This is my first novel.

The story is about a Nigerian in the US and his battle to either save his life and allow the greatest nation crumble or risk his life to save America.

It will be launching soon across multiple platforms and will be available for you to download.

SYNOPSIS:
"Before a journalist died mysteriously in the middle of the night in St. Peter's Hospital, New York, she managed to pass a piece of paper to one of the nurses. In it contained the name of a church and the phone number of Kane Bamidele, a Nigerian ex-cop now turned PI.

With a zeal to uncovering the cause of his friend's death, Bamidele inserts himself undercover as a member of the church where it all started. Soon he gets to discover a whole new depth of deception and secrets hidden within the tenets of this religious sect that is about to shake the very foundations of the most powerful nation on earth.

Bamidele has his African traditional maternal instincts, training, and experience as a former cop. But will these be enough to intervene in the impending doom? Or will his life be next in line sacrificed for the will of "God"? This is a story of betrayal, secrets, religious fanaticism, and power tussle."

I will be dropping the prologue here shortly...

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Please don't fail to drop your comments and reviews. Its my first fictional work.


Copyright:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.


Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual place or events is purely coincidental.

**PROLOGUE**

==================================================================================

”I can’t breathe…” she thought, her eyes fixed to the cold white fixtures before her.

The ceiling of the hospital was a stark white. The long fluorescent lights created dashes across her vision, making it seem as if she was looking down on the white dashes on the highway as the car drives fast through the road. The thought nearly lulled her to sleep.

“Don’t sleep, dear. Come on, stay with me.” One of the nurses mumbled as they sped through hallway after hallway.

I can’t breathe.

Her body was contracting. Every nerve within her being felt like exploding. Not a single pore in her cells could get a gasp of air.

Tell me it’s just a dream…

With the little energy she had left in her bones, she fished a small slip of paper from her pocket. It was crumpled and some of the ink was smudged. In a panicked frenzy, her hands found themselves fumbling through the railings of the bed, looking for a friendly hand. She reached for the palms of a young woman. Her head snapped back to look at the patient’s face

“Calm down, dear. You’re going to be fine.” She whispered near her face.

Disgruntled as she was, she knew she was far from fine. Nothing felt right. Everything was out of place and her mind was racing – wondering – if she would ever see the light of day again.

“Please.” She managed to croak out from her rusted throat. Her whole body started to tremble. The very air of the hospital felt too constricting for her troubled lungs. Insistently, she pushed the slip of paper against the hand of the nurse. “Please…” A tear ran down the side of her cheek. All she could see were troubled faces looming over her limp body.

Everything hurts…

The nurse took the piece of paper and shoved it deep into the pocket of her scrubs.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, okay?”

That was the last thing she heard before the world went black.


”We’re losing her!” The doctor howled as he tried to hold down the patient. The beeps were getting faster and panic was beginning to set in the intern’s system.

“What the Bleep do I do?!” She thought as she turned the patient to her side. The edges of her mouth were foaming up and her eyes were rolled back. The scene, to the young woman in her inexperienced scrubs, was all too frightening. The patient was shaking all over

“Nurse! What are the symptoms?” An older woman in her 40’s looked down at her notes.

“Seizures. Loss of consciousness. On the way here, we noted that she had difficulty breathing.”

“Her skin is red.” Another nurse said as she inspected the patient. “...very red.”

“Shit.” The doctor whispered under his breath. “We need to get a blood sample. Keep her steady.”

“You there!” He said to the young intern. “Hand me a syringe, please.” She hurriedly grabbed an unopened pack of needles and a small syringe and fixed it up. With nervous hands, she handed it over to the doctor.

“Alright…steady…” He said as he pushed the needle through the layers of the patient’s skin. As it found its way through her veins, the patient started panting like a dog on a hot, summer day. Each gasp sounded more painful than the one before. Lucidly, she started slurring out incoherent sentences one after the other, trying to stitch together a complete thought, only for the words to end up in a big pile of nonsense before her. After drawing a few milligrams of blood, the doctor handed the syringe over to the young woman.

“You know what to do.” She carefully took the device in her hands and transferred the contents in a tiny vial and labeled it. In a frenzy, the young woman ran down the quiet halls of St. Peter’s Hospital. As she was about to reach the end of the hallway, she heard it. It was a long, dragging note, piercing through the quiet of the night. Her heels ran as fast as they could until she reached the lab. She handed over the vial to one of the specialists in charge and looked at the clock hanging just above her head.

It was 1:54 A.M.

“Bleep.” She whispered. From the end of the hall, she heard the muffled sound of the doctor trying to revive the dead patient in Room 36. She was 20 feet away from the room but somehow, she could hear the defibrillator’s zaps, the doctor’s agitated commands, and the sound of her own pulse going berserk. It was her first night on call, and by the grace of the Devil, someone is already hanging on the brink of death.

“We’ll send the results back as fast as we can, Cheryl.” One of the specialists told her. She gave him a quick nod before heading back into the patient’s room.

What she saw inside the room was the abhorrent image of death. As she stood there by the door, she could see the woman lying down with her blouse halfway open and the doctor putting the defibrillator back in place. Her mouth was stuck in a half-opened state and her eyes were only halfway closed. Her skin was still a bit red all over and the expression that was permanently etched on her face as she laid there was full of pain. With a sigh, the doctor glanced at his watch.

“Time of death, 2:10 AM.” He said before walking out the room in disappointment. The older nurse wrote the time down on the chart before placing it back on the bed.

“Cheryl, tell Ralph to bring her down to the morgue.” She placed a gentle hand on her arm before walking out the room with the other nurse on duty. The young intern was left with the dead body of a woman that no one has ever seen nor heard of before. She whispered a light prayer over the dead body.

