SANCTIONED - an action thriller collection: a Shadowboxer collection volume one (Shadowboxer files Book 1) Read online

  CONSCRIPTED

  by

  CHRIS LOWRY

  Copyright © 2016 Grand Ozarks Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  CONSCRIPTED

  Can I send you SHADOWBOXER for Free?

  Brill Wingfield is an assassin selling his gun to the highest bidder. After a clean assignment in Mexico someone takes a shot at him. Wounded and confused, he needs answers as the man who taught him how to kill hunts him across the Yucatan jungle. Who put out the contract on him? Why is a simple grad student helping a blood drenched stranger? And why is the man who was like a father to him ready to have him die?

  Join me on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/ChrisLowrybooks

  Direct all inquiries to [email protected]

  Get great tips on Twitter @Lowrychris

  Visit www.ChrisLowrybooks.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  His first thought was the man wasn't wearing any socks.

  Brill Wingfield stepped through the double doors into the mansion tucked away on a ridge above the city that looked over the River. Floor to ceiling glass windows made up the far wall with elegant plush furnishings scattered through the long living room arranged to maximize the view.

  A long legged man with short curly hair lounged on one of the couches, feet crossed at the ankle as he smiled at Brill.

  “So this is him?” he stood up and extended his hand.

  Brill shook it and couldn't help but smile back.

  “Sir,” said the man who answered the door. “This is Brill Wingfield.”

  “Brill huh?” the smiling man said in a husky voice. “Like Brillo pad?”

  “Short for Brilliant,” Brill answered. “My mother was from Brilliant Alabama and she married one of the Wingfield boys. So Brill Wingfield.”

  The man laughed and pulled Brill further into the house.

  “Shelby why don't you grab us a couple of iced tea's,” he said.

  Shelby Johnson excused himself with a nod and went into what Brill presumed was the kitchen. He could hear ice tinkling into glasses.

  “Brill,” the man sat him down on a sofa. He was the governor of the State, and was taller in person than he looked on television.

  “Sir?”

  Brill had never been in such august company before.

  His normal circles were his factory working stepfather, or paycheck to paycheck living mother, both alcoholics and mild drug addicts, so that finding himself in the presence of a Governor in one of the richest men's homes in the capitol was like a passage from a book.

  “Shelby told me you scored pretty high on some tests,” the Governor's eyes twinkled.

  “I suppose so.”

  “I'm going to let you in on a little secret,” said the man as Shelby entered with a three glasses on a tray.

  He offered one to Brill first, then the Governor and took one from himself. Shelby sat to one side of Brill and sipped the sweating glass.

  “We've been looking for someone like you,” the Governor finished.

  “Me?”

  “High School is tough, isn't it Brill?” asked Shelby.

  “It can be, yes sir,” Brill chugged the tea.

  “There are a lot of tests, both social and intellectual. Some of them we have administered on our behalf,” Shelby continued.

  Brill wasn't sure if he should respond so he didn't. He just sipped the tea again.

  “You took a series of tests and of all the students in your high school, you were the only one that scored how we thought across the board.”

  Brill set his tea glass down.

  “How was that sir?” he asked the Governor.

  The man glanced at Shelby and stared at Brill with intense ice blue eyes.

  “It's not about being the smartest, though you have plenty of smarts. It's not about being the most intelligent, but I'm glad to tell you your IQ is pretty darn high. Maybe higher than mine,” the man laughed. “But it was the combination of results we were looking for, and I'm very proud to say, you're our man.”

  Brill let his eyes roam over the room. It was difficult to hold the Governor's stare for too long.

  The man was intense even as he tried to look relaxed in faded jeans and boat shoes with no socks.

  Brill knew that was for effect, just as he knew they men brought him here to impress him with wealth.

  He wasn't sure how he knew, maybe it was the way they hemmed him in against the wall, the Governor in front of him, Shelby on one side and a low bookshelf on the other with well worn copies of The Art of War and Marcus Aurelius.

  “Man for what?”

  Shelby raised an eyebrow toward the Governor.

  “Told you he was smart,” he smirked.

  “Clued in, I believe you said,” the Governor smiled again. “Brill, we want you to do some work for us.”

  “A job?”

