Wrong Step (Urban Fiction): A Sinister Syndicate Thriller

BOOK: Wrong Step (Urban Fiction): A Sinister Syndicate Thriller
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Wrong Step

A Sinister Syndicate Thriller

Kyle Robertson

Copyright © 2016 by Kyle Robertson. All rights reserved.

 

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded or otherwise without written permission from the publisher.

 

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown

 

 

 

 

Published by Play in My Imagination Publishing

http://pimiebooks.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated to Alby Nash

 

Why I Wrote This Book

The main reason for me to delve into this genre once more is because my followers wanted me to keep writing gritty tales of excitement, and suspense. I write about strong women so this tale was just clawing to get out of my brain. I get this accelerated feeling when I write. I’m, as always, trying something different, I’m trying Jamaican posses this time, you know, the Kingston mafia. I remember a Segal movie a while ago, and they were evil. I’m pretty good at writing evil.

 

Why You Should Read This Book

This will be a thrill ride of a very skilled woman who gets much deeper into the darkness of her vocation by angering the wrong posse. Her stress will become insurmountable. See what will happen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you would like to talk about this book, investigative photographers, or Jamaican posses, join my blog
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Other Books from Kyle Robertson

 

Terror on Arrival: An Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novel

The Final Option: A Science Fiction Novel about Armageddon

The Platinum Retriever: The Story of Earth’s Unexpected Savior

Spark of Dawn: The Assassin’s Vindication (The Female Yakuza Book 1)

The Asperger’s Adventure: The Quest for a Cure That Went Wrong

Thick Blood Theory: When Conspiracy Means Murder

Final Mental Adventure (Ultimo Mentis Valebat): Elton’s Ethereal Journey through Schizophrenia

Celestial Summoner: An Esoteric Paranormal Suspense Thriller

A Hunter’s Blood: The Crimson Contracts – A Science Fiction Adventure about Bounty Hunter Capture

The Millennium Malevolence: The Time Spanning Revenge Endangerment (Book One)
 
(*FREE*)

The Millennium Malevolence: The Time Spanning Revenge Endangerment (Book Two)

The Millennium Malevolence: The Time Spanning Revenge Endangerment (Book Three)

The Millennium Malevolence: The Time Spanning Revenge Endangerment (Conclusion)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One:   Odd Dating Habits

Chapter Two:  Out of Sorts

Chapter Three:  Shepards Summon!

Chapter Four:  The Meticulous Mambas

Chapter Five:  The Chips are falling

Chapter Six: It was All Fun and Games… Until Now

Chapter Seven:  Covertness can get Deadly

Chapter Seven:  Mamma’s a Coming

Charter Eight:  Moira’s Catharsis

Mission Debriefing

About The Author

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Sheddi had finally gotten her tip from Japheto. He was the neighborhood answer man. He always knew who, what, when, and where. There was unruliness in his ‘hood from the Ukrainians, and he wouldn’t stand for unruliness. That whole ‘honor amongst thieves’ thing wouldn’t fly in Harlem, especially from the Ukrainians. Stepping there was a violation in his eyes.

She saw the abandoned warehouse. It was an old Phoenicks Board Game warehouse, and unfortunately, board games were museum relics when teenagers were riding hover boards, and watching UFC matches every week.

She was there before the illegal transaction was about to take place of the purchasing of counterfeit memory cards between the Ukrainians, and the Italians. She had to find a place to hide with an optimal distance and view to record, and take pictures.

Unfortunately for her, when Phoenicks cleared out, they literally cleared out. There were no abandoned old machines available, and the main office was padlocked. She was getting desperate until she looked up.

In the rafters, there was an old ratty cardboard box, her only vantage point.

“Well, I hope those rock climbing lessons I had in Maui are still fresh after a year,” she said, and went to a bearing beam to scale it.

She wasn’t a stunt woman or an assassin so scale wasn’t really the operative word for what she did, arduous struggle was more appropriate.

She fell a few times while trying to pull her body to the warehouse ceiling. She struggled to pull herself up when she heard the door slide open!


De vony
(Where are they)?” She heard from a large Ukrainian.


Spokiyno, Vitaliy. Vony budutʹ tut
(Ease up, Vitaly. They’ll be here).” Came from his partner.

As they went to grab the large crate of contraband, Sheddi pulled herself up to the rafter, and scurried silently towards the box. Ratty was a little more than a description of its condition. When she got in she saw a family of rodents had taken up residence amongst the old Reindeer Rocket Christmas comics in the box. They were a flash giveaway for their Reindeer Rocket board game from the previous century’s Christmas when they were big. They went public in 1997, but when video games became the new, more advanced kid on the block, Phoenicks wouldn’t adapt, so they didn’t survive.

The Ukrainians came back with a crate, they placed behind them, and waited.

