An explosion shatters office windows in the Robert F. Corrigan building of downtown Kirkwood during lunch hour. Minutes later a static filled radio call goes out beckoning any available units. As Roman Lee speeds towards the billowing smoke with Lonnie Temple in the passenger seat another blast renders them unconscious. The Brethren of Liberty have been plotting in the shadows for years. A successful assassination of a Supreme Court Justice on the streets of Georgetown have parlayed now into this most recent demonstration of reach and power for its growing faithful bent on a promised Revolution. Twelve year old Simon Baxter is the only one who can identify the lone BOL member responsible for triggering the destruction that has ripped the city apart. Roman Lee must protect his witness at all costs as he attempts to take down the largest domestic terrorist threat in United States history.
Genre: FICTION / CrimeIt was mid-October, with yellowish orange leaves littering the wet cobblestone street after a steady early morning rain in Georgetown. Saturdays were observed by countless hours of surveillance as a morning for work and an afternoon of squash at a local elite country club for the Justice.
Human beings are creatures of habit with Stephenson conforming to the same predictability. Stopping at a local coffee house on the way to his office known exclusively for their strong Expresso, he would get an extra shot in his Colombian roasted blend made to his specific request each and every visit. Collecting his drink and feeling the warmth against the cardboard sleeve, he glanced at the tip cup found in many Expresso bars. Smiling while dropping a quarter inside, he listened to it slid against a few dollar bills finally clanking against the ceramic bottom.
A few feet just outside the door, he came face to face with his assassin. The lightly built male in his late thirties had accidently run into him spilling the Justice’s drink onto the sidewalk.
Looking down at the sight of his lost ritual a small portion remained inside the tall cup bringing forth a bit of steam against the brisk outside air, the Justice sighed.
Apologizing repeatedly for his clumsiness, he brushed the lapel of the Justice’s tan raincoat in a mock effort to help his incidental victim.
As Stephenson’s attention followed the stranger’s hand near his clavicle, he lost the critical peripheral view that might have possibly saved his life. As his neck bent sideways, exposing bare skin, a hypodermic needle flashed before plunging into his skin.
