DECEPTIO (Excerpt)

“Maxwell, what are we doing here? Why are we stopping?” he asked, his tone rising. “I thought I said that I wanted to go home?”

“Let’s just say that you’re not going home yet. At least not until you answer some questions. And then, maybe not ever.”

“Who are you? You’re not Maxwell,” Rankin shouted.

“You’re very perceptive aren’t you? Somebody give the man a prize.”

“If what you’re after is money, I don’t have any on me so you’ve made a mistake.” Rankin said even as he tried to open the door. The door refused to open.

“Don’t bother trying. It’s locked from here. And that’s a very wrong this to tell someone who wants money. He might think you have no value for your life.”

The mention of his life stopped Rankin cold. “Are you here to kill me? I can assure you that if you kill me, the FBI will track you down and you’ll burn for murder. You can’t kill a United States senator and expect to get away with it.”

“Well someone killed Robert Partridge and he’s still at large. The FBI haven’t caught him and I don’t think they will.”

The mention of Robert Partridge’s name made Rankin break out in a cold sweat. Either the guy knew something or he was fishing. “Who are you? What do you know about Robert Partridge?”  

Morton turned and pointed a gun at Rankin making the other man cringe. “George sends his greetings. He would have loved to be here but he couldn’t make it.”

“You killed him didn’t you?”

“Let’s just say it was a case of him or me. And like I said, I need some questions answered or you just might join him.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why do you people want to kill Susan Partridge?”

Rankin was taken aback. “Wherever did you get that idea from?”

“It’s quite obvious that someone or a group of people are behind her sudden rise. It seems to me like some people are building her up so that they can make a statement with her death. Why do you want to kill her?”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from but nothing could be further from the truth,” Rankin said. It was quite obvious that the man knew nothing and he was only fishing.

“What do you have to gain by killing her? What are you people after?”

“Really,” Rankin said smiling, “I don’t know where you got all your ideas from. We have nothing whatsoever to gain from Susan Partridge’s death. I don’t know what you intend to gain by all this but don’t you think that you should let me go before the police catch you?”

“What about if I tortured you? I’m sure I have enough time to break a few of your fingers or your jaw. That should get you talking.”

Rankin blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

“So if you’re not trying to kill her and there’s no plot to kill her, why don’t you tell me what connection there is between you and George.”

“Because of my work, I know a lot of people, some of whom I can’t remember where I met them,” Rankin said smiling. “I really can’t remember where I met George or put a face with the name.”

“Isn’t it quite interesting that the same person whom you can’t remember had your number as the only number on his phone? And it shows that he called you when he arrived in Washington.”

Rankin shrugged. “He called me but I didn’t remember him. He wanted us to meet up so that we could catch up on old times but we never met. Because you killed him.”

Morton had a strong desire to do something to wipe the smirk off Rankin’s face. He released the safety catch of the gun and leaned forward to press the gun into his temple. “Since you know that I killed George, then you should be aware that I won’t have any compunction about putting a bullet through your skull.”

“But the question is “Will you”? Let me give you a piece of advice. You’re way in over your head here whoever you are. The best thing would be for you to stop pushing your nose into areas where you have no business. That kind of thing is what gets people killed.”

It was Morton’s turn to smile. “So now you’re threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Rankin said. “Like I said, it’s advice. You either take it or leave it.”

Morton looked at him intently. “I’ll leave it. Could you pass a message to your people for me? Rankin continued staring at him without acknowledging that he heard or understood the question. “Tell them it’s not over. I’m watching.”

With that, he opened the door and stepped out of the car into the dark night.

JC Cruz is the author of DECEPTIO. The book is published by WestBow Press (www.westbowpress.com) , a division of Thomas Nelson Publishers.

DECEPTIO (Excerpt)

CHAPTER 5

Camilla was tired, her feet ached and she had a headache. She was emotionally and physically drained from the shooting of Senator Partridge and the events that had taken place subsequently as a result of that shooting. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and not have to wake up for several days.

