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Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Solstice Publishing
ISBN-10: 1495484971
Type: Fiction
Pages: 210
Copyright: 2014
ISBN-13: 9781495484971
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Noir Town takes readers into dark, city canyons festering with sex trafficking. And not just the amateurish sex trade so rampant in the city already, but a highly organized and efficient extension of the Himmler’s old Nazi SS Lebensborn program designed to produce pure, Aryan-blooded children who will thrive in secret nurseries to become the true master race and carry a German Forth Reich to its ordained destiny as masters of the world. What they didn’t count on was the involvement of wise-cracking PI Mike Cannon and his highly trained and extremely dangerous immediate family.
Noir Town is a thrill ride into dark, city canyons festering with sex trafficking. Not just the amateurish sex trade already so rampant in the city, but a highly organized and efficient extension of Heinrich Himmler’s old Nazi SS Lebensborn program.
The program was designed to produce pure, Aryan-blooded children raised in secret nurseries to become the true master race. A race that will carry a German Forth Reich to its ordained destiny as masters of the world. What they didn’t count on was the involvement of wise-cracking PI Mike Cannon and his highly trained and extremely dangerous family and friends.
Mike’s mom, Suzette the Slasher, was a member of the French Underground during World War II. Legendary for terrorizing Nazis, her borderline psychopathic personality drives a bloodlust that allows her to kill Nazis with a cold, yet gleeful efficiency. Mike’s challenge is to keep her killing urge under control and directed at the right people.
Rhonda, Mike’s older sister, as vicious as her mom, but without the passion, is the National Security Agency’s top assassin. A weapons expert and a diagnosed sociopath, she only shows compassion and loyalty to her mom and little brother. Even then it’s best to stay on her good side.
Mike Cannon, a former Navy Seal and CIA operative, has been an active PI for years. He’s the most mentally stable of the family and uses humor to cope with daily dangers, many of them from his own family. Along with his sister, Rhonda, he has been trained from infancy by mom in the deadly clandestine arts.
Suzette’s Assisted Living Home – At ninety-years old, mom lives in a special retirement home designed to house ex-CIA and other retired operatives. It’s administered by the CIA, and all the staff members are Mossad operatives.
This allows the CIA to conduct domestic operations with plausible deniability by using Mossad people. The Mossad side is run by Moses, a powerful bear of a man who worships Suzette and takes on even the most dangerous assignments with a childish glee.
Excerpt
The city was always dark. Tall, grey buildings threw heavy shadows onto streets forever shiny and black as though a recent rain had made an ineffective attempt to wash them clean. Instead, years of soot and grime coated every surface. It was as though the city’s dark past was manifest as a grey shroud that fell over all the buildings, even the few new ones, like some kind of perverse original sin.
I know. I admit it could just be my own depressed attitude. They say you can find beauty anywhere if you look for it hard enough…if you really want to find it. But…it’s awfully hard to find beauty in the face of a corpse that recently took a five-story plunge off one of the city’s ugliest buildings.
This city can’t tolerate beauty. It finds beauty offensive, and every stone, every bit of oppressive concrete and glass will work together to snuff out all hope and beauty which might have mistakenly found its way into its dark confines. I didn’t know exactly what wrong turns the woman lying at my feet took that brought her here, but I did know she was beautiful just a few hours ago when she took a seat at my desk and asked for my help.
I’m used to people asking me for help. That’s what private eyes do. They help people with all kinds of problems. Even beautiful birds like the one lying at my feet.
Of course, I usually make sure they can pay my fee before I agree to help them. So why did I agree to help Sally here when she admitted she couldn’t afford the fee? At least not right away. It was simple, really. She had the
kind of beauty that could cause King Kong to climb to the top of the very building towering above us and try to bat away the fighter planes attempting to machine gun him to death. Except in that scenario the beast fell to the pavement, not the beauty. Or former beauty anyway.
So, what went wrong, and what did I have to do with it? That’s exactly what detective Johnson wanted to know, and it’s why I was summoned here when they found one of my business cards scattered around Sally’s corpse along with the other contents of her purse.
Normally, Johnson would make anyone tied to a murder come down to the station for questioning, but he had a vicious flare for the dramatic. He thought the questioning would be a great deal more productive, and satisfyingly more dramatic, if it was conducted at the twisted feet of the victim herself. He was right.
I’d had no idea why some idiot was pounding at my door at three o’clock in the morning. Opening it revealed the fleshy form of one of the city’s most decorated detectives, Johnson and his broad, self-assured, and totally moronic grin. Johnson and I have a love/hate relationship. I hate him, and he loves it whenever I run afoul of his brand of the law.
“Come take a little ride with me,” were the only words he uttered until we were standing inside the police tape looking down at Sally. One of the troopers was drawing an outline around the body with chalk. He wasn’t having much luck because of the perpetual dampness of the sidewalk. The chalk would make a little screeching sound and then a few pieces would break off followed by a string of cuss words from the officer.
Johnson looked down at the poor girl, made a tsk, tsk sound with his mouth, wiped it with the back of his hand, examined the result a bit, and then looked at me with an almost genuine expression of sorrow. It was tainted with just the hint of a smile and with a small amount of spittle
missed by his hand wipe.
“Client of yours?” he asked as though he didn’t really care one way or the other.
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