Reading Sample - "The Angel of the Sawtooths" Chapter One

Brett Wyatt scanned the horizon, looking for the flight from San Francisco. He waited alongside his friend and neighbor, Tom Coogan, in the outdoor reception area at the new Valley Airport, which serviced Hailey, Ketchum, Sun Valley, and the greater Wood River Valley. The airport bristled with activity as one flight after another arrived. Private jets were common at the airport, but their volume had multiplied over the last few days. Rows of Gulf Streams waited like rental cars waiting for a new driver. The rich and famous gathered, and their jets overflowed from the private terminal into the public terminal.

Over the next week, the annual Cottonwood Financial Conference will take over the Sun Valley Resort. It draws well known corporate executives, hedge fund managers, movie producers, sports figures, media stars, and more. The Cottonwood Conference is about wealth, how to preserve it, and how to grow it. Hopefully, since the attendees were visiting one of the most beautiful areas in Idaho, they would set aside enough time to see the sights and have some fun.

Cloudless blue skies and intense sunlight created a Sun Valley moment for the airport’s passengers and visitors. The crisp morning environment welcomed them to Idaho’s high country.

A United Airlines jet touched down and rolled toward a nearby gate. Tom shook his head and said, “Damn, that one is from Denver. I thought that was it for sure.”

Brett looked down and rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Her flight isn’t due for fifteen minutes.”

Tom threw his hands up. “She is flying from California— there’s usually a tailwind.”

Tom was an optimistic guy with a big smile, but he impatiently tapped his foot this morning. He hadn’t seen his daughter in a long time. Brett’s gaze left his closest friend, and he watched the passengers exit the Denver flight.

A tall, handsome man with sandy blond hair stepped off the Denver flight and walked toward the reception area. He wore a light tan sport coat, dark slacks, a soft blue crew neck shirt, mid tan loafers, and no socks. Several of his fellow passengers eagerly shook his hand. He wrapped his arms around a young couple’s shoulders and posed for a group photo.

Tom elbowed Brett and pointed. “That’s Kelly Hawk, isn’t it?” Brett scrutinized the disembarking group. “Yeah, it sure is.”

“I think he is the greatest quarterback in NFL history.”

“Could be. He’s at least in the conversation.”

With his carry-on slung over his shoulder, Kelly Hawk marched through the exit, glanced toward Tom and Brett, grinned, turned, and quickly walked toward them.

“Why is he coming over here?” Tom asked, a little star-struck.

Before Brett could answer, Kelly yelled, “Hey, Brett!”

As the men came together, they shook hands and embraced in a man hug.

Tom stared at the pair, then tossed his hands up. “Of course, you guys played together in Denver. You’re teammates.”

Kelly was Brett’s teammate a long time ago. Since their football careers ended, their lives diverged into two unique tracks. Kelly Hawk, a high-profile quarterback, turned his talent, intelligence, and history into a marketable brand and built an impressive business empire. Brett entered public service to make a difference. Most of Brett’s coaches, teammates, and fans believed he retired a few years too early.

Brett was statuesque—an easy six-five, two-forty. As the years passed, he lost most of his athletic edge, but even in middle age, he offered a powerful presence. He worked out regularly to take care of his mind and body. His muscle tone had reduced with age and fewer gym sessions, but he was still strong enough to rip a door out of a wall. His cropped dark hair contrasted with his bright eyes, and his multicultural ethnicity meant his skin tone was flawless. As imposing as his physical presence was, it didn’t define him. Instead, his calm demeanor and innate listening ability gave him a near-empathic ability.

Kelly Hawk purchased auto dealerships, while Brett Wyatt enlisted in the Army as a Military Police Officer. He specialized in the criminal investigation division, and after he completed his enlistment, the FBI recruited him. Special Agent Wyatt analyzed complex crime. He loved the FBI, but his analytical skills were put to use at a keyboard. The desk job tied him down too much, so he retired and moved to Boise.

While he caught up with his old teammate, Brett realized he had left his riding buddy out of the conversation. “This is my friend, Tom Coogan,” Brett said.

“And you’re Kelly Hawk,” Tom said, reaching to shake the famed footballer’s hand. “I’m a big fan.”

“Thanks, Tom, but I’m far from my playing days.” Kelly gripped Tom’s hand.

“You look great,” Brett said. “Are you up here for the conference?”

“Yes, and some related work. I’m a partner in a new company, the conference’s security contractor. It’s our first major job, but I’m not hands-on. I’m here to watch and learn.”

