Honor and Duty : The Official Website

The following is an excerpt from Honor & Duty: Hero (this is a revised version)

The drive to her apartment was familiar. She knew the pedestrian cross light had been out for a month. The flow of the traffic consisted of speeding up only to stop when the light abruptly changed. People tried to fit their cars into tiny parking spaces and then get made when the realize their mistake throw you the finger when you wouldn’t let them out. She regarded the people who lived and worked along the street as her neighbors.

        Gustav and Berta Hess owned the restaurant across the street and lived in the apartment above. The Hess Restaurant prided itself on its family-style atmosphere. Instead of table clothes, sheets of paper covered the tables with a small cup of crayons that provided children both young and old time to doodle. Patron artwork lined the walls of the restaurant along drawings done by the couple’s own children.  Berta gave free piano lessons to neighborhood children in the back of the restaurant. On the weekends, there would be recitals for the families to enjoy while taking in a meal. It was all good fun. Stefanie used to her Katrin there for lunch when she wasn’t in school. It didn’t seem like that long ago when her daughter’s artwork graced the walls along with her own caricatures.

       Stefanie glanced over at the newsstand next to the restaurant—it was another familiar stop for her.  August Zimmermann, she smiled. As a thirty-year veteran on the Hamburg Police Department, they two had something in common, which gave her a chance to talk about things that only a fellow cop could understand. August was the type of man who’d wanted to stay in police work. Her first introduction to him was when she was working the streets. Before her and then partner Karin arrived at the scene, August had separated the two parties and diffused the situation with the two parties shaking hands. He often boasted that it was gift of gab that made people to listen to him.

            At the end of the block, there was a small grocery store owned by an old couple from Brandenburg. The Prachnows moved to Munich after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Mrs. Prochnow made sure to say hello at least once a day to Stefanie and would often stop by the apartment to bring a plate of cookies. Mr. Prochnow was a carpenter hobbyist. He perfected his skill in Brandenburg making furniture for family and friends. He had a workshop in the basement that he shared with the building manager. The couple never had children and treated Stefanie as a surrogate daughter.

            Stefanie pulled her car around the corner and walked into the store where the sole employee the couple employed, Lucas Wirth was boxing up an order. She knew that Lucas lived in the building next to hers and rode his motor bike to work. She also knew he was going to school to become a doctor. She had often seen him sitting outside on the steps of his building reading his textbooks. At twenty-four, the boy had already seen too much death in his young life. When he was a nine, a drunk driver took his older sister’s life. Eight years later, he lost both of his parents to cancer within six months of each other. He saw how the doctors were with his parents and decided that was his calling—he wanted to show his patients the same kindness and caring nature. Stefanie knew his goal in life was to rid of the world of disease.   

       “Hey chief,” he greeted her. “Did you escape from the hospital?”

       Stefanie laughed. “No, they let me out­—something to do with being able to function on my own,” she shrugged. “Not a moment too soon. Promise me you’ll do something about the food in those places.”

       “I’ll do my best,,” he crossed his heart. “Do you know why the food is horrible?”

       “Because they can’t find a cook?”

       “The food is horrible because they don’t want people to come back. If it was good, they’d never get people to leave.”

       She nodded. “So how’s school going?”

       “I’m taking this anatomy class this semester. We get to dissect a human body next week,” he said. His eyes got excited at the prospect of tearing into human flesh. “Way cool, huh?”

       “Already dead I hope,” Stefanie smiled.

       Stefanie figured she was about the only person he could talk about the gruesome task of dissecting human flesh. She didn’t know if it was the fact she was a cop and therefore accustomed to the seeing bodies mangled or the fact she was a just a generally cool person who wouldn’t get turned off.. She opted for the former. She didn’t consider herself cool.

       “They’re donated bodies to science,” Lucas said.  “A generous gift to the future doctors of Germany.” He boxed up the last of the order. He rang the total up and watched Stefanie disappear to the back of the store. He looked up when he saw a man enter the store. “Can I help you find something, sir?” Lucas asked. 

       “Nah, I’m good. Wife wants me to pick up some milk,” the man said. He walked toward the dairy refrigerator. He cast a look over his left shoulder as he opened the door. Grabbing the milk container, he looked down the aisle to see Stefanie at the back of the store. He wasn’t concerned with her. He walked back toward Lucas and put the milk container on the counter. He opened his jacket to pull out his wallet. Only it wasn’t a wallet.