However, she couldn’t do that. There was an investigation to be conducted. The person or persons responsible for the murder of Senator Robert Partridge had to be caught and brought to justice. Which was the reason why she and Jeremiah had been going round the student hostels on campus, in conjunction with other FBI agents and police officers from the Chicago Police Department, asking questions and hoping that someone had some useful information they could use that would help them catch the killer. So far, they had come up with nothing useful.

She and Jeremiah had been assigned to the C Tower of the James Stukel Towers, the newest hall of residence on the UIC campus. It was a modern building comprising mainly of glass and steel and it had four towers, all of which gave you different, panoramic views of the Chicago skyline. It was capable of housing 740 students in 4, 5 and person suites. Every two floors were connected by a lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Each hall of residence had what it called a Special Interest Community made up students who were studying the same course. This enabled them to form friendships and share ideas with people from their own fields. There was also a member of faculty living on the premises who was there to help them with any problems they were having.

Presently, she and Jeremiah were on the 7^th floor which housed the Arts/Architecture and Graphic Design Community. They had been interviewing the students they could find in their rooms for some hours and by now, they knew the responses to expect. No one had seen anything suspicious while on the field or noticed anything out of place in the days or weeks leading up to the speech. No one that is except Carey Payton.

Carey was in her first year at UIC and she seemed to really want to help. At first, Camilla and Jeremiah had thought that she just might have seen something. Until it occurred to them that Carey saw everything. Even what other people hadn’t seen.

Based on what she had told them, over the past week she had noticed a short guy with a squint and a limp in his right leg who was disguised as an electrician. According to Carey, he had looked like the “special forces guys you see on television, you know; Green Beret and marines’ type”. She’d noticed that he had been dressed in overalls and carried a bag which then she had thought contained his tools. Now that she thought about it, it had probably contained a gun which he used to kill the senator. However, when it came to getting her to describe what he looked like, they had run into a brick wall. She had vacillated between whether the guy had brown or blonde hair and whether he had a scar or not. When she finally decided he had a scar, she couldn’t decide whether it was on the right or left side of his face or the length. It was obvious she had been watching too many movies.

Jeremiah and Camilla had concluded that there was nothing to be gained by prolonging the interview. Over the past few months they had been working together, they had developed a kind of telepathic communication. At times, all that was needed was a look to pass between them for one or both of them to understand what the other was saying. This time, such a look had passed and they had both stood up at the same time, bringing the interview to an end.

“Thank you very much Casey. I must say that you have been very helpful,” Jeremiah said as he closed his notebook and put it into the pocket of his FBI jacket. “With the description that you’ve given us, I wouldn’t be surprised if we caught the guy before the week was up.”

Casey’s green eyes glowed brightly. “Are you serious? If you catch him, will you let people know that I was the one who told you what he looked like?”

“Certainly,” Jeremiah said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t get to appear on television,” he continued, tongue in cheek, watching as her eyes grew wider. Then he seemed to remember something and he frowned. “However, it might not be safe to mention your name or let you appear on television.

“Why?” Casey wailed.

“Well,” Jeremiah said, as he thought about it, “he might not be working alone. In fact, most likely he was sent by some people who had a grouse against the senator. If we mention your name or let you appear on television, they’re going to come after you.”

“Why?” she squealed. “What did I do?”

“Well, they’re going to say that you ratted on their guy and you and I know that these criminal guys don’t like that,” Jeremiah said solemnly.

Camilla didn’t know whether or not to laugh as the joy and triumph on Casey’s face changed to disappointment, then fear.

“I understand. I don’t think I would want to appear on television though,” she said, shrugging. “I’m not a showy person and I’m sure people would have been stopping me on the road and all that I wouldn’t have a life.” Then she seemed to think of something and a worried frown marred her brow. “Are you sure you won’t mention my name?”    

“I promise,” Jeremiah said as he began to walk toward the door.

Outside, Camilla shook her hand. “Thank you very much.”

