A typically mundane day of delegating responsibility for Kristi Johnson gets turned upside down when the emergency flash message reaches her that there had been a suspected terrorist bombing in St. Louis, Mo. while hovering above the scene, through the news copter traffic below, her worst fears are realized, she makes the call to the Department of Homeland Security recommending raising the national terror threat level to RED for the first time in history. What follows is a hair raising rollercoaster ride through the heretofore unimagined world of a nationwide National Emergency. The characters in L.C. Beys debut novel come from all walks of life, but they must navigate this locked down society of curfews, check points tracked movements and fear . Kristi and her FBI tactical team have very little time to decipher the cryptic clues left behind at the crime scene taunting them into recognizing that the terror spree was far from over, the hubris of the terrorist indicating that he was much smarter than their best and brightest... Volume one sets up the landscape of this pre Marshall law America, showcasing the strain inflicted on relationships of all kinds, the high tech investigations and the way human nature makes for strange bed fellows when said humans are stretched to the limit. Join us for the ride as we trailblaze the country in the midst of Threat Level RED !!!
Mr Corbin-Bey is the author of From The Inside, a book of poetry previously published, he is an Ohio Native that currently resides in Atlanta, Ga, USA. his use of strong female protagonists is most likely the product of his growing up the youngest of six with five older sisters and a very industrious mother and father
Dulcet is one of my favorite characters, she is such a smooth criminal she may make you want to try some of her antics... i wouldn't if i were you,
The back story that made her the way she is, is a stirring picture of americana gone terribly wrong ...
Pick up your copy today and get away for a while,.. but buckle up, the twists and turns can give you whiplash if you're not careful !!!
Threat Level Red
On the other side of the country, a tall very light skinned model quality woman strode confidently through a parking lot, leaving the motor running on her spaceship looking 1973 Peugeot. The flowing, colorful wraparound dress she wore with the simple pillbox hat drew a lot of attention away from the plastic surgery mask onto which she’d expertly drawn the damaged face she used today. The body, the walk, the hair uncomfortably pushed up into the hat and the bad plastic surgery look would make most people hypersensitive to her outward appearance, questions too impolite for the public would make her job much easier. Entering the door, she asked the security guard the location of the information station where she could find withdrawal slips and supplies. His eyes noticed her disfigurement; she watched them slide south to inspect more pleasing areas of her anatomy just as she knew he would. He escorted her to the supply station; she was furiously taking mental note of everything and everyone in the bank; one at the drive through window, three tellers, four patrons and a manager.
“Ok”, she thought, “Security first, and then the manager – all heroes die”, she continued. Upon reaching their destination, she stumbled as if she had stubbed her toe, she reached inside the wrap of her dress and withdrew a .50 caliber Desert Eagle from her thigh holster. She stuck it forcibly into the guard’s mouth simultaneously disarming him and pointing the .9mm Beretta at the manager. In her best little-girl-lost voice she asked the manager if he could please help her by ensuring that no panic buttons were pushed which would result in nobody getting hurt. He was totally caught off guard by the casual tone of voice, the guards back to the tellers blocked the Desert Eagle from being seen and the hip level of the Beretta aimed at the manager left just enough menace to know this situation could get really bad, really fast; just like that…she was in control.
The manager stumbled up from his desk trying to keep his composure once he realized that the robber had not yet alerted anyone else in the bank that they were being robbed. That was when he realized that it was to be his job.
With hands at their sides and Dulcet at their backs, the manager began to dictate her requests. “All cell phones on the floor and everybody gather in the middle of the floor on your knees in a semi-circle facing away from her”, he yelled! They were then instructed to shuffle backwards on their knees until told to stop. Lifting her left leg up to toe the supply table with balletic ease, she revealed a plastic wrapped thigh with pre-cut lengths of duct tape affixed, her right thigh held extra, just in case.
Using the manager and the security guard to strip everyone naked then tape their hands behind their backs; she dumped purses and wallets into a convenient backpack worn by one of the patrons. She escorted the now naked manager around to empty all the teller stations and to open the safe to get to the packs of larger bills, after he deactivated the dye packs; of course. By now she had a full backpack and two very large Coach Bucket bags filled to the top with currency. She led the manager back to the group in the lobby to the showcase of her twisted sense of humor; she had arranged the duct taped group of patrons and employees into what is called a daisy chain. Basically a cluster arrangement placing one person’s genitals within easy oral access to another person’s face in a chain configuration until the last persons genitals are snugly placed against the mouth of the first person.
She took a sign out of the maintenance closet labeled “Closed for repairs”, then taped the sign onto the front door and stepped out into the still early morning sunshine. Sixteen minutes had elapsed since she left her car; she stepped into the Peugeot and drove sedately out of the parking lot. Two blocks down she turned into the downtown mall parking structure. Grabbing a ticket she drove up to the fourth level and double parked. She took off the pillbox hat from the back and in the same process peeled off the stretched, shiny burned surgical mask exposing her perfect café au lait colored creamy smooth skin. After unpinning the spiral, she let loose her mid-back length tomato red pony tail.
One tug of the concealed wraparound string and the dress came off leaving her clad in a short unitard workout outfit. She balled up the articles, squoze both eyes and popped out the dark brown contacts revealing her emerald green ones. Switching sneakers for pumps and adding a Boston Celtics baseball cap with the ponytail threaded through the back…she was ready.
Dulcet hit the door open-auto start button for the Mercedes E Class and backed it out of the space replacing it with the Peugeot. Her carry bags stowed away in the trunk and the ‘burn bag’ with the ‘tossables’ went into the passenger seat. She drove down and around to the back of the mall by the loading dock; she tossed the bag into the Chemical Composting Compactor. Every so often according to its computerized schedule, the 3C would smash its contents back, then douse the compacted trash in decomposing chemicals. Then shove the result down into a steeping chamber where the gasses were collected and burned to help defray the cost of powering the mall. After all, one must do what one can to help the environment. She sped off sipping on a Fresca and sliding on her Dolce and Gabana shades and thought,
“Maybe I’ll go to the nude beach and catch some rays…