Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1)

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Authors: Joseph Badal

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BOOK: Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1)
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EVIL DEEDS

Inspired by Actual Events

Joseph Badal

Suspense Publishing

 

Evil Deeds

by

Joseph Badal

DIGITAL EDITION

*

PUBLISHED BY:

Suspense Publishing

Joseph Badal

Copyright © 2011 Joseph Badal

PUBLISHING HISTORY:

Suspense Publishing, Paperback and Digital Copy, November 2011

ISBN: 0615556892

ISBN-13: 978-0615556895

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these
trademarks

 

DEDICATION

To my dear son John, one of life’s great sources of happiness and pride, and to Whitey, the dog that saved us from a lifetime of misery.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, I want to thank my readers who have continued to encourage me in this great writing adventure through their kind words and willingness to step up to the counter and to the internet to buy my books.

My thanks go to Frank Zoretich and Brittani Lenz for their invaluable editing services. It’s amazing how good you guys are.

I appreciate those friends who weighed in with suggestions about elements of this book, including Anne Beckett and Rosalie Sherman. I can always count on you both to tell it like it is.

I want to single out two authors for recognition: Tony Hillerman, who did everything he could to help me go from writer to author. The world lost a great man when it lost Tony. And Steve Brewer, who is always willing to listen to my complaints and frustrations, and is always a source of encouragement.

The contributions of John & Shannon Raab at Suspense Publishing were dramatic, and their passion for this project made the enterprise a great deal of fun.

And, finally, I thank Sara for her encouragement and “attaboys.” Everyone needs a muse. I found mine.

Praise for Joseph Badal

“Another tightly plotted, deftly executed page turner from a master of suspense and international intrigue. Joseph Badal writes timely stories with authority and compassion. Highly recommended.”

—Sheldon Siegel,
New York Times
bestselling author of “Perfect Alibi”

With “Evil Deeds,” Joseph Badal pulls together the 28-year saga of the Danforth family and their hair-raising adventures in the U.S., Greece and the Balkans. Action-packed and filled with memorable characters, “Evil Deeds” delivers on every level.

—Steve Brewer, author of “Lost Vegas”

“A rollicking adventure that will transport the reader to the Greek islands for a high-stakes treasure hunt that opens a Pandora’s box if intrigue, deceit and murder. Joseph Badal serves up a rogue’s gallery of sharply drawn characters present in lean, muscular prose that will always leave you wanting more.”

—Philip Reed, author of “Bird Dog,” “Low Rider,” and “The Marquis De Fraud”

“Joe Badal takes us into a tangled puzzle of intrigue and terrorism; a page-turning mystery that gives readers a chance to combine learning of Greece and Greek politics with a tense, well told tale.”

—Tony Hillerman,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Once again, Badal has crafted a superb thriller that grips you from page one and doesn’t let go. “The Nostradamus Secret” has it all—compelling plot, intricate characters and a breakneck pace that will keep readers up well into the night. Another winner for Badal.”

—Philip Donlay, author of “Category Five” and “Code Black”

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

“Evil Deeds” is the first in a series, which includes “Terror Cell” and “The Nostradamus Secret.” Although all three novels can be read as stand-alone thrillers, reading them in the order they were written will give the reader a feeling for the growth and development of the major characters, Bob and Liz Danforth, and their son Michael.

Part I of “Evil Deeds” is loosely based on the kidnapping of Greek children by the Communists during and after the revolution that occurred in Greece after the end of World War II. These children were taken across the northern Greek border into Communist Bulgaria and Yugoslavia. The Bulgarian orphanage mentioned in this novel is a creation of the Author’s imagination.

For the sake of authenticity there are a number of foreign language words in this story. In order to facilitate the reader’s experience, the Author underlines the syllable in these words where the pronunciation emphasis should occur.

There are several references in “Evil Deeds” to genocidal actions in the Balkans during the civil war there in the 1990s. Although the incidents noted here are purely fictional, they are similar in most instances to actual events that occurred during that conflict.

 

PART I

1971

 

CHAPTER ONE

Liz Danforth stood on the terrace of her rented home in the Athens suburb of Kifissia and watched the edge of the early morning Greek sun peek over the top of the six-foot-high stone wall at the back of the yard. The hills in the distance had already begun to turn bright yellow with the first of the May morning’s sunlight. She closed her eyes and welcomed the sun’s warmth on her face. All in all, not a bad way to start the day, she thought.