She walked over to the end of the bed and picked up the patient’s chart. All of the necessary questions have been filled out - all but one: the patient’s name. She took a gander at her face again. She had a pretty face, with kind green eyes, full lips, and just a hint of freckles, artfully dusted across her cheeks. She remembered how those green eyes cried as they rushed her into the emergency room. She remembered how her trembling hand reached for her as she struggled to draw her breath. She remembered how her lips contorted in pain as she tried to utter her last words.

Pushing the thoughts away, the intern cupped the patient’s pockets in search for any proof of her identity. After a few moments of fumbling, she fished out the woman’s wallet from the backside of her jeans. Inside were a couple of banknotes, a driver’s license and a few receipts from 711.
She looked back at the stiff in front of her. She raised her hands to shut the patient’s eyes before mumbling a quiet prayer.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you…” As the holy words slithered from her tongue, all she could see was the desperation in the woman’s face, how she begged as she handed her the slip of paper.

The paper! How could I forget about the paper?

After giving a solemn “Amen,” she drew from her pocket the small, scrunched up piece of paper. Written in faded blue ink was a couple of digits and what seems to be a name of a church. She’s heard it before. Any religious practitioner knows the church by name. Her mind wandered through the endless possibilities that could emerge from the messily written text between her fingers. By habit, she walked around the room in an anxious pace, debating whether or not she should dial the number.

“Please…”

She tried to push the thought away.

“Please…” A tear ran down the side of her cheek.

After a few minutes of pondering, she decided to put her foot down. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and with a deep breath, she punched in the digits.

The phone rang.

The phone rang a second time.

The phone rang a third time.

Then, a deep voice answered.

“Hello?”

Well databoy247 u gotta continue.

Wow.... Please continue... Wonderful story

Glad you guys are finding it interesting.

You can visit the link in the first post to download the full epub version.

Remember to drop your comments

Nice one ...making sense..

chrisbaby24:
Nice one ...making sense..

Thanks.

Chapter One

“Hello?” A young man slurred. With a disgruntled sigh, he sat at the edge of the bed and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. His head was pounding, his back hurt, and his throat felt drier than the Sahara. Exhausted, he glanced at the clock beside his bed.

“Good morning, sir. Is this an inconvenient time?” A small voice chirped from the end of the line.

“It’s 2 AM. You judge.”

“I’m sorry…I’ll make this quick…umm…” She mumbled. Agitated, Kane Bamidele abruptly stood up from the bed and walked over to the window a few feet in front of him. He sat on the chair by the window and fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. It was a small room, with a lamp hanging low from the ceiling. The green wallpaper on the walls was starting fade and flake off on the edges. The floor was an artful mess of old wood, covered by a large, wine-stained carpet. The single light that illuminated the room came from the small bay window facing the buzzing streets of the city

“Hold on, who’s calling?” He said as he raised one crushed cigarette to his lips.

“Cheryl. I’m a nurse from St. Peter’s Hospital.” She mumbled. He took the cigarette out his mouth and ran a hand down his face in frustration. His head was becoming too heavy for his body.

“Look, Cheryl. I am one conversation away from throwing myself off a goddamn cliff. If this is another one of those –“

“Sir, do you know a woman named Marisol Campbell?” She cut him off.

He paused, not knowing how to respond. Marisol’s face flashed before his eyes as the nurse muttered her name. He could feel the tension in the woman’s voice. He recalled the last time he talked to Marisol – how he had cut her off and disregarded her. Two weeks ago while he was at work, busy sorting through file after file, he received a persistent call from her. Now, hearing this woman utter her name in such a manner that would make anyone fear for it, his mind can’t help but wonder.

“Kane…I need your help…” She whispered.

“Marie, I don’t really have time for this.” He said as he scanned through paper after paper.

“Kane, this is very…very important.”

“I know what this is. It’s another one of your tin-foil hat experiments. Didn’t I tell you to keep your nose off that nonsense?” He laughed as he flipped through another folder.

“You don’t understand, Kane. I –“. From the other side of the line, he heard the faint voice of a man.

“Marisol?” She was covering the mouth of the phone, muffling the sounds of her conversation with the mystery man on the other side. After a few moments, she took her hand off the phone.

“Kane. Something big will happen soon – and I mean really soon – and I need you in on the frontline of it. I know you’re busy and I know you think I’m going over my head right now, but please. I am asking you as a friend. Will you please…please help me?”

He stayed silent.

“Kane?”

“Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back. I’ll give you my response in a few days. Just wait for my call.”

“Listen –“

He ended the call.

That was the last he heard of her.

“What happened?” He could feel his pulse going wild beneath his skin. Anxiety was beginning to settle in his system. Marisol Campbell is an impulsive woman, capable of things that any person with a sane mind shouldn’t do. She picks up the scent of trouble almost every single time she walks out of the door, and like an excited puppy, she runs after it uncontrollably.

“She was taken to the ER about an hour ago by a total stranger,” Cheryl muttered nervously.

“And?”

“She didn’t make it.”

“Marisol Campbell was once an impulsive woman, capable of things any person with a sane mind shouldn’t do.” He thought as he dropped the cigarette to the floor.

***

“Bleep!” He screamed as loud as his lungs could manage. A few pedestrians walking on the sidewalk jumped in surprise as he repeatedly hit his head against the steering wheel, causing his old Honda to honk incessantly with each smack against the horn. It wasn’t until an old lady knocked on his car window did he stop.

He looked at the time on the dashboard. It was near 3 AM. “Have I been doing that the whole time?” He thought. Powerless, he threw his head back against the car seat and shut his eyes. It all seemed to go by so fast. One moment he was singing in an intoxicated slur in a bar downtown, the next moment, he gets a phone call telling him that one of his closest friends just died.

How could I let her go alone?

