of eternity lasting about 20 seconds ensued before the gunfire ended. She remained motionless as she tried desperately to listen for those she thought were still alive.
Besides a few sporadic blasts of distant gunfire there was only eerie silence laced with weakening groans and whimpers of dying men. She saw one man looking at her about two yards away, unmoving and silent. His mouth was frozen open as were his bulging lifeless eyes. She turned away from his stare. Other than her head, her body was done, paralyzed and now she felt the blood spreading throughout her entire upper torso.
If this is how it ends for me, then let it be.
She looked to the blue sky which was now coming into view through the green haze. She wanted to die looking at the Sun, or clouds moving, or a bird flying overhead, but none was available in her final moments. At least she had the innocent natural fragrance of the grass. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply as tears slid down her face.
This would be fine, she determined. This would be a good death – silent, satisfying, brave. Her nose searched for the grass with every breath and she was not disappointed - the bullets, the bodies and the blood did not hinder the wholesome fragrance of this last ethereal connection to the Earth.
She tried to open her eyes one last time and was surprised to see a bold, blue sky. She heard the sound of voices yelling, coming closer. It won’t be long now. I’m ready. She tried to smile and utter her final words as she pictured one last image before fading to black – the face of the man she loved. One last whisper. . .
“Temujin, I’m sorry.”
Prologue
SIX MONTHS PRIOR
White House
Oval Office
President Turo Marin Sanchez’s glassy eyes glimmered as he gazed at the licking tongues of the fire. With the fireplace crackling and a snifter half-full with cognac in his hand, he settled into his personal ritual of introspection. All lights in the room were turned off while the warmth and glowing dance of the flames comforted him. As per this ritual, he undid his two top buttons, loosened his tie to a lazy noose and rolled up his sleeves.
This was a special night, a memorial of sorts. He turned slightly to look down at the floor a few feet away, an area of carpet in front of one of his couches. It was there that he watched his then Attorney General Will Zachary die. Tonight was the three-year anniversary of his death. It was an occasion that he had planned when he committed himself and his administration to PIPER’S, Inc.
He raised his glass to that patch of carpet in tribute. There was no remorse in his silent toast, no detailed imagery of that night, no sentiment of any kind. Sanchez was too far beyond such trifles. Zachary had to be gone, plain and simple. He was a thorn in the side of progress, and like all hard-Right politicians of yesteryear, he had to be eliminated. How ironic, Sanchez mused, that Zachary’s last dying breath would resuscitate the nation with new life.
“To you, my old friend.” He downed his cognac and refilled his glass.
The exploits of PIPER’S, Inc. had been a boon to Sanchez’s popularity and to his presidency. Since the night of his historic State of the Union Address, the metrics for the nation’s success had been nothing less than miraculous. Every facet of the government and the economy touched by PIPER’S, Inc. had transformed. The cornerstone of the changes was a completely rejuvenated Congress which now shunned lobbyists and worked entirely for the sake of the nation and the voters who elected them.
Sanchez, with the help of an army of Constitutional lawyers, lead by PIPER’S, Inc.’s Jasna Diamond and Robert Baggett, effectively ended the Congress members’ $174,000 annual base salary and gave each member a choice: work for the new national minimum wage of $22.00 an hour, or receive an annual salary of $53,000 - the nation’s median salary. The average number of legislative work days which had been 137 since 2001 was doubled to 274 with no paid overtime. Filibusters were eliminated and a simple majority vote was installed. These changes, for the most part, were written in the New American Constitution, the NAC, designed and authored by Dr. John Belleci and his team of PIPER’S, Inc. Constitutional scholars.
Needless to say, there was an uproar among the long-serving and corporately-entrenched representatives, senators, and the lobbyists tethered to them. They thundered their disgust on the Congressional floor, on political talk shows, and in Op Eds calling Sanchez a tyrant and a dictator who used PIPER’S, Inc. as henchmen to force his agenda. But their rants fell on deaf ears nationally. They received no sympathy from the American people who cheered the retributive moves and demanded publically for those who didn’t like them to get out.
A great number of members did just that, retiring and going back to their private businesses or seeking work elsewhere. This paved the way for new special elections to choose dedicated patriots to come forth and serve. However, those who decided to remain in their seats but were still connected to corrupt industries and dark money, began to disappear from public sight one after another. It didn’t take much thought to realize that their fates were tied to PIPER’S, Inc.; in fact, the public expected it. The organization had cleaned house in Congress, and the populace couldn’t have been more exhilarated. The newest polls rated the New Congress’ performance at 92 percent favorable - a stunning number in a stunning new economy. Sanchez raised his glass to Zachary one last time.
“Will, you will never know how much you changed our nation. Good-bye, my old friend.” He sipped his cognac in silent satisfaction, feeling for the first time in his life, that there was nothin