The sputtering sound of a motor scooter sounded from the street on the front side of the house, briefly overpowering her husband Bob’s throaty laugh, two-year-old Michael’s high-pitched giggles, and White Dog’s frenzied barking. A hint of a breeze moved a few strands of her hair across her eyes, and she used the back of her hand to push back the blond wisps. She caught Bob looking at her and felt her heart swell. He seemed to revel in her slightest movement or simplest change of expression. How lucky could one woman be?

Liz had been afraid when the Army assigned Bob to Greece. She’d never been outside the United States before. The fact that Greece was ruled by a military junta only made things worse in her mind. But, despite her fear of living in a foreign country, she had acclimated well. And she’d take being with Bob in Greece any day over the year they’d been separated when he was in Vietnam.

“Okay, big guy,” Bob shouted at Michael, “Superman time.”

Liz watched Bob run over to Michael who chased White Dog, a longhaired mutt with a lot of Australian Shepherd blood and who knows what else running through her veins. Bob scooped up the boy and ran around the backyard, while White Dog trailed after them, barking ecstatically.

“Soup Man, Soup Man,” Michael yelled in his husky voice, flying through the air, arms extended, a towel tucked into his collar floating behind like a cape.

Liz chuckled at her two-year-old son’s pronunciation of
Superman
. Father and son, she thought. Except for the difference in age and size, two peas in a pod. Black-haired, hazel-eyed, high cheekboned peas. Her men.

Bob stopped running and extended his arm straight above his head, balancing Michael in one hand. Liz felt her breath catch.

“Bob, be careful!” she yelled. “You’ll drop him.”

“Not a chance,” he shouted back. She saw a fleeting scornful look on his face and regretted having said anything. But the way he roughhoused with Michael scared her to death. She held her breath, anticipating what would come next, the way the game always ended.

Bob suddenly dropped his arm and Michael fell three feet to where his father caught him against his chest.

Michael giggled. “Again, Daddy,” he yelled. “More! More!”

Bob nuzzled his son and kissed him on the cheek. “Gotta go to work, Mikey. But, I promise we’ll play Superman when I get home.”

Liz saw the disappointed look on her son’s face—an expression midway between pouting and disappointment—when Bob carried him across the yard and up the four steps to the terrace. “No bye-bye, Daddy,” he whined.

Bob again buried his face in his son’s neck and gave him tickling kisses until Michael started laughing. Then he put Michael down and stepped to Liz, barely having to bend his six-foot-two-inch frame to kiss her lips. He put an arm around her back, then lowered his hand to the seat of her jeans. “Not bad for an old married lady,” he said, squeezing a cheek. “You sure make it hard on a working guy. How do you expect me to keep my mind on my job, when the vision of you standing here in tight jeans and a tank top stays with me all day?”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Liz blurted. “It’s Saturday. I bet there’s not another officer working today. The General’s probably playing golf, the Colonel’s sailing, and everyone else is down at the beach. But not Captain Robert Danforth. Why don’t you try coming home earlier than eight o’clock, for a change?” Liz said, giving him a shame-on-you look. “Then maybe we could discuss your visions . . . and other things, too.”

Bob slapped her lightly on the butt. “I might do just that,” he said, smiling lecherously.

“Yeah, yeah,” Liz said. “Promises, promises.”

White Dog suddenly barked and planted her two front paws on Bob’s leg.

“See,” Liz said. “She agrees.”

Bob laughed. “White Dog always takes your side.”

“I’m serious, Bob. Try getting home early tonight. We could all go out for dinner, then take Michael to the American Club Theater. They’re going to show Cinderella. He’d love it.”

Bob shrugged, and then leaned forward to kiss her; but she planted her hands in the middle of his chest and pushed him away.

“Dammit, Bob, I mean it.”

She watched his face turn red and suddenly felt guilty for once again sending him off to work knowing she was upset. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She’d been looking forward to spending the day at the beach. This wasn’t the first time Bob had broken his promise because of work.

“I’ll get back here by noon,” he said. “I promise.”

She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t about to bet on it.

 

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