As if a spite from God, heavy drops of rain suddenly started pelting down his windshield, comically matching with his disposition. As he sat there in the comfort of his car watching each drop race down the glass, he remembered two weeks ago like it was just yesterday. He heard the desperation in her voice, and he chose to ignore it.

Some weeks ago, Marisol called him up at work. She said it was urgent news. In an excited voice, she relayed the information about a project she was working on solo. Kane thought nothing of it. To him, journalists always have a nose for things that are half the time not even there to begin with. Marisol was an impulsive, headstrong woman who would do anything to unearth secrets that no one even dared to think were even true. And that, even to a seasoned private investigator like Kane, was nonsense.

Being a low life PI was the only way he could make a living now...if it can be called a living. With his brawny figure and intimidating stature, Kane Bamidele has been dubbed as a man to be feared in the force while he was a police officer. He was constantly putting his partners in danger. He toppled down case after case with such recklessness that even his superiors thought it was best to let him go, not only for the safety of his colleagues but also for his own.

This took a huge toll on his record and he blames it on the one thing that has led him to the position he is in right now. Kane is one of the less than 400 people diagnosed with an extremely rare disease called the Urbach – Wiethe Syndrome, which has damaged a considerably large amount of his amygdale during his childhood. This untreatable disease has rendered him immune to almost everything frightening. Bugs, horror movies, and even the mere thought of death doesn’t faze him. This, along with his innate aura of intimidation, has made him a force to be reckoned with in his four years as an officer.

However, this feat also led to his inevitable downfall. Two years after being promoted to a detective, working in organized crime, he was dismissed from the force. During one encounter with a known drug lord in the Upper West side, he broke into the apartment alone, nearly killing himself and the prime suspect in the process. This is only the tip of the iceberg in his book. He also has a handful of police brutality cases on his record and a reputation for cutting corners. His bravery and recklessness eventually paved his way into the world of private investigation - with the help of a couple of his friends, of course. With the majority of his contacts being journalists, these people became his meal tickets.

They led him into jobs that no one dared to take and he gave them results in return. To Kane, no stone should be left unturned when it comes to business – but only the type of business that matters to him.

“And look where it got her.” Frustrated at the thought, he turned the keys in the ignition and drove off to the hospital. After chugging down a quarter of can beer, he had agreed to meet Cheryl by the emergency entrance of St. Peter’s. Amidst the chaos in his mind, he tried to recollect his troubled thoughts. Bits and pieces of the night before popped into his head. He remembered Freddy, his long-time friend and now co-worker, calling him up at 10 in the evening, telling him in a drunken haze to “get his black ass to The Barracks because the party is lit.” Despite the despair settling within the pit of his stomach, Kane laughed.

Freddy had always wanted to own a drinking bar, and now, after a mere 5 years of backbreaking work, he finally opened his first one: The Barracks. It was a small establishment situated under an apartment building in downtown New York, and what Kane saw inside by the time he got there that night was the epitome of your typical American party lifestyle. Booze was overflowing, the smell of cigars was in hanging in the air, and left and right, there was some couple making out. The bar now felt like a world away, and that glorious night, barely a few hours ago, now felt like a hundred years past.

After a few minutes of driving through the light 3 AM traffic, he finally reached the hospital. Standing by the large entryway to the emergency room was a small woman, with her hair tucked neatly into a bun. She wore clothes that looked as if they were a day old and her face was a deathly pale color. With a grunt, Kane picked up the jacket resting on the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. He splashed through the puddles as he ran towards the entrance.

“Cheryl?” He said as he reached the young woman. Her head snapped up to meet his dark gaze. As if forgetting where she was, she looked at him with curious eyes.

“Kane Bamidele. You called me an hour ago.” He said quickly, trying not to choke at his own name before flashing his PI ID.

“Oh yes…right.” She blushed. “This way please.” She led him to the waiting room inside the hospital and sat him down. The interior of the hospital was not so impressive to Bamidele. The walls and floors were a dirty white color, and the chemical smell of the hospital hung in the air like perfume. The whole room smelled of death and despair.

“So what’s your relationship with the patient?” She said as they sat down in the row of chairs next to the hospital triage. Kane hesitated. It’s been a long time since he and Sol went out for a beer and talked like old pals, so he can’t really call himself a friend. His ethnicity is obviously a dead giveaway if he says that he’s family. “Husband” is also out of the question since neither of them carries a wedding band. He lowered his head and gave a quiet sigh.

“I’m just a co-worker.” She nodded at his remark.
“Cheryl, I need you to tell me what happened.” He told her, his dark brown eyes instinctively searched her for answers – clues for something that he himself doesn’t know yet. How did she die? She lowered her gaze to the floor. With a tremendous amount of difficulty, Kane tried to search any hint emotion in her deep-set eyes and found nothing.

“What is it?”

“The hospital has a non-disclosure policy…” She said.

“And?” He felt the blood rushing to his head.

“I’m not supposed to tell you anything…” She whispered. This immediately infuriated him. The last thing he needed was someone getting in the way of things like this. With heavy hands, he slapped his own thighs and laid his head back. During his time as a police, Freddy always told him that if it doesn’t help, he doesn’t need to yell. At that brief moment in the hospital waiting room, Kane almost forgot everything his friend had taught him. Sometimes uncontrollable anger can be a bitch.

“Okay then, Cheryl. Do you mind telling me why the Bleep I drove down here at three in the morning?” The hoarseness of his voice made the hairs on the back of her head stand up. He could feel the anger beginning to settle down beneath his skin. The sight and smell of the hospital did nothing to help that.

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh so now you’re sorry?” His eyes snapped open and looked at her. He felt his blood boiling in his veins.

“All the information about the patient should only be relayed to relatives and close friends.” She said, looking at him straight in the eye.

