Showing posts with label murfder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label murfder. Show all posts

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Sample Sunday: Excerpt From "RESCUE" by Earl Staggs

We end the month of March with a bang. This week Texas author and good friend Earl Staggs drops by to talk about his novella, Rescue. This ties into his novel Justified Action that he shared back in February here. Both books are good ones well worth your time.


In my novel JUSTIFIED ACTION, I introduced Tall Chambers.  After a twenty-year career in Army Special Forces, Tall joins a secretive agency which tracks terrorist groups and stops them before innocent people are harmed.  Tall puts all that aside, however, when someone close to him is murdered.  After that, he devotes his wits and weapons to finding the killer.
After JUSTIFIED ACTION was published (and received great reviews, I might add) I decided to write a short story featuring Tall and his team.  I called the story RESCUE, and it picks up after the novel with Tall’s team of professionals on a mission in the Middle East.
It turned out to be a long short story, coming in at just under 9,500 words.  That’s why I did something different and called it a “Mini Novel.”
This is the beginning of the first chapter of RESCUE.  



RESCUE
A Mini Novel in Five Chapters
featuring Tall Chambers

by Earl Staggs



CHAPTER ONE


Alongside a dirt road twenty miles east of Abu Dhabi, capital city of the United Arab Emirates, Tall Chambers crouched behind a boulder the size of a jeep. On his left, Mountain Brown rested on his knees. For a man who stood six-eight and carried well over three hundred pounds of tight muscle, that was as close to a crouch as he could get.
On Tall’s right, crouching easily six feet away, Airman First Class Kevin Mason shielded his eyes with an open hand and looked up at the blazing sun. “Sure is hot,” he said.
“Shouldn’t be much longer,” Tall said.
“You’re in a desert, boy,” Mountain grumbled. “It’s the middle of August and it’s only ten o’clock in the morning. By noon, it’ll hit a hundred and ten. If you can’t take the heat, get an office job.”
Tall grinned. Mountain liked to push buttons. Anyone’s.
“I can take the heat,” Kevin shot back. “Don’t worry about me, old timer.”
Tall liked it that Kevin stood up to the big man. Kevin was well-built and obviously worked out to stay that way, but was maybe five-eight with boots on and weighed one-sixty at most. Mountain could twist him into a pretzel without breaking a sweat. The kid had spunk.
Mountain leaned toward Tall and spoke in a low voice. “Who is that boy and what’s he doing here?”
“Our usual interpreter wasn’t available. The Air Force loaned him to us.”
“I know we need somebody speaks the language, but Christ! What is he, twelve?”
Tall chuckled. “He’s twenty-five, not as young as he looks.”
“Well, I feel a lot safer knowing I have a baby-faced interpreter watching my back. Does he know how to use that rifle he’s holding?”
“I looked over his records. He’s a qualified marksman, and he’s had some experience in recon ops.”
“Does he have any idea why we’re here?”
“No, I haven’t had time to read him in. I need to do that.”
Mountain raised his M-16 rifle and checked it again to make sure it was ready. “Okay, as long as I don’t have to babysit him.”
“He’ll be fine.” Tall lifted his binoculars and looked back down the road to his left. Thin swirling dust devils rose from the parched sandy soil and dissipated into gassy heat vapors. He felt like it was already a hundred and ten degrees.
He saw nothing coming and turned his attention to the other side of the road. He couldn’t see them, but he knew four more of his operatives were there, hiding behind boulders and squatty bushes dotting the flat desert landscape. Ben Goldman was one of the ops. Ben would set off the small explosive device buried in the road when Tall gave the signal.
Tall scooted over next to the Airman. “Kevin, just so you know what we’re doing here, a bus will be coming down this road any minute. On board is a group of armed Muslim terrorists on their way to a street festival in downtown Abu Dhabi. There’ll be a big crowd, many of them tourists and American service personnel. These people plan to mingle with the crowd, open fire, and kill as many as they can. Our plan is to stop them right here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“So we’re going to stop the bus and take them prisoner?”
Tall raised his binoculars again. “That’s up to them. We’ll give them a chance to surrender, and we hope they do. We want to take them in for interrogation. Some local politicians are supporting the group, and we want to find out who they are. But sometimes, these people choose to die for their cause. If that’s what they want, we’ll accommodate them.” He lowered the binoculars. “They’re coming. About a half mile away.”
Tall keyed his headset mic. “Get ready, Ben.”
“I see them,” Ben Goldman responded. “Let’s rock ‘n roll, Tall man.”
Tall turned back to Kevin. “When the bus stops, I want you to tell them in Arabic to put down their weapons and raise their hands in the air. Tell them if they don’t, we’ll open fire. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Then I want you to level your rifle on the bus driver. If he tries to move the vehicle or shows a weapon, shoot him.”
Kevin stared at him for a moment as if shocked he might be involved in a gunfight. He licked his dry lips and raised his rifle into firing position across the boulder. “Copy that, sir.”
A minute later, the bus, no more than an ancient flatbed truck with bench seats, two slat rails for sides and a ragged canvas roof, drew within thirty yards of where Tall and his team waited. Tall guessed about twenty of them on board, scattered throughout a vehicle large enough for twice as many. They wore Western clothing instead of traditional Arab outfits. To fit in with the festival crowd, he guessed, and he saw four women mixed in with them.
Tall keyed his mic and said, “Do it, Ben.”
No more than a second passed before an explosion ripped the still desert air and a wide geyser of dust and gravel spewed upward from the road in front of the bus. The driver pulled to a shrieking, sliding stop just short of the spot where Tall stood behind the boulder. Mountain Brown stepped sideways down the length of the vehicle with his weapon in firing position and stopped at the rear corner. Ben Goldman and three other operatives took up positions along the other side.
Kevin shouted what Tall had instructed him to say.
One of the women on the bus vaulted over the side rail and landed on the ground. She wore a black tee shirt and black pants and her dark hair frizzled in all directions. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line and her eyes flashed with rage. In her hand, she held a hunting knife with an eight-inch blade.
“Infidels!” she shouted with a thick accent. “I kill all you Yankee pigs!”
Ben Goldman moved to the front of the bus. He said and did nothing, but waited with the others to see what she would do next.
She moved toward Ben and tossed the knife back and forth from one hand to the other. “Come get me, American man. Come see how I slice you like melon. What’s your matter, dog shit bastard? You left your balls home with your momma?”
Tall started to say something to her, but felt the vibration of his cell phone and pulled it from his pocket. When he recognized the caller ID, he decided he should answer it.
“Uh, hello, Tom.”
“Tall, I’m sorry to bother you, but the President asked me to call you. We have a serious situation and need your help. To be honest, I don’t think even you can pull it off. Is this a good time to talk?”
“Actually, I. . .uh. . .”
The woman with the knife turned her attention to Tall and walked toward him, shouting obscenities in Arabic.
“. . .I’m in the middle of something right now,” Tall said into his phone.
The woman raised the knife above her head and ran at Tall.
“Can I call you back in a few minutes?”
Tall let his M16 dangle on a shoulder strap, pulled a Beretta M9 pistol from his shoulder holster and shot the woman in the chest. She staggered backward a few feet, then forward, and fell face down in front of him.
The voice on the phone hesitated, then said, “Uh, sure. Yes. Do that, please.”

