Run For Your Life By Judith Lucci in Love Under Fire Box Set!

“Hey, John,” Secret Service Agent Rob Henry said softly as he peered at his monitor. “I’ve got some turbulence over on the southern end of the estate, looks like it’s near the riverbed. Can you come over here and check the topo map with me?” 

Special-Agent-in-Charge, SAC John Cole, a distinguished man with silver hair in his early fifties, moved quickly from his desk to Rob’s and looked at the map on Rob’s monitor. “Yeah, I see it. It looks weird. Could it be a vibration?” 

Rob tugged at his ear, a sure sign he was in heavy thought.” It could be, but I’ve never seen vibration appear like that on the monitor. The pattern seems, well, inconclusive.” He reached for his coffee.  

John shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been quiet around here for months and we both know there’s chatter about a planned attack on the Congressman’s estate.” He paused and gazed at the map on the monitor. “Blow it up. Put the image up on the wall.” 

Rob flipped a switch on his main console and immediately a topo map of Wyndley Farm illuminated the entire wall of the Secret Service compound located on Congressman Adam Patrick Lee’s rural Virginia estate. Both men, retired military Special Forces and seasoned Secret Service agents, studied the image on the wall.  

John Cole scanned the image carefully. He’d been head of the Secret Service detail at Wyndley Farm for several years, ever since Congress had appropriated funds to safeguard the nation’s greatest statesman who’d become synonymous with American’s fight against radical Islam. Prior to his assignment at Wyndley, SAC Cole had guarded the President, whoever that was at the time, for fifteen years. He’d personally overseen the Presidential security team. Many of the changes in security at the White House, especially since 9/11, had been planned and executed under his direction. If there was ever a warrior who knew security and security breaches, it was John Cole.  

But, in its own way, Wyndley Farm was more difficult to protect than the White House. He had a tough assignment. The estate was open and wooded and there were multiple ingress and egress sites where a single terrorist or an entire group of hostiles could slip in and out without detection. And, Congressman Adam Patrick Lee had some enemies. Adam Patrick Lee, better known as “the people’s politician,” was a son of Virginia. He was a descendant of the famous Lee family that included Light Horse Harry Lee and General Robert E. Lee who headed the Army of the South against Northern aggression during the Civil War. His estate in Northwestern Hanover County was over twelve hundred acres situated on the North Anna River. 

Wyndley Farm was located less than an hour from Richmond and two hours from Washington, DC. The Secret Service monitored a state of the art perimeter security system with internal and external video and audio surveillance. The residence had electronic keypad locks, sensors, and infrared technology. The interior of the house had a safe room. A six-foot hurricane fence topped with razor wire surrounded the property. The fence also had motion and vibration sensors.  Nevertheless, the vast estate was difficult to protect. The estate included hundreds of acres of forest, several residences, a horse-breeding facility, and multiple barns and outbuildings. Wyndley was a famous horse-breeding farm and multiple customers visited each day. Security was tight, but even in the best of worlds, John Cole knew the farm could easily come under attack. 