“WHY THE Bleep AM I HERE THEN?” He blurted out. Suddenly, every eye in the waiting room was looking at him. Conversations stopped to hear his own, and the whole room hushed at the sight of his angry face. He sighed and sat low on the chair. In his head, he started to recite the alphabet. He did this ‘til his blood ran calmly again.

“I’m sorry for yelling, but do you actually think she would waste her dying breath to contact someone that she doesn’t see as a close friend?” He whispered after a few moments. Her face burned bright red as she nodded in agreement. Her hands found themselves fiddling with the frayed ends of her scrubs. Her eyes tried their best not to meet his own.

“You’re right…I’m sorry.” Kane slowly neared her face and forced her eyes to meet his.

“Cheryl, look, I know I look scary, but please, help me here. I know I am in no place to tell you this but get a damn grip.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I just lost someone an hour ago. I don’t need this kind of bullshit. So if you’re not interested in opening your mouth, I will walk right into the office of the Chief of Medicine and have your ass thrown out of this god forsaken hospital. Do you understand?” Blood suddenly left her face. Her bottom lip quivered in fear as Kane looked deep into her eyes. Somehow, she knew he meant it.

After a few minutes of deafening silence, she finally spoke up.

“She was admitted – sort of – into the hospital at around 1:45 in the morning.” She muttered through her thin lips.

“Sort of?”

“Well, no one exactly knew how she got here…” She drawled.

Confused, Bamidele shook his head and looked down at the tiled floors. With all the energy that’s left in his hung-over body, he tried his best not to break anything – especially a couple of bones.

“Okay…and how did you find her?”

“I was just about to start my shift. I saw her right there” She pointed at the chair sitting right next to the door of the entrance. “I thought she was just a visitor taking a nap until she started coughing. She had hard time breathing and her skin…her skin looked red.”

“Was anyone else with her?”

“Not that I know of.” Kane sighed and took out a notebook. She wrote down the symptoms she enumerated for him, before looking back up at her tired face.

“Okay. So she was admitted at around 1:45 am but she has been sitting here for some time before someone got to her?” He asked her. Her face turned red as she slowly nodded her head.

“Has anyone else seen her here aside from you?”

“Well, some of the nurses on call did, but none of them thought much of it.”

“And how did you guys react when you saw her coughing?”

“At first, we thought she just had the chills but when I got near her to assist, I saw that she was about to pass out.” She looked back at the chair. “When I touched her shoulder, she started yelling. She kept asking where she was and she called out a name – your name, I believe…” Kane lowered his head in guilt.

“She started going on about something…I don’t really remember what it was. Then, she collapsed on the floor and had a seizure. That was about the time we took her to the ER.” She said. Kane could hear a smidge of guilt in the young woman’s voice – the same guilt he could hear in his own labored breaths as he listened to her story.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know…” He gave a reassuring pat on the back. He could tell by the sight of her that she was inexperienced. Her face was young and still free from the scars of hard work.

“I could have saved her…” Tears were starting to pool around her eyes.

“No. You couldn’t have.” He abruptly added. ”But I could have.” He thought to himself.

“What?” She looked at him in disbelief.

“Cheryl…I’m guessing that this is your first time seeing a case like this…but I’m pretty sure you know the symptoms. Heavy breathing…confusion…seizures…Cheryl, she was poisoned.”

“We thought so as well…but it was too fast. If it was food poisoning, the symptoms – “

“Cheryl, this isn’t food poisoning.” He stopped her. He looked around the ER. There were a few people walking about but so far, none has turned a curious eye. In a low voice, he added, “I don’t know what it was, and I don’t know how it happened but I’m pretty sure no one dies that quickly from food poisoning…at least not as quick and definitely not as mysterious.”
She gave him a weak nod.

“I need you to do me a favor. After the autopsy is conducted, I need you to directly give me the information, call me” He whispered. “Also, if the cops come sniffing around, leave out the part where you called me. Just, leave my name alone in general. Can you do that? I need to find out what happened to her and I don’t need distractions”.
There was a moment of hesitation in the girl. Kane could practically see the gears turning in her head. When she didn’t answer, he gave her the look. It was the type of look he gave to people who wouldn’t comply. It was the look that meant business.

“Okay,” she meekly replied. All color was gone from her face as she averted her eyes and looked down on the floor.

“Good. That’s all I needed to hear. I’m sorry if this night has been a hassle to you.” He said as he got up from the chair.

“It’s alright.”

He closed the notebook and shoved it back in his jacket. He took his wallet from the backside of his jeans and took out a small card.

“Here. Take this. This is her card. The phone number written here is her family’s home phone number. I trust you know what to do next.”

“Yes.” She mumbled.

“And take this as well.” He gave another card. “This is my number. Contact me when you have details. I’ll be heading out now.” As he was about to turn around, Cheryl stopped him.

“Wait…there’s something else.” She handed him a small, crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “She gave this to me before she died. It could be useful.”

His heart dropped to his stomach. Messily written on the paper was the name of the church that Marisol talked to him about.

“The Power Assembly Church of God”
A part of him prayed that it was far from the reason for her untimely demise…but now the picture is clear. He shoved the paper deep into the pocket of his jacket.

“Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll contact you when I need more information, alright?” He said as he walked out of the hospital. As he got into his beat-up Honda, he can’t help but wonder when was the last time he visited a church.

“Time to pay a visit to good old’ G, this Sunday. It’s been a while since I’ve said a prayer.” He thought as he turned on the ignition and drove off.

Nice one, more update please

Thank Jesus. its not Romance...
Op, this is interesting.
Sharpening our fingers, let's see begin reading ...

kanayoNickel:
Thank Jesus. its not Romance...

Op, this is interesting.

Sharpening our fingers, let's see begin reading ...

Lol...Definitely not romance.

Don't forget to drop your reviews.

Alright. The intro is captivating and we hope to be entertained and have our emotions toyed with...

