'Hitman's Creed'
Arrives tomorrow, September 10th, from Silver Publishing
Description:
Two men:
Glenn Tanner, a thirty-four year old hitman who wants to disappear and start a new life.
Joey Fairburn, a twenty-one year old Criminal Justice student studying to become a cop.
One problem in common:
Joey's
father, an escaped killer, is on his way to the small town where Joey
and his mother live, and where Glenn has finally settled down. Only time
will tell if Glenn and Joey, so disparate in both age and backgrounds,
will be able to find a common bond to unite them in an attempt to stop
the killer from murdering Joey's mother, and in the process perhaps find
love.
Excerpt:
Prologue
There
comes a point in everyone's life when they wonder if they've made the
right choices. Glenn was at that point as he rested his hands on the
railing of the catwalk high above the stage. He had everything planned
down to the nth degree, as always. The AR-7 rested between his legs,
scope attached. He could make his way from where he stood to the exit he
needed even in the dark. He knew this because he'd practiced it several
times over the last two days. One of the advantages of being on the
backstage crew was the freedom of movement it gave him. Freedom to roam
the theater at will.
While
he watched the show in progress, waiting for the moment when it was
time to put his plan into action, part of his mind was lamenting the
fact that, as always, he would be on a plane heading off to nowhere as
soon as he was finished. Such was his life, one anonymous hotel room
after another, no place to call home, no one to go home to even if he
had one.
"Maybe it's time to find a new profession," he murmured under his breath.
The
sound of laughter from the audience broke his train of thought,
bringing him back to the present. He brushed his hand through his hair,
which was at the moment dark, the natural gray streaks at his temples
invisible thanks to his expertise at dying it to suit whatever role he
was playing while on the job. Then instinctively he ran a finger over
his upper lip to smooth his mustache. It was no longer there, gone to
make him look younger than his thirty-four plus years. 'I'm getting too old for the game,' he thought yet again as he had too often recently.
He
heard the actress speak the lines which told him it was almost time and
picked up the rifle. A fast check around him told him what he already
knew. He was alone on the catwalk.
He
knelt, resting the rifle against one of the railing bars. A flash of
movement caught his attention momentarily; a young actress was pacing
nervously in the wings, awaiting her cue to enter. Ignoring her he
calmly stared through the scope to sight in on his target. He had no
idea why the woman he was looking at needed eliminating, or in this
particular place. That was none of his business. It was his job to do it
successfully, and in his own self-interests not to be caught
afterwards.
The
actress stood facing the actor playing her husband as they spoke their
lines, her hands resting on his shoulders, the only two on stage at the
moment. Glenn knew he had only a minute before she moved. He focused in
on the top of her head and slowly pulled the trigger, once and then
again. When the bullets tore through her skull there was a moment of
dead silence and then the screams began as she fell to the stage floor.
Even
as people rushed to his victim's side a few of the stagehands paused to
look up into the fly space trying to locate him. By then Glenn was
disassembling the rifle. He put the parts into the bag at his feet,
picked it up, and raced down the dark catwalk. When he reached the end,
he paused just long enough to strip off the black jumpsuit he'd been
wearing, stuffing it into the bag as well. Now he was in the dark jeans
and a navy turtleneck he'd worn when he came to work earlier that
evening.
Slinging
the bag over his shoulder, Glenn made his way up the ladder at the end
of the catwalk to the grid at the top of the theater's fly space, his
crepe-soled shoes making no sounds on the metal rungs. He knew he was
virtually invisible from below but was taking no chances, especially
when he heard the sound of feet coming up a ladder from the backstage
area to the lighting grid. Obviously at least one crew member was
willing to take the chance that they could find him before he got away.
Just
ahead of him now, at the top of a final short ladder, was the emergency
exit he needed. He'd already disabled the alarm so there would be no
worry it would go off and alert anyone as to his exact whereabouts. He
pushed the trapdoor open and leapt onto the slanted roof. It was still
slick from an earlier rain shower so Glenn was doubly careful as he made
his way to the edge and then over it to the fire escape. Before he
started down he checked to make certain the alley was vacant of any
observers, including transients who might have sought shelter in one of
the doorways. With no one in sight he sped down, jumping silently the
last few feet to the pavement.
Then
he strolled casually toward the street, stopping long enough to light a
cigarette, the brief glow of the lighter reflecting off his deadly
serious hazel eyes. When Glenn reached the end of the alley he smiled
tightly when he heard the blare of sirens then saw two patrol cars come
to a screeching stop in front of the theater. He turned in the opposite
direction and was soon just another pedestrian out for a night on the
town.