“You’re amazing, Hawk. You move from one venture to another, and your empire grows.” Kelly flashed a smile. “Thanks, Brett. I’m glad I ran into you. We need to talk; your law enforcement background could make you a tremendous asset to our firm. At least, I can see you in an advisory role. I would love it if you came on board. What would you say about getting together to discuss it?”

“Sure. For you, I’d be happy to.”

Kelly slapped his old friend’s back as if Brett had made a decisive tackle on the playing field. “Great. I’ll give you a call. What are you guys up to? You here for the conference?” Kelly asked.

“No, we’re up here with friends on vacation, and we brought our horses. We’ll spend time around the valley, and then we’ll ride the Trilogy Lakes Tour,” Tom said.

“That sounds like fun. I’m familiar with the Trilogy Lakes. They’re up in the Sawtooth Wilderness Area?”

“Yeah, they’re deep into the Sawtooths. It’s a ride we’ve wanted to take for a long time.” Brett said.

“I read about the Trilogy Lakes in a book by retired US Senator Ed Wilson. He said they are one of the spots on earth you should see before you die.”

While the men talked, another flight landed—a private jet, a beautiful state-of-the-art Gulfstream. It taxied past the private terminal, continued rolling to the public terminal and parked. Suddenly, the Gulfstream’s arriving passengers began shouting at the airport employees who were trying to help them. Tom, Brett, and Kelly all turned to look.

“Oh, God, it’s Bruce Arnold.” Kelly almost sighed.

Bruce Arnold was the founder of the internet giant, Yoster. He was one of the wealthiest people in the world, and his negative personal reputation, which he was known for, mirrored his financial success.

Bruce Arnold, his wife, and two personal security guards marched toward the terminal’s reception area. “Everybody back off—now! Get out of the way! Make room for a VIP!” the lead security guard from the Arnold group shouted. At least the friends assumed he was security. He wore a dark blazer, white shirt, and tie. His eyes swept from left to right, and his hands were held aloft, ready to fend off unwanted attention. Directly behind him, a casually dressed, thin, middle-aged man escorted an uncomfortable-looking lady. It was Bruce Arnold and his wife. A red-faced Arnold paused before a TSA agent posted at the reception area entrance. He shouted, “You idiots don’t know what you’re doing! We’re not in the private terminal. We’re in a public area. We don’t belong here!” Arnold threw his hands into the air and stomped into the terminal.

“The private terminal is at capacity, sir.” The TSA agent replied.

“This is unacceptable! I need to see the airport manager. Now!”

“You’re blocking the exit. You need to clear the area.” Another stone-faced TSA agent said.

A second private security guard followed Arnold and his wife and tried to coax them through. “Sir, please, we need to move to our vehicles. This area is too congested,” he said. Tom was transfixed by the scene. He unintentionally blocked the Arnold group’s path while he gawked, and he chuckled while the spoiled rich guy’s demands fell on indifferent ears. “Let’s get out of the way,” Brett said, grabbing Tom’s shoulder.

“Give me a minute.” Tom pulled away.

Brett and Kelly didn’t want to get involved, so they slipped back six feet to the edge of a seating area.

Arnold stopped and scowled at Tom as the unhappy group approached two waiting SUVs. He asked, “Are you stupid? What don’t you understand about the words, back off?”

Tom stiffened, stared at the man, and held his ground. Bruce Arnold’s disruptive behavior distracted everyone from a more significant problem. No one in the crowded area noticed another gathering in the parking lot.

Brett spotted six individuals who stepped out of an older model gray cargo van. Faceless and genderless, each was dressed in a camo beanie, camo jumpsuit, camo gloves, and high-top brown hiking boots, armed with waist belts that holstered a nightstick-sized club and a long skinny spray bottle. The camo beanies covered their foreheads and seamlessly met a pair of strapped-on goggles. Camo N95 masks shielded their mouths and noses.

They moved with almost military precision, forming a broad line and marching toward the terminal. The operatives quickly approached the reception area and established a semi-circle that blocked and cornered the Arnold party. The two groups had nearly converged before one of Arnold’s security guards finally lifted his eyes.

“Pig, thief! Pig, thief!” The camo group chanted in unison.

Bruce Arnold cowered and slipped behind his two-man security detail, who had thrust themselves into the middle of the opposition, trying to open a corridor toward their awaiting vehicles. The tactic failed as the individuals in the wings closed in, swinging their clubs.