I hope you won't mind if we critique

kanayoNickel:
Alright. The intro is captivating and we hope to be entertained and have our emotions toyed with...

I hope you won't mind if we critique

It's my first. So, if I want to grow in this, I definitely need the critique.

Bring it on...Lol.

Chapter 2

“Kane, I have to tell you something really quickly…” She said as she sat across the booth.

“Jeez Louise, Sol, you barely just got here!” He laughed, “If this is about work, I really don’t want to hear it. It’s Friday, and Friday in my language means booze day!” He said as he took one glass from the stack in the middle of the table. He picked up the large pitcher of ice cold beer and poured. As he did, he felt Sol staring at him from across the table.

“What is it?” He said as he filled two glasses to the brim.

“You don’t want to listen to me again, do you?” She said. Annoyed, she dropped her purse on the table, causing some of the beer to spill.

“I paid 10 bucks for this shit, don’t go spilling it everywhere,” Kane said as he tried to contain the booze. He raised one of the glasses to his lips and took a good long gulp before letting out a loud belch.

“Damn, that feels good.” He said, pushing a glass towards Marisol, spilling some of its contents on the wooden table.

“Come on, it’s Friday. Drink.” He took another sip of his beer.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight, Kane.”

“Why not?” She looked around the crowded pub before leaning forward. She gestured for Kane to follow suit, which he reluctantly did.

“Because I have to tell you something” She whispered.

“What?”

“A month ago, I heard about this church-“

“Oh, so you’re Christian now, eh?” Kane interrupted, flashing a sly smirk at her.

“Kane, I’m serious.” She said.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He set his glass down on the table. “What is it?”

“I’m thinking you might want to look into it as well.” He looked at Sol seriously then.

“What is it about?”

“You might laugh.”

“Try me.” She paused, contemplating whether or not she should disclose. Kane tapped his fingers at the table, impatiently waiting for her answer. She sighed, looked around, and then stared at him straight in the eye.

“A conspiracy theory.”

“A conspiracy theory?” He said as he raised his brows.

“Yes.”

“Do you have any leads?”

“Well, no-“

“Sources?”

“I’m getting into it, I have – “

“Then it’s none of our concern for now. I have no taste for fruitless investigations, Sol. You know that. Talk to me about it when you’ve got a solid lead on it. We can’t waste manpower and time.” He said as he chugged down the glass of ice cold beer.

“Especially mine. I like you and so wouldn’t want you to waste your money on something with no headway”

Kane thought long and hard as he drove out of the city. The sky burned orange as the sun rose in the east. He rolled down the window and let the earthy scent of petrichor soothe his nerves.

“I need a break.” He thought.

He parked the car by the side of the road and stepped out. The road was nearly empty with just a couple of cars driving towards the city. Kane glanced at his watch and saw that it was already six o’clock in the morning. He barely slept for two hours and yet he felt wide awake. The faint pounding in his head was getting stronger by the minute, much to his annoyance. He leaned against his car and looked up at the purple sky.

“Now where do I go?”

Marisol Campbell wasn’t just any journalist – she was Kane’s best friend, and the death of a friend and a source meant immediate action to him. Anything involving the people closest to him meant a personal attack. Whoever killed Marisol just got themselves a one-way ticket to Hell. But where do I start?

From his jeans, he took out a crushed pack of cigarettes. He took one from the dozen and put it in between his lips. He searched his pockets for a lighter and after finding nothing, he threw away the cigarette in rage.

“God dammit!” He screamed as he kicked his tire in indignation. He was tired, stressed, and now, grieving. Someone has to pay…but who?
Feeling defeated, he got back into the car and sat inside for a long while. The flow of traffic outside of town was very light, with only a few cars passing by every minute. Every so often, a car would slow down in front of him and ask him if he needed any help, much to his irritation. After a few minutes, he decided to grab his phone and call up Freddy.

“Hey, man…” He said when he finally picked up.

“Kane, it’s four in the morning. What do you want?” Freddy Wayman said, still half-asleep. Freddy and Kane go way back. He’s one of the very few people Kane let into his life because of his medical condition, along with Marisol. These people help control his anger and also keep him from doing stupid things even though he knows no fear. Now that one of them, his best friends is lying somewhere in a morgue, he needed Freddy more than ever.

“Listen, something just happened...” Kane paused, not knowing how to continue. Words flew around his head but none of it could soften the blow of the news. How do you tell someone that a friend of theirs just died out of the blue?

“Well, if you’re looking for advice, you better ask Sober Freddy. Drunk Freddy is still up and running right now.” He heard Freddy get up from the bed with a grunt, probably toppling down a couple of things on the bedside table in the process. “BUT if you’re looking for GREAT advice, fire away, hombre. Drunk Freddy’s giving away a shit ton of it for free!” Kane stayed silent as Freddy laughed away.

“Go on, man. I haven’t got all morning.” Freddy said after his fit. “Spill the beans, K.”

“Marisol…” Her name felt like daggers, scratching down the sides of his throat. “Marisol just died.”

“Nice.” He laughed. “You’re kidding, right”
Kane stayed silent.

“Right, Kane?”

Kane shut his eyes and lowered his head.

“Kane?”

A deafening silence enveloped the car, slowly suffocating him. Neither of them spoke for a while - both waiting for the other to make a move.
Just as he was about the slide his finger to the red button, he heard Freddy sigh.

“Damn.”

“I know.”

“Good morning to you too, I guess.” They both laughed. Kane has always been known to be an incredibly straightforward man who hates beating around the bush. Instead, he always insists on tackling down the Bush and beating it to a pulp with his bare hands. Freddy saw this as comical. Whenever the chance would present itself, he always smacks Kane with a dead panned joke, much to Kane’s annoyance.
After a few moments, Kane cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to do next…”

“Well, that’s the first time.”