        “Give me the money in the register now.” He pointed the gun at Lucas who hesitated. “I’m not telling you again boy.” He waved the gun at Lucas.

       “Lucas do you know where—” Stefanie stopped in her tracks when she saw the gun, which the robber now pointed at her. “Just give him the money.” She was unarmed. She wasn’t going to argue with the robber.

       “Yeah Lucas,” the robber imitated Stefanie. “Just give me the money.” He kept the gun pointed at Stefanie. “All of it. Don’t be a hero boy.” He turned his head toward Stefanie. “What are you looking at bitch.”

       She stared into his eyes. He was a man determined to get what he wanted no matter what it took get it. She recalled that same look two weeks earlier when a gunman’s shooting rampage through her precinct put her into the crossfire.  She wasn’t going step in between a man’s solid determination and her will to live. That’s how she reasoned her in ability to stop what happened next.

       Lucas tried to take advantage of the situation by grabbing the baseball bat that Mr. Prochnow kept under the counter. Just as he brought it up, the robber turned back to face him. It was a bad decision on Lucas’s part.

       As Lucas fell to the ground, the robber took the cash from the register and fled the store.

 

 

Know what generally annoys me? People who comment on something and then get offended when they’re challenged or that the very least, used as material for a new blog post. The human intelleluct never ceases to amaze me because some folks get the misguided notion that their “opinion” can’t be challenged. Ha! I love the HUMAN race. It’s what makes us unique individuals and not machines merely spewing out data and spit-ridden words.

I took down one of the “one-hit” stories. I posted the wrong version and It’s changed since posting it. I’m still fine tuning the story a bit. It’ll be back up before the end of August.

In other news, I’m working on a short story that’s set about two years later than the novel. I’ll make that available in sections.

Here’s a small sampling of the short story:

Stefanie scrambled to the counter. The sergeant lay against the counter. She checked for a pulse. He was dead. Taking his gun she made her way to the other end of the counter. She heard footsteps coming from the hallway that led to the locker room. Steadying the gun in both hands she pointed the gun at the approaching subject. It was Nils Westermann a rookie officer.

 

“Major,” he said quietly. His gun was shaking in his hand.

 

“It’ll be okay Nils, just take a couple of deep breathes,” Stefanie told him. She pointed down the hall. “You watch our rear. Okay?”

 

Nils nodded. He swallowed and followed Stefanie’s lead. Nils froze in his steps when two more shots were fired. “Maybe we should wait for back up?”

 

“No time,” Stefanie said. She stopped at the end of the hallway and looked around the corner. She watched as the shooter was making his way from room to room trying the doors to find one that was open. A door opened from one of the locked rooms. It was the other door from her office. The accountant made it a few feet before the shooter dropped him. There were no more options left. Stefanie checked her weapon and took a deep breath. She looked at Nils. “Stay with me. Let’s get this guy.” Stefanie started around the corner and made her way down the hallway.

 

“Someone help me!” a woman’s voice cried out. The cry was followed by a child’s scream.

 

“Polizei! You have no way out.” Stefanie shouted. “Don’t make this any harder than what it already is.”

 

“You have no idea how hard it is,” the shooter called out. He fired at Stefanie just missing her. “If you come in here, I’ll kill them all!”

 

(I’m still working on the novel–the story that precedes this short story.) The “future story” will be available for purchase at some point (possibly later this year) through the Xena Online Community store (our CafePress).

 

I’ve re-opened the website with a new look. To make my life a lot easier, I’ve opted for a blogging system to maintain the website. It’ll allow to me to post things on the fly without having to worry about uploading a page or anything. And it’ll allow me to publish excerpts from almost anywhere.

Stay tuned!

This is another excerpt from the book. This introduces the character of Karen Schmidt, the lead character’s best friend (though it may not seem like it later on) and former partner. (This is a raw introduction, unedited.)

Nearly two years had passed and not a word and not even a card passed between them. There was really nothing intentional about it. On hers or Stefanie’s part. Karen Schmidtstood at the doors of the General Investigations Unit. It was probably for the better. All partnerships need a break. But she had to put everything behind her. She wasn’t going to let what happened on that day come between them. Her only hope was that she was welcomed back to her old unit. Two years is a long time to be away.