Brett could tell their intentions were not to kill but to injure. They overwhelmed the surprised security men with back and shoulder strikes. One guard collapsed under the attack; the other dropped to a knee, holding his arms above his head and yelling, “Back off!”

In a smooth and well-practiced maneuver, the attackers backed up five yards and formed a new line. The Arnold group scrambled backward. Several wild-eyed and helpless bystanders, including Tom, were caught in the middle.

The attacker’s new line filled the width of the walkway and blocked any escape. All six individuals pulled spray bottles from their belts and sprayed pepper spray at the cornered group. Yelps and screams filled the air. Mrs. Arnold fell to the concrete and wept, rubbing her eyes where the liquid must have hit her. A stream of liquid hit Tom in his face and neck. He tried to wipe the substance away, which didn’t help. He wheezed and coughed, fighting for breath. A vile odor filled the air.

Satisfied they had done their worst, the attackers slipped the empty bottles back into their belts and retreated from the reception area in another organized formation.

Before the attackers could escape, Brett widened his stance, flexed his knees, and exploded into action. He looped around the panicked bystanders, running low. He threw his body into the line of attackers, shoulder first. Three camouflaged attackers hit the ground, and the remaining camouflaged individuals scrambled but held their ground.

Seconds later, Kelly Hawk stepped behind Brett and shouted, “Everybody freeze!”

The attackers ignored Kelly’s orders and carefully stepped back toward the parking lot. A cargo van rolled adjacent to the walkway directly behind the camouflaged attackers.

Just as Brett regained his footing, the van’s sliding door opened, and another disguised individual stepped out with a rifle in hand. He aimed it skyward and fired.

The chaos instantly froze, but screams still permeated the air.

“Whoever moves next gets shot!” The rifleman shouted. He tightened the rifle to his shoulder and carefully panned from left to right.

Brett positioned himself at an angle where he could launch, but there was too much distance between himself and the camouflaged man with the rifle. He held his ground.

Tom squinted and blinked his burning eyes, struggling to take slow, even breaths.

The camouflaged attackers climbed to their feet and scampered into the van. The rifleman stepped in behind them and slid the door closed. The van sped away. Kelly put his hand on Brett’s shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“It looks like the conference might have a terrorist problem.”

Reading Sample - Chapter One from the "Riders Club"

Chapter One from "The Riders Club" includes the inciting incident, a smash, and grab burglary.

I hope you find it timely and interesting.

Chapter 1

Tom was in bed with his wife, enjoying a deep, restful sleep. All was well, except they were getting ripped off, big time.

The telephone rang at 4:16 Sunday morning. Tom was usually a hard man to wake. He was a deep sleeper and a dreamer. He woke confused and irritated, and after the second ring, he muttered, "What the hell is that?”

Tess, more alert, mumbled, “It’s the phone.”

“What time is it?” He searched for the clock on his nightstand, rolled over, and tried to sit up. He wanted to find the screaming phone and silence it. Half-asleep, he staggered from the bed, when, thankfully, Tess turned on the lights.

She looked concerned. She held the phone and said, “It’s the alarm company.”

That did it; he was awake now. He found his way to Tess, grabbed the phone, and answered, "This is Tom Coogan."

“Mr. Coogan, this is Andre with Northern Alarm. We received an alarm activation at your 1344 North Vista Avenue location. We have dispatched the police. Are you able to meet them at that location?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Mr. Coogan, how long will it take for you to get there?”

“Well, I have to change, which shouldn’t take too long, then I can head right out, so about twenty to twenty-five minutes.”

“Mr. Coogan, what is the make and color of the vehicle that you will be driving?"

“It’s a Ford F150 Pickup, brown.”

***

The Boise traffic was light in the early morning darkness. Tess had offered to come, an effort of support typical of her; for 25 years, she was always there and always stable. Tom explained it was probably just another false alarm, so she should go back to bed. At least one of them should get some sleep. Still, four in the morning is a rough time to get an alarm call. He felt if there was a real problem, the police would be there, and it would be best to face the music alone.

Tom had just turned fifty and was relatively healthy for a business guy who spent too much time locked to his desk. His short blonde hair was partially gray, with even more of the color taking over his well-maintained beard. His best attributes were his constant smile and positive attitude. He tried to lead, set a positive example and work hard, possibly to a fault.

