The List

The Conclusion for The List - complete book coming soon!

The Watcher stepped closer and Father Michael felt himself involuntarily flinch as the Watcher let out a laugh that resembled a low grumble.

“I prefer to have closure in everything, don’t you? No matter how long it takes.”

“For once we agree,” said Father Michael and lunged at the Watcher, grabbing him around the throat, digging his thumbs deep into the Watcher’s windpipe. He could feel the delicate muscles begin to shred. The Watcher grabbed his hands and squeezed as hard as he could till the pain became almost unbearable for the Father and he let go, just a little.

The Watcher boxed his ears and pulled away, as he shoved the priest to the ground. Father Michael felt his ribs crack as the tip of the Watcher’s boot made contact, pushing into his side, over and over again. He curled up in a ball and prayed for God’s mercy until he could see his chance.

His arm darted out and caught the Watcher’s foot in mid-air pulling him off balance. Father Michael kept lifting his foot as he fell backward. Clemente’s back landed hard against the old Georgia clay bricks, the wind knocked out of him.

Father Michael got to his feet as quickly as he could. Easy now… deep breaths. The last thing he needed was to throw up or pass out. The knife slid forward till the handle was securely in his hand as he dropped to his knees next to the Watcher but only the tip was able to puncture the skin. The Watcher grabbed his wrist just in time and was quickly regaining his strength.

The Father picked up the only other weapon he could find and brought his arm down as hard as he could, willing his twisted hand to hold on to the prayer book as he slammed the spine into the Watcher’s head over and over again. He raised the knife again, ready to at least exact revenge.

“What’s going on in there? Over here, there’s more of them.”

A police officer stood at the entrance to the tunnel and was waving frantically for help. It was the only thing that stopped Father Michael from finishing what the Watcher had started forty years ago. He slid the book, wet with blood, into his pocket and rose to his feet. Wiping his hand on the inside of his jacket, he staggered out toward the light.

“Mugging,” he whispered to the officer as he looked around for a familiar face. He started to sway just as an arm came around his back and pressed painfully against his broken ribs.

“I have him, Officer.” It was Father Wright’s voice. “We’ll get him to medical care.”

“The ambulance is on its way,” the cop protested. “He really doesn’t look good.”

“I agree, we’ll make a point to hurry,” said Wright, nodding in the direction of the car.

They walked as quickly as Father Michael’s injuries would allow over to a black Lincoln Continental with the name of the Georgia Diocese in small gold lettering just under the door handle. Next to the words was a small, discreet depiction of two keys, one silver and one gold laid across each other.

Father Wright opened the back door and helped the brother into the back seat, gently sitting him up against the leather.

“We failed,” said Father Michael to the cleric already sitting in the back seat. He gripped his arm, trembling. “We lost everything.”

Father John didn’t look at him but said to the driver, “Take him to Bethesda Home for Boys. They’ll know what to do.”

“The list, the list is gone,” whispered Father Michael, his breathing becoming more labored.

“I was a step too late as well. The list is in their hands for now but that is for another day and different people. We have a vow to fulfill. As soon as you’re able, you’ll join us.”

“Wisconsin.”

“Yes, we’ll be fine until you can join us. Rest now, it’s in God’s hands.”

“What have we done? If they find out…” Father Michael began to weep. “You can’t take me to Bethesda. It will only confirm the list.”

“There is still hope. Do not forget about the one who lives in Richmond. We’ve managed to keep that identity a secret, even now. We still have a chance to stop them.”

Tagged as: The List, Thriller, Writing

{ 0 comments }

Part Four - The List - the complete book coming soon!

There were too many people drinking in the entrance to the passageway. He pushed out the front door again and shoved people aside trying to get to the river’s edge.

“Hey, old man, what the hell?” said a young man dressed in green running shorts and a t-shirt, still wearing his number from the Shamrock Shuffle that was ending over on River Street.

Father Michael quickly scanned the crowd for the Watcher but there were too many people. He scrambled to the back of the restaurant and found the older entrance to the tunnel blocked by empty boxes. He pushed them over and pried the door open as a splinter dug deep into the skin of his hand.

The narrow opening was barely wide enough and he squeezed through and into the tunnel.

The hard soles of his shoes sank into the soft sand that covered the floor of the tunnel as he raced the last few blocks toward the river. As he grew closer he heard a commotion and a woman suddenly cry out.