“And I intend for it to be the last.” Kane shut his eyes and leaned his head against the steering wheel. “Well, Drunk Freddy, I am in desperate need of some great advice from your wise-ass, no matter how fucking pissed I am at you right now.” He mumbled against the phone.

“What happened to her, anyway?” Freddy asked. With a heavy heart, Kane told him everything that transpired hours ago, from how Cheryl woke him up at 2 AM all the way to the point where he called Freddy in desperation. Tired and frustrated after the tale, Kane lifted his head up from the wheel and looked at the thicket beside the road.

“Have you told her parents yet?”

“No, and I don’t plan to anytime soon. I need to know what happened to her first.”

“I see.” Freddy cleared his throat. Not knowing how to respond anymore, he asks, “Well, have you checked her apartment yet?

The apartment! Kane slaps his forehead in utter disbelief. How much did I really drink last night?

“Freddy…you are a genius.” He turns the ignition key and starts the engine. “You are a fucking genius.”

“Okay…uh…thanks?”

“You are very welcome,” Kane said as he ended the call. Like a predator catching the scent of a prey, every last nerve in his body spiked up. The throbbing ache in his head has cleared now and the clouds in his vision slowly faded away. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he turned the car around and drove back to the city.

This is one job he will do for free. And when he does free jobs, people tend to get hurt. Right now he needed to hurt someone....badly!

Databoy247


Excellent work

Am living this bro, when do we continue?

Looks interesting, would be back to read

Good job.

Keep it up.

I also like the cover design.

Believe me you , the piece is promising. It's a WINNER ! And I see it winning the Booker Prize . If you'd not published it I'd have asked that between the prologue and chapter one, you digress to heighten the suspense. Trust me, it's dope !

Next chapter coming up soon.

Chapter 3

Kane carelessly parked the car by the sidewalk, splashing water on a man who was jogging by. Kane heard him yell as he ran up the stairs to the apartment building.

Marisol’s apartment was located somewhere along the dodgier part of town, where you’re more likely to get mugged than find a decent falafel stand. It was an old, low-rise building made of brick and stone. The walls were covered with a thin layer of mold and the paint on the windowsills was beginning to chafe. Kane pushed the creaky door of the entrance and got inside the building.

“Hey! You one of the boys again?” A short, balding man emerged from a small room by the foot of the stairs. He was wearing a dirty muscle shirt that highlighted the prominent curve of his beer belly. His thin beard covered a small, greasy mouth that snarled at Kane. He raised a thick brow as he observed the black man standing by the doorway.

“Excuse me?” Kane asked, confused at the landlord’s query.

“I said, are you one of them boys again, dawg?” He said, clearly taunting Kane as he placed his flabby arms against his waist. Watching him with dark, angry eyes, Kane suddenly felt the need to break the man’s neck. He knows who Kane was yet every single time he walks in the door, he always had something to say about him. His condescending demeanour never failed to find its way to Kane’s nerves.

“Your insults are misplaced, you fucking meatball,” Kane said as he climbed up the stairs, taking two at a time. He paid no attention to the calls of the landlord as he rushed towards Marisol’s door. The building had no elevator so Kane was forced to climb four floors before reaching Marisol’s unit. He paused in front of the dark mahogany door and tried to catch his breath.

He knew Marisol always kept a spare key above the door, so as he stood there, he searched the small space above the threshold until his fingertips grazed on a small piece of cold metal. With two fingers, he picked it up and put it inside the lock on the door. Surprisingly, the lock
didn’t move.

“Someone has been here…” He thought as he slowly turned the brass knob of the door with a piece of his shirt. It won’t be a good idea leaving prints behind.

And he was right. A frightful mess greeted Kane as he opens the door to her apartment. Pieces of trash littered the floor, dining chairs found themselves scattered all across the living room, and sofa cushions were turned over, revealing the metal skeleton of the couch exposed. The house was a complete disaster. Broken picture frames were lying around the floor and Kane tried his best not to step on any of them as he tip-toed through the room. His feet found their way to her bedroom. Her dresser has been raided and her bed was completely tipped over. Not a single thing was left untouched by whoever it was who trashed this place.

After a few minutes of fumbling around the mess, he found nothing. There wasn’t any piece of evidence to give him even the slightest hint as to who it was who tipped the house over and possibly killed Marisol. Hopeless, he tried to check her private office. She usually kept the door locked but the intruder managed to open it all the same.

To his surprise, the office looked completely clean. Not even a speck of dust could be found lying around the small room. The desk was still standing up, the small bookshelf beside the window was still very neat, and the articles that she framed still hung on the wall. Everything inside looked perfect.

“Too perfect…” He said aloud. He carefully stepped inside the room, trying not disturb the peace that settled inside the small office. He walked over to the desk and found that her stationery was still neatly arranged, just how she liked it. He raided the drawers in search for clues and again, found nothing of use to him. He remembered that Sol usually printed out references and drafts whenever she worked on a project.
He turned his eyes to the small bookshelf behind the desk. The shelf was stacked with file organizers that were stuffed with papers. He took one out and flipped through the pages.

Inside, he found nothing but blank office paper. Not even a single letter was written on any of the organizers that were placed on the shelf. All of her works have been replaced with blank pieces of paper as if to spite Kane. Infuriated once again, he knocked the files over, scattering papers everywhere.

As he stood in the middle of the mess, a light bulb flashed in his head. Kane knew that she kept most of her active work files on her laptop. No doubt, the hint as to who or what killed her was on that device. Yet as he searched room after room, he found nothing but a black rosary, lying by the door. He picked it up and slid it down the front pocket of his jeans.

