“Thou Shalt Not Kill” – A Novel Of Sex, Intrigue And Murder!

Below you will find an excerpt from the novel, and a link to download the first eight chapters at the bottom of the page.

CHAPTER ONE

President “Just Bill” Paltry now stood gazing out across dark soggy lawns while immersed in the loud spattering clatter of hard rain against glass. It was late February, cold even by Washington standards and although early morning night persisted still under a gloomy blanket of heavy cloud.

“If things weren’t bad enough” said Paltry quietly to himself “Will this bloody rain never end?” while in no dought rain was the least of his worries.

Only just re-elected to his second term controversy nonetheless dogged his administration relentlessly. The press was hell bent for his blood while the Senate stood against him to a man.  Even his staff had distanced themselves against the seemingly inevitable disaster that hovered just out of view.

“A real mess Charlie, that’s what this is, a real mess”

“Yes, I believe it is Sir”

Paltry now turned to face his aide and paused a moment; he always paused for a moment when gazing at Charlie, he couldn’t help it. Her body combined the sleek lines of Concord with the grace and flow of Rodin’s “The Kiss”. In short, she was a complete knockout.

“You see those clouds back there Charlie?” he asked, his thumb pointing behind him.

“Yes, I see them sir.” She had no idea where he was going with this one.

“Well, according to my sainted mother every one of those things has a silver lining” And then he gave her what could only be described as a rather extended, and pregnant pause.

“You really are one hell of a drama queen, aren’t you” thought Charlie, but she waited patiently for the inevitable punch line, while knowing full well he’d never had any use for his mother and wouldn’t have listened to a word she said anyway.

Paltry now leaned forward from the waist with hands clasped on hips and elbows jutting forward. Good ole’ boy had left the building.

“We’ve got a cloud hanging over us Charlie, one hell of a big cloud”

Now she saw where he was going and didn’t like it much.

“Yes Sir, I am well aware of the situation”

“So where’s that damn silver lining Charlie?” and then in a voice turned gruff and demanding “Cus if we don’t find it fast we’re screwed!”

Charlie was now taken aback but kept her cool, Charlie always kept her cool.

“Funny you should ask that sir” she replied “I think I may have something for you” then flashed a demure yet charming smile. “At last”, she thought! She’d been biding her time, just waiting for the right moment and this looked like that moment. Of course, the source was a bit dubious but that hadn’t been a problem before, this was Washington after all.

“Well, out with it!” Paltry replied giving no thought to disguise his impatience.

“An ancient scroll has just been uncovered Mr. President”

At that his eyes narrowed slightly and he curtly nodded for her to continue

“It’s about the first commandment sir, thou shalt not kill, but in this version it goes on to say; except when… And then it just ends. The parchment isn’t ripped, it’s all there but it just stops.”

He now regarded her more closely over the tops of his reading glasses.

“Hmmm?” slowly, recognition began to dawn.

“Yes sir. That’s all and then just three dots as if to indicate that there was more to come. We’re not sure exactly what the dots mean but” her voice trailed off.

“I’m told it may have something to do with the Dead Sea Scrolls?” She said this with an easy shrug and the movement caused her long loosely worn auburn hair to ripple slightly, a few strands falling casually over an adequate but attractively proportioned breast.

“Really”

“Yes Sir and I don’t think I need to tell you what this could mean. The war is not going well and a lot of people are starting to ask why we’re even in it. This could give them that answer, and of course the religious right will love it”.

“Hmmmm”

“My God Bill” he thought. In his mind he always referred to himself as Bill, just Bill, the average guy fighting the good fight for his country. He was every mechanic on every forecourt of every garage in the nation, the name, “Bill”, stitched onto the chest of his overalls directly over his heart. There to serve, but with a mission.

Somehow, being a scion of an extremely wealthy family didn’t seem to contradict this self image, either in his mind, or indeed the minds of his voting public. In truth, President Paltry had never actually met a mechanic and wouldn’t have known what one looked like if he had.

Now Bill’s mind started to fire up. Admittedly, he looked a bit like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car but, the implications were starting to sink in.