* * *

Tall may seem like a cold-blooded monster for shooting the woman, but that’s not really what happened.  He didn’t really shoot her.  It was all part of the plan to take down the bus load of terrorists.
When the story progresses, Tall returns the call to the White House and gets his next assignment.  What the Presidents wants him to do is next to impossible, but Tall and his team have to try.  Innocent lives are at stake, and it all comes down to one shot.
RESCUE is available as an ebook for $.99.  Details are available at http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com.
You’ll also find Chapter One of JUSTIFIED ACTION there.


Earl Staggs ©2014

Earl Staggs earned a long list of Five Star reviews for his novels MEMORY OF A MURDER and JUSTIFIED ACTION and has twice received a Derringer Award for Best Short Story of the Year.  He served as Managing Editor of Futures Mystery Magazine, as President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society, is a contributing blog member of Murderous Musings and Make Mine Mystery and a frequent speaker at conferences and seminars.   

Email: earlstaggs@sbcglobal.net 

Website: http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com

Sunday, February 02, 2014

Sample Sunday: Excerpt from "JUSTIFIED ACTION" by Earl Staggs

This week Texas author and good friend Earl Staggs drops by to talk about his thriller novel, Justified Action. A good book well worth your time.



Tall Chambers is the main character in this Mystery/Thriller. Tall belongs to a secretive agency which tracks terrorists.   
While the backdrop for the novel involves terrorism, the main thrust of the story is the search for a killer who murders someone close to Tall.  He puts everything else aside to find the person responsible. 
The worst of the terrorists Tall must deal with is Anatole Remski, an Iranian who specializes in killing American servicemen.
Tall and his team capture Remski after a midnight firefight in Afghanistan and have him in custody at an Army base.  Local authorities are coming to take Remski to jail.  While he has him, however, Tall wants to learn the names of his associates.
Everyone has a stereotypical idea of Muslim terrorists and what drives them.  Remski, however, has a different motivation for what he does.  In this scene, I let him talk about it.