Casey gave a tremulous smile as she did battle with her fear. “Just doing my duty,” she said. “Well, it was nice talking to you,” she said as she closed the door.

Camilla punched Jeremiah’s arm.

“Ouch,” he said as he rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”

“For lying to the poor girl and then leading her on,” she answered.

“It’s not my fault,” he said, shrugging. “The poor girl wanted to feel useful and needed.”

“But you didn’t have to lie to her about catching anybody. You know the description she gave us was pretty useless. We both know she never saw anyone.”

Jeremiah shrugged again. “It was fun.”

Camilla knocked on the next door. “I would appreciate it if you could curb your comedic instincts until we finish what we came to do,” she said dryly.

“I’ll try,” he said sighing mournfully, “but it won’t be easy.”

Camilla waited a few minutes for someone to answer her knock. When no one came to open the door, she knocked again even as she wondered if there was anyone inside. She had raised her hand to knock a third time when the door suddenly opened.

“Yes? How may I help you?” the girl who stood behind the open door asked.

Camilla smiled even as she and Jeremiah flashed their badges as they had done numerous times that day. “FBI. My name is Camilla Rodriguez and this is my colleague, Jeremiah Walker. We wondered if we could come in and speak with you. We need to ask a few questions about what happened today.”

The girl looked from Camilla to Jeremiah. “You mean the senator’s murder don’t you?” she asked.

Camilla nodded. The girl opened the door wider and stepped back, indicating that Camilla and Jeremiah could come in. Camilla followed Jeremiah into a tastefully furnished living room. There was a television set and two different looking settees’ in the room. There were also different colored throw pillows scattered all over the room. There were also personal pictures of people Camilla guessed were some of the other occupants of the room on every available surface.   

“Are your other roommates around?” Camilla asked as she took in the contents of the room in a glance.

“No. They’ve all gone out,” the girl replied. “Please sit down. My name is Sheldon. Sheldon Gaines. Can I offer both of you anything? Tea or coffee? I’m sorry but I don’t have anything stronger than that.”

“Nothing, thank you very much. Whose room is that?” Camilla asked, pointing to a door that had the poster of the Christian rock band Kutless.

“It’s mine,” Sheldon replied. “Why?” she asked defensively.

Camilla smiled. She could almost feel Sheldon’s animosity and her readiness to defend her faith and what she believed in. “Nothing. I’m a fan too. But I think that I prefer Jars of Clay.”

“You’re a Christian,” Sheldon asked, her eyes growing wider. When Camilla nodded, she smiled. “Cool,” she said enthusiastically.

Camilla didn’t know how long they spent discussing their favorite Christian bands, musicians and songs. They were in the middle of discussing the latest album by one of the bands that they both liked when a voice broke into their conversation. “I really hate to break up this musical love in, but we really do need to get on with why we came here.”

Both Camilla and Sheldon turned to look at Jeremiah. Sheldon took one look at Jeremiah’s bored looking face and turned back to Camilla. “He’s not a Christian is he?” she asked even though she already knew the answer.

Camilla shook her head as she answered, “No, he isn’t.”

Sheldon sighed. “I guessed as much.” She sighed again and asked, “So, what do you want to know?”

“Thank you,” Jeremiah replied, his lips curving in a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “First of all, were you at the venue of the senator’s speech this morning?”

Sheldon grimaced. “Yes, I was. He’s not, I mean he wasn’t exactly my most favorite person in the world; neither did I care much for his politics. But I had an idea that whatever he had to say might probably affect me sooner or later. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to go hear what he had to say. And I was right.”

Jeremiah refrained from asking what she had been right about. “Did you notice anything strange or out of place while you were there?” he asked. “Maybe there was something that happened that you felt was suspicious and made you wonder?”

Sheldon thought about it for a few minutes then shook her head. “To be honest, I didn’t notice anything suspicious. The only thing I really did wonder about was why there was so much security around the senator.”