“This could be big sir”

Take your time she thought, don’t rush, you’ll get there. Charlotte Nolan Rendell, only her friends called her Charlie, knew exactly how to play this. She knew her president, she knew everything about him. That’s how she got the job. Of course, having a degree from Harvard and a body men drooled over didn’t hurt.

Charlie raised her eyes from a brief she was studying and realized the president was paying rather more attention to the two shapely legs crossed in front of him then the task at hand. To counter, Charlie uncrossed her legs and rearranged her skirt as discreetly as she could. Knees now tight together and concealed, she tucked her feet under the chair.

Of course, there had been times when she would uncross her legs with a somewhat wider and more revealing sweep but, not today she thought, or at least not right now.

“Coffee sir” She asked sweetly.

Still lost in thought Paltry focused for a moment on her face then unconsciously wondered down the exposed flesh above her low cut and wonderfully revealing tank top.

“No, eh, no thank you Charlie” He replied somewhat distractedly.

This could take some time, she thought and her mind wondered back to when she first started working for President Paltry, then Congressman Paltry a rising star in the Republican Party.

“I’ve got a problem that needs fixing Charlie and I need you to fix it” he could be forceful. She was impressed.

Charlie snapped to attention, head up and chest thrust forward. “How can I help you sir?” She was proud to serve. She was also very young.

“As you may know Charlie I’ve devoted my life to the Republican cause but in the sea of life devotion and duty when misunderstood can cause waves in an otherwise a still harbor” He then paused and looked deeply into Charlie’s eyes. Nice metaphor, he thought.

“Charlie, I need you to calm those troubled waters”

Of course, Paltry was referring to the troubled waters created by his own political ambitions standing in marked opposition to his family’s almost fanatical loyalty to the Democratic Party, although in truth there wasn’t a Paltry alive that cared a fig about politics be that Republican or Democrat. For the Paltry clan political allegiance was simply a means to an end and at the moment Paltry’s end was hanging out a bit too far for comfort.

“You can count on me sir” and she had meant it, but that was a long time ago and her attitude had changed considerably since then.

The President stirred and Charlie looked up from her sandwich; she was quite used to her employers long deliberations and had ordered a light lunch.

“It is patently ridiculous” he paused “isn’t it?”

“That actually depends on how you look at it Mr. President” She was waffling but she needed time.

“For once Bill had gotten it right” thought Charlie, the whole thing was of course patently ridiculous. When did “thou shalt not kill” ever stop anyone from killing anybody, or anything for that matter. It had obviously made no difference when it came to wars, murder, genocide, hanging, or any other type of getting rid of your fellow man.

Think Spanish inquisition and you’ve pretty much got it nailed. Even the four hundred year long genocide of the native peoples of America was listed in the Library of Congress under “Manifest Destiny”. At the end of the day, Charlie mused, given a choice between God greed and ambition, the old gent with the long white beard definitely got lost in the shuffle.

Man had always killed his own, it was a given. Surely God understood that and let it ride, or so thought all those that had a use for it. Nevertheless, no matter how well the powers that be covered their tracks, America was still a disconcertingly Christian country. Thou shalt not kill could, and eventually would give ammunition to your opponents and that was definitely something to be avoided.

Now however, with this ancient manuscript, and in the mind of a politician and lawyer like W. J. Paltry, virtually anything could be justified; Thou shalt not kill except when it’s for your country, thou shalt not kill except when it’s to defend your religion or, and this is where it gets good, thou shalt not kill except when they’ve got oil that you want.

Of course this last “thou shalt not” would certainly have to be reworked to taste, but it was actually the first to fly into Bill’s mind and Charlie knew it. They were both fully aware that the main tenant of American foreign policy had been directed at controlling the Middle East since the 50’s and this little gem could make accomplishing that a whole lot easier. Whether or not it was “patently ridiculous” was irrelevant, Charlie knew how it would play in Paltry’s mind and that was all she cared about.

