He was the world's greatest martial artist – a master of the world's deadliest art. Once revered, he became feared, and for that he blamed his homeland. America was no longer the land of the free and the home of the brave. It had become the land of murder and the home of corruption. But for a man like Trent Smith – it was the perfect hunting ground.
Biochemists have invented a drug that cures all disease and stops aging, but a New York industrialist has kept it secret for a specific purpose. He wants to form an exclusive fraternity of immortal supermen, all of whom are beholden to him. Only one thing puts a kink in his plan – the drug's side effects, which include wild surges of increased sexuality and unpredictable flares of homicidal rage.
Trent Smith has trained in Japan for over twenty years and he has his own agenda. He vows to avenge the innocents slain by the ever-growing number of American celebrities who murder with impunity. But when a dying scientist gives him the only copy of the secret formula, he must decide if the miraculous benefit is worth the toll it takes on the prodigious people who use it and their credulous victims who don't.
KILLER OF KILLERS is an action-packed martial arts thriller that pits one man's quest for justice against the wonders of medical science. But wonders for some are horrors for others in a secret society ruled by greed, malice, and a singular objective to attain eternal youth.
Eyes wild and hair on end, Dr. Samuel Bernstein rushed through the terminal a different man. He wanted no more the role of absentee father and no more the bane of negligent husband. No more research facility half a continent away.
Never again would he sweat ice in humid vaults of bubbling vats and sterile test tubes. And no more nightmares—the waking screams in halls of horror, the dire consequence of scientific arrogance, soul-chilling visions of a holocaust revisited.
Never again. For him, the sprawling biological laboratory in the Minnesota wilderness would forever be a memory. A bad one. He carried a black leather bag in one hand and pressed a cell phone against his ear with the other.
Finally, a voice. “Samuel?” It was his wife.
“Yes, yes, where are you?”
“I’m in the car, waiting. Hurry before they chase me away.”
* * * *
It was a new BMW, and Bernstein gunned it down the freeway passing cars as if they crawled. Though red lights in the mirror likely meant the end, it was a risk he had to take. “Where are the twins? Are they packed?” Sweat beaded his brow but not from the afternoon sun.
“At home, and they’re very upset. They still don’t know why you’re doing this.”
“I can’t explain. Right now we must disappear. All of us, disappear.”
“Samuel, you’re scaring me. What happened? Why can’t you tell me?”
The car squealed into the driveway of a tract home, and the couple bailed as quickly as their aging bodies could manage.
“Inside, hurry,” the doctor urged, but upon the porch, slick keys divorced his fumbling fingers and rattled to the doorstep. “Merciful God,” he muttered, “not now.”
Just as he spoke, the door unlatched from within. Hopeful eyes filled with dread. Bernstein gulped. “You!”
The man was huge, a veritable giant dressed in a dark suit and tie. A wide-brimmed fedora topped his black face which split into a broad smile of shiny white teeth.
“Dr. Bernstein, how nice of you to not keep me waiting.”
“Where are my daughters?” the elder man snapped.
“Never mind them. Hand over the disc. I’m not playin’ around.”