And opening the doors was the easy part. The unit was mix of detectives and uniformed officers sitting at desks, interviewing suspects and witnesses. The only thing different was a glass-walled room that served as the operations center. The new high tech way of fighting crime, she thought. A little too new school for her.

“Can I help you?” a uniformed officer asked her. He stood before her. He was the same height and had the smell of a soon-to-be-retired cop. He was a sergeant was finishing out his years riding a desk. He was cordial and friendly. Probably a by the book kind of guy that kept the unit in order.

“That’s okay, I know where I’m going.”

He put his hand up to stop her. “All visitors must sign in.” He pushed a clipboard into
her hands. “Captain’s orders.” He smiled at her and handed over a pen.

“Fine,” she signed her name and handed the clipboard back to the sergeant. She looked around. The place hadn’t changed all that much. At least she thought it hadn’t changed.

“This is for you,” he told the lieutenant while handing her a visitor’s badge.

“Thank you,” she thanked him. She put the name badge on. “Anything else?”

“You’re good Lieutenant Schmidt,” he smiled.

“Is the captain in yet?” she said apprehensively.

“Captain is not in at the moment. Meeting with the brass,” he cracked a smile. “She’ll be here shortly.”

Karen looked at her watch—it was nine in the morning. “Rather early for a meeting with the brass. They don’t come until nine. And even then, they like to have their meetings after lunch.”

“The brass likes to get done early sometimes, leaves the cops to do their work,” he joked. “Personally, I think the captain hates it.”

Karen couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure she does. Thanks.” She looked around. She didn’t recognize anyone in the bullpen. They were all fresh faces. Some of them looked like rookie detectives, others looked like seasoned detectives and others looked like they really wanted to be some place other than here.

Below is an excerpt from chapter one of my book, Honor & Duty: Honor Bound

Tony Percante gazed at his watch. It was three in the afternoon. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them warm as he strolled down Tristan Street. It was the middle of April and it still felt like December. He hated the cold. But he had to go where the money was and where his boss Maurice Perozoni told him to go. This was his opportunity, he told himself before saying yes to the man that had given him everything. And he was determined to make it work.

Growing up, Percante had been the school bully. He earned his talent from his older brother who would work out schemes with the neighborhood kids to get money from their classmates. He had been his brother’s first victim. He swore he’d lever let it happen again. To say he had the ability to get people to give over the prized possessions, would be understatement—he didn’t ask, he took. He was the muscle. He made people pay up.

So when Mister Perozoni, as he called him, said to collect a debt from an old business associate, he packed his bags and headed north to Munich, Germany.

He hated the Germans. They didn’t know how to squeeze people. They had no class, no tack in dealing with the common street thug. The Italians had finesse and love. The Germans would shoot you then collect. Only the Germans would try to collect from dead men, he told himself. But as much as he hated the Germans, he hated German cops more.

Munich cops had no issue in stopping someone on the street and asking to see I.D. He knew better than to lower his head or shy away when he passed them on the street. So when he spotted two walking down the street, he kept his head up and eyes forward. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He had to play it cool.

Percante breathed a sigh of relief when they passed him by.

He stopped at the corner and pulled out a piece of paper. He looked at the address and then stuffed it back in his coat pocket. He looked across the street and saw the sporting goods store.

“If there was one thing you could change about your life, what would it be captain?”

“I don’t think this division is big enough for two psychoanalysts Baasch,” Stefanie quipped. “I’ll answer if you answer your own question first. Fair enough?”

Baasch nodded. He thought about the question. “You see, it was a question that my professor asked the other day in class. He’s all about changing people’s lives and stuff. It’s really interesting.”

Stefanie nodded. “Been there, done that and hated every moment of it. You still didn’t answer the question.”

Baasch nodded. “I would have liked to have been better at writing. Never quite got the hang of it.”

“I guess lucky for your supervisor you’re my chauffer,” Stefanie quipped. She took a sip of coffee.

“So, what about you? Is there anything you could change about your life?”

There were a lot of things she would like to change about her life. From becoming a cop to having a family to emancipating herself from her father and siblings to even thinking about answer the question, she didn’t want to overwhelm the kid on his first day. “I’d settle for ordering this horrible meal. And I thought my cooking was bad.”