Charlie now laid out the situation to the President but with considerably more embellishment and aplomb. As a former member of the Harvard debating team she knew what she was doing and the fact was Charlie could con you out of your wife’s jewelry, if she wanted. Of course she rarely did, although, there were times… her thoughts faded off.

Suddenly, Paltry slammed his hand down hard on the desk.

“GET ME THE FUCKING CIA, NOW!”

Charlie jumped back and almost gasped in surprise, “My God” she thought, “I’m good!” but this was the absolute last thing she wanted, the CIA could under no circumstance be involved, she had to stop it and she had to stop it now. There was only one thing she could do.

She Swooned.

Now, this wasn’t just a swoon, no, this was a Charlotte Nolan Rendell swoon. It was practiced, quite deliberate and combined the smoky sullen dramatics of Garbo with the almost unbearable grace of Swan Lake. In short, it was a beautiful thing to watch and W.J.Paltry did just that; he watched, pausing in the process perhaps a little longer than might have seemed prudent but, he was on the case.

Bill very quickly shook himself out of his reverie and dived into action, literally dived, once again slamming his hand down but this time using his arm as fulcrum he powerfully pivoted his body over the desk simultaneously knocking the phone out of it’s cradle and propelling the photo of his wife and six darling children crashing to the floor, narrowly missing Charlie’s head.

“Still got it and not bad for 45 either!” he cried out loud without realizing and landed with a loud thump disconcertingly close to his secretaries midsection.

“You’re 55 for Christ sake” thought Charlie while jerking left to avoid being pummeled. The President then kneeled and quickly but gently placed one hand under her head, the other discretely on her right breast.

“Are you alright Charlie?”

She raised her arm and firmly moved the Presidents hand to a more appropriate position while at the same time sensing the inevitable resistance.

“Yes, I’m fine, I think” and looked up with eyes half closed for effect.

Almost as an afterthought Charlie placed her other hand on her forehead palm up, fingers relaxed and slightly curled in. She sighed almost inaudibly. In reply a fatherly smile brightened the Presidents features. He smoothed her hair gently.

“This just does not get old does it” thought Charlie and haltingly began to rise. Never one to miss an opportunity, Bill’s hand momentarily returned to its original position but this time with a bit of a squeeze as if to say; you’ll be fine now young lady, and then another squeeze, you’ll be just fine.

Of course Charlie knew the routine; they’d been down this road countless times over the years. “Yet”, she thought, “it had always been a bit of a mystery that he’d never asked why she kept passing out, never called for a doctor and some how or other couldn’t care less after the fact”.

Charlie was now standing and the President helped her to a chair. Glancing momentarily at her faultless cleavage he pulled up a chair for himself and sat down, elbows resting on his knees, his body leaning forward. With hands clasped in front and eyes narrowed in concern Paltry asked with genuine sincerity;

“How are you feeling dear?”

The Presidents private secretary sat back and took a deep breath. “This was the moment” she thought while crossing her legs with a somewhat wider and far more revealing sweep. At this the President instantly inched forward and Charlie knew without question he would be riveted to her every word.

“I have a story to tell you Mr. President”

CHAPTER TWO

A short balding gentleman with rather large ears, and a badly stained apron scurried around the empty tables of a café, sitting on the edge of a cobbled street, leading to a cobbled square, that fronts the ancient Cathedral, that stands proudly in old Tarifa, tucked into the southern most tip of Spain’s mountainous coastline.

Of course the short balding gentleman already knew this, and was not terribly impressed. He also didn’t much care for tourists, very few waiters in Spain actually did.

“Un Café Solo, Por Favor?” asked Joe to the waiters rapidly retreating back, then returned once again to ruminating over a host of wonderful, and sometimes not so wonderful things. At the moment “how the hell did I get here anyway?” was taking pride of place.

In truth, Joe Trinity was something of an odd duck with good cause to wonder. He was born in the back end of East Boston to a couple of people who could in no way be considered tall, beautiful or even particularly intelligent. Joe on the other hand was all of the above and more, a fact that over the ensuing years increasingly vexed dad but secretly came as no surprise to mom.

