A Violation of Conscience will be the fourth book in the exciting Chuck McCain series! Look for it to be released very soon! Enjoy the excerpt.
The Carlyle, Alexandria, Virginia, Monday, 0700 hours
Travis Rooney slumped behind the steering wheel, staring at the exit for the Carlyle’s underground garage a hundred and fifty feet away. The young man was nervous, looking around periodically, hoping that no one noticed him. A walkie talkie lay in the passenger seat next to him. A steady flow of vehicles pulled out of the garage, all of them turning right, away from the gray Altima. None of them was Charles Harrison’s Mercedes.
Motion to his right caused Rooney to jump. A glance over revealed a uniformed security guard driving a golf cart down Limerick Street, making his first morning rounds of the luxury apartments. The guard never even glanced at the Nissan, accustomed to seeing vehicles parked on the street around the building.
That was close, Travis thought. I sure hope RP kills this boy so we can go home. I know Virginia is supposed to be a Southern state and all, but I’ve never seen this much traffic and congestion in my life. I’m ready to get back to sweet home Alabama, he smiled nervously to himself.
A black sports car burst out of the underground parking, turning right without even pausing at the top of the ramp. Rooney looked through the binoculars that RP had loaned him, confirming the license plate. That’s him! Travis grabbed the radio and pushed the transmit button.
“He’s on the way!” he said excitedly.
Rooney’s call came in at 0712 hours. Russell Peppers felt a sense of relief that he was going to be able to finish this thing. One of the rear doors of the van was propped open and Russ aimed the Springfield SOCOM out the back. He was turned around in the bench seat, the rifle resting on the back of the seat. Russ had the weapon’s sling wrapped around his right arm at the elbow, locking it into place.
“And there he is,” Peppers muttered.
He pushed the safety off as he peered through the scope, looking into the eyes of the man who had ruined his life. The Mercedes was speeding towards them, just six hundred feet away. The crosshairs covered the man’s face and Russ’ gloved finger began to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly, a red pickup containing a load of construction workers and materials turned left out of the shopping center on the opposite side of the street in front of the Mercedes.
Tires squealed as Harrison slammed on the brakes, the sports car momentarily hidden behind the truck. Russell glanced up from the scope and out the back of the van. I should still be able to get a shot as he comes past me, he realized, placing the crosshairs where the Mercedes would pass in a few seconds. Instead, the sound of an engine racing echoed off the surrounding buildings as the attorney roared around the pickup on the left, holding down his horn as he passed the construction crew heading to their job site.
Russell turned quickly to watch through the front windshield as Harrison raced down Hooffs Run Road towards Eisenhower.
“Damn,” he sighed, setting the safety on the SOCOM and pulling the back door closed.
“What happened?” Lamar Morton asked.
“I had him in my sights but that truck pulled out in front of him and blocked me. Before I could get another shot, Harrison passed the truck on the left and there he goes.”
“What do you want to do?”
Peppers picked up his walkie talkie. “Team One to Team Two. Meet at HQ.”
A second later, Travis answered, “10-4. Team Two clear to meet at HQ.”
“You don’t want to go after him?” Morton queried.
“No, take us back to the hotel. We’ll stick with our plan and get him tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, they were seated in Russell’s room. Lamar and Travis were dejected, feeling that they had somehow failed. As they stared at the floor, Russ told them what had happened and how close he had been to killing Harrison.
“This ain’t no big deal. At least now, we know our plan is a good one. We’ll do the same thing in the morning and I’ll take him out then. You guys did good today and, hopefully, by this time tomorrow we’ll be heading south on I-95.”
“Sounds good, RP,” Rooney said, managing a smile. “Man, I’m ready for a drink. Maybe after we’re done, we can stop at a liquor store and get something to sip on while we drive.”
The muscular man shook his head. “Travis, we can’t take any chances of getting stopped by the police. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. When we get to Alabama, I’ll stop at the store and refill the fridge at home with beer.”
“Good thinking,” Morton nodded. “We sure don’t need to do something stupid. Let’s finish up and go home.”
Of course, Peppers had no intention of going back to Alabama with the two men. He was going to keep one of the rentals and start his westward journey towards what was going to be his new life.
