Shadow Court Page 8

  The attacker’s two hands exploded outward, hammering Chuck in the chest and breaking his hold. Chuck sprung to his feet just in time to be tackled again. With his back on the ground and the attacker on top of him, Chuck reached over his head and grabbed the attacker’s chin—pulled—and caused the attacker to shriek with pain as his neck was twisted and traumatized. The fiend pulled himself away, but then launched himself forward, grabbing Chuck’s neck and trying desperately to strangle him. The attacker extended and locked his arms. He applied crushing power to Chuck’s throat.

  With his own hands rising from underneath, Chuck hammered the elbows upward and threw the attacker to the side. Wrapping his legs around the attacker’s torso, Chuck maintained control of the attacker’s right arm. Chuck brought his left foot forward over the attacker’s back and shoved his foot under his chin. At the same time, Chuck wrenched on the arm, bending it backwards in the socket. The sounds of popping and tearing preceded a horrific scream. The attacker’s elbow was now dislocated.

  “I’m gonna tear your arm clean off,” Chuck said.

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “I won’t give you any more trouble.”

  “Alright, but when I let you go, don’t try anything.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You better not.” Chuck applied pressured to the arm until he heard another scream. Then he separated himself and sprung to his feet. He grabbed the attacker by his good arm and rushed him over to the open vault.

  “Hey, wait a minute!”

  Chuck shoved him into the vault and heaved the door shut. Then he swung the painting back against the wall until it latched shut.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Chuck said.

  He left the clubhouse and walked down the hall past the plaster busts. He took a left down a side hall and came to a reception area with an antique wall piano. The wind was still howling outside. Looking out the window, he saw flashlights held by three men in a motor boat. The boat approached the building and tied up to a second floor balcony, which was presently at water level. It was the balcony behind where Chuck had tied up his stolen motor boat.

  The current was rushing past, pulling fiercely at the boat. After just a few seconds, the safety-fence around the balcony came loose and tore from its moorings in the brick wall. Chuck heard a lot of yelling. Finally, they motored the boat back to balcony, which no longer had a safety fence around it. The fence was underwater, attached to the boat’s rope causing the current to pull hard on the boat like a sea anchor.

  Given the wind, Chuck couldn’t hear all they were saying, but he did hear, “You two stay here to hold the boat fast. I can’t run around.”

  “Why not?”

  “A tangled mess. Dragging the stinking fence. You two, hold the boat in place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hold onto the building, moron. Roderigo, you take care of Brandt. We’ll wait for you.”

  Chuck saw a man with an assault rifle climb onto the balcony and enter the building.

  Chuck moved over by the stairwell and waited. After a few minutes, nothing was happening so he checked the boat again. Leaning against the old piano in the reception area, he looked out the window and down at the boat, which was still tied up. Two of the thugs were holding the boat in place while a third had heaved in the shoreline and raised the sunken railing of the balcony, which was mostly still in the water. He was trying to untie the knot, but was having trouble. Chuck heard something from the stairwell, so he moved over by the door and stood off to the side.

  An assassin stepped quietly out into the hall. He stood there for a few seconds aiming his AK47 straight ahead as if he was expecting to use it at any moment. It seemed to Chuck that he was listening. He didn’t see Chuck, who was standing in a dark nook. Then the killer walked over to the reception room. He moved to the window and glanced down at his cohorts. As he moved back out into the hall, Chuck clothes-lined him with a swinging forearm to the neck. The killer landed on his back. His assault rifle slid free. He quickly rolled over and scrambled for his gun, but Chuck pursued him and tore him down as a lion pounces on a gazelle. With the killer sliding on his back, Chuck came down on top of him. The killer weighed a lot more and tried to throw Chuck off, but he could not because Chuck’s legs were locked under his and his knees were off the ground. The killer could not lift them both. He could not effectively hit because Chuck’s arms were floating and he could block the weak punches. Chuck let him struggle and exhaust himself. He tried to throw Chuck to the left, but Chuck put his arm down and stopped it. He tried the other way with the same result. He tried over and over.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he said.