Tom drove up Capital Boulevard, and after climbing Depot Hill, he merged onto Vista Avenue. A half-mile later, he pulled into the newly renovated Vista Park Shopping Center, where two Boise Police cars stood parked in front of his store. It was immediately apparent this was not a false alarm. Even from a distance, Teton Outdoors’s front entrance appeared to be compromised.

Tom had purchased the business from his dad when he was in his thirties and had since expanded it from one to three stores. He hoped his children would one day continue the tradition. Teton Outdoors was the best outdoor and travel store in the area, with loyal clientele who enjoyed a dynamic and active outdoor lifestyle uniquely available in Idaho. Still, retail was getting more difficult with time. With all the internet competition and the local media losing their advertising effectiveness, retail became very challenging. And then, of course, there were the burglaries.

Tom parked his pickup and carried his six-foot, 205-pound frame across the parking lot. It felt like a workout. Tom's once athletic build had started to fade, and he struggled to stay fit. He felt he was still doing okay, but today shook that belief. As he drew closer, he stopped, dropped his hands to his knees, let his head fall forward, and closed his eyes.

“Oh shit,” He muttered. After three slow Yoga breaths, he erectly marched onward with his game face on. He needed to suck it up.

After the third burglary, they had upgraded the store's security features with reinforced doors, laminated glass, and roll-down steel mesh gates. With the improvements, the front entrances were supposed to be insurmountable. There was no way anyone could break into Teton Outdoors, or so everyone thought.

With each step, Tom checked out the mess. Fifteen yards from the store’s entrance, a mass of twisted metal sat separate from the framework that previously held it together. So much for the security gate. A few steps closer, large pieces of laminated glass laid in batches on the asphalt. The glue binding the glass sheets held it together in cracked jagged chunks, some folded vertically, teeth-up, creating a dangerous landscape for the unaware. The glass belonged to the reinforced doors, which were now about six inconsistently sized chunks of scattered metal, with some small glass pieces still clinging to their frames. When he reached the front entrance, he saw why there were shreds of wood siding, and other construction materials lying in the parking lot; the structure around the front doors no longer existed.

It's not that the gate didn't hold, or the door's frame didn't bend, or the glass didn't break. Teton Outdoors’s security measures were, once again, inadequate. With the entrance's framework torn free, it left the building with a gashed front opening with questionable integrity.

Tom walked up to one of the Boise Police officers and introduced himself. The officer was fit and carried himself with a military bearing. He introduced himself as Officer Andrew Taft. “Mr. Coogan, the alarm company received the alarm signal at 4:06 AM. They notified us at 4:10, and our first car arrived on the scene at 4:22. The perpetrators were no longer on-site when we arrived. The situation appears to be a very sophisticated smash-and-grab burglary.”

“Did anyone see anything? I mean, with Vista Avenue being such a busy street, its likely to have some traffic even in the middle of the night. I would hope someone saw something,” Tom pled.

“I agree. Typically, when someone witnesses a crime, if they show up, they show up quickly. There could very well be a witness, someone driving by, but no one has come forward.”

“Yeah, okay, but… crap.”

“I understand, Mr. Coogan. We certainly will follow up. In situations like these, we may need to notify the media and see if the news departments can ask the public for help.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Hopefully, someone might have seen something around here.”

“Mr. Coogan, your alarm system did its job; its siren still howled when we drove up. It may have driven the group away.”

“Group—you think there was a group?”

“Yes, sir, we think it was a large group. There was a significant amount of activity inside.”

“Significant? Now you're scaring me. How bad is it?” Tom's voice cracked, and his composure weakened.

“Our other officers are making their final clearing of the building and adjacent areas. They will complete their process soon, and then you can go in. You’re the only one who can best define how significant the damage is. What we know so far is there is a mess in there. A big mess,” Officer Taft switched gears, “You have an excellent alarm system; do you have a camera system?”

“Yes, we do. We have eight cameras inside, and one out front with good coverage of the front door, and they are all backed up on a DVR system.”

“Nine cameras. Excellent. When can we see the video?”

“Right away. My son, Nick, is our tech expert, and he's on his way. I expect he’ll be here momentarily.”

Officer Taft's stiff demeanor softened for just a second, and he let a consolatory smile show.

Nick showed up a few minutes later, and after getting briefed by his dad, they waited together for the police's all-clear. Nick stood strong at six-foot-five; he was clean-shaven with short brown hair, had intelligent green eyes, a square jaw, and a booming voice. As a business school graduate, he brought more than just his physical presence into the business. His technical skills added an element that was essential to the business’s growth.

