Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

NUCLEAR RUSE

By ROBERT A. GONZALEZ

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Robert A. Gonzalez
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-0573-1

Chapter One

The dark blue panel van pulled into The Fairways of Halfmoon parking lot and circled it several times before working its way to a vacant spot in the far end of the lot. It was five in the afternoon and the three men inside were tired and hungry. They had traveled the 168 miles from Harlem to Albany in three hours and then spent another forty-five minutes finding the golf course in Halfmoon. The golf course was not particularly busy and from their vantage point it was easy to take a good look at all of the golfers as they returned to their cars after a day of golf. The men waited patiently. They had been given instructions to pick up a man and take him to Miami. They had been told that their man played golf every Friday afternoon and that he would be finishing around 6PM. Though they only had a vague description of what he looked like, along with a poor photograph of his profile that had been taken at a distance, they knew what kind of car he would be driving and the license plate number. They had spotted the car when they circled the parking lot and now were waiting for their man to finish playing golf.

"What're you going to do with your share of the money?" asked the driver, talking to his brother who was sitting next to him.

"Don't know yet. I do know, however, that we're getting screwed. We're taking most of the risk and we're only getting a small piece of the pie. That shit is not sitting right by me."

"I know I'm pissed about that too, but what can we do? It's probably best to leave well enough alone."

"Yeah, yeah!"

Both brothers fell silent and just stared anxiously at the car they were watching.

* * *

It was a perfect day. The sun was shining, birds were singing and the temperature was seventy-two degrees. Ed and Bill had just finished playing nine holes and were making their way towards the bar where two cold beers awaited them. It just didn't get any better than this. Every Friday, since the middle of April, Ed and Bill played this course and waited at the bar for their friend Frank to come from work for the final nine holes. After golf it was their custom to meet their wives at a restaurant of their choosing. It was a ritual they had practiced many times before.

Ed Michaels, with 20 extra pounds on a 5' 10" frame was fairly average; that is until one focuses on the intensity in his piercing blue eyes. He had reached success early in life. Having founded an internet company which he sold for several million dollars, he had the luxury of retiring at the age of 50. Since his retirement a year ago, Ed devoted his life to golf and leisure. A very good golfer with a 6 handicap, he and his wife spend their winters in their condo in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina allowing him to practice his favorite pastime year round. Ed was happy in retirement, though he sometimes felt guilty for having such an easy life at such a young age. He'd come to terms with his guilt, however, rationalizing that he had worked very hard to get to where he was. His only vice was that he liked to gamble; perhaps a little too much. He took frequent trips to Las Vegas where he often lost more than he let his wife know about. In fact he currently owed more than $50K to one of the smaller casinos on the strip. Except for gambling, Ed led the perfect life.

Bill Moretti, at 54 the oldest of the three, owned his own car dealership. He had started with a small loan from his father-in-law fifteen years earlier. He purchased a small used car dealership and through determination and hard work had turned it into one of the most successful Chrysler dealerships in the area. Though he still worked, he decided some time ago that he didn't want to work on Fridays and so he never failed to take Fridays off even during the busy spring season. Bill had made many enemies on the road to financial success. His cutthroat business practices have not endeared him to his competitors. Never-the-less he was a decent man and most of the people he dealt with liked him.

Frank Solis, 45 years old, tall and athletic looking, was a PHD metallurgist employed at Knolls Atomic Power Laboratory where, for the past 16 years, he worked developing exotic materials for the Nuclear Navy. He was easy going and always up for some fun and because of that he had a lot of friends at work. He also had a serious side to him. When he worked on a project he was all business. Through the years he had been involved in several successful projects and had been rewarded with increased responsibilities and the title of Lead Metallurgist.

"How're you guys hitting them?" said Frank as he entered the bar.

"As usual", replied Bill. "I'm consistently inconsistent. Ed on the other hand seems to be on his game".

The three friends enjoyed a beer together and then proceeded to play nine holes. With golfing out of their system, their plan was to head for Bellinni's in Clifton Park to meet their wives. Rachel, Julie and Kristen were young and attractive. It was clear to anyone who saw them that they had deep affection for their husbands. Though, typical of couples married over 10 years, they did not always agree on things and had their share of marital disputes. The six of them, non-the-less, enjoyed their lives and each other's company. On their Friday get-togethers good food and conversation would usually follow. On this Friday, when they finished eating, they planned to retreat to Frank's house for dessert; thus a pleasant ending to the week.

The game was uneventful with Ed maintaining the "Horses Ass" novelty trophy which each Friday went to the person with the most pars. All in all it was a good day. They finished playing golf a bit early, set their golf bags on a stand, turned in their golf carts and headed towards the bar. They made small talk, and as usual, flirted light heartedly with the bar tender. When they finished their beers they retrieved their golf clubs and walked towards the parking lot where their cars were parked side by side. As they reached the first car a van pulled up next to them.

Two large black men wearing gloves and carrying guns jumped out and grabbed the three men and, after a short scuffle, threw them and their golf bags into the back of the van

"Let's go," one of them yelled to the driver.

"Hey; what the hell are you doing?" cried out Frank.

"Get your hands off me", yelled Ed.

There was no reply. The driver hit the gas and in a matter of a few seconds the van was careening out of the parking lot with all six men aboard. As the van moved out, Bill started to complain and was immediately struck with the butt of a gun on the back of the head by one of the assailants. Ed and Frank tried to grab the guy with the gun and were instantly struck from behind by the other man in the van. They crumpled to the floor struggling to keep from passing out. The thugs told them to hand over their cell phones and immediately threw them out of the van through a small sliding window. The three of them sat on the floor of the van with throbbing heads not daring to move or say anything for fear of being struck again. Left with his thoughts and the stench of locker room in the van, Frank wondered what would become of them. No doubt, Bill and Ed were having similar thoughts.

As his head cleared and his eyes began to focus, Frank lowered his head and looked around. The seats had been removed from the back of the van and he and his two friends were cowering on the floor. Apart from an old blanket and two small wooden boxes that were being used as...