  “Sort of a job, yes, but more like a duty. I'm going to appeal to your patriotism here Brill, but your country needs you.”

  “Me?”

  “Men like you. You're a very rare type,” said Shelby. “Should we give him some background Sir?”

  “Brill I'm going to be President one day,” the Governor said. “My team is laying the groundwork now, and this isn't just a childhood dream where someone says what they hope to be when they grow up. I'm getting the nomination, I'm running and I think the American people are going to vote for me, for what I can do.”

  “What can you do?”

  The Governor took a sip of tea and set his glass down.

  Shelby shifted up and moved it to a coaster on the wooden table.

  “That's the right question to ask. It's what you should be asking of yourself. What can you do?”

  “Yes Sir,” Brill answered. “You told me I was special or did well on some tests, but I don't feel special.”

  “You have a friend at school,” said Shelby. “From South Africa.”

  Brill nodded and blushed.

  Laurette was more than a friend, she was the love of his life.

  “Your friend is scheduled to go back at the end of the year,” said the Governor.

  It was one of the things on the horizon they dreaded.

  Her term as an exchange student would end, and she would return home.

  They had discussed marriage as a way for her to stay, had even talked of running away together to explore California and the West Coast.

  Those were fancies of youth and Laurette wouldn't do that to her father, a cabinet minister in the South African government.

  “Would you like to go with her?” Shelby asked.

  Brill stared at the two men who surrounded him.

  They had an angle and he wasn't sure what their agenda was, but if it gave him the chance to be with Laurette, to go with her, meet her parents and see her home, it might be worth a trade.

  “I'm listening,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Laurette Van Housen knocked on the door of the bedroom he was using in her parent’s home on the outskirts of Johannesburg.

  She sneaked in and crawled beside him in the oversized bed, snuggled against him.

  His eighteen-year-old body responded in the way men were designed and she giggled as he pressed against her.

  “No time silly,” she whispered and kissed his neck. “My father is waiting to take us to the airport.”

  He persisted, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her throat.

  “Don’t get me
started,” she moaned, her body warm as she rubbed against him too.

  “We have time,” he said softly.

  She shoved him away and jumped out of bed.

  “No we don’t,” but she was smiling and he smiled back at her.

  “Later then.”

  He jumped up and she stared at his muscular body clad only in boxer shorts.

  “Yes, later. I’m sure of it.”

  She sauntered over to him again, kissed him lightly on the lips and ran her hands down his chest.

  “Come down quickly,” she pulled away. “There’s breakfast and father is waiting.”

  He watched her walk out of the room and grabbed a pair of pants off of a Victorian bench at the end of the bed.

  He ran fingers through his short hair and pulled a shirt on with the pants.

  Downstairs Mr. Van Housen sat at a giant wooden table.

  The polished top reflected his graying hair and sour visage, but Brill knew it was an act.

  The man was warm and generous and had welcomed the American boy into his home like a prodigal son.

  This due more to the four daughters and wife that occupied the domicile and he was vastly outnumbered by women in the home.

  “Good morning Sir.”

  “Good morning Brill. Sleep well?”

  “Very well Sir.”

  “Good. Break your fast and let’s be on, shall we?”

  Brill grabbed some fruit and a cup of coffee and sat across from Mr. Van Housen.

  “Are you ready to see your first refugee camp?” Van Housen asked.

  “I think so.”

  “It’s good that you and Laurette are choosing to help. Dreadful what’s happening up there.”

  Brill nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on up there but knew that it was bad.

  In America, he was far removed from the affairs of the world, especially in the continent of Africa.

  He knew the government was dealing with apartheid, and that changes were underway, but hadn’t bothered to research it.

  He was young, and stupid in love with the girl who ran into the room.

  “Are you ready?” she said breathlessly.

  Her blue eyes glowed with excitement and her sun kissed skin sparkled under an unruly mop of auburn hair.

  Brill finished off the cup of coffee and followed after.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The plane ride was bumpy and nerve-wracking.

  The first time Brill had been in a plane it was to fly to Africa. He was nervous over the Atlantic ocean, imagining how it would feel to plummet into the dark depths below.

  If not for the young girl holding his hand, he might have said no.