Finally, the police gave the all-clear, and Tom, Nick, and the store manager, Steve Smith, entered the building. When Officer Taft said there was a big mess, he wasn't kidding. The front entrance was a sea of broken glass with pieces large and small. There were several mounds several inches deep. Plus, there were large shards with jagged ends that looked like weapons. Even with good shoes, you could get cut.

As they entered the store, a line of free-standing glass showcases standard in retail stores stood on the right side. Behind them was a range of displays. They all once displayed high-end merchandise on glass shelves. The burglars must not have wasted time by sliding open the doors on either side of the showcases. Instead, they destroyed all the glass on both sides and then removed the merchandise from inside. A lot of damaged merchandise laid on the floor. Both the showcases and the towers appeared trashed. They looked like a pile of garbage you might find at the city landfill.

Tom, Nick, and Steve huddled together in disbelief. Tom demonstrated his calm composure by throwing an immature fit. His anger took over, and he completely lost control. Tom started by yelling a string of obscenities and then marched nowhere in tight circles. He stepped toward a free-standing display of Tilley Hats. Tom grabbed the display unit, hoisted it off the ground, military-pressed it, and tossed it across the room. Unimpressed with his effort, he charged the prone hat display as if it might put up a fight. Tom attacked the prop and its remaining hats with a series of sharp kicks and stomps while continuing his swearing litany. His first kick broke the hat display into two pieces, the second into thirds. Tom's final kick was a total whiff that threw him off balance and led him into flight. He landed awkwardly on a nice sizable chunk of broken glass that easily sliced through his pants and slit his leg. Who won the big fight between Tom Coogan and the Tilley Hat display? The Tilley Hat display by a TKO.

Good thing Teton Outdoors sells first aid kits. Tom rolled up his pant leg and checked the damage. His ankle was a bloody mess. There was a row of small punctures; it almost looked like a saw blade hit him. A deeper cut bled on his calf, a stab from the large chunk of glass that left a gash about an inch wide. He was pretty lucky; a jagged piece of glass like that could have impaled him, and if it hit a vein, his bleeding could have been severe.

Tom washed his leg and ankle with a wet paper towel and applied pressure with a couple more hoping to stem the blood flow, the blood flow that was ruining his pants and socks. He rubbed a coating of antiseptic gel on all of his wounds and used a butterfly bandage to close the deep cut, and then he wrapped gauze and tape all around his lower leg.

Nick stood above him with an incredulous look on his face. Tom looked up at his son, and as he stood, said, “I'm good to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need stitches on that cut?” Nick asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve had worse.”

“Really, how often do you attack Tilley Hat displays?”

Tom didn't say a word; he just stared at his son.

“You’re always telling me to act professionally and keep my cool when an irrational customer is giving everyone crap,” Nick added, sounding irritated.

Tom looked down, then turned back and said, "Okay, when you're right, you're right, and you are. So, let's get together with Officer Taft and check out how much these assholes stole, okay?”

“Okay, but Mom will be pissed about those pants.”

“I’ll bet she will cut me some slack on this one.”

Officer Taft was shooting a series of photos to document the crime scene. Tom and Nick joined him and went to work. They stacked the empty boxes that matched up with the stolen merchandise. Then tried to guess what else was missing by memory. They were trying to build a ballpark estimate of the missing merchandise.

Taft asked, “Do you have an estimate of the loss?”

“Well, they knew what they were stealing,” Tom replied. “They grabbed the high-end optics, like Nikon, Canon, Swarovski, and Zeiss. They cleaned out our Celestron scopes and a lot more. We are going to have to shut down and perform a physical inventory, and then we will know.”

“Any general idea you can give me?”

“Yeah, easily six figures.”

Officer Taft seemed stunned, then looked Tom in the eye and said, "Then this is serious. It is a major crime. I’m so sorry.”

Tom shook his head and said, “Thanks.”

“Are you insured?”

“Yes, but I doubt any insurance company will touch us after today.”

***

Steve, Nick, Tom, and Officer Taft crammed into Steve's small office, staring at the surveillance system's LED screen. Nick was in control, with everyone's attention locked on the image.

“The master display shows all nine feeds at once. We can scan through them all together or individually, or if you want, we can do both. What first draws my attention is that camera nine is not sending a signal,” Nick said.

“Which camera is number nine?” Tom inhaled.

“Outside, front door,” Steve answered.

“Shit. How long has it been down?” Tom challenged.