Baasch laughed. “Come on. I heard you’re good at the psychology stuff.” He admired the captain. Unlike his previous assignment, she was easy going—someone who is more likely to get you out of a jam than to condemn you to all eternity. She was definitely the person that he was told she was and he appreciated, hell, even welcomed the change of pace.

“Right,” she nodded. “Well, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you on your first day. It just wouldn’t be fair.” She pushed her plate away. She saw his look of disappoint. “Okay. Seriously, I would change the fact at the age of ten I pushed my brother down the basement steps and broke his arm.”

The rookie cop looked at her. That wasn’t more than he bargained for. “Jesus, captain…”

She couldn’t hold it in. She cracked a smile and small laugh. “I’m just kidding. I didn’t really break his arm when I pushed him down the steps. But I felt really bad after pushing him. But I think that had more to do with my father skinning my behind than some sort of guilty conscience thing.”

“That would be the one thing you’d change?” he responded with a slight hint of disbelief.

“Like I said, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my issues on the first day,” Stefanie said. She threw some money the table. “Let’s go back to the station. I have an appointment with a conniving politician that I just can’t wait to engage in some sort of verbal sparring with.”

Outside, Stefanie looked up at the sky. “Weather’s going to change.”

“I’ll get the car,” Baasch told her.

She watched him disappear around the corner. Her phone buzzed to the tune of “Der Kommisar” by After the Fire. “Hello.”

“Good morning sunshine,” the voice said on the other end.

“Morning for you sir, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon here,” she answered. “You’re up early, Ben.”

“We’re going to check out the sites today,” Ben answered. “How are things?”

“Meetings the rest of the afternoon,” she answered. “How’s Katrin?”

“She told me your father is quite the military historian. They went on a tour of some Civil War sites yesterday.”

“And she didn’t complain?”

“Yeah, I know. He said she was very interested in the stuff. Kinda like her mother,” Ben said. “You’re okay with that?”

“I can’t deny my father and stepmother an opportunity to see their grand-daughter. My problems exist with them, not with them seeing their grandkid,” Stefanie said. She looked at her watch. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you,” Ben said.

“Right back at you,” Stefanie said. She closed the phone and dropped it into her pocket.
Everything seemed to change in an instant. The two quick bursts of gunfire echoed from around the corner of the restaurant. Instinct took over and she dropped to the sidewalk, taking out her sidearm. She scanned the people running for the cover.

“Ronny!” she called out. There was no answer.

She approached the corner of the restaurant and silently counted to three and turned the corner. Looking around, there was nothing, just Ronny lying beside his RMP in a pool of blood motionless. Keeping down, Stefanie approached the officer. She ducked down behind the rear of the car, looked further down the street.

Making her way over to Ronny, she knelt down and checked for a pulse. He was still alive.
“You’re going to be okay, kid.” She went for his radio, but it was dead. One of the bullets had gone right through it. Leaning over, she opened the driver’s side door and reached in for the radio in the car. “Officer down. GSW corner of Ruffini and Frundsberg. Request immediate emergency services and back up.”

Three more shots peppered the car. Stefanie climbed through the RMP and came out the passenger side. With her back pressed up against the front wheel, she took a deep breath. “What are you doing,” she asked her herself and ducked out from behind the front of the car. As she came out from around the car, the shooter ran into the alley. She followed. She wasn’t about to let him get away.

She chased him down a series of alleys. He would fire off a few rounds to put distance between them. Stefanie knew the area. She was counting on the shooting not being familiar and would come to a point where it would end.

As Stef approached the corner, she stopped. Heart racing, she closed her eyes and raised her gun as she came around the corner. They can’t teach you this part, she thought to herself. In her fifteen-year career, she never had to fire her weapon. She had never been in the position to have a reason to draw her weapon. It’s every cop’s never-want-to-be-in scenario. Brow beaten into thing they’re to serve and protect; taking a life is never something to be taken lightly.

Concentrating on her training, there was nothing instinctual about the way she was acting. It was pure survival. And that’s probably why she felt it before hearing the sound. The force threw her back up against the wall. She saw the flash of the second. This took her legs out from under her and slid to the ground, gun still in hand. She felt pain, which was good. It meant she was still live.

“Your time has come,” the shooter said. He approached Stefanie, gun raised.

It felt like lifting a fifty-pound weight, but all it took was one single squeeze and the shooter collapsed at the top of the stairs. The last thing she heard was the wailing of the sirens in the distance.