QUOTE:
Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to contrary
points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive language, political
correctness, sex, violence, or anything else that may offend your
sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness, or if you're a minor
(but by no means limited to the aforementioned), please do
not read this novel. It's not for you…
Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described here are
imaginary: the settings, events and characters are fictitious,
and/or are the product of the author's imagination or used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (C) 2006 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.
Deceived: A Fictional Blog
By F. Scott Sinclair
Scene Six of the "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America"
Ken Kendall: CIA Case Officer
“Jesus Christ…!” I said as I slammed my palms over
my ears to muffle the explosion. The sheer breadth
of the force of the exploding hut nearly knocked me down.
“Are you okay, Ken?” my CIA colleague, Julie Duffy
asked , as the bamboo, straw and splintered wood fell
to the ground, not more than 50 feet in front of us.
From the ensuing debris, a dust cloud emerged--choking
us with every breath we tried to inhale.
Before I could answer her, I had to cough in order
to clear my throat, and then said, “I suggest you ask
someone other than Leroy to handle the detonation
next time.”
Wiping the dust off her fatigues, Julie says, “Can’t
understand why?”
We smiled knowingly, and then in a split second, a
wailing voice descended upon us. Our eyes went their
separate ways as we both tried to focus in on the debris
lying atop the thatched roof of the adjoining hut where
the wailing sound seemed to be coming from.
“Damn…! We’d better see if the General’s still in
one piece,” I said.
But before I could step one foot in the direction
of the hut, Julie stepped in front of me, and says,
“That’s it, partner. No more stunts like that one, or
it’s goodbye, Ken! Is that understood?”
Seeing the flames of passion in her eyes, and they
weren’t flames of desire, I said, “In other words, he’s
your asset…not mine, I take it?”
“You do catch on to subtleties rather quickly. A real
plus in this business.”
Seizing the moment, I said, “Let me handle this by
the book from now on, all right?”
Julie shrugged her shoulders, then tossed her blond
hair over her left shoulder, and said, “Right. But this
is the last time.”
Nodding my head, I touched her shoulder and turned
her in the direction of the hut.
As we approached the wooden hut with the thatched roof,
I could see inside. The side nearest the hut that’d been
demolished, showed a gapping hole. We decided to enter
through the hole rather than through the flimsy front
door. To my surprise, General Ortega was sitting upright
in the chair I’d had him strapped into. Tears were rolling
down his cheeks. A thin veil of sadness engulfed his exterior
facade, but his pulsating jaw muscles were working overtime.
His anger was boiling over onto the school of hard knocks:
his impoverished childhood.
“Well, General Ortega, you’re a man of your word. Loyal
as they come… Sorry for the mess, but I know you'd
appreciate the little joke we played on you. But, as you
undoubtedly know, you are worth more alive than dead
to us, my friend.”
General Ortega turned his head slowly in the direction
of my voice, and says, “Here’s to your gringo joke!” as he
spit a wad of phlegm next to the toe of my right jungle boot.
I bowed my head and pursed my lips, and replied
soothingly, “That was a mistake, my dear General.
That's too bad—“
Before I could say anymore, I heard Julie gasp, as
I felt a round cold piece of steel on my neck--just
below my right earlobe.
“Hey, senor, I tink you'd better not moves,” a Spanish
accent said in broken English.
In Spanish, General Ortega yells, “What the fuck
took you idiots so long to get here! Christ, that could
have been me in that hut!”
I said in a cocky tone, “Come to think of it, General...you’re
right. You should have been in there. My friggin’ mistake!”
General Ortega just stared in my direction.
If eyes could kill, I'd be a dead man. And, as usual, I made
another mistake--opening my mouth.
General Ortega didn't exactly appear in a good mood.
He continued to glare at me with open contempt on his
face, and says between pulsating muscles on his irked jaws,
“It’s my turn, partner… Partners...? Isn't that the term
you use to refer to your buddies and friends?! Yeah, it’s
about time the tables were turned. Care for a ride through the
villages of Venezuela behind the stinking ass of a donkey?”
I swallowed as Julie pleaded, “C’mon, General Ortega, we’ve
got orders. You know the game, don’t you?”