“It hasn’t been down. It was going yesterday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered confidently.

“Okay, let's start with camera nine and see what's up,” Nick said. He brought the feed to full screen and scanned backward. Only a timestamp was displayed.

The timestamp counted down on the unchanging screen until 1:45 AM, when an image finally appeared. Nick stopped the playback and then played it forward until suddenly, the imaged vanished. Nick scanned back and played it again, this time in slow motion. Camera nine's angle captured the front door and thirty feet of the front parking lot. The storefront was reasonably lit, and nothing in the scene physically moved. Suddenly, the screen went dark, and then the image vanished. Nick scanned backed and played it, and once again, the screen went dark.

“Somebody disabled the camera,” Officer Taft offered.

In one motion, everyone got up and marched out the front entrance.

Camera nine used to be mounted under an eave about eight feet out and thirty feet to the front door's left. It looked like someone had destroyed the camera with a bat. The camera spun unnaturally on its mount, and they tore its connecting wires free. It was mounted ten feet above the walkway, too high to be an accident. And it happened two hours before the burglary.

Tom thought whoever did this had pre-planned and covered their tracks at the same time. They probably disabled the camera and then observed the scene to see if the damage set off an alarm. Two hours later, they robbed the store, all the while knowing it would be hard to identify their vehicles since they eliminated the operational outdoor camera.

Everyone went back to Steve's office and watched the feeds from the other cameras. Some cameras showed nothing, like the ones in the offices and other areas away from the sales floor. Nick went through the feeds quickly, and everyone watched them all. Some of the floor cameras gave some valuable detail, and camera numbers three and four, which covered the front door and the showcase area, showed everything.

From the front door view, a couple of masked individuals in dark clothing quickly attached chains to both of the front doors and the steel mesh gate, and then attached cables. A large dark vehicle pulled up. Nick froze the playback, and everyone looked for details, hoping to see make, model, and, of course, a license plate. They couldn't see much. The uneven light made it impossible for the camera to get an accurate exposure of the vehicle. Still, they had enough light to see it was an oversized pickup truck. Unfortunately, most of the other detail was blurred, and only vague features appeared. Then, the big truck pulled away, the cable quickly drew taut, and the gate and one door broke free. The pickup reversed back toward the front door, and as quick as it returned, it sped off again. This time when the cable snapped, the other door broke free, along with the entire door frame, and just that quick, the front end of the store was gone. The timestamp showed 4:04 AM.

The truck pulled away, and a nondescript van backed in with its back doors wide open. The vehicle transfer was fast and smooth. A group of nine individuals met at the door, all in dark clothing and masks. They formed a quick huddle as if they were a football team, and when the group broke, they went into action.

Two masked men led the group–one wielding an extra-large iron pry bar, and the other carrying an aluminum baseball bat. They swept down each side of the showcases, swinging their weapons, destroying and wiping clean the glass on both sides. A step behind were four pickers, cleaning off the shelves from the right and left sides of the cleared showcases. A fifth was removing the merchandise from the display shelves mounted to the wall fixtures. Another rolled in a large trash container with wheels and an open lid. The pickers were taking merchandise and tossing it into the trash container. Some of their throws were up to six feet in distance, and some tosses went awry, which explained why some damaged products were lying on the floor. Speed appeared to be their primary focus.

“Look at that! They're not only stealing fragile equipment, but probably busting the crap out of it. That stuff will get scratched to hell at the very least,” Tom exclaimed.

The burglars rotated trash containers as fast as they filled them and then slid them up and into the van. They hit the sections of the store with high-end merchandise on display. They executed the smash-and-grab with speed and teamwork. It would have been impressive to Tom if it didn't make him sick and angry. They rolled the last trash container into the van, closed the back doors behind it, and sped away. The timestamp was 4:13 AM.

Officer Taft and Nick worked together in Steve’s office, finishing their security video analysis. “Okay, so you want the feeds off of camera three, four, six, and seven. And you want the time from 4:00 to 4:15 Would you like me to put them on a USB drive or a DVD?" Nick asked.

“Let's try the DVD.”

“I’ll make two copies for you and drop them off at the station when they’re finished.”

Officer Taft stood up and shook Nick's hand, said thanks, and then walked out into the storefront where Tom and Steve were huddling. Taft walked up to Tom, shook his hand, and said, “Mr. Coogan, I'm very sorry this happened. I hope you can get the store back together soon enough so that your business is not disturbed too much.”

“That's the next project for today; clean up, recover, and reopen for business.”