From his late teens on Joe would look down at his diminutive parents and never once give the obvious a second thought. Dad on the other hand was not quite so casual about the discrepancy. Comments like; “Where the hell did he come from then?” or”Really?” or “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch one day, you mark my words” were heard often, and sometimes daily around the family home. To this Joe would innocently ask “Kill who?” but never received an answer.

Of course, both parents knew the “who” his father was referring to but neither was talking. Mom would sheepishly go back to stirring the pasta while dad just sat there and glared, he seemed always to be glaring.

Then one day the inevitable elephant casually walked into the room sat down and got comfortable, he was clearly here to stay. Over the ensuing years Joe grew to know that elephant very well, they talked and laughed and went for long walks together. When no one was looking Joe would feed it under the table from his plate.

Of course, there was no escaping the fact that this burgeoning and very real friendship was underpinned as much by self defense as anything else. Joe was an only child despised by his father, and in desperate need of a friend. Needless to say the elephant fit the bill to a “T”.

Now approaching mid day the sun had become almost as unbearable as the short bald waiter’s withering stare.

“What for?” asked the elephant and Joe had to agree.

“What had it all been for, and what has it cost me?” He asked himself out loud.

“100 Pesetas” answered the waiter impatiently, as he looked back at Joe over his shoulder while sorting out the table next to him.

This was not quite the answer Joe was looking for. At the moment his thoughts were running rather more to his degree from the New York Academy of Art and graduating summa cum laude in archeology from Harvard, a record of achievement that was as much a mystery to Joe as it was to anyone else.

“No son of mine could be that much of a fricken egghead” his father would remark at every opportunity; while not quite grasping the irony.

Finally, after completing the first year of a graduate course in political science Joe decided it was time for a change of direction, and never cared much about politics anyway.

“What for?” asked the elephant, as always succinct and to the point, if somewhat repetitive.

Of course they both knew full well that quite aside from being something of a genius Joe’s scholastic acrobatics had more than a little to do with his need for a pat on the back, and an “at a boy” from dad. Regrettably his father’s reaction was predictably quite the reverse and now included the added bonus of insane jealousy.

“You’re right” Joe said to the elephant “it’s time for a change”. In surprisingly short order, with one companion and of course the elephant, he set out for parts unknown.

CHAPTER THREE

The waiter was now directing a group of German tourists towards him so taking the subtle hint Joe tossed his bag over his shoulder and made his way up the cobbled street in the direction of the old renaissance cathedral.

It was Sunday just after services and the large square that fronted Tarifa’s oldest and most venerated house of God was packed with people; all dressed to kill in their best Sunday go to meetin’ clothes. The Spanish take a great deal of pride in their appearance and it was for this reason Joe couldn’t help but notice a somewhat discordant figure, with no dress sense whatsoever, furtively making his way through the crowd, while trying to remain hidden behind first this person and then the other. To what end and from who he was hiding Joe could not figure, but owing to his general demeanor the man’s efforts seemed more than a little pointless.

“Bit like hiding a football in a bowl of peas” thought Joe, as he continued watching from the sidelines with increasingly rapt attention.

“Think blackbird and worms” added the elephant in his own enigmatic way and Joe had to agree.

In its effort to outsmart the lowly worm the blackbird will speedily dash across a lawn in unnatural spurts with head lowered almost to the grass. At intervals the bird will pause for a fleeting moment then abruptly raise its head with eyes quickly glancing from side to side, presumably mindful of its own predation.

Patiently, the blackbird will continue this unpredictable dance until the worm, totally confused and unawares, is captured and taken to nest. Such was the case with our erstwhile friend ducking and diving through the crowd although who the worm was Joe could not make out.

In fact this particular bird had a name and that name was Igor. Of course, it goes without saying that no one outside of the movies is named Igor and Igor in reality was not his original name, but rather one he had lovingly bestowed upon himself many years before. In this as in many other things Igor was a creature of the night and an extremely dangerous predator by all accounts.

In an instant he was gone.

“Where’d he go?”

“You got me” Said the elephant by now becoming rather bored and more than a little hungry.

“I thought we just ate?” said Joe.

