Sharon O`Mara is at it again. Those modern Nazis don`t stand a chance. Or do they?
TOULOUSE 4 DEATH
Toulouse 4 Death (The Chronicles of Sharon O'Mara) [Kindle Edition]
Once again Sharon O’Mara has a job to do: Return an incredible Toulouse-Lautrec painting,and other paintings, to their rightful owners after they were stolen by the Nazis in 1938. Sharon quickly discovers there is more to her client’s secret treasure than just a few paintings. After seventy years, an American GI and a Nazi SS soldier are pitted against each other once more. Gold bullion and Impressionist paintings are nothing compared to the rumors of billions in hidden World War II treasure. Can Sharon solve the mystery or will these new Nazis kill her before she can foil their evil goal of world domination by the ‘New Reich?’
The Sharon O’Mara Chronicles are a series of books (three done – fourth in production) that develop the ongoing legend of Sharon as she returns to private life in the San Francisco Bay Area. She was a lieutenant in the Army Military Police and spent two tours in Iraq. The Chronicles follow her as she pursues a new career, first as an insurance investigator, which she finds boring and then on her own as an investigator and facilitator for those with a difficult problem to resolve. She, like her hero, Travis McGee, not only helps her friends but their friends as well. She has a big heart, an athletic body, red hair, and a lovable dog, Basil. She carries a Beretta and always gets her man (or woman) and has the scars to prove it.
Her best friend and confident, Kevin Bryan, is a detective with the Lafayette, California police department. They are very close, but not that close.
Sharon has dueled with arrogant developers, oversexed environmentalists, evil Chinese tongs, Mexican cartels; all were vanquished.
Will she be able to stop the 'New Reich'? Buy it and find out..
“The village was dead,” Alain Dumont said, as he breathed through the plastic oxygen nose prongs hung, like a painting, from his ears. “Mind you, this was not the first village we fought through and destroyed. But, it was the first one in Germany. All the frustrations, anger, and need for revenge that had built up during our advances through eastern France and Luxemburg were now focused on this first German town. It did not escape our pent-up rage.”
He heaved again and tried to shake horrific sixty-year-old memories off his shoulders. “The village was utterly and completely flattened. Me and my boys walked single file in a track no more than a foot wide; barely room for a dog. The rubble, blasted from the buildings, filled the street. The buildings still smoldered and bodies lay half-in and half-out of the wreckage. God, those Germans loved their brick, now they were buried under it.” He slowly took another breath. “There were fucking snipers in the church towers; we’d advance a block and take fire from everywhere. Some of my men pushed through the interior walls of the buildings; they dug and blasted their way from house to house. Sometimes it was quicker than waltzing down the center of the street with a sniper’s bullet for a dance partner. We lost fewer men that way. If we were lucky, we had a tank following us, they rolled over everything. If a sniper fired, we leveled everything over a foot tall ahead of us; it was an advance by attrition. We left nothing alive. But these villages were full of cellars, some interconnected, many filled with old people who wouldn’t leave. Funny thing was that we didn’t see a lot of younger women and kids, they were gone. We found them hiding in the tunnels later; those damn tunnels were under all of this section of Germany. And to be honest, I was glad. Never did like killing women.”
Sharon O’Mara sat in the huge green leather wingback chair, her back to the church-like leaded glass windows. The sun cast a panel of light across the oriental carpet to the base of a library wall that held thousands of books. Dark wood filled the spaces between the shelves and the artwork. Caught in the full wash of the sunlight, wrapped in a multi-colored cloak, sat a wizened old man, oxygen tubes and paraphernalia coiled over the back of his chair, like attacking snakes. A man, dressed in dark gray, stood two paces behind. Sharon had been introduced earlier; Remy Adler was Dumont’s nurse and assistant.
“Don’t fret Sharon, Remy here doesn’t understand English well, but he’s a great help,” Dumont said. “So, where was I? Oh yes, yes, yes. What I’m telling you now no one alive, other than myself, knows.”
It started with the usual hello…
“Sharon dear, Evelyn Lucca here. How are you?” Evelyn Lucca, of the STIA leather goods company, was a close friend since Sharon O’Mara had cleaned out the nest of Chinese gangs who had used her company as one of the world’s most dangerous drop-shipper of guns, sex slaves and forged handbags.
“Evelyn, what can I help you with?” O’Mara said with a curt tone to her voice.
“Always straight and to the point. And Sharon dear, work on your friendly demeanor once and a while.”
“Sorry, Evelyn, just been a tough day since sun up. Basil threw-up on the carpet, the power went out for an hour so the clocks and the computer are screwed up, and now they say my new car won’t be ready until Friday. Just annoyed, that’s all. What’s up, and again, I’m sorry?”
“I may have another job for you,” Lucca said....(BUY THE BOOK. YOU WON`T BE DISAPPOINTED. I KNOW;I EDITED IT.)