  “Right. You came here to put a bullet in me.”

  “No, really. I’m done. I’m beat.”

  “Alright, I’ll take you at your word.”

  Chuck arched his back, getting separation from the man beneath him then came back down with a vicious elbow at the base of his neck. The killer was knocked out. Chuck hog tied him and left him against the wall.

  Chuck turned off his flashlight and eased slowly down the hallway. As he passed a doorway, he heard movement. He dove into a summersault as a gunshot blasted. A tongue of flame leapt out the barrel. The report resonated off the walls. As he came up onto his feet, he reversed and charged the doorway, anticipating the killer was about to step out to finish the job. He guessed right and careened into the killer just as he lunged into the hall. The two men hit the ground and rolled. Chuck heard the sound of the sliding gun. Chuck’s head slammed into a door jam and dazed him. As he tried to regain his awareness, he heard a thoroughly sick rant. The vivid, disgusting profanity was epic, showing the depraved mental development of the killer.

  Then the attacker said, “Now you find out what it’s like for Roderigo to kill you. I think you’ll enjoy this. I know I will.”

  Roderigo caught Chuck off guard and unloaded a flurry of punches at his face. As Chuck staggered backwards, Roderigo spun and delivered a solid chest kick. Chuck flew backwards, hit the ground and rolled. As he got up, Roderigo kicked him in the face. It was a glancing blow, but it delivered a shot of pain and kept Chuck disoriented. Roderigo took advantage of this by delivering three body shots. Chuck bounced off the wall but kept his feet. His world was spinning. When the spinning stopped he saw trouble coming at him once more. Roderigo slid his right foot forward and executed a high section elbow strike that knocked Chuck backwards and made his head spin as he seemed to lose his equilibrium. Roderigo delivered a high face kick. Chuck staggered backwards, tasting blood in his mouth.

  As Roderigo ran at him, Chuck stepped in and swung his arm like a club. His wrist impacted Roderigo’s neck with tremendous force. Causing him to stagger off to the side.

  Roderigo grabbed Chuck’s right wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He had a firm hold and started to crack Chuck’s arm up his back to dislocate his shoulder. Realizing that he was in serious trouble, Chuck thrust his hips forward and his head backwards. His head smashed into Roderigo’s face. As he heard crunching bone and cartilage, Chuck stepped forward with his right foot, turned left on his tormenter and landed a left elbow into the side of his bloody face. Roderigo’s head whipped like a tether ball, but by heroic tenacity, he clung to Chuck’s wrist. Chuck swung his left hand over Roderigo’s arms and head. He locked his arm under Roderigo’s right arm. He locked the elbows up, getting a release on his right hand as pain left him and moved into Roderigo’s strained elbows. With his right hand freed up and both of Roderigo’s arms locked under Chuck’s right arm, he unleashed a flurry of body punches. Roderigo took it like a punching bag, but his face was a mask of shock and fear. Chuck finished him off with an elbow to the face. Roderigo staggered backwards and collapsed. He lay there unconscious with blood running down around his mouth.

  Peeking out the window, Chuck saw that two more CERBERUSs were staying with boat to hold onto the building lest the boat be swept away.

>   He rushed down the hall, through the clubhouse into the theatre. He went backstage and found a spare cable, which was used to raise the curtain on stage. Carrying the coil of cable, he left the theatre and hurried back to the lounge where the fight had taken place.

  Attaching the cable to the AK47 to anchor the cable against the wind, he lowered the AK through a broken window where the tree had shattered the glass. He lowered the AK down into the darkness, into the water. Leaving the coil on the floor, he hurried down the stairwell, right down into the water. Walking fast, he tied his safety rope to the railing, then swam underwater, opened an exit door, and emerged outside holding onto his rope. Swimming along the side of the building, he grabbed the dangling cable and pulled another twenty yards of slack, which he took under the fallen trees. He swam underwater, hooking the cable to attack boat’s carrying handle.