Jeremiah sighed. “What about in the days leading up to the speech? Or even in the past few weeks? Did you notice anything or anyone that seemed to be out of place, that didn’t fit in? Or was there an event that got you thinking that maybe something was up?”

Again Sheldon seemed to think about it for a few seconds then she shook he head. “No, there’s nothing that I can think of. Everything has been just the same.”

Jeremiah nodded. “What about you? Did you kill the senator?”

Camilla gasped. Sheldon looked at Jeremiah for a few seconds, her face expressionless. Then she laughed softly. “Is it because I’m a Christian? Don’t tell me you’ve been asking everybody the same question?”

Jeremiah rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that. I must be more tired than I thought. Sorry for taking up your time. I’m grateful for your help.” He stood up.

Camilla and Sheldon both stood up. Sheldon looked at Camilla. “There’s going to be trouble soon, right?”

Camilla looked from Sheldon to Jeremiah to Sheldon confused. “What trouble?” she asked.

Sheldon looked at both agents. “People are going to blame Christians for the senator’s death aren’t they? They’re going to want to kill Christians because they’re going to think Christians killed the senator.”

DECEPTIO is JC Cruz first novel. It's published by WestBow Press (http://www.westbowpress.com/), a division of Thomas Nelson Publishers. You can follow him on Twitter @Cruz_JCReal.

DECEPTIO (EXCERPT)

Calvin had broken into a run with his gun drawn from its holster before the senator’s body had hit the ground. He knelt down beside the body which was lying on the stage face down, where it lay after falling from his wife’s hands. He placed his fingers on the neck to feel for a pulse. There was none. The man was dead, he thought grimly. He looked around the field, trying to see if he could see who had shot his principal. Former principal a voice said. The whole place was in an uproar as everyone was trying to run away from the field or was running toward the body. He was soon joined on the stage by FBI agents and police officers some of whom were trying to keep curious onlookers and their phones, away from the body. One of them began feeling his body for a pulse like Calvin had done earlier.

“There’s no pulse. He’s dead,” he said to the FBI agent, trying to save him the trouble of looking for a pulse and then finding none.

“Who are you?” the agent asked with a frown on his face.

“I’m, well, I was one of the senator’s bodyguards,” he said.

“Can someone tell me what is going on here?” a loud, gruff voice asked.

Calvin looked up at the newcomer who had spoken from where he was beside the senator’s body.

"He’s dead sir,” the agent that had been checking his pulse said.

“I’m sure that if you had half of your head blown away, you’d be dead too,” the man said dryly. His eye fixed on Calvin as he asked, “And you are?”

Calvin stood. “My name is Calvin Cordell, part of the Senator’s security detail,” he answered, stretching his hand out for a handshake. When the other man stared at his hand but refused to shake it, Calvin shrugged, bringing his hand back to his side.

“Are you the one in charge?”

“No,” Calvin answered.

“Then who is?” the other man barked.

“I am.”

The FBI agent turned to look at who had spoken. “And you are?”

“Anthony Greaves,” the head of the senator’s security detail and Calvin’s boss answered. He had walked up to the crime scene to see what was happening.

“Marcus Granville, Special Agent in Charge of the Chicago office,” the other man said. The two men shook hands.

Anthony looked down at the senator’s lifeless body. “I take it he’s dead?” he asked.

“You take correctly,” Marcus answered. “I believe you were aware that he was being threatened?”

“Yes,” Anthony answered. “We tried to stop him from coming to give the speech today. There were too many things that could go wrong. And it seems something did go wrong. But he wouldn’t listen.”

Marcus grunted. He turned to Calvin and asked, “Where were you?”

“There,” Calvin said, turning and pointing toward the back of the stage.

“Did you see anything?”

Calvin shook his head. “Nothing.”

Marcus sighed. “It figures.”

Just then, the doctor pushed through the crowd and bent down beside the senator’s lifeless body. A pool of blood had collected under his head.

