STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1)

State of Anger

 

A Virgil Jones

Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Novel

 

The State Series – Book 1

 

 

by

 

Thomas Scott


 

 

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, private organizations, governmental bodies and/or positions, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher.

 

Copyright © 2014 by Thomas Scott

All rights reserved.

Second Edition

This book was previously published by Godbold &Whiteman as: Voodoo Daddy

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

 

 

Visit the Author’s Website at:

http://thomasscottbooks.com

 

Also by Thomas Scott:

 

State of Betrayal

 

A Virgil Jones

Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Novel

 

The State Series – Book 2

Available Now!

 

 

 

 

For Debra

One Love

Always

 

 

1

__________

 

 

 

 

October 1987

Indianapolis, Indiana

 

The cab driver was one of the nine victims, other than the pilot, who actually saw it coming. Unfortunately, he was also the first to die. By the time he did see it there wasn’t anything he could do…for himself or anyone else. He didn’t see their end, only his own, but he knew they were gone, their clocks, just like his, coming to an end on a final tick or a tock they otherwise would have never bothered to notice, much less count.

The other eight victims stood in the lobby of the Airport Ramada Inn at the Indianapolis International Airport. Six of them were guests waiting to settle their account and check out of the hotel, the other two hotel employees coming off the night shift. One of the guests had called for a cab even thought it would have been a ridiculously short ride across the street to the airport departure area. Had the weather cooperated this October morning, the hotel guest could have walked to the departure area instead of taking a cab. But weather rarely cooperates, bitch that she often is, so the cabbie made nine.

Nine people have thirty seconds to live.

One of the hotel guests at the front of the line was disputing a charge on his itemized bill. The hotel clerk tried to reverse the charge but failed, the computer telling her she needed authorization from the manager to deduct the proper amount. She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and smiled at the man on the other side of the counter and informed him the manager was on the way. The man consulted his watch and smiled back at the pretty redheaded woman, wondering how old she might be. He noticed the name badge on her jacket. Sara. He also noticed the plain silver wedding band on her finger and felt his face flush just a bit as she caught his silent inquiry of her marital status. Just one of those little every day life moments…about to end.

Nine people now have only twenty seconds to live.

From overhead the sound of an aircraft’s jet engine is all but ignored by the people in the lobby. It is an airport, after all.

The hotel manager came around the corner and greeted the guest at the front of the line by name. She offered an apology as she entered her approval code into the computer. From the time she appeared, entered the code and reversed the charge, only eighteen seconds had elapsed.

It was coming. The cabbie saw it, and there was nothing he could do.

In two seconds, nine people would die.

 

 

__________

 

 

The pilot, a United States Air Force officer with the rank of captain, needed his three and three—three takeoffs and three landings within thirty days to stay current. He wasn’t due to fly this day, except one of the pilots in the rotation had called off sick, so that bumped the captain up one spot in line. He sat on the corner of the desk in the flight ready room, the way pilots do, and listened to his commander’s final instructions before heading out to the flight line at Grissom Air Force Base, in Peru, Indiana.

“We’ve been having a little trouble with some of the new fuel control units, Captain. Be sure you’ve got a steady state of fuel flow before you depart. I don’t want anything going wrong on a simple three and three.”

“Don’t worry, Major, I’ll keep it right side up.”

 “See that you do. Call sign today is ‘Voodoo.’ Designation is Solo, flight of one. Report back to me upon return.” The major tossed a casual salute to the captain then walked away to leave the pilot to his pre-flight routine.

With his flight plan filed, the captain walked out across the tarmac at Grissom Air Force Base and climbed aboard the A-7D Corsair jet. The ground crew members removed the ladder and un-chocked the wheels as the pilot started the jet’s massive engine and ran through his pre-taxi checklist. He paid special attention to the fuel flow meter but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He pulled the canopy shut, checked that the latch was secure and then keyed the microphone button on the joystick, his voice calm, detached. “Grissom Clearance, Voodoo Solo, how copy?”

“Five by five, Voodoo Solo. Clearance when ready.”

“Go.”

“Voodoo Solo, you are cleared back to Grissom AFB via direct Indianapolis, direct Fort Wayne, then direct.