Hopeless, he walked over to Marisol’s bedroom and sat at the foot of her bed. On top of her dresser stood a small black picture frame. Inside was a picture of her wrapping her arms around Kane and Freddy. It was taken almost a year ago at some random party they attended. She was grinning ear to ear as she drunkenly looked straight at the camera. Kane thought how he would never see that smile again.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking at her picture from across the room. “I am so sorry.” Then, for the first time in years, Kane broke down crying. He wept and wept until his eyes burned sore and his lungs felt like blowing up.

After what felt like a century, Kane took a deep breath and looked back up at her picture. He took out the rosary from his pocket and prayed.

“I promise you…this will not be in vain.” He said a short prayer. He slid the rosary back into his pocket before flashing her a small smile as he walked out of the door. He went down to the ground floor and pounded at the landlord’s room, just by the foot of the stairs. After a few minutes, the portly man finally opened the door.

“Who went inside her house?” Kane said before the man could even react.

“Excuse me?” He said with a thick Italian accent.

“The men – the boys. The ones you said earlier?”

“I don’t re –“ Before he could even finish his sentence, Kane pushed him inside his room and held him by the neck against the wall.

“Don’t fucking tell me you don’t remember,” Kane whispered softly to his ear, threatening him. “You’ve seen them. You know what they look like. Now, tell me, who are they?” He said as he gripped his throat tighter before letting him go. The man got down on all fours and coughed like a madman, slapping the hardwood floor in the process.

“I don’t know…” He wheezed. “I honestly didn’t see much.” Kane knelt down beside him and cupped his face with one hand.

“Then what did you see?” He said as he squeezed the man’s fleshy, bearded face.

“I saw two boys in black – black clothes! – I only saw them walk out the door, nothing more!” The Italian stuttered. His bottom lip began to quiver. Kane saw his eyes starting to water at the edges as he looked deeply into his dark brown eyes. “Please…I have a family….” The man started sobbing. Disgusted, Kane abruptly let go of his face before standing back up. Standing at 5’10, he loomed over the small Italian man kneeling in front of him.

“I know you do. I won’t kill you if that’s what you’re thinking.” He took out his wallet from the pocket of his jeans and fished out a 20 dollar bill.

“Here’s for your trouble.” He said as he dropped the cash in front of the man before heading out of the apartment building and into his car. He turned on the ignition and drove back home.

It was nearly 12 noon when Kane finally got to his driveway.
He lived in a small, two-story house in a quiet suburb, where no one bothered to get into his business. When Kane bought the house, he thought it was perfect for him. He was the kind of man that always chooses to be left alone, so the peaceful isolation that area offered him was more than he could ever ask for.

He abruptly got out of the car and ran into the house. Inside, he quickly went over to his small, makeshift office and opened up his laptop. Kane knew that Marisol kept most of her files in her email. Problem was that he doesn’t know what her email password is and he is no techie.

“Now, how do I get in?”

After much contemplation, Kane reluctantly opened his own email and started to compose an email.

As part of his ability to cut corners, Kane is much acquainted with underground assets and resources. And one of such assets is a mystery man that can only be identified by his email id 11@darkit212.net. While Kane was in the force he has tried locating the hacker on one or two occasions.

Sometimes it is easy tracking the location of an email user. Simply find the IP address in the email header section and then look up the location of the IP address. It’s worth noting that you usually won’t be able to get the exact location of the actual person who sent the email. For example, if someone in Germany sends you an email using Gmail, the last IP address in the header section will probably be the public IP address assigned to that user from the ISP, which will give you the location of the user ranging from within a mile all the way to the city or region level.

The reason for the wide range is that the IP address that an ISP assigns to a particular user is normally dynamic. This means that the IP address they had when the email was sent may now be assigned to a different user in the region. This is the main reason why you might get a wide geographic area when looking up the location of the IP address.

But it was highly unsuccessful. Whoever it was behind that email address was really good. He is totally impenetrable. At least, he was good enough that Kane couldn’t get his hands on him with the resources he used to have in the force.

The first time he came across 11@darkit212.net was during an investigation of an information broker. It took a while, but the broker was arrested operating at the heart of Eight Avenue. All the broker needed to do was identify a potential target; pay a fixed sum into a Bitcoin account provided by the hacker. Within a few hours, he gets the information and then proceeds to blackmail his target. If the blackmailing doesn't pay, he then proceeds to sell the information to the target's "rival" for a generous sum.

Upon interrogating this information broker, he informed Kane of the strange hacker. And truly, when Kane sent a message, he got a response in less than 5 minutes. But that was all he could get...a damn response. He couldn't trace the location of the hacker.

And the funny thing is that the hacker is ready to do the bidding of anyone who can pay in bitcoins, may it be cops or criminals.

If you can't beat them, join them...

When Kane couldn't track the hacker then, he decided against questioning the broker where he knew the hacker from.

“Everyone knew it was from the dark web. It was no big deal." That was the only thing the broker could give him.

"Hello, can you help me break into an email account?" Kane typed in. Should I do this? Kane knew what he was getting himself into, but seeing himself spread out so thinly, he knew he needed his help, regardless of what his principles dictate.

Fuc.k it.

He sent the message and waited.

woooow...you are good
Well done

Chapter 4

His dark brown sandals grazed against the white marble floor. The sound of his feet reverberated throughout the vast, quiet halls. With quick feet, he rushed from hallway to hallway until he reached two large wooden doors, which were both twice his size. His cold blue eyes stared blankly at the crucifix that hung above the doors.

“I know you’re looking at me…” He thought as he looked straight into the eyes of the man nailed against the wall. After a few moments, he pulled one of the doors halfway open and stepped out. A thicket of trees and a wide pasture greeted him as he stepped out of the compound.

The air was heavy with the smell of dirt. In the middle of it all lay an old cobblestone walkway, its end disappearing into the woods beyond. The compound was enclosed within towering walls topped with barbed wires. In the middle stood a large metal gate, and beyond that was a thicket of trees covering the whole estate.