“I’ll spare you the trouble doc and let you know that the man is dead,” Marcus answered. “I’m sure you’d be more useful attending to the family he left behind,” he said, pointing with his head in the direction of the senator’s widow and children. “And please, can someone take them home?”

The doctor got up and went in Susan Partridge’s direction. Marcus turned to another agent and asked, “Where’s Rutger with the camera and other equipment? We need to process the body and find out all we can before any evidence is trampled upon. And I’d like it to be done while I’m still alive.”

Marcus motioned Calvin and Anthony away from the body. “Have you always been in charge of his security or did he hire you when he got the threats?” he asked.

“Our firm has always provided security for him and his family,” Anthony answered. “We even provided security for his father before him, but the thing is he beefed up his security when he got the threats.”

“And he still got killed,” Marcus said but his tone didn’t indicate he was attaching any blame to anyone. He wiped his face with his hand, a wearied look on his face. “Either they had some help or these religious kooks are very good. I can guess what’s going to happen now. The president is going to hear about this and he’s going to talk with the Director. Then the Director is going to call me and my ulcer is going to start acting up again.” He sighed and looked at Calvin. “Are you quite sure that you didn’t notice anything out of place? Maybe you need to think about it,” he said hopefully.

Calvin thought about it for some time but shook his head. “I’m quite sure I didn’t see anything.”

Marcus sighed again. “I’ll probably need to get a statement or something from you although I don’t see how it’s going to help. Drop your contact details with one of my people. I’m really beginning to wish I didn’t get out of bed this morning.”

Calvin and Anthony watched as he walked back toward the senator’s dead body and started barking orders.

“This is a right mess,” Anthony muttered, running his hand through his hair and looking around. “Something tells me we haven’t heard the last of this whole thing and that it’s going to get worse.”


JC Cruz is the author of DECEPTIO, published by WestBow Press (http://www.westbow.com/) a division of Thomas Nelson Publishers. You can follow him @Cruz_JCReal

DECEPTIO (EXCERPT)

Below is an excerpt from my novel DECEPTIO, published by WestBow Press, a division of Thomas Nelson. Hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER 1

A camera panned to focus on the two people seated in chairs in front of the large letters that spelled out the television station’s name. The camera and all the other equipment transmitted their images via television into the living rooms, offices, shops, and train and bus stations of millions of Americans all over the country.  

“Good morning. Welcome to this morning’s news on CSTV. My name is Peter Farrow, and reading the news with me this morning, as usual, is Rachel Corretja.”

“Good morning, and welcome to the news,” Rachel said smiling.

“Our top story this morning comes from Brazil where over twenty people have died in clashes between gang members and the police overnight in the favelas on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro where the gangs hold sway. However, before we go to our correspondent standing by there, we want to take you to the University of Illinois at Chicago, where billionaire; Senator Robert Partridge is giving a speech. Our correspondent; Chris Cooper is standing by. Chris, before you tell us what Senator Partridge is going to say in his speech, can you quickly tell us who Robert Partridge is?”

“Good morning, Peter, Rachel. I’m here reporting live from the Les Miller field at the University of Illinois at Chicago. As you said, Senator Robert Partridge is giving a speech this morning at the university. The speech is in connection with the student’s union week at the university. With regard to who Robert Partridge is, he comes from a prominent Chicago family with interests in fishing, oil and mining to mention a few. His family has also been politically active in the state: one of his uncles was a former governor of the state of Illinois. Unlike a lot of members of his family who went to Yale and Harvard, Senator Partridge counts the University of Illinois at Chicago as his alma mater. Since leaving the university, he has gone on to greater things. He was at one time, the ambassador of the United States to the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. At present, he is a senator representing the state of Illinois in the Congress.”

“Do we know what he is going to tell the students, Chris?” Rachel asked.

“Senator Partridge is a known advocate of individual rights, and he has been going around the country, asking American youths to stand up and fights for the defense of their rights which he believes the federal government is encroaching on. The message seems to be getting a positive reception wherever he goes. It is believed that he is going to speak on more of the same this morning. However, there seems to be an added twist. Though not yet official, it is believed that he plans to use this visit to his alma mater to speak of his intention to run for president.”

