The Missile Game (The Dr. Scott James Thriller Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

any distinguishing features. “I don’t know. It was dark.”
    Harris shook his head and looked at me as if I were a little kid who just got caught shoplifting candy from a drugstore. “I imagine this is your supposed ‘gigantic blond guy with a ponytail’ again, right? C’mon, Doc, you can’t expect me to believe that.” Harris shook his head in disgust and turned to the other policemen. “Take the doctor.”
    “But—”
    “Jesus Christ, Dr. James,” Harris muttered.

CHAPTER TEN
    Chapel Hill, North Carolina
    10:30 am
    NICOLE BANZAR SAT IN a class in the Marshall Taylor School of Drama. She had an interest in one of the students, Harold Simpkins. She had met him in Texas two months earlier and had encouraged him to enroll in drama school. She even paid his tuition. His instructor told her that after a full six weeks of acting school, Simpkins could still use more classes. That didn’t matter to Nicole. It was time.
    Nicole looked Simpkins over. About thirty years old, he was very thin, had sparse, sandy-colored hair, a soft chin, and a serious overbite. His unattractive appearance probably accounted for his failure to gain parts at the local community theaters.
    When the class finally ended, Nicole told Simpkins she had something to talk to him about. She took him to a bar owned by a friend from Turkey and told him she was working for the government, and had acting job for him. “There may be a terrorist cell operating on the eastern seaboard, with plans to bomb cities in America. We need you to help make their identity known.”
    He flatly refused, saying he wanted nothing to do with her employer, the CIA.
    “Here, this is an advance payment,” she said, laying $1,000 in front of him. “Take it, Harold. You need this.”
    He shook his head as she offered him the money.
    “Nope. I need the money, but I ain’t working for the CIA against no terrorists.”
    “But I haven’t finished my offer. The CIA will give you ten thousand for helping this country. Your name will be in every newspaper in the country.”
    He looked at her, still shaking his head.
    “And I’m attracted to strong heroic men like you. You’re just the kind of guy I’d like to be my boyfriend.”
    That did it. Simpkins accepted the assignment and the money.
     
    Jackson City Police Station
    3:00 pm
    None of the police departments were receptive. Harris simply looked wide-eyed at Simpkins, as if he wanted to laugh at him. “Appreciate ya comin’ in, Agent Simpkins,” Harris said to the man, putting emphasis on “ Agent .”
    “It’s imperative that we get full cooperation from the local police on this case,” Simpkins said, “We’re on the same team here, Detective. Any suspicious activities or evidence of foreign subversives, you call me immediately,” he said, handing Harris a business card. Foreign subversives? Agent? CIA? The guy looked official enough, but his words seemed rehearsed. He was clearly nervous, too, and didn’t have the cocky attitude Harris had come to expect from agents at the Federal level. Even the way he put out his hand to steady himself on the desk did not seem right.
    Captain Mathew O’Brian, the police chief in Williamston, the municipality neighboring Jackson City, took Simpkins’ card as he walked from the building. Simpkins started his rehearsed speech, but before he could say ten words, O’Brian emphatically stated, “There are no foreign nationals operating terrorist cells in the area, sir.”
    Simpkins further angered the police chief by placing his hand on O’Brian’s shoulder while they walked. The police chief wiped the hand away and said, “Good day, sir.”
     
    The Swan Motel
    Jackson City
    7:06 pm
    Simpkins returned after a day’s work to a room at the Swan Motel, on the outskirts of Jackson City. In the room were five Pakistani men, all fluent in English. They wore T-shirts, wrinkled black trousers, and sandals. They smoked a heavy, dark tobacco, rolled in thick-veined, black