“I have the information I need to complete my report. I went over the surveillance video with Nick, and he's putting together copies for us. Do you have a business card I can add to the file in case we need to get a hold of you?”

“Sure,” Tom handed him his card and said, “Call anytime. I want to get to the bottom of this one. I want to get these guys.”

Officer Taft stiffened and said, “Here is my card, and on the back, I have written the case number we have assigned. Whenever you contact the department regarding this case, refer to this number. I will finish my report, and a detective will be assigned. In the meantime, my shift is transitioning, and I will be off for the next week. If you have any questions or discover any other relevant information, call the station.”

Reading Sample - "The Riders Club" Prologue

Tony Levitt dispatched one of his top security specialists to San Jose to investigate an unacceptable business disruption. It affected one of his favorite suppliers–a gang led by a skilled thief named Jerry Williams. He was one of Tony’s favorites because he sourced the ideal product, highly profitable and marketable prescription opioids. Between William’s acquisition and Tony’s distribution, they quickly made a hell of a lot of money, and Tony wanted to keep the cash flowing. His security specialist contacted Williams’s group and found a potentially deteriorating situation. Two new players in the group had attempted a takeover and were demanding more money. The underlings, in full revolt, had brought the enterprise down to its knees. And then missed last week’s shipment.

Tony was in his corner office on the twelfth floor of an old but still beautiful casino in downtown Reno. He called his security specialist, a man who used the pseudonym of Joe while on assignment. Joe answered quickly.

“Good morning, Mr. Levitt.”

“Good morning. How is your trip progressing?”

“I have the situation defined. I’m glad you called. I’d appreciate your advice on a solution.”

“Alright. Bring me up to date.”

“Two of the newer gang members who joined six months ago are muscling their way into control. They roughed up Williams, but he is still here and part of the group. However, he is not happy, and he wants out. It is a typical money and control dispute that must be corrected quickly, or it will kill the business. The new guys are confident they can run the organization.”

“Do you think they can?”

“If Williams stays, possibly. If he doesn’t, it is unlikely.”

“The new guys, how would you size them up?”

“Cocksure of themselves, ruthless and volatile; I wouldn’t want them working with us.”

“Do you think Williams could continue the operation without them?”

“Yes, but he needs to learn stronger management skills to survive.”

“Is the rest of the gang intact?”

“Yes.”

“Are they going to miss another shipment?”

“It’s going to be a close call. I’m not sure.”

“Okay, my recommendation would be a Wine and Dine. I think it will put us in a position to get up close and personal, and then resolve these problems, one way or another.”

“I like that, Boss.”

“Good, I’ll send the jet up early tomorrow. I’ll reserve three suites, set up an entertaining evening with some of our loveliest ambassadors, and comp three open accounts. We’ll give them a special evening. Then, we will meet the following morning.”

_________________

As he waited for his guests, Tony wasn’t as hopeful about the outcome of their upcoming meeting. He sat in a private conference room in a secluded corner of the fourth floor. Joe was also seated at the table, and another employee was posted in the corner.

Tony was a middle-aged man, slim and trim, with dark hair, and a hawk-like, unreadable face. He dressed in all black: suit, pants, shirt, and tie. He was a cerebral individual who made tough decisions after a great deal of thought. Tony always balanced out the long-term with the short, which was a reasonable practice when you worked outside the law’s confines. One of Tony’s most exceptional qualities was his ability to think quickly and clearly. When he gave something a great deal of thought, a great deal could take five seconds.

He was proud of his distribution company; it ran with precision and had well-received false credibility. From laptops to diamonds to drugs, Tony sold his customers quality products at below market prices. His suppliers sourced stolen products, acquired through methods of burglary or robbery, activities that could get them arrested. And sometimes, the police did get involved, and sometimes internal issues would arise that could lead to an environment of severe risk. When that happened, Tony would have days like today, when he dealt with idiots who couldn’t understand reason.

Tony had received upsetting reports that his Wine and Dine had gone astray. The two new California boys couldn’t handle their liquor and had raised hell in the casino. The men had become abusive, first to their female companions, then to a blackjack dealer who had dealt them a king when they needed a six. Joe had to step in and quiet them down, which created a broader confrontation.

Tony had suggested the Wine and Dine. He planned to introduce the new men to the scope and benefit of working with his company. Often, after spending quality time at the casino, a new appreciation of Tony and his team would develop. When that happened, cooler heads would prevail, and positive discussions ensued. After the California boys acted out last night, Tony was less confident, and he felt disrespected.