“What does Senator Partridge hope to gain by announcing his candidacy for president in front of the students, Chris?” Peter asked.

“Well Peter, there is the general feeling that he’s firing the first salvo before the primaries begin. Even though like I said, it’s not going to be an official declaration, there are those who believe that by announcing his candidacy in his state, in front of students who are likely to vote both in the primaries and the election proper if he scales through the primaries, it will give him something of an edge.”

“There have been rumors and unconfirmed reports that the senator’s life is under threat from some Christian fundamentalist group,” Rachel said. “That they have written a series of letters threatening his life because they are uncomfortable with his message of freedom and rights. Is there any sign that the authorities are taking the threat seriously? Can you tell our viewers about the security there?”

“Well, as you said, the reports that the Senator’s life was threatened are yet to be confirmed. But it seems that the FBI and the Chicago Police Department are not taking chances. There’s quite a number of law-enforcement agents around the place but whether the number will deter anyone determined to take the Senator’s life is another matter entirely.” 

“Thank you Chris. We will come back to you later to get an update on the speech. Now to other news ...”

Senator Robert Partridge sat in the chair as make-up was applied to his face, preparatory to him getting in front of the cameras, reflecting on how smoothly things seemed to be going. He was so close to achieving his dream now, he could almost taste it. He wished that he could somehow make time pass in the blink of an eye and that by the time he closed and opened his eyes; he would find out that he was to be sworn in as president in a few hours. He smiled wryly at his own impatience. And to think that there had been talk in Washington that he was dead politically when he had divorced his first wife, Holly five years ago.

He and Holly had been childhood sweethearts and had gotten married just two years after he graduated from college. They’d had two children together, a boy and a girl, both of whom were studying to be lawyers like their father. Holly had been the perfect stay-at-home political wife. She had been extremely supportive of his career and his ambition, having come from a family involved in politics herself. Her father had been a former governor of the state of Iowa and her mother had taught her how to be the perfect politician’s wife. She had never complained or nagged him for coming home late or neglecting her or the children. She had turned a blind eye to his indiscretions as long as he came back to her.

They had been married for over twenty-seven years when he had begun to wake up in the mornings and wonder whether being a senator was all there was to life and whether that was going to be the height of his political career. The fact that he had more money than he knew what to with and that a lot of people envied his life didn’t really mean much to him. He had wondered whether his dream of becoming president was ever going to be achieved. Then he had gone to a party he’d been invited to in Washington and he’d met Susan.

He had been feeling bored and restless and had decided to go to the party in the hope that it would ease the monotony. Holly had gone to Paris with a few other friends so he had gone to the party alone. His children were both in law school at Yale and were preparing for their examinations. He had spent over an hour at the party but the boredom only intensified. He had been thinking of how he would give it ten more minutes before going to look for his hosts so that he could make his escape, when he turned from the window he had been staring out to find a woman watching him intently. He had looked behind him to see if she was looking at someone else, but he was the only one there.

It had felt somehow strange seeing her watching him and feeling as if it was a prelude to her hitting on him. Normally, he liked to be the one doing the chasing but he didn’t mind making an exception. She had smiled and walked up to him and they started talking. Three hours later they were still deep in conversation. They left the party together and he dropped her off at her place. Nothing had happened that night but Robert knew it was only a matter of time before they became lovers.

Three months after meeting Susan, he had known that she was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It didn’t hurt that she seemed to be the one who would help him realize his ambition of becoming president. Holly didn’t understand why he wanted a divorce. She had done all that her mother had told her to do, and she had believed that all was well between them. She had been a good wife and mother and she had expected that they would grow old together. However, in the end she agreed to the divorce, especially since he had paid her off handsomely. In his own way, Robert had loved her and still did but his ambition was greater than his love.

(You can get a copy of DECEPTIO from the WestBow Press Store at http://www.westbowpress.com/)