  Still underwater, still using his safety rope, Chuck pulled himself back against the current to the door. He swam back up the stairwell and emerged climbing stairs. Back on the third floor, he attached the other end of the cable to the piano and rolled the piano out of the third story window. The attack boat was ripped out of the water so fast that the men were catapulted twenty feet out into the rushing flood waters. Torn from the water, the boat was pulled up to the third-floor window where, caught against the window jam, it was held against the side of the building. The piano was now underwater.

  Suddenly the window jam gave way.

  Chuck dove for cover as the boat burst through the wall and was pulled back out through the other window, tearing away a section of wall with it. The boat splashed back down and rushed away with the current. About thirty yards away, it stopped as its cable was still attached to the sunken piano.

  Heads Up: Thank you for reading this far! The next book in the series, THE DOORMAN, is now available on Amazon. Grab a copy today. Now back to SHADOW COURT.

  CHAPTER 19

  Erica held the flashlight and walked with the limping Judge Maroz through the darkness.

  “Forget about it,” Maroz said. “We’ll never get off the island.”

  Erica shook her head. “Chuck won’t leave me here.”

  “He already has.”

  “Of course he hasn’t!”

  The judge stopped and turned to her. “Do you think he will help me? Do you really? I’m the man who put a bounty on his life—dead or alive, Erica. Preferably dead.”

  “What if you stay here? Then you’re certainly dead. They see you as a traitor now.”

  “Then I’ll die. I always live my way. Now I’ll die on my own terms, not to the blazing gun of Chuck Brandt.”

  “Oh, shut up. I told you he won’t kill you.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  Erica looked down the road as headlights were approaching, lighting up swarms of falling rain and whipping bushes on both sides of the track. A jeep swung in close and jerked to a stop. The headlights stayed on, but Hackworth walked into the pool of light in front of the jeep.

  Hackworth pulled a gun from under his jacket. “Where do you think you’re going Maroz?”

  “Where could I go? We’re on an island.”

  “Maybe you were looking for a boat.”

  “Take a look around, Hackworth. Solid ground is the only safe place to be.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? The time has come for me to consolidate power. That means you have to die. Sorry it has to be this way, Erica, but you’re both in the way now.”

  Erica crossed herself.

  Maroz dropped to his knees. “No, no, please.” He was almost hyperventilating. “No!” He crawled toward Hackworth and reached for his ankle. “Please, no! I’ll do any—anything you want!”

  Hackworth backed away and aimed his gun at Maroz’s head. “You don’t look so tough now, do you, Maroz?”

  “Please!”

  “Good-bye.”

  The shot rang out loud, but Hackworth dropped his gun. He’d been shot through his hand. Hackworth screamed. He grabbed his hand and pressed it against his stomach.

  He screamed again.

  Chuck Brandt walked into the pool of light. “You’re gonna stand trial, Hackworth, but in a real court.”

  “You bastard,” Hackworth said. “I’ll buy the judge and jury.”

  “Put your hands in the air.”

  Hackworth raised his hands. Blood was running from his right hand down his wrist and arm. Chuck fired two fast shots through his bleeding hand.

  Hackworth screamed. He bent forward and pulled his bloody hand against his stomach.

  “Are you still thinking of bribing a judge—or should I continue to convince you not to?”

  “No, I won’t bribe anyone.”

  “I hope not, because there is a justice outside of the regular channels. No man is above the law, Hackworth. Let me put it this way, the only safe place for you is in prison.”

  “I’ll do my time,” Hackworth said. “I’ll do my time.”

  Chuck looked at Maroz.

  The judge looked left and right, as if searching for an escape route.

  “No place to go, Maroz.” Chuck activated the recording app on a waterproof smart phone under his coat. “Why did you frame me?”