As his compatriots mingled about, he shouted,
“Would you stupid idiots please untie me? Now…!”
The leader of the commandos said, “General,
we've got our orders… And they include you, sir.”
“What the hell…?!” he said, frustrated. In protest, the
general then tried desperately to shake the ropes loose,
but couldn't--I’d done the job proper the first time..
With a gleam in his eye, the leader of the commandos
says, “You see, General Ortega, it’s this way: Had you
been nicely blown to smithereens, I wouldn’t be here
right now trying to finish a job that these gringos
screwed up…”
Stomping his boots on the dirt floor, General Ortega
asked gruffly, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
The head commando raised and lowered his head, but
his black eyes were locked on the general’s every move.
From behind his mustache, General Ortega curses,
“Bastards…! You fearless sacks of shit!”
I said, hoping to humor the general, “Now is that
anyway to talk to your troops, sir?”
Before I got a reply, my movie screen of life
went to black.
************************************************************************
************************************************************************
A Book Review by Harrison K. of -- Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged -
F. Scott latest published novel. I hope you enjoy it as much
as I enjoyed writing it. The following two books are available
at: bangkokbooks.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble (Nook),
Sony (& Political Instincts), Kobo, Smashwords and other fine
stores & affiliates.
************************************************************************
Here are excellent previews of the following novels for your
reading pleasure. If you like "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel
of America"--perhaps you might enjoy these books penned
by F. Scott. Thank you so much for your time and consideration.
Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged - Scott Sinclair - Google Books. http://books.google.co.th/books?id=JmKzn4HtGu4C&printsec=frontcover&hl=th#v=onepage&q&f=false …
**************************************************************************
Al-Ahram Weekly | People | Limelight: Bourne to be a classic
A tribute to the world's best thriller writer: Robert Ludlum with a
quote or two from novelist F. Scott Sinclair in the process.
Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to contrary
points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive language, political
correctness, sex, violence, or anything else that may offend your
sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness, or if you're a minor
(but by no means limited to the aforementioned), please do
not read this novel. It's not for you…
Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described here are
imaginary: the settings, events and characters are fictitious,
and/or are the product of the author's imagination or used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (C) 2006 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.
Deceived: A Fictional Blog
By F. Scott Sinclair
Scene Six of the "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America"
Ken Kendall: CIA Case Officer
“Jesus Christ…!” I said as I slammed my palms over
my ears to muffle the explosion. The sheer breadth
of the force of the exploding hut nearly knocked me down.
“Are you okay, Ken?” my CIA colleague, Julie Duffy
asked , as the bamboo, straw and splintered wood fell
to the ground, not more than 50 feet in front of us.
From the ensuing debris, a dust cloud emerged--choking
us with every breath we tried to inhale.
Before I could answer her, I had to cough in order
to clear my throat, and then said, “I suggest you ask
someone other than Leroy to handle the detonation
next time.”
Wiping the dust off her fatigues, Julie says, “Can’t
understand why?”
We smiled knowingly, and then in a split second, a
wailing voice descended upon us. Our eyes went their
separate ways as we both tried to focus in on the debris
lying atop the thatched roof of the adjoining hut where
the wailing sound seemed to be coming from.
“Damn…! We’d better see if the General’s still in
one piece,” I said.
But before I could step one foot in the direction
of the hut, Julie stepped in front of me, and says,
“That’s it, partner. No more stunts like that one, or
it’s goodbye, Ken! Is that understood?”
Seeing the flames of passion in her eyes, and they
weren’t flames of desire, I said, “In other words, he’s
your asset…not mine, I take it?”
“You do catch on to subtleties rather quickly. A real
plus in this business.”
Seizing the moment, I said, “Let me handle this by
the book from now on, all right?”
Julie shrugged her shoulders, then tossed her blond
hair over her left shoulder, and said, “Right. But this
is the last time.”
Nodding my head, I touched her shoulder and turned
her in the direction of the hut.
As we approached the wooden hut with the thatched roof,
I could see inside. The side nearest the hut that’d been
demolished, showed a gapping hole. We decided to enter
through the hole rather than through the flimsy front
door. To my surprise, General Ortega was sitting upright
in the chair I’d had him strapped into. Tears were rolling
down his cheeks. A thin veil of sadness engulfed his exterior
facade, but his pulsating jaw muscles were working overtime.
