BLOODGOOD...novel excerpt

Chapter One

Washington, D.C.

April 7th 2011

General Gary James Roosevelt was a three star man who believed God is a U.S Marine. He waited for his day to retire to Belize. He was something special in Kabul, shot an al-Qaeda soldier in the head before he set his suicide vest off in the middle of Bagram Air Force Base. He drank Jack and coke to sleep at night. General Roosevelt had to be a suspicious man but not afraid to die; he reminded you of photos of Socrates in two button blue suits.

He was thick as a side of beef, bald headed and red bearded. They plucked him from George Washington University. Ex-college wrestler and O.C.S trained out of Camp Lejeune, South Carolina. He is a West Virginia boy with a brain. No wife. No kids. He read Military Monthly and had others kill for him. He was now a C.I.A man and he would always be in the corp. Nice guy to sit and have a beer with Gary blended well into the ancient halls of CIA and Pentagon shit diggers as a son of a railroad man and fourth generation Scotch-Irish. He relaxed by drinking good whiskey and he wrote poetry in private for enjoyment. He only had time for four women in his life...The Black Knights.

But it was with love and always a fuss about who would sleep with him tonight. Maybe all four? Gary was really a fuckin' genius and great between a woman's legs. Endowed from West Point and the Navy Seals. He was a geek but a scary geek. He smiled lightly at the four beautiful women in his office. He rubbed his chin, checked the time. Nine after ten in the morning, he poured himself another cup of coffee. Wednesdays were usually his bad days. No matter.

Fuck computers. He had his four Consultants to help him save America's ass from Chairman Peng of the House of Two Fingers...Sharde, Diana, Bailey and Chill four of the best agents Uncle Sam could truly have.

Gary sucked on a mint cough drop. His stomach rolled with two ball eggs, toast, coffee and a glass of orange juice. He gazed over the gem stone women out of the Desert Storm arena-- don't ask any extra questions? They had been together about five years. They were Special Forces out of a Unit they formed in Iraq. They were the only four left from their platoon. No room number, only a red steel door. The meeting was in one of the rooms at Langley deep under the belly of Washington, D.C. The U.S. flag was on the wall with desk, beige sofa for the four women to sit together.

Chill listened to Bailey from Arkansas. She was a fiery red head with a sweet disposition toward knives, more than guns. She liked men, especially black men. Her daddy said: She couldn't have a black man. She wanted a black man even more; when he said that. Bailey went straight to Naval Academy, just to be around more men.

"I talked to Senator Jenkins," Sharde said, "he was too busy checking out my tits, but when I kneed him in the dick. He understood that this trip of the President would set the oil companies on their heads."

Gary asked, "What companies?"

"Helicon, Taikoon, Panaco, QuestCOM and Alemagne"

"The President?"

"President Weadon is about to put his energy policy into effect with Iran, some Republicans are going to swing his way."

"Our Israeli friends will resist this." She liked kick boxing," Diana said. She comes out of Brownsville Texas; her papa got her into guns. She went in the Air Force Academy and just in time for Desert Storm. Bailey popped two Prozac's with her black coffee. Chill took a clonazepam; to chill out.

"Well, "he rubbed his hand down his neck-tie, "history in the making."

"Understand?" Chill said, "baby steps."