“What, you call one coffee eating. Really?” replied the elephant.

“Ah, you’re right, I forgot, breakfast then?” Joe rarely broke his fast before early afternoon preferring to spend his mornings with coffee and thought. Unfortunately, this routine tended to create something of a niggling bone of contention between the two, the elephants own preference being of the more usual and moderate kind and consisting of whole-wheat toast, fruit juice and an early morning jog.

Joe now maneuvered smoothly through the crowd and then deeper into the old town towards the cafeteria in his neighborhood fish market, and breakfast, quite unaware that Igor followed menacingly behind.

“Did you know you’re being followed?” asked the elephant.

“Probably one of my many fans” Joe replied, but the elephant thought this rather unlikely.

He glanced casually over his shoulder anyway and to his surprise discovered the elephant was right; he was being followed, although it seemed a fairly unskilled attempt to Joe’s mind. Just to make sure, he walked ahead a few feet then quickly looked back several times in succession.

Each time he looked back the shadowy figure behind would stop suddenly and stand as if examining the stonework of a nearby doorjamb while casually rocking back and forth on his heals and whistling softly.

It suddenly occurred to Joe that this was the guy from the Cathedral so, as one does when faced with a question that has no reasonable answer he decided to confront the situation head on; “after all” he thought, “I’ve got nothing to be afraid of”

“Sure about that are we?” asked the elephant as Joe turned and walked towards the man covertly pursuing him. “You may want to give this a little more thought Joe” and then added “I’m just saying”.

Joe hadn’t advanced very far before it became apparent that his friend may indeed have had a point.

“How’d you know?”

.“Let me see” the elephant replied casually “A short stocky guy obviously well muscled ,wearing an ankle length leather coat with a lump under the arm pit indicating a gun, and a rather large half concealed knife hanging from his belt. Not to mention the partially healed scar incised across his cheek and what seems to be a bullet hole in his matching Trilby hat and,” he added “He’s been no more than two meters behind you since we left the square”

“Very astute”

“Thank you”

“No problem”

Joe was now within just a few feet of Igor and it suddenly occurred to him;

“Aren’t you finding it a bit worm in that coat?” But the minute the words left his mouth he realized there really should be some sweating involved in this heat, worryingly he saw no sign of it.

“Ah, no not really” Igor said with a bit of surprise, this was not the question he had expected.

“Are you following me?” Joe asked; “time to get back on target” he thought.

“No, of course not why would I be following you I don’t follow anybody I never follow anybody I’ve got no reason to follow anybody just minding my own business that’s what I’m doing just minding my own business like I always do that’s all I’m doing” he replied with eyes darting everywhere, except at Joe.

“Nice doorjamb, don’t you think?” he added sweetly eyes fluttering. Then, all of a sudden Igor’s arm flew up in a swoosh his finger pointing to the rooftop behind Joe’s head;

“LOOK OUT!” he yelled and ducked.

At this Joe whipped around toward the oncoming danger but to his surprise there was nothing and he quickly turned back but, Igor was now gone.

“How did he do that?” Joe asked in amazement, while gazing down a street where there was absolutely positively and without question no place to hide.

“I don’t know but you’ve got to give it to him” answered the elephant “He’s good”

“We haven’t seen the last of him have we”

“That seems about right”

“Didn’t he look like someone we know?” Joe asked, while at the same time not wanting to bring the obvious answer to the light of day.

“Uncanny isn’t it?” observed the elephant. “Strip away all the gear” his voice trailed away uncomfortably.

“Doesn’t bear thinking about” replied Joe. His father now stood naked before him and with an almost violent shudder he cast the image from his mind.

“Lunch?” Joe asked and the elephant happily agreed.

Not far behind Igor crouched, hidden in deep shadow. Then, at a safer distance he stealthily took up the chase once again. They had indeed not seen the last of Igor.

CHAPTER FOUR

Joe quickly fell deep into thought over coffee amidst the hustle and bustle of a busy neighborhood market. “Who is that terrible little man? Could I be overreacting? What am I missing?” The questions kept rolling over and over in his mind but answers were nowhere to be found.

