Tensing beneath the loose tan coveralls, Jeff Davies knew his time was up. Slowly, oh so very slowly, he straightened to his full five feet eleven inches, arms cautiously rising. He knew the drill. He kept his hands open so the man behind him with the gun would see that he was unarmed.
Jeff Davies hated guns. Never touched the damned things. No good had ever come from them. His younger brother had died at age twelve because an angry, unpopular kid decided he’d had enough and carried his policeman father’s service revolver to school one morning. Young Pete Davies was murdered because some thirteen-year-old would-be-assassin was too nervous to shoot straight.
“Interlock your fingers behind your head.”
Jeff did as he was told. Not that he needed much instruction. This was not his first time on the wrong end of the law. Doubtless, it would not be his last. He knew the drill all too well.
“Take two steps back.”
Of course, Jeff complied with the lawman’s instructions. He moved slowly, careful not to give the agent any just cause to pull the trigger. In his mind a voice screamed, No sudden moves. No sudden moves.
“Get on your knees and cross your legs at the ankle.”
“S…sure,” Jeff stuttered.
He couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He wasn’t sure which was worse: having a Federal Agent behind him with a gun pointed at his head or staring at the timer slowly counting down to zero on the bomb in front of him.
Regardless, Jeff Davies was having a bad day, but he felt confident that the cause was worth it. He believed in the righteousness of his actions. He believed in the cause. By taking his time now, keeping the unsuspecting agent occupied, the others could get away.
It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for his friends.
Someone grabbed his arms, jerked them roughly behind his back and Jeff felt the cool familiar metal of handcuffs against his skin and heard the audible clicks of the locks as if they moved in slow motion.
“Make sure you read him his rights,” the agent said. Jeff had yet to catch a glimpse of the man who caught him. “Then evacuate this area,” he heard him say as he was forced to his feet.
“Yes sir, Agent Palmer. You heard the man, people,” another agent yelled to his cohorts as they pulled Jeff Davies around and rushed him away from the bomb he had planted.
He knew there was no time for the bomb squad to arrive. There was nothing the FBI could do. The Treasury Building was about to become one very large pile of rubble.
The last thing Davies saw before being whisked away was the timer reach two minutes.
# # #
“What do you think, Harold?”
FBI Special Agent Harold Palmer stood next to his friend, Special Agent in Charge of the Joint Terrorism Task Force Carter
Reidling. Harold and Carter had been friends for a long time, partners even longer.
Harold was still getting used to Carter being in charge.
“I think we should be anywhere but here,” Harold deadpanned.
“I think you should get out of here, Carter.”
“We’ve got a minute.”
Harold pointed to the timer with red numbers counting down. “Fifty-two seconds, actually,” Harold said as he knelt down in front of the bomb. “I don’t think either of us can run that fast any more.”
“Can you diffuse it?”
“Diffuse it?” Harold snorted. “Hell, I shouldn’t even touch it. There’s enough C-4 here to level the building, the parking lot, and about a mile stretch of the highway in either direction.”
“Okay. That’s bad,” Carter said quietly.
As usual, his odd knack for witty dialogue at the wrong moment was in typical form. Harold assumed his friend had seen one too many action movies and was scarred for life by them. Maybe he could arrest Jerry Bruckheimer for corrupting his friend’s common sense.
“Bad is an understatement,” Harold said as he prodded the explosive trigger, pulling it free of the block of the explosive silly putty. “C-4’s out.”
“Gimme a second, Carter.” Harold said. He used a small pair of needle nose pliers to get inside the small device, careful not to disturb the twin vials of liquid inside. “If these two liquids mix, KA-BOOM.”
Carter flinched slightly, tried to cover it and hoped his friend had not seen the slip in his action hero composure.
“Timer’s reset. We’re back to three minutes,” Harold announced.
“Remind me to give you a raise,” Carter said after letting out the breath he’d been holding. This was not their first run in with explosives so Carter was taking it seriously. Well, as seriously as Carter took anything.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, boss,” Harold said, standing up slowly. He lifted the explosive device gently, careful not to rattle any of the overly sensitive parts bombs usually had. “There’s still enough explosive in this to do some damage. Maybe take out a floor or twelve.”
“What do you need?”
“Bomb squad would be nice.”
“But you’ll settle for…?”
“Clear me a route out of the building for starters. I think I remember seeing something useful out there,” Harold said as he walked briskly down the corridor. “And we--”
The two liquids started mixing.
Harold, running now, bolted through the open double doors at the building’s rear. Two agents were holding them open for him.
He shouted to them as he passed. “Take cover!”
Now what? Come on, Palmer. Think. Think.