His anger was boiling over onto the school of hard knocks:
his impoverished childhood.
“Well, General Ortega, you’re a man of your word. Loyal
as they come… Sorry for the mess, but I know you'd
appreciate the little joke we played on you. But, as you
undoubtedly know, you are worth more alive than dead
to us, my friend.”
General Ortega turned his head slowly in the direction
of my voice, and says, “Here’s to your gringo joke!” as he
spit a wad of phlegm next to the toe of my right jungle boot.
I bowed my head and pursed my lips, and replied
soothingly, “That was a mistake, my dear General.
That's too bad—“
Before I could say anymore, I heard Julie gasp, as
I felt a round cold piece of steel on my neck--just
below my right earlobe.
“Hey, senor, I tink you'd better not moves,” a Spanish
accent said in broken English.
In Spanish, General Ortega yells, “What the fuck
took you idiots so long to get here! Christ, that could
have been me in that hut!”
I said in a cocky tone, “Come to think of it, General...you’re
right. You should have been in there. My friggin’ mistake!”
General Ortega just stared in my direction.
If eyes could kill, I'd be a dead man. And, as usual, I made
another mistake--opening my mouth.
General Ortega didn't exactly appear in a good mood.
He continued to glare at me with open contempt on his
face, and says between pulsating muscles on his irked jaws,
“It’s my turn, partner… Partners...? Isn't that the term
you use to refer to your buddies and friends?! Yeah, it’s
about time the tables were turned. Care for a ride through the
villages of Venezuela behind the stinking ass of a donkey?”
I swallowed as Julie pleaded, “C’mon, General Ortega, we’ve
got orders. You know the game, don’t you?”
As his compatriots mingled about, he shouted,
“Would you stupid idiots please untie me? Now…!”
The leader of the commandos said, “General,
we've got our orders… And they include you, sir.”
“What the hell…?!” he said, frustrated. In protest, the
general then tried desperately to shake the ropes loose,
but couldn't--I’d done the job proper the first time..
With a gleam in his eye, the leader of the commandos
says, “You see, General Ortega, it’s this way: Had you
been nicely blown to smithereens, I wouldn’t be here
right now trying to finish a job that these gringos
screwed up…”
Stomping his boots on the dirt floor, General Ortega
asked gruffly, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
The head commando raised and lowered his head, but
his black eyes were locked on the general’s every move.
From behind his mustache, General Ortega curses,
“Bastards…! You fearless sacks of shit!”
I said, hoping to humor the general, “Now is that
anyway to talk to your troops, sir?”
Before I got a reply, my movie screen of life
went to black.
************************************************************************
************************************************************************
A Book Review by Harrison K. of -- Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged -
F. Scott latest published novel. I hope you enjoy it as much
as I enjoyed writing it. The following two books are available
at: bangkokbooks.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble (Nook),
Sony (& Political Instincts), Kobo, Smashwords and other fine
stores & affiliates.
************************************************************************
Here are excellent previews of the following novels for your
reading pleasure. If you like "The Walls Have Ears: A Novel
of America"--perhaps you might enjoy these books penned
by F. Scott. Thank you so much for your time and consideration.
Political Instincts: A Novel of Amazing Thailand - F. Scott Sinclair - Google Books http://books.google.co.th/books?id=g77Wp8dlyuwC&printsec=frontcover&dq=F.+Scott+Sinclair&source=bl&ots=PIk66ESomR&sig=g-Wq2cgvY84uTXv9Yl0rLuP5JVk&hl=en&sa=X&ei=zZN1UO7TC8jyrQeJuYGADQ#v=onepage&q=F.%20Scott%20Sinclair&f=false …
Karmic Rendition: A Novel of Pancho Villa Avenged - Scott Sinclair - Google Books. http://books.google.co.th/books?id=JmKzn4HtGu4C&printsec=frontcover&hl=th#v=onepage&q&f=false …
**************************************************************************
Al-Ahram Weekly | People | Limelight: Bourne to be a classic
A tribute to the world's best thriller writer: Robert Ludlum with a
quote or two from novelist F. Scott Sinclair in the process.