Tension was high in Secret Service headquarters. Several attacks on the farm had occurred in recent years, but had been diffused due to a lot of luck and the swift, expert action of the Secret Service. Just a few winters ago, the Secret Service had lost one of their very own. Seth Farmer had been killed by a terrorist seeking revenge against Adam Patrick Lee for an off-the-cuff comment he’d made to a reporter in New Orleans after the terrorist attack.

~~~

Run for Your Life

By Judith Lucci

I would image in getting a boxed set put together, it's a lot of work. Run for Your Life is an excellent book but it is not a medical thriller, and  Alexandra Destephano is not a character in the book, so followers of that series should be aware that this is, more, a political thriller that is well worth a recommendation in that genre...

I was reminded of John McCain who had a stellar reputation as I read about Congressman Adam Patrick Lee, who had been serving America well, in fighting  against fanatic Islam.  He also had a large estate that was the home of his family...  It also was a horse breeding farm with hundreds of acres. The Secret Service had been assigned to guard Wyndley Farm, since there had been a number of attempts by terrorists to seek revenge...or a trophy by their fellow countrymen...

The latter was what drove Syrian extremist Salmud Hafiz-- he wanted to garner praise and more importance and his drive allowed him to consider any type of action to do so, including murder. The author's decision to include American-born terrorists as characters, in my opinion, added a significant dimension to the story as it brings home exactly whether a religious conversion of these American's has actually occurred, or whether they were merely disgruntled and chose to make a break, thinking they would have a better life... Billy Jack Walters quickly realized his mistake...Hafiz was ordering them while he sat and watched and was expecting the digging under ground that Bill and his friend were doing, to go faster... When Billy complained and left, Hafiz made his first mistake by following him and leaving him in a provocative manner for officials to find... his head in a public restroom--dead!

The murder added to the fact that Secret Service equipment had already picked up vibration that had put them on higher alert... quickly changed what was happening to prepare... 

The personal element of the characters was key to the  quality of the book. Family and close friends were in danger and one of those was a newly adopted baby who was brought back to America after a battle...Now revenge was to be had and the baby was in danger plus those that had been in that combat were targeted for death. The storyline is complex, with edge-of-the seat tension as readers watch to know that, once again, good wins out over evil...

There was some concern that I had that the security team was too loose in the followup, implying they were not efficient, in order to provide a more dramatic tale. That is, I felt that the security agents were not given their due so that the main characters became the heroes. This was opinion based upon early detecting of vibration, without adequate followup... This led to a bit of credibility for me about the overall storyline. Nevertheless, the concept was consistent, well drawn out, and the final method for attack, as brought in by the author, made sense, was well written and provided a climatic ending that was quite satisfactory... Do check it out!


GABixlerReviews

Dr. Judith Lucci is a Wall Street Journal, USA Today and Amazon best-selling author. She's won awards for the Alexandra Destephano Medical Thriller and the Michaela McPherson "Two Sleuth's and a Dog" Crime fiction series. In 2017, Viral Intent (Book 3) Alexandra Destephano Series) was awarded a Gold Medal by Readers' Favorites for 'Best Political Thriller' as was her crime thriller 'The Case of Dr. Dude (Michaela McPherson #1) for a Gold Medal for 'Best Amateur Sleuth for 2017. She has contributed to four anthologies and collections and is the creator of Author 911: The Authors Guide to Writing and Medical Information. She is a registered nurse and college professor and holds graduate degrees from Virginia Commonwealth University and University of Virginia. Judith always like to connect with her readers and is available at judithlucciwrites@gmail.com

Unwanted, Latest Paladine Political Thriller by Kenneth G. Eade is out!

“Home is a notion that only nations of the homeless fully appreciate

 and only the uprooted comprehend.” 

― Wallace Stegner

No one really belongs; at least not in this world.  If there were a heaven, maybe there, but, even if there were, in it would be the souls who would bear witness to the undeniable cruelty of life, the poverty of the unwanted. Whether or not you belonged was defined by others; the same others who would make such judgments about how you would live and how you would die. ​Robert Garcia didn’t belong anywhere, except maybe when he was in the military, and he knew it.  He’d tried to make it in the world of man, but dropping out seemed the better option.  He was a loner, but not lonely, a drifter who defined his own purpose of existence, which now consisted of floating.
This type of life really suited Robert.  Born John Richards, to a black military father and white Lebanese mother, Robert and his family moved around from army base to army base and he never really found a place to fit in or anyone to fit in with until he joined the army himself.  By the time he did, having moved so many times as a child, he had already become an accomplished fighter, who had beat his way through every conflict growing up until his schools wised up, and placed him on their wrestling and football teams, in order to create a socially acceptable “steam valve” for his aggression.  Drifting around in his little boat in the sea with only the horizon in the background.  That was Robert’s world now, a contrast from the horrors of the life he had left behind.  Robert himself had been one of those horrors, but now he was just a fisherman, living off the sea, a threat to nobody...
The Aegean was calm today, the surface smooth as glass, leaving no trace of the ugly storm that had pitched the small sailboat and almost capsized her the night before.  Such was the hidden power of nature, capable of producing extreme beauty and cruelty at the same time.  A few remnants of the storm still remained – garbage – evidence of human waste probably from a ferry or cruise boat – visibly bobbing on the surface from time to time.  Other than that, it was a perfect day – the proverbial calm after the storm. 
​The net dipped with the weight of the fish and