“This is getting me nowhere” he thought, and in frustration his gaze wondered distractedly over the hectic scene that confronted him. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye Joe caught a glimpse of furtive movement.

“Damn! That’s just not possible” He said to himself amazed, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Joe quickly slid from his chair, then crouched down and hobbled away frog style using the tables as cover. After swiftly rounding behind the cafeterias rudimentary kitchen he charged out through the back door and promptly flew head over heals in his haste, almost cracking his knees on the cobblestones.

Now on all fours Joe glanced back to make sure he hadn’t been followed, then turned and dashed up the narrow lane to a compound fronted by high wooden doors. With some effort Joe pushed these aside, entered and grabbed the first thing he could find to jam the barricade shut. The courtyard beyond was littered with scattered piles of rubble and Joe picked his way through as quickly as he could, then stumbled up the stairs to his garret flat and threw himself down onto its bare wooden floor, his back propped against the wall.

Sweat beaded his forehead and he wiped it away roughly. “This made no sense” he thought, “none”, but that didn’t matter now. He was being followed by a mean spooky little bastard carrying a small arsenal and it was scaring the hell out of him.

All of a sudden a muffled crash echoed through the courtyard followed not long after by the thump, thump, thump of heavy boots on old stairs. At this Joe jumped up and searched feverishly for something he could use to defend himself but there was nothing. He remembered the rusty switch blade he carried for emergencies and desperately scrabbled around his pack, only to find it after hastily dumping the bags contents onto the floor.

“Not exactly lethal” he thought but it was the best he could do. Joe readied himself. He had been in tight spots before but this was something else again and he had no idea what was coming next. Then he saw the doorknob turn slowly.

“You son of a bitch, how the hell?” yelled Joe but he didn’t get a chance to finish. At that moment the door crashed in with terrible force and his attacker charged through. Joe dived but wasn’t fast enough and the truncheon connected with a dull crack throwing him hard to the dusty wooden floor.

His cheek soon warmed in the ever growing pool of his own blood but, with his last ounce of strength Joe forced his head up to look into the manic eyes that gazed down upon him. High above an arm was poised to deliver the final blow.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, almost in a whisper and his head dropped back to the hard wet floor. Igor smiled.

Joe’s seeping blood had almost reached the toe of Igor’s boot and he stepped back just a bit to avoid it, then raised the truncheon up again to finish the job but stopped mid swing.

“Na, you’re done mate, no point in being messy” he said, looking down at his prey. His voice was dispassionate and matter of fact.

Igor was a cold calculating murderer but he had his standards. His mother had always told him that cleanliness was next to godliness and he tried always to follow her advice. That is, until he knifed her in her sleep. “That’ll be enough of that”, Igor thought then settled down to a nice hot cup of the tea his mother had bought especially for him, not two days before.

The contents of Joe’s bag where now strewn across the floor and Igor kneeled to examine what little there was but found nothing. He then proceeded to methodically pick his way through the tiny flat, all the while being extremely careful not to leave any sign of his presence, other than Joe of course.

Igor was a professional and did his job well but the object of his search completely eluded him, he could do no more and made to leave. On his way out Igor glanced casually down at Joe, nudged him with the tip of his boot shrugged and gave him a little grin as if to say “Ah well, better luck next time” and left.

It was time to make his report, but he was in no real hurray. He was after all nothing more than just another guy on vacation checking out the view, although nobody in this town had ever seen a tourist that looked quite like Igor. When he finally reached the phone box in the center of town Igor called in.

“Yes”. The voice on the other end of the line was very familiar and Igor replied without preamble.

“He didn’t have it”

“Are you sure” It was more of a statement than a question and tinged with slight disapproval, or disappointment, Igor couldn’t be sure. The voice didn’t wait for an answer.

“Get back here now, I need you for another job”

Igor knew what that meant, smiled and quickly left town to join his master.

Is that it for Joe? Has he seen the final curtain?

And who will be Igor’s next victim ?

Well, there’s only one way to find out!

Click Here To Read What Happens Next!

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