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    WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection
    WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection
    WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection
    Ebook72 pages1 hour

    WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection

    By Clayton Jones

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Short Story Fiction: WMD planted in a foreign country to justify invasion go missing. One person knows their location. His value is tied to public reaction. Time is running out!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClayton Jones
    Release dateMay 23, 2016
    ISBN9781310549809
    WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection
    Author

    Clayton Jones

    As of May, 2018 Ebooks Box shows 1,453 reader reviews of WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection, 4.9 out of 5. Here is link: https://dearbook.gq/db/ebooks-box-wmd-redux-weapons-missing-detection-pdf-by-clayton-jones.html (as of July 4, 2016) Clayton Jones was born in Philadelphia, PA. He grew up in the suburb of Abington where he was active in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, and Explorers and earned a varsity letter in soccer at Abington Senior High. While in high school, for two years he was a counselor at Delmont Boy Scout camp in Greenlane, PA where he taught Scout Crafts and Archery. He was a member of the NRA during junior and senior high school. He was in the Marine Corps Reserves from 1964 to 1970. At Marine Corps Recruit Training Depot Parris Island, he earned the classification of Rifleman Sharpshooter. Assigned to Willow Grove Naval Air Station, his MOS was 7051 Aircraft Rescue and Firefighting. Married in 1966, over the next several years, working alongside his sister-in-law's husband, they assisted their father-in-law in building four houses, by hand, from the ground up. The last house was built on a notch they jack hammered out of solid stone on the side of a steep, wooded, ravine overlooking a tree-shaded, meandering creek about 60 feet below. When his children were of age, starting at elementary and progressing through the junior high school level, he coached boys and girls soccer teams for almost ten years in Boyertown, PA. He and his wife participated in the New York City Fresh Air Fund and for nine years had an inner city boy and girl, of like ages to their own children, come stay with them for two weeks every summer. He accumulated six hours solo flight time in a Piper Cherokee 180, received a four year BS/BA degree from Thomas Edison State College, and, based upon a need identified by his R.N. wife, working together, they conceived, created, applied for, and were granted a patent for a medical walker. Clayton retired from a career spanning forty-eight years in Information Technology that included Director of Systems and Programming and then Director of Computer Operations for a Fortune Five-hundred company in Pennsylvania along with stints with several small software companies in Naples, Florida. His last position was running a County Government I.T. Department for fourteen years. Clayton and his family moved to Naples, Florida in 1991 where he lives with his wife of fifty years. His interests include computers, soccer, sailing, power boating, kayaking, sports cars, growing orchids, gardening, beach time, and writing fiction. He and his wife have a daughter and son and four grandchildren.

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      Book preview

      WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection - Clayton Jones

      WMD Redux Weapons Missing Detection

      Published by Clayton Jones at Smashwords

      Text Copyright 2016

      All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

      may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

      without the express written permission of the publisher

      except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      Disclaimer

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      Available as ebook on: Smashwords, Amazon Kindle, Apple iBooks, Barnes & Noble

      Available as paperback at Createspace and Amazon Books

      Available soon as an audio book at Amazon ACX

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Epilogue

      About Author

      Chapter 1

      I kept my eyes on a young Vietnamese guard dressed in black sitting on a wooden ammo box. The guard was dozing off slouched against the wall of a small bamboo hut. He seemed to be kept awake by the sounds of wild animals in the hot, humid jungle night. An AK47 was a foot away on his right, propped up against the wall. A single candle to his left, close by on the ground, illuminated the scene.

      I watched through the undergrowth, lying-in-wait, drenched in sweat, coiled and ready to strike. Salt marsh mosquitoes covered my face, neck and hands. I took slow shallow breaths. I didn't move a muscle. We were less than four feet apart.

      The KA-BAR felt good. The seven inch blade was razor sharp, the leather rings on the handle comforting in my grip.

      The smoke from the guard's cheap cigarette was pungent. Almost as bad as his body odor. He held the cigarette between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. His other hand lay open, palm down on his left knee. He appeared relaxed, bored. He raised his hand to take a drag. I struck.

      My left hand clamped his hand over his mouth. I shoved his head back against the wall and pinned it there. I could feel the cigarette burning my palm as I crushed it out on his face. He struggled but I deflected his empty left hand with my right elbow.

      Flashback: Parris Island, August 1964, 21 years old. I stand at rigid attention in the hot South Carolina sun while mosquitoes and gnats feasted on my exposed skin.

      I wear wrinkled fatigues and a silver painted helmet called a chrome dome. I was part of Platoon 272.

      In front of us stood a perfectly squared-away Drill Instructor polished boots and brass starched and pressed fatigues and a Smokey-the-Bear hat.

      He hollered instructions as part of our orientation to knife-fighting.

      Listen up maggots. One day this could save your life. If you're going to strike the rib cage turn the blade so it goes between the bones. If you don't the knife will get stuck. You probably won't kill the son-of-a-bitch and you've lost your weapon so you'll probably get killed.

      I turned the knife and rammed it home. I felt the Cro-Van steel slide into the narrow gap between his ribs, through the heart and on, until it was buried up to the hilt.

      From eight inches away I watched his eyes go from complete surprise to a lifeless blank stare. Death was almost instantaneous. The struggling stopped. The guard went limp.

      The jungle sounds never missed a beat.

      I used his shirt to wipe the blood off my knife then I opened the crude but effective wooden latch on the door to the hut that had been keeping my friend prisoner for the past several months.

      Before going in I said, Rex, it's me.

      In the candle light I could see him already standing, getting his bearings.

      The last thing I did was take a cigarette out of a pack lying on the ground by the candle lit it and put it in the dead guard's hand. The smell would go on for another ten minutes making anyone in the area think he was having another smoke.

      Rex snatched up the AK47.

      I led the way. Silently we disappeared into the jungle night.

      return

      Chapter 2

      I hadn't wanted to kill

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