Jerry Williams was the first to show up for the meeting. He sat on the far side of the table. Williams was an interesting man in his late thirties. He was tall, slim, and blonde with several tattoos and multiple piercings. He walked with a limp, had a nasty bruise under his left eye, and another on the left side of his long neck, all aftereffects of the attempted coup. Jerry was an intelligent and usually friendly fellow, but not this morning. He sat in his chair silently with crossed arms. He intensely examined the carpet weave.

Ron and Larry, the California boys, arrived next. Their bloodshot eyes and disheveled appearance did not impress Tony. Both men were a little shy of six feet, somewhat overweight, and looked to be in their early thirties. They had long, greasy hair and heavily tattooed arms. They both eagerly poured their coffee from the carafe on the table.

After brief introductions, the meeting began.

“Gentlemen, I hope you had a pleasant evening,” Tony said.

“I turned in early,” Jerry Williams said without lifting his eyes.

Ron and Larry both snorted in contempt.

“We had a hell of a good night with those ambassadors of yours. What babes,” Larry offered.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time, but let’s get down to business,” Tony said. “I have two main issues to discuss. First, I understand there has been a change in leadership in your organization, and second, you have missed a shipment.”

Ron and Larry both snapped their heads up like a couple of deer on alert.

“Yeah, Ron and I are in charge now,” Larry said. “There is also a change in our split. It used to be that Williams got the lion’s share of the money, and we got the scraps. We’ve corrected that. I don’t see where it is any of your damned business.”

“Missing a shipment is my business,” Tony calmly replied.

“Well, about that, if you want us to keep the drugs flowing, we need to correct our split with you too. At this point, you get half. That is too much.”

“It isn’t too much; you will never find a better deal. Don’t forget a couple of things. We have the customers; you don’t. Our product turnover is fast, and our payout is quick. With us, you’ll make more money than is possible anywhere else.”

“I don’t think you get it,” Larry said. “We are doing the dirty work, and you aren’t. You don’t deserve half. So, this is how it is going to go. Your share is changing from half to ten percent. If you want the shipments to continue, that’s the deal.” Larry puffed out his chest, and Ron snickered.

“Please take a moment to think about risk. There are two critical times in every transaction–the procurement of the goods, and their sale. At both times, you are subject to the possibility of criminal risk. When you work with us, you cut that risk in half.”

“You and I both know that is bullshit, don’t we, Tony? But since you are so good to us, putting us up last night and all, we are willing to continue with you. But your cut is going to be ten percent—final offer.”

Tony let a smile tug on the corners of his mouth, then he allowed Larry to feel his icy stare. Larry looked back with a smirk.

Tony was silent for five seconds while he looked down at his finely manicured hands. He then asked, “Before continuing, I’m curious why Jerry Williams is still working with you. Obviously, he didn’t agree to this change willingly?”

“He’s still with us, just in a much lower capacity,” Larry smiled.

“Can this organization run without him?”

“He’s with us, so it doesn’t matter,” Larry replied. “And again, who works for us is none of your business.”

“Jerry, can it?” Tony looked at Jerry Williams.

“Don’t ask him! We don’t understand why you even want him here. If you want to make a deal, talk to us,” Ron spoke up for the first time.

Tony ignored them and asked again, “Jerry, can the business operate without you?”

“It is doubtful,” Jerry replied, allowing his eyes to finally meet Tony’s.

“And can this enterprise still run without Ron and Larry?”

“Bullshit!” Larry snapped.

Tony rose to his feet, and he stroked his temples with both index fingers. He looked at Jerry. “Jerry, if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a moment.”

Jerry quickly stood and moved toward the door.

Ron, face red with anger, yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

Jerry opened the door and stepped out.

“You wanted the opportunity to make a deal—now is the time,” Tony replied.

To the California boy’s surprise, Tony turned and followed Jerry out of the room, securely shutting the door behind him.

Jerry raised his eyebrows when he saw Tony followed him into the hallway.

There was a startled scream, muted popping sounds, and what sounded like crashing furniture. Jerry’s face illuminated with understanding, but a flash of horror crossed his eyes.

Tony walked very close to Jerry, invading his personal space. Once face-to-face, he spoke clearly and calmly, “Mr. Williams, as of now, you are back in charge of your enterprise. Please give us a call if there are any other problems. We expect the shipments to resume immediately.”

That concluded the Wine and Dine.