Jud Thorensen Trilogy BOOK III Failure to Execute

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(1) Synopsis (2) Sample Scene

(1) SYNOPSIS: Jud Thorensen is the center of chaos when a sudden disaster with a resultant tragic death thrusts Romanian secret police into a tailspin. Caught in their vast multicursal labyrinth, the sexy writer clashes with their highest and most cunning official in a battle for the elusive subversive artwork, even as beautiful women indistinguishable as harmless or dangerous use him to satisfy their lust. A daring rendezvous leads to an utterly wicked deal.


(2) SAMPLE SCENE in a prison, Bucharest Romania:
Staying in the same sequence, all prisoners filed to the mess hall — a large room with long rows of tables and chairs. In the lunch line, the bodybuilder picked up a tray and utensils and moved forward. As Jud reached out with his right arm for a tray, a forceful shove to his back sent him crashing into the bodybuilder. Both men went down. All eyes focused on them. The bodybuilder’s tray and utensils smashed to the floor in a reverberating clatter. Jud grasped the service rail and pulled himself up.

The bodybuilder sat up and stared at Jud. He sprang to his feet and spread out his arms, ready for a deadly interchange.

Facing the bodybuilder, Jud planted his feet in a stance and shook his head as he said into the startled silence of the crowded mess hall, “It was an accident.”

From behind Jud, the tall man said in Romanian to the bodybuilder, “The American says you’re a motherless cunt—.”

As the tall man finished his last word, the room of inmates roared and the bodybuilder grabbed a knife from the floor. He lunged toward Jud, even as the tall man reached for Jud from behind. The bodybuilder thrust the knife.

Jud dodged the knife only to land in the grip of two other men, who pulled him to the floor even as other men were charging toward him. He covered his head and drew up his knees. Piercing alarms sounded and lights flashed. But they only touched Jud’s senses as the heavy pummeling by the men crushing him dominated his experience.

The Lazar guards felt their hearts pump faster with fear. A ratio of one guard to twelve prisoners would have been worrying yet tolerable — even though the ratio should have been 1:6. But the present ratio of 1:20 was horrifying. With adrenaline surging through their veins, the guards donned tear gas masks and activated the aerosol canisters that were built into the ceiling. Immediately, O-chlorobenzylidene malononitrile sprayed down.

Despite the deafening uproar, Jud discerned the sound of the spray. As he smelled it, he closed his eyes and held his breath. In moments, the men weighing on him began to fall away — voluntarily or by the hands of guards. Amid gunshots and shouting, Jud heard coughing and sneezing, then gagging and vomiting. He quickly inhaled from a pocket of clean air and held his breath again. Soon, no one was on top of him and the frantic sounds were dying out.

Jud barely opened his burning eyes and discerned the door through the haze. He ripped open his uniform shirt and lifted the shirttail to his mouth using it as a filter to take in a breath of air. With irritated skin and running nose, he wiped his face with a sleeve. Then, as he again held his breath, he got to his feet and ran out of the mess hall — running directly into a guard. The guard slugged him in the abdomen. Jud bent over as his breath left him. The guard deserted him as he reached for another inmate running by.

As Jud saw other guards herding prisoners back to their cells, he turned to follow a group. Yet another guard grabbed him and slammed him against a wall. Jud gasped as the back of his head hit hard. Pain resonated and nausea set in.

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