Then he saw it. Right where he remembered.
The garbage truck was sitting at the end of the cul-de-sac at the building’s rear. The driver had parked it and was standing with the gaping onlookers who were being kept out of the way by Washington D.C.’s finest.
Harold tossed the bomb in the back and pushed the button to compact the garbage.
“Get these people…”
“Back!” was the word Harold was going to say, but was replaced by the loud explosion inside the two-ton garbage truck. The blast lifted the truck ever so slightly, sending it toppling over onto its side, which only added to the noise as the truck’s side impacted the concrete.
Harold lay on the ground nearby, face down, arms over his head.
Somewhere close by, someone screamed his name. Probably Carter, but who could tell with all those damned bells and whistles going off all around him. Everything was kind of fuzzy, like he was inside a barrel stuffed with cotton gauze. For a second he couldn’t remember where he was.
Then Carter was there, shaking him. Asking him something, but it was so hard to understand. “Did it work?” Harold asked. At least that’s what he thought he said. “Truck work?”
“Yes,” his friend nodded. Harold wasn’t positive, but he could’ve sworn Carter called him a luck son of a fish. Later he’d realize he just heard it wrong.
An hour later after being thoroughly worked over by EMS, Harold and Carter stood beside the ambulance parked next to the overturned garbage truck. “I can’t believe that worked,” Carter said as the paramedic finished his work up on Agent Palmer, but he doubted Harold was paying much attention to anything except staring at the overturned wreck.
“Is he going to be okay?” Carter asked the medic.
The paramedic, a woman named Sanchez, shrugged. “He suffered a mild concussion which is not surprising considering the size of and his proximity to the explosion.” Carter’s face must have betrayed his concern.
“Don’t worry, sir. It’s not as serious as it sounds. The ringing in his ears will fade in a few days. After that, he should have a physician check him over to make sure there’s no permanent damage to his hearing, but he should make a full recovery.”
“Thank you,” Carter said as he pulled a business card from his badge wallet and handed it over to the medic. “Make sure a copy of the report is forwarded to my office, please.”
“Not a problem, Agent… Reidling,” Sanchez said, reading the name off the card. “Does he need a ride home?”
“That’s okay,” Carter waved her off. “I’ll make sure he gets there. Thanks again.”
Walking over to the truck, Carter stepped up next to his friend. “I can’t believe that worked,” he said again.
This time Harold heard him. “Yeah. I was surprised too,” he commented.
Carter gently slapped his friend on the arm. “You know what I think?”
“I shudder to guess.”
“I think someone has seen one too many action movies.”
“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny.”
“I’m also thinking,” Carter said as they turned and left the garbage truck behind, “maybe you need a nice little vacation.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
“That,” Carter deadpanned, “would be a pleasant surprise.”
Don’t look back!
BEN Books is pleased to announce that the re-release version of author Bobby Nash’s debut novel, EVIL WAYS is now available for purchase in paperback and ebook formats.
FBI Agent Harold Palmer needed a relaxing vacation. All he wanted was to travel to Sommersville, Georgia to visit his brother, newspaper publisher and reporter, Franklin Palmer. He should have known better.
The graduating class of 2002 have returned to Sommersville for their ten year high school reunion, timed to coincide with the annual Sommersville Autumn Festival. Classmates coming from all over to reconnect, retell old stories, and have a great time reminiscing.
The discovery of a brutally murdered young lady with a connection to the local police, coupled with a rowdy high school reunion and the annual Autumn Festival has Sommersville Sheriff Tom Myers and his deputies overwhelmed.
Agent Palmer finds himself on the trail of a killer who preys on the fears of his victims. His next targets are the unsuspecting members of the reunited class of ‘02.
They should fear his EVIL WAYS.
This re-release edition of Evil Ways by Author Bobby Nash kicks off the beginning of a new series of suspense thrillers starring FBI Special Agent Harold Palmer.
It all starts here.
Evil Ways was Bobby Nash's first published novel. He is excited to have it once again in print. Currently, he is busy working on Harold Palmer’s next adventure, Evil Intent, to be published in 2013.
BEN Books estore paperback
Amazon (Kindle) ebook
Barnes and Noble (Nook) ebook
Smashwords ebook (multiple formats, Kindle, Nook, etc.)
DriveThru Fiction ebook
Harold Palmer will return in Evil Intent.
Bobby Nash’s Deadly Games! is also available. Although not part of the Harold Palmer Thriller series, characters and locations that appear in Evil Ways also appear in Deadly Games! Learn more about Deadly Games! here.
|Featuring Evil Ways character Sommersville, GA Sheriff Tom Myers.|