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Posted by AJOY APTE on September 28, 19102 at 03:26:53:
Hiya there,
Have written a fiction work about
AN SFPD DETECTIVE
AN INDIAN RAW AGENT
AND
AN AFGHAN GIRL LIVING IN PAKISTAN...
THREE CHILDREN OF DESTINY...
ON THREE DIFFERENT CONTINENTS...
ALL TIED INTO THE SAME CONSPIRACY...
AND
OSAMA BIN LADEN
Chapter 1
SAN FRANCISCO
Marge was having a bad day.
It was a typical gray Fall Day in San
Francisco. Darn the fog for coming in so
early in the day. The ideal day to stay
indoors. And the traffic on the Freeway enroute
the Bay Bridge wasn’t helping any. The Police
Radio was giving the update on the traffic
scenario leading into the city, and it wasn’t
pretty.
3 breakdowns, one 4 car pile-up, and one
wo had actually taken a shot at another
driver as they were getting off the ramp in
the bumper to bumper traffic.
‘7.15 already. O Boy ! Gonna be late t’day. N’
Cap’n Big Toes Harry... Boy O Boy ..is he
gonna be ed or what...?’she thought to
herself.
A Detective at 26 in San Francisco’s Proudest,
lithe and athletic, she loved Law Enforcement
more than she worshipped God.
Her father was a policeman, and so was her
grandfather. Come to think of it, her
great-grandfather had been a Sheriff in a once
Lawless Wild West town down in Texas. And
survived the fast draws of the gun.
She was a pretty good shot too. Her partner
Ray Weston never forgave her the day she
outshot him on the shooting range during their
training course. They’d met at the Police
Academy. Her eyes, the sheer liveliness of
them, and her extroverted nature, had made her
the most popular student in cl. In contrast,
he typified the Cl Nerd. It never bothered
Marge. She’d spent too many Freshman to Senior
years as the most unsought after girl. She
didn’t even have a Date for her Prom Night at
Moraga High!
And then fortune seemed to smile on her.
At the tender age of 16, her body, till then
all bone and no flesh, underwent a radical
metamorphosis. The basics were already in place.
God had structured her the right way.
Nubilility surfaced out of thin air. And, there
was born a maiden for all to see and lust
after. For most men, she remained just that.
An object of their lust.
Because, she had an innate sense, a kind of
inborn and thereby ingrained radar as to the
people to ociate with. The studs didn’t
matter to her. She thought them to be way too
harebrained. Not that she actually went seeking
the nerdish characters. She just wanted ‘ Mr.
Right ’ to be the first to go to bed with.
Ray wasn’t HIM, but, Ray was a FRIEND.
And so, at 7.15 am, on this dull gray Fall
morning, Sergeant Marjory St. Vincent was
driving her unmarked Lincoln into the city on
her way to her Precinct in downtown San
Francisco..
Up ahead of her was a cherry Red Volvo, the
driver of which was perforce doing well under
the prescribed 55 miles per hour speed limit.
Looking for an opening that might help her to
overtake the Volvo, she glanced up at her
rear view mirror. She saw a white flash as a
Nissan pick-up, doing around 90 miles an hour,
changed lanes behind her, and before she could
react, had ped her on her left, and, even
as she cursed under her breath, she saw it
pull alongside the Volvo and actually brake and
reduce speed to cruise in tandem with the it.
The transition from puzzlement to shock took a
split second.
Her mind’s eye took in the M16 even as the
LMG protruded out of the pick-up. The in
seemed to wave at the occupants, and then, let
loose a long volley of shots right into the
cabin of the Volvo.
Struck by the volley, the car seemed to careen
right off the road, the sudden loss control
and the subsequent loss of speed making it
swerve straight into the path of a Honda. The
Honda driver, a novice in all probability, had
little chance of avoiding the Volvo. The impact
flung the Volvo and its occupants a fair
distance, and then, after what seemed an
interminable gap of time, came to a standstill
on its side.