He reached the end of the tunnel and looked out at the two men who had her pinned against the sixteen-foot sailboat. She had almost made it. Father Michael let the knife drop down again as he started to cross the narrow road behind Magnolia Spa to make a run at them. Perhaps he could distract them long enough for the Keeper to slide into the river. The swift moving current would quickly carry her away and other boats were awaiting her at different points along the river. He was certain this would be the last act of his vow.

“Never again,” hissed Carol Schaeffer before there was a crunch and her neck was snapped. Father Michael doubled over as he pulled back into the shadows and pressed his body against the interior of the tunnel. He fought the bile rising in his throat as tears came down his cheeks.

“My God, we have failed,” he said quietly, tasting the tears on his lips.

“Oh, but failure is really a personal inventory, don’t you think?”

“George Clemente,” Father Michael said, as he pressed his back harder against the wall to keep from falling over. “They let you loose on the world again.” He felt his throat tighten as he tried to get out the words.

The Watcher sneered. He was holding the Father’s old copy of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer. “How’s the hand?” asked the Watcher. He was tapping the Father’s prayer book gently against his chest.

“None the worse. Management must really be trembling to unleash a jackal like you in their midst.”

“More of a promotion, really. World events have changed and the times call for people like me with a unique ability to focus.”

“There are more of you,” said the priest, trying to cover the feeling of panic creeping up his spine.

“Oh yes, spread across the world.”

“Much like the plague,” said the priest.

Tagged as: The List, Thriller, Writing

{ 0 comments }

Part Three from The List - the complete book coming soon!

The mark of the saltire was there with the right key of excommunication drawn in haste over the left for absolution. The Episcopal symbol was reversed. So Carol was still alive and knew she was in trouble.

Two short diagonal lines next to the two keys meant she was making a run for the Pirates House right by the river. He could feel his heart beating faster as he read her final mark. The thumb drive was still with her. They were too close to her to take a chance by leaving it at any of the checkpoints.

Father Michael got down on his hands and knees, feeling the thick scars that wrapped around his waist straining as he quickly crawled through the opening. There was no time to worry if someone would follow behind him. There was only a question of who would get to the river first.

He passed out of the hidden door onto East Perry Lane and started to move faster, leaning until he was falling forward in a run.

He ran through the center of Oglethorpe Square and came out onto East State Street trying to pick up speed.

“Father Michael, are you alright?”

It was a parishioner walking with her family in the direction of the parade.

“Last rites,” he said, gently patting her on the shoulder, as he kept moving.

The Pirates House was on Broad Street with a passage in the back that led directly onto the edge of the Savannah River.

Father Michael pushed inside the restaurant through the throngs of people till he reached the main room and the handwritten pages of Treasure Island that were encased on the wall. He shone the black light on the case and saw the sign of the Ionic cross.

“No,” he gasped and felt the blood drain from his face.

Tagged as: The List, Thriller, Writing

{ 0 comments }

The thriller, The List - coming soon!

The List – Savannah, Georgia

His knotted hand loosely gripped an old copy of the Book of Common Prayer. He had hurried out of St John’s rectory not realizing the small book was still in his hand.

He could see the Six Pence Pub through the crowd that was still gathering along East Liberty for the parade. There was a tight knot of early morning drinkers spilling out of the bar’s door, most of them holding mugs of green beer and laughing too loudly for a Saturday morning. Several were wearing large plastic sunglasses painted with the words Beer Goggles around the edges.

Father Michael squeezed past a group of girls standing in the doorway who were giggling at the antics of the men at the bottom of the front steps. He pushed through just as the same man from earlier caught him by the elbow at the bar.

“Father, do you have a moment?” he asked, gripping the priest’s elbow tightly.

A Watcher had identified him.

The cleric straightened out his other arm, letting the small, thin knife slide forward into his palm. He swiftly thrust the tip of the blade into the man’s side hard enough to make him recoil but not enough to cause more than a shallow puncture. The Watcher let go as the Father shoved him hard enough to topple into the crowd, green beer sloshing everywhere.

“The drink will kill you one of these days, son,” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran through the kitchen and out to the small office in back.

The owner was nowhere to be seen but there wasn’t time to find him. The Father quietly shut the office door and locked it, shoving a chair under the handle. He grunted and felt another sharp pain in his chest as he pulled the large filing cabinet away from the wall. The cabinet teetered as a drawer suddenly popped open, nicking the cleric in the ribs just beneath old, ropey scars made the same night his hand was crippled. He dropped the small prayer book and took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the cabinet as he shoved with his hip.

It slid over just enough to reveal a low, wooden door. He pulled out the small flashlight dangling from his keychain and shone the black light on the wooden frame.

Tagged as: The List, Thriller, Writing

{ 0 comments }