Authors: K. J. Janssen
Thriller by K.J. Janssen
©2012 by K.J. Janssen
Published 2012 by The Fiction Works
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
AMAZON REVIEW: 5 STARS
“Another nail-biter from the author of
. It’s one of those thrillers that make you glad you started reading while the night was young because you can’t put it down. Page by page
brings you closer to a terrible secret that will give you goosebumps as you dive into the mystery of the Hampton family.”
—Jack King, “Author of Suspense”
AMAZON REVIEW: 5 STARS
reat Beach reading
May 14, 2012
“K.J. Janssen’s newest mystery (
) leaves you wanting the next book. His characters are so well developed that you want to know more. I hope this the first of a series.”
—M.B. Russell, Reviewer
AMAZON REVIEW: 5 STARS
An amazing read!
May 24, 2012
by K. J. Janssen is an amazing read. The characters are so believable and the plot development is outstanding. This is an A1 thriller. There is an assassin on the loose in Old Brooking, CT and the author hides the identity until the very end by presenting reasons why any of five townspeople could be the guilty party.
“The cover is really outstanding, too.
“I haven’t read his other book,
, as yet, but it’s on my list. If it is anything like
I’m in for a real treat.”
—Walt Mannings, Jr., Reviewer
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get them both. Call me as soon as the money has been deposited.” The Assassin was accustomed to conversations like this. In his line of work he was known as the best, a man who took great pride in his profession. His legit business, a construction company in East St. Louis, Illinois, was a perfect front for the techno-killer.
“I heard you talking. Who’s the target this time?” an associate asked, as he entered the office.
“Adam Hampton III and his father Adam Hampton II. Both live in Old Brooking, Connecticut. My client was specific that he wants them dead and their Manor destroyed. Apparently Hampton Manor is symbolic of something.”
“They want you to burn down the mansion with the two of them in it? What the hell is that about? Sounds like some kind of a vendetta to me.”
“I don’t have any of the detail and I don’t really want to know. I’ve been waiting for a challenge like this for some time.”
“They didn’t happen to specify what they wanted the victims to be wearing at the time, did they?”
“There is no need for sarcasm,” the Assassin answered. “I do my best work under the pressure of rigid client specifications. We’ve got two weeks and a lot of planning to do, so let’s get to work. First I’m going to need the schematics for the Old Brooking Municipal Water System. I’ll need the location of their pumping stations, reserve tanks and the water main system. See if you can attach construction dates to everything.”
“What do you need all that stuff for?”
The Assassin rolled his eyes.
? He smiled as he realized that the invention of Velcro strips even made that task less challenging for some. Patiently, he explained, “If our fire is going to accomplish what we’re setting out to do, the odds will improve greatly if attempts by the Old Brooking’s Fire Department to extinguish it are unsuccessful. Especially, if they are out of business entirely.”
“You mean that you’re gonna knock out their Fire Department?”
“Not the Fire Department, stupid, just the water they need to extinguish the fires.”
“Oh! Now I get it.”
The Assassin smiled.
He gets it
The Planet can rest easily now. “
Get to work and get me those blueprints and maps. Then I’ll show you how it’ll be done.”
* * *
The next morning a pile of paper rested on the Assassin’s desk. He spent four hours poring over the network of water mains, periodically referencing the list of construction dates. A brochure from the Old Brooking Water District boasted about the use of concrete water mains chosen for their ability to withstand corrosion and internal and external pressure, minimizing the likelihood of ever cracking or leaking. On the downside, concrete mains were more difficult to shut down should that ever be necessary. The decision as to whether a water main or the pumping station should be taken out was a difficult one to make. The water main section supplying water to the Hampton mansion was only twelve years old and was constructed with steel reinforcements, making it difficult to create a structural collapse. The pumping station, on the other hand, was “ancient” by any standard. No improvements had been made for over thirty years due to budget restrictions. A spate of recent breakdowns made the Old Brooking Municipal Pumping Station an “accident waiting to happen.”
Finally, the Assassin settled on a two-pronged approach. The last pump between the station and the mansion was “jerry-rigged” to supply water through a seventy-five foot section of twenty foot diameter conduit, which was only ten feet below the ground and not reinforced by steel. Damage to this section, some of which was directly under the electrical control panel, would effectively shut down the station and the town’s water supply for at least several weeks until water could be diverted from nearby towns.
He decided he would take out the electrical grid, starting with one of the transformers. The resulting explosion would set off a chain reaction throughout the grid and cause the pump to implode down into the main. Failure of the electrical grid would automatically cut off the flow of water from the reservoir. Reserves stored in the town’s water towers would drain quickly into the streets. Within an hour Old Brooking would run dry. All that would be needed to complete step one would be twenty five pounds of Nitrex, and given the absolute lack of security at the reservoir it would be the easiest part of the job
Adam Hampton III opened his eyes, prepared to meet the challenges of his day. His head throbbed from the overindulgence of the night before. He was in no immediate hurry to get up. At first he had no memory of the previous night’s activities, but, as the cobwebs cleared, a vague memory of having sex with Marcia Bloom emerged.
How could that slip my mind after trying so hard to bed her for the last six months?
The memory of his activity the prior night began to return. He recalled how beautiful her body was. He vividly retraced each curve in his mind. He had discovered, first hand, that there was much more to Marcia than her signature tight clothing. As the mystery continued to unravel, he remembered being in her apartment, drinking several Rusty Nails. She was wearing only a short silk robe, which, at the time, he considered a most promising sign.
As a sex partner, Adam was short on foreplay, which he believed made him climax too quickly. He preferred to get right to the fornication. He had waited for Marcia to make the first move, which she eventually did by letting her robe fall to the floor. They moved immediately to her bedroom where they made love for the next four hours on her round-shaped bed. He remembered doing it several times, but apart from that, the rest was a blur, including how he drove home and got into his pajamas. To add to his confusion, he saw that his clothes were neatly folded and piled up on one of the lounges.
For the past three years Marcia has been vice-president of Sales for Bretton Trading, one of the Hampton companies. She was appointed to the position by his father. Six months ago at a company party he made a pass at her, which she politely laughed off. On two other occasions he made it very clear that he wanted to go to bed with her and both times she had turned him down, but with less conviction she had earlier.
What happened last night?
He wrestled with the question.
What could have made her change her mind
? There was an obvious gap in his memory. As if to answer his questions, his cell phone rang. He rolled over and picked it up. The name on the screen was Marcia Bloom. He thought for a second and decided against answering it. He had no intention of speaking with her until he had the answers to the questions that were plaguing him; answers that were very slow in coming. He waited until she finished her message. The message was short.
When it ended, he pressed play.“Adam,” she said in a bubbly voice. “Good Morning! I’m sorry I missed you.” She hesitated for a moment and added, “We need to meet to discuss how and when you’re going to announce my promotion. Call me.”
Adam dropped the phone. The memory of the time preceding his sexual encounter with Marcia suddenly flooded into his head. He now recalled asking her, “What do I have to do for you to go to bed with me?” He remembered that she had bluntly answered, “I will sleep with you only if you give me the vacant CEO position at Bretton Trading.”
He also remembered reluctantly agreeing to do so.
What have I done?
, he thought.
She’s expecting me to promote her to CEO.
Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. In the two years since he took over the helm of Hampton Industries he exerted every effort to avoid signs of impropriety. Self-recriminations flooded through Adam’s thoughts
Why couldn’t I keep it in my pants? What the hell is wrong with me? I know better than to screw around at the office. How could I have been so stupid? She’s not ready to be CEO. Damn that scotch!