Tall smiled when he entered the room and sat across the table from him. “My name is Chambers, Mr. Remski. I have some questions for you. If you give me the answers I need, I’ll see that they go easier on you in court.”
Remski grinned, but didn’t speak. He held the grin and his eyes narrowed. He seemed to be studying Tall, sizing him up. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Chambers,” he said in a soft voice with a distinct Arab accent, “but I’ll do fine without your assistance. I advise you not to waste your time or mine.”
“I’m not wasting my time. I need the names of your associates. You’re responsible for bombings which killed many American soldiers. The authorities will make you pay for that. If you cooperate, I’ll do what I can to help you.”
Remski’s grin faded, and he turned his head away. He sighed, almost as if bored. “All they have is hearsay with regard to my participation in those events, Mr. Chambers. As to actual proof, they have nothing. Besides, the killing of American soldiers in this country is not considered a crime by many people here. Weigh that against the many thousands you have slaughtered, and it amounts to very little.”
“You’re wrong,” Tall said. “Regardless of how you feel about our presence here, those who judge you will be bound by international law to sentence you in accordance with the crimes you’ve committed. As for the casualties we’re responsible for, no one regrets them more than I do, but they’re the unfortunate consequence of war. That’s very different from what you do.”
Remski turned back to him “Is it, Mr. Chambers? Why is it different?” His voice was strong and harsh now. His blue eyes had taken on a hardness that wasn’t there before. “Is it because you shout words like freedom and democracy while you murder innocent people? You Americans think you have a right to invade other countries and force them to change. Where is it written that your way is the way for all people? How do you rationalize killing innocent people to force other countries to do everything the American way?”
“That’s not what we do. Our goal is to help people gain their freedom and govern themselves.”
Remski smirked. “You think you’re qualified to tell others how to govern a country? Your country is bankrupt financially and morally, Mr. Chambers. Take your soldiers home. Take care of your own problems and let us take care of ours. Stop waving your red, white and blue flag while you slaughter our citizens in the name of freedom.”
“We don’t slaughter people. We’re only here to help.”
With fierce anger burning in his eyes, Remski shouted, “Do this for me, Mr. Chambers. Go to my village in Abuzak. Stand over the graves of my parents, my wife and my son. Tell them how you marched into their village to help them by lining them up and shooting them. Tell them they were killed for their freedom.”
Tall was caught off guard. He knew of the massacre at Abuzak. A squad of American soldiers marched into the small village looking for subversives and killed every man, woman and child they found. “I’m sorry about what happened to your family. That was a terrible tragedy and never should have happened. The soldiers who went into that village were wrong. They were tried and punished for what they did.”
Remski leaned over the table. He lowered his voice, but not his vehement anger. “Tried and punished? The soldiers who slaughtered my family, my entire village, were discharged and sent home to their own families. Their leader was sentenced to ten years in prison and was released after three years. Do you consider that adequate punishment for what they did?”
“No, in all honesty, I do not. Is that why you kill Americans? Because a small group of them went out of control and did a horrible act? Nothing can compensate you for your loss, but what you’re doing is just as wrong. Seventeen of your associates were killed tonight. Give me the names of the other members of your group. They don’t have to die like the others.”
Remski hung his head and wagged it. When he spoke, he seemed more in control of himself. “No, Mr. Chambers, I will give you no names. The people you murdered tonight are in the arms of Allah and will be rewarded for their sacrifice. Those who remain will continue our war against you as long as you invade our country and slaughter our families. If they give their lives, they, too, will be rewarded. You cannot stop them from doing what they were born to do.” He looked squarely into Tall’s eyes with more hatred and defiance than Tall had ever seen. “And you can’t stop me.”
“Look around,” Tall said. “We have stopped you.”
Remski leaned back in his chair and sneered. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Chambers.”
Ben Goldman opened the door and stuck his head in. “They’re here for him.”
Tall stood and watched two burly policemen place Remski in chains and lead him from the room.
As he passed by Tall, he stopped. “We’ll meet again someday, Mr. Chambers, and when that day comes, I assure you, you will die.”
            “We’ll see about that, Mr. Remski.”

* * * * *

Shortly after the above scene, Remski escapes, and he and Tall Chambers do indeed meet again.

JUSTIFIED ACTION is available in print and ebook


Read Chapter 1 at:  http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com

·  File Size: 452 KB
·  Print Length: 218 pages
·  Page Numbers Source ISBN: 1482372398
·  Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
·  Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
·  Language: English
·  ASIN: B00BLBKHE6


Earl Staggs ©2014

Earl Staggs earned a long list of Five Star reviews for his novels MEMORY OF A MURDER and JUSTIFIED ACTION and has twice received a Derringer Award for Best Short Story of the Year.  He served as Managing Editor of Futures Mystery Magazine, as President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society, is a contributing blog member of Murderous Musings and Make Mine Mystery and a frequent speaker at conferences and seminars.   

Email: earlstaggs@sbcglobal.net 

Website: http://earlwstaggs.wordpress.com