She heard the door slide open again. It was two Italians. They walked in to see the two Ukrainians. She pressed record.

“Don, faccia di culo,” one said to his partner.

 

 

“English, Venchinzo, but do not repeat your rudeness,” Don said.

“But Don, that guy looks like Ivan Drago.”

“Big deal. You look like Rocky. The brains know to bring their muscle for a transaction like this one. We’re in Nero territory, and we may need to knock one of ‘em out.”

“Those frickin’ Neros don’t care about memory chips. They’re probably smokin’ crack or dancin to that booga-booga music.”

Sheddi heard the insensitivity of Venchinzo, and thought,
All the Caucasians said racism was over when the nation elected the first African-American president, Riiiight.

“Enough talking,” Vitaly said. “Do you have the hundred thousand?”

This was it. Sheddi took out her digital camera, and pointed it towards the illegal purchase.

“Drago wants his money, Vinny. Verify the goods,” Don said while producing a titanium briefcase.” If you have the chips, we have your money.”

Venchinzo opened the crate with a crowbar. He saw all of the memory cards, and took out a burner cell. He dug deeper in the crate to grab a random card to un-package. He placed it in the phone, and took several pictures, and began to download a few apps. They all worked.

“Hey, Don!” he called out. “We’re gravy, capiche?”

Don saw everything was legit, so he handed over the briefcase. Sheddi did a quick text to her NYC police contact to bring the Calvary to nab these criminals. Unfortunately a new officer under him text back, and her bald eagle alert chimed.

The men looked up at the box, and in a panic of discovery, Vitaly pulled out his Makarov pistol to begin to shoot at the box!

As the bullets began to pierce the cardboard, Sheddi laid back and froze. She was fortunate the bullets missed her, but a rat wasn’t that lucky.

The rodent was hit with the force to propel it from the box. It careened to the floor in its death throes.

His partner put his hand on Vitaly’s shooting arm to halt his firing.

“Vitaly
, Cton
(Stop)! You killed a rat! The police check everywhere here, and I would kill you if you give us up because of a pest!” He was upset.

Sheddi began to breathe once more. The bullets were gone. Then she felt a burning searing wet sensation in her thigh. One of those bullets became intimate with her leg by grazing it. She saw her blood trickle on the comics, but remained quiet. She felt her life depended on her silence.

Vitaly’s partner counted the money.

“Why did you want Euros?” Don asked. “I had to get one of my guys to do the exchange from good ‘ole U.S. paper dollars.”

“Our organization is from Europe, and they figured if you wanted these chips, you would do the exchange so they wouldn’t need to.”

Don became irked.

“These chips are made in Japan not the Ukraine. If your organization can import, why couldn’t they do the money exchange?”

“You are in organized crime. You should know the answer to the question. Our illegal contact in Japan will leave no trail. If you are captured, you hold everything, and we stay clean. Call it, how do Americans say, a cover your ass tactic. The only crime syndicate older than us is from the Ming Dynasty. Relatively speaking, your organization is just novachky… rookies.”

“Just as Don began to retaliate from the insult, the NYC police batter rammed the door! The squad had their MP5s and MP9s aimed at the four assailants.

“New York Police! Get DOWN!”

All the men kneeled with their hands up. Vitaly’s partner slapped his shoulder.

“I told you they monitor this area,
Hedotena
(Idiot)! Say nothing!”

Sergeant Yendaz Tanaka entered the warehouse, and yelled out.

“Where are you, Dedzo?!”

“Up here!” Sheddi yelled from her box location in the rafters. “Get me down! I’m afraid of heights!”

Vitaly looked at his partner.”

“Yes, I shot a rat that sounded like an eagle. No one was in that box,” he said sarcastically.

“Remember, Vinny, no confession, no case.” Don had to remind his muscle of criminal protocol.

The police got a ladder from their van, and got Sheddi down.

She gave Tanaka the digital recorder, and swung her camera.

“This one was scary, Knocks, I almost got shot.”

Tanaka became concerned.

“Are you hurt in any way?”

“I said almost. A bullet flirted with my thigh, but I’m not damaged too much.” She pointed at the drying blood on her leg.

“You love danger, Dedzo. You don’t have to go all Green Beret in this neighborhood. Stay with the corporate thieves on Wall Street. They use numbers, not guns.”

“If I would have done that, I couldn’t work with my favorite cop, Knocks. You always have my back. I won’t forget the day you saved my dog. Another cop would never stop traffic in New York for Mister Sizzy.”

“My wife would’ve killed me if I let Mister Sizzy get run over, you know Janet,” Tanaka said. “Get me those pictures tomorrow. I think these guys are going away for a long time.”

“Gotcha, tomorrow. Tell Janet I said hi.” She walked out the warehouse to let the police do their jobs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Wrong Step (Urban Fiction): A Sinister Syndicate Thriller
11.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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