The Devil's Brigade: A Novel of Suspense (A Nick Lassiter-Skyler Thriller Book 1) by Samuel Marquis

Author:Samuel Marquis [Marquis, Samuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A NICK LASSITER-SKYLER NOVEL
Publisher: Mount Sopris Publishing
Published: 2015-09-15T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

CENTRAL PARK

“GET IN THE CAR NOW!” snapped an older, bald-headed man with a glossy patina of wax on his hairless cranium, gunmetal-gray eyes, and thick bulging biceps that rivaled those of a silverback gorilla. There was no doubt that Wax Head was the one in charge.

“Okay, okay, we’re getting in,” said his father. “Just take it easy.”

Easy be damned—they were grabbed violently and hurled like ragdolls into the back seat of the lead Lexus. Then the doors slammed shut and they were off. A driver and Wax Head sat up front. Two suits sat behind Lassiter and his father in the third row of the monstrous SUV, insolently pointing guns at them.

“I don’t know who you are,” said his father, “but you should know that kidnapping is a felony offense that carries a decade of prison time.”

Wax Head squinted disapprovingly. “I’ll ask the questions if you don’t mind, Mr. Brewbaker. Where’s the recording device?”

His father said nothing.

Wax Head tipped his head towards one of the men in the back. Out of the corner of his eye, Lassiter saw the butt end of a pistol crack hard upon the back of his father’s head.

What the fuck!

Lassiter swung his fist back angrily and popped the guy in the nose. “Don’t fucking do that to my dad!” he cried, and he was instantly knocked in the head by the other enforcer in the back.

For a moment he saw stars.

“I will not ask you again, Mr. Brewbaker. Hand over the recording device.”

“Okay, I’m doing as you say. Just don’t hit my son again.” He slowly reached into his pocket. “Just tell me one thing. Who are you guys? Do you work for Excalibur?”

Wax Head said nothing. His expression remained emotionless. The Lexus blasted through a copse of leafy trees and raced down a crowded path, scattering panicked commuters and joggers in all directions. Lassiter watched in anxious silence as his father withdrew the iPhone from his jacket pocket and handed it over to Wax Head, who took a moment to inspect the device before calmly slipping it into his own pocket.

“What are you doing in New York, Mr. Brewbaker? You work at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and yet we find you here. Why?”

“I must say that Excalibur does hire top notch private security to handle its problems. The associative word Blackwater comes to mind. But to answer your question, I’m here to visit my son.”

“Is that so? So this is all a little father-son reunion. How lovely.”

“Who the hell are you? Because I am a senior federal officer and what you’re doing is kidnapping.”

“And what you just did back at The Victorian Club could be considered both a misuse of government resources and a form of entrapment by the Office of the CIA Inspector General. You’re not supposed to be spying on American citizens, Mr. Brewbaker. And you have no business in the city that can, in any way, be considered lawful. So why don’t you make it easy on everyone and just leave.

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