  But Laurette was an exchange student at his small high school and now it was his turn to follow her home.

  Because she was involved in charity work through her father, Brill got involved as well. They collected food and delivered it to the entrance to shantytowns under the watchful eyes of armed guards.

  And now Laurette, Mr. Van Housen and Brill were flying to a refugee camp in Angola.

  “There are over fifteen thousand people in this camp,” Mr. Van Housen screamed over the turboprop. “There’s always a shortage of food, medicine, essentials. I’m warning you Brill, it’s going to be awful.”

  Brill nodded, though he knew he couldn’t imagine it.

  Growing up poor in America was very different from being poor in another country.

  He had learned that first hand just gazing through the barricades into the shantytowns.

  “The smell will knock you over,” warned Van Housen. “I know aid workers have tried to set up sanitation and latrines, but with so many people in such a small space-“

  “It’s just too much for them Father,” Laurette interjected.

  “We'll do what we can to help,” said Mr. Van Housen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Brill heard what he thought were firecrackers on the edge of the camp. The screams reached him next, then a wave of people stampeded past. Women clutched wailing children, men shouted and tried to push back in the direction they were fleeing.

  "Laurette," Brill shouted above the din.

  He moved back into the one room shanty that served as a medical and administration center. Laurette was at one of the rickety old desks with a young doctor who was making a list of medicines for them to bring on the next trip.

  "Somethings happening," he said.

  The doctor, Jan perked up as screams and gunfire broke through the open door.

  "Rebels," she said. "You need to get clear."

  She grabbed Laurette by the arm and shoved her toward the door.

  "Go!" she screamed. "Meet your father at the airstrip."

  "What about you?" Laurette jerked her arm free.

  "They don't hurt doctors," she said. "But staff and anyone else needs to get away."

  She pushed them out onto the wooden steps and slammed the doors closed in their faces.

  They could hear a bar being dropped across the inside of the doors, blocking them out.

  "Run," Brill grabbed her hand.

  They pushed out into the crowd but running was an optimistic assessment for what they were doing in the press of human bodies.

  Gunfire erupted behind them. Brill heard the whiz of bullets over their heads.

  He dragged her faster.

  The camp wasn't set up for quick movement.

  Refugees built their shelters out of available material they could scrounge, and in no pattern or order, except for the main corridor.

  It ran straight from the airstrip to the almost middle of camp where a quasi council held meetings.

  The medical and admin building was near the center.

  Brill and Laurette had to make a trek from the center of the camp to the airstrip, a trip that would normally take ten minutes by truck.

  But every panicked refugee crowded into the clearest path creating a human traffic jam and blocking escape.

  Fear made them careless and reckless.

  The refugees knocked down the elderly, the children and vaulted over them when they could.

  But it was too much. People were trampled.

  The crowd grew too thick to move, just surged as everyone shuffled forward.

  Brill held on to Laurette’s hand, wrapped his arm around her, trying to keep her close.

  A man's head exploded next to him and showered him with gore.

  Laurette screamed and gagged, her body seizing as breakfast came up.

  A woman knocked her down into the mud and muck.

  Brill hovered over her. The bodies slammed into him, people tried to shove him aside, and down, out of their way so they could escape.

  He tried to lift her up as refugees bounced off them, stepped on them and over them.

  Then the crowd was gone, moved past them.

  Brill jerked Laurette up and limped after the last of the people fleeing.

  A hand grabbed him and threw him to the ground.

  He rolled over and stared up into the snarling black face of a rebel. He must have been the same age as Brill, or younger even.

  The rebel shoved the hot barrel of an AK-47 into his chest and pushed him further into the muck.

  "Brill..." Laurette sobbed.

  Another rebel grabbed her by the hair and lifted her off the ground.

  She screamed and kicked.

  Brill lunged for them.

  The rebel over him drew back his rifle and slammed the butt into his head and everything went dark.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The rumbling of a truck engine woke him up. He cracked open one eye and squinted.

  His head was surrounded by ancient muddy combat boots, shredded sneakers and black bare feet.

  He looked up.

  The rebels were crammed into the back of a pickup truck bed, nine or ten of them surrounding him.

  His arms were tied behind his back and he was in the middle of them.