Marge St. Vincent, still in a daze, brought her
car to a halt behind the mangled remains of
the Volvo.
She tried in vain to get a Registration number
on the pick-up, it had simply disappeared into
the melee of cars going onto the Bay Bridge.
Even as she approached the car, she was
already calling 911 on her Cellular phone. Her
mind noted the fact that the cars ping her
by seemed to be trying to get away from what
they thought to be an accident.
There were three occupants in the tilted car.
Males, twixt the age of Fifty ti Sixty, and
they seemed to be s.
Probably Iranians or Pakistanis, or maybe even
Indians.
The two in the front seat were as dead as
the turkey she’d helped carve for Thanksgiving
at her brother’s house, the third man was
trapped between the front and rear seats, his
head twisted at an impossible angle as it
propped itself on the now open door of the
smashed car, but he showed signs of life. She
cradled his head in her hands and his eyes
opened. She could see that his pupils were
dilating at an alarming pace. Shock had rapidly
set in.
She turned around to see if the help she’d
called in was approaching.
No sign yet.
Then she realized that although most cars kept
well away from the Volvo, a Silver Mercedes
was almost onto them, and slowing.
Probably a doctor trying to do his good deed
for the day thought Marge.
The car almost came to a standstill, and Marge
looked up at the cruelest face she’d ever
seen in her life. A chill crawled up her
spine, the likes of which she’d never felt.
The face of the Devil. She was face to face
with The Devil.
Coldly evil, the eyes filled with contempt as
they looked down on the man whose head she
cradled, the nose smashed from a fight gone
badly, the mouth crooked in a sneering snarl.
Then she looked back at the man whose head
lay cradled in her hands.
Because the victim chose that providential
moment to p away, a brief weak rattle to
the body, as if the sheer hatred of the man
seated in the car had wrung the remnants of
life from within.
And then, the big machine gunned awesomely, and
was lost in the traffic.
Suddenly it dawned upon Marge that the face
had not even registered her presence.
The Bastard!
But as she thought about him, his face appeared
before her again, and she felt an
uncontrollable shiver p through her body.
A long moment ped before she could think
clearly again.
When she finally could think straight, it
dawned upon her that the man seated in the
rear of the Silver Mercedes had actually
ordered the hit, execution style.
And he had the balls be present at the scene,
to take pleasure in the death of an
adversary. To mock at his weakness in death.
Another shudder ped through her.
In the distance, she could hear the wailing of
the approaching siren of the 911 ambulance and
the accompanying squad car.
Gathering her wits about her, she perused
through the pockets of the man’s jacket. She
found his pport.
Nationality : Indian.
Name : Karim Abdullah.
As she went through his other pockets, she
found a Lufthansa Air ticket for a flight out
of San Francisco International Airport in a
couple of hours from then.
Destination : Bombay, India, via Hawaii, and
Singapore.
‘Sorry pal, that’s one flight you ain’t gonna
make’ she muttered to the corpse.
The wails were getting closer. ‘ Hurry up
Margie’ she said to herself.
She looked around and saw a briefcase lying
half open.
She attacked it with a ferocity that surprised
even herself. As she was prying through the
contents of the briefcase, her attention was
drawn to a tubular leather folder.
She was drawn to it like a magnet.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed
that the first Emergency Crew were already
pulling in, followed closely by a couple of
squad cars.
For the first time in her life, Marge decided
to thieve.
She later self justified it, and to who else
but her own conscience, that she loved to get
the bad guys, and, well, the guy in the back
of that Mercedes couldn’t be anything else but
bad. So! Hail Marys’ to the evils of thievery,
she was going to nail that cold Bastard by
hook or by crook.
She casually thrust the folder through her pant
pocket, and, in the same fluid motion took
out her badge to flash at the approaching 911
crew.
Taking charge of a situation had always been
her vocation. A calling she liked to think of
it as.
Little did she know........