The young man looked beyond the tall bricks walls, and the large metal gates, and the thick green trees. There, he only saw the horizon. He saw an unforgiving world that lay beyond the four walls of the estate. Yet he yearned for that world. He longed for the world that he will never become a part of. His blue eyes looked intensely at the setting sun behind the trees.

“Another day down.” He said as he did the Sign of the Cross and bowed his head. He turned to his right and walked towards the east. With his right hand, he gripped the handle of a heavy, faux leather bag. His grip grew tighter and tighter as he neared the end of the wing and saw a small black gate across the yard. When he reached it, he took out a key ring from his vestment and picked the smallest one. As he unlocked the gate, he stared at the portrait of the Virgin Mary resting by the threshold. Her dark eyes lingered in his mind as he walked out of the estate and into the woods beyond.

The forest was a tricky place. If you didn’t know the way around or through it, chances are, you’ll get lost. On one or two occasions, a passer-by would often stumble upon the woods and would sometimes lose their way under the green roof of the trees. A few weeks after that, people would just hear about their disappearance. But he knew every twist and turn in the forest. With a steady pace, he walked through the undergrowth, turning at every hidden marker and after almost an hour of walking, he found himself standing in the thinner part of the forest. There, he saw the shadow of a tall building. Like the estate, the building was enclosed by a tall brick wall, but with the absence of the barbed wires on top.

Finally… He thought as he neared the building. He saw a gated black door and he took out the key ring once again. This time, he picked a larger key that was rusted at the edges. He stuck it in the lock and yanked the gate open. the rusty hinges roared as he struggled to open it. Apparently, no one really likes entering a church from a relatively secret passage.

He opened the subsequent door and locked both behind his back as he entered a moldy room. It was a very small room with no windows. The very air inside smelled ancient as if no one ever bothered to come in it in a long time. With the door closed, the room itself was pitch black. He reached out his hands and took two small steps forward. His fingertips brushed against the rough wooden surface of the wall. He roamed his hands around the wall until he felt a cold piece of metal against his palms. Slowly, he cupped the handle and slide the rusty lock. With a deep breath, he pushed the wall.

Surprisingly, the wall opened with ease. As he pushed it open, a few books dropped to the floor with a loud thump.

“Be careful, boy.” An old man wearing a clerical collar said. He was polishing a golden chalice by a small table across the room.

“I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t know there was – “

“Yes, yes…” He set down the chalice and smiled at the young man standing by what seemed to be a threshold. “Don’t worry, I understand. You’re not the first one to do that.” He laughed quietly before going back to polishing the chalice. The young man stepped inside the room and shut the trap door. As he did, he marveled at the white bookshelf that formed itself in front of him. With careful hands, he set the bag in front of the shelf.

Clever…very clever. He thought as he picked up the fallen books and placed them back on the shelf.

“Did you lock it, boy?” The old man said.

“Lock it?” He asked as he set the thick books in their respective places.

“Never mind.” The old man said as he placed the items he was cleaning in a tray. “I’ll do it myself. You go along your business now.”

“Yes, Father.” He mumbled as he set down the last book and picked up his bag. He gave a quick nod to the old priest before heading out the door.

The church was magnificent. Three, large, glistening chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, its dangling pieces casting rainbows all over the interior of the church. The nave composed of long wooden benches of the utmost quality. The altar itself was an intricate masterpiece. It was painted gold and angels hung from the ceiling which showed the painting of the Apostles. There were two statues standing next to the Cross, one of Mary and one of Joseph. All three of them looked down at the few people whispering their solemn prayers at the nave. The church looked more like a museum than a place of worship.

The young man stood by the altar and looked at the few people who have come to pray. He clutched the bag tighter as he bowed his head and made his way down the steps. He walked over to the middle of the aisle, just by the foot of the altar and looked up.
In front of him rose a great cross, a sculpture crafted to depict the pain and suffering Jesus went through in the crucifixion. It hung on the golden wall, staring intently down those who wish to repent or pretend. The sculpture of Jesus looked down upon the young man who knelt in front of him. He whispered a quiet prayer to the Lord before rising. With a blank stare, he looked straight into the eyes of the man on the cross.

I know you’re there. He thought as he turned his back and walked down the aisle towards the confessional. There were three boxes, all set in a row. He chose the one at the far left side beside the wall.

“I don’t think there’s any confession today, son.” An old woman clutching a rosary said from one of the benches. She looked at the young man’s outfit and her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, are you taking in confessions now?” She said, standing up from her seat.

“No.” The man meekly replied. “I’m going to be the one doing the confessing, madam.” He said as he got inside the box. He sat down on the small bench and set the bag down beside him. The panel slid open.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The young man whispered. “It has been seven days since my last confession.”

“What are your sins, my boy?” A deep voice replied. He knew that voice, and he also knew to fear it more than the voice of God himself. The young man stared at the small crucifix that hung on top of the small door.

Stop looking at me.

“Constantine.” He said as he looked once again into the eyes of Jesus. He heard the man clear his throat.

“You’re late.”

“I am not.” He whispered. “You’re simply early.”

“Watch your tongue.”

The young man stayed silent.

“Do you have what I asked for?” The man closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. He roamed his hands across his chest, looking for his rosary.

“Yes, I do.” He said as he dropped his hand in dismay.

“Bring it through.” He opened a small compartment at the foot of the partition and slid the bag through the hole. He sat back and looked back up the crucifix. His cold, blue eyes pierced through the dark eyes of the image.

“Very good, son. I knew I could count on you.” The man said with a laugh. “Now, let’s just put this all behind us, shall we?”

“We shall.”

“Thank you for this beautiful…confession.” The deep voice said. “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good!” The old man said.

“For His mercy endures forever…” The young man whispered back.

And I hope it does.

Nice one..

nice update..