"Private
Dick Hackney McTrite."
Get
Hooked!
By Walker
Jackson
All Rights
Reserved
PROLOGUE
I entered the
lobby, sped to the steps. I
walked the one flight hurriedly.
I cracked the door leading to the
hall. Nervously, I peeked out. Who
in this cotton pickin' world is
that? My anxious eyes had
espied a suspicious looking
female lurking within close
proximity of my room.
My premonition
was right. The Mob may have found
me. I’ll go to The English
Pub downstairs and have a drink
and think this over. Then a
better idea, spawned from gut
wrenching fear, tweaked my brain.
I’ll go to my car Sister
Kate, get my .38-caliber pistol,
and deal with the problem in that
manner.
"Hackney
McTrite the party is getting
rough," cautioned my alter
ego.
Because it would
place me closer to Sister Kate, I
rode the elevator to the parking
garage. When the elevator door
opened, I stood in the way
preventing it from closing. My
heart jitterbugged.
My eyes alertly
swept the area near Sister Kate,
then the rest of the garage. I
saw nothing. My alter ego warned,
"Of course, this
doesn’t mean assassins
aren't hiding behind columns or
cars or lurking in shadows armed
with automatic weapons."
On the way down,
thoughts rapidly gyrated around
in my brain about where this
latest threat might be coming
from. To get a fix so quickly
on my new location, Mob Boss
Alphonse Infantino would have to
be possessed with miraculous
clairvoyance or incredible skills
with an Ouija Board." The
thought is absurd. I doubt if Big
Al can handle two-digit
multiplication. Only one person
can tie me to Cincinnati: Phil. I
wouldn't entertain, even for an
instant that my army buddy would
inform on me. "Your
blind loyalty could be
misguided," warned my alter
ego. My client Sophie
doesn't know I'm here. Then I
realized my wife Sarah knew I was
in Cincinnati. This thought
engendered a host of fears for
her.
Sweat bled
profusely from my forehead now. I
trembled like a leaf in a violent
windstorm. Quickly, I dashed to
the row of cars across the
driveway. Sister Kate was seven
parking spaces away and I walked
her way slowly, crouched down for
protection. My head and eyes
switched rapidly from side to
side, covering at least 270
degrees of the panorama. My
eyeballs were strained to the
popping point.
Then, I thought
what a fatuous anus I am. If the
Mob is here, I'm already up the
proverbial creek without a gun or
REEBOKS. This premonition
didn't alter my precaution. If
anything I became more careful.
Sister Kate was
straight across now. I raised up
high enough to see through the
rear and front windows of a
Chevrolet I stood behind. I
watched and waited, and I watched
and waited even longer thinking. My
Lord, why did I get myself
entangled with the Mob?
Chapter 1
Hackney McTrite's
intriguing encounter with the New
Orleans Mob had a peaceful
beginning, but the quiet was
short lived.....
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