  He pointed at Hackworth. “Because of him! He caused the revolution. He left me no choice. We had to divert attention. I never wanted this to happen.”

  “You’re a guilty man, Maroz. You could have done the right thing, but you set me up.”

  “Yes, yes, it’s true. I admit it.”

  “How did you get all the media to post fake stories about me?”

  “I own the largest media conglomerate in the world. What I don’t own I can control. That’s what it means to have power, Brandt. My word is like thunder. The mice run for cover.”

  “Who killed the president of Venezuela?”

  “Kevlar did it.”

  “I’ll pay you,” Hackworth said, cutting in. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars in cash to just walk away.”

  “How’s the bleeding going?” Chuck said. “You don’t seem to be a fast learner.”

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  “I think another hole in your hand may be needed.”

  “A million.”

  “You really don’t get it, Hackworth. The only safe place for you is behind bars.” Chuck aimed at his hand.

  “No. No! I’ll do my time!”

  “A lot of time,” Chuck said.

  “Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m an everyday American. We’re tired of having our rights trampled on. All we want is to be left alone to live our lives in peace, but we won’t be trampled on. We’re tired of those who scheme to take away our freedom. I am the red, white, and blue. I am the stripes and stars. I am here to enforce the law, the law of the people, the law of justice. You will do your time, Maroz. If you do a day less than twenty years, you’ll face a justice on the outside that will make jail look the best option you ever had. You will beg for prison, Hackworth. You will beg for it.”

  As Chuck was walking back toward the asylum, Erica caught up with him. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

  Chuck shook his head.

  “Thank you. I’m done with him, but thank you.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’m going back to Venezuela. I’ll rebuild the orphanage.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Chuck said. “They’ll have a good home.”

  The End

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  It is true that the Lancastria was bombed and sunken in 1940 and Churchill sealed the records for a hundred years. Claims in this novel that the records were sealed for nefarious purposes are entirely fiction. The public has absolutely no knowledge or proof of the true reasons why the records of the Lancastria shipwreck were sealed. Even to this day, the British government refuses to release the records. Nevertheless, efforts of the British government in 1940’s to keep the accident quiet are impressive. Many more
people died on the Lancastria than on the Titanic, yet few people have even heard of the Lancastria. That would be the equivalent of having five ships like the Titanic sink and nobody ever hears about it because the government hushed the story. Truly impressive. This may be one of the government’s most amazing accomplishments. The Lancastria shipwreck is the United Kingdom’s greatest maritime disaster with estimates putting the death count between four and nine thousand. By comparison, 1,517 perished on the Titanic.

  In June 1940, thousands of military personnel and civilians were safely aboard the Lancastria as part of an evacuation from wartime France. The ship was anchored a few miles outside the French harbour of St Nazaire when it was bombed and sunken by German planes.

  In 2015, UK writer Katie Grant of the Independent said, “Ahead of the 75th anniversary of the tragedy on Wednesday relatives of those who were onboard have condemned the Ministry of Defence for failing to commemorate their sacrifice.” It’s sad that the families aren’t treated better than this. Grant adds that “The MoD has consistently declined to honor or commemorate the Lancastria… They have dismissed the efforts of families and survivors for years, decades even.”

  Description of Book 10, The Doorman, sequel to Shadow Court

  Available now!

  The Doorman: A Chuck Brandt Thriller (The Brandt Series Book 10)

  The CIA created him. Now they can’t control him.

  Chuck Brandt is hunting for an old nemesis in Washington DC—a ruthless killer who’d slipped his grasp. But Chuck lands in the middle of a shameful conspiracy. Betrayal, deception, blackmail—the capital is a garden of lies and murder, but with Brandt in town, the traitors are no longer above the law. Aided by an unlikely—and unusual insider—Chuck Brandt brings his unique form of smash-mouth justice to the nation’s capital. Those who are betraying the public trust are about to find out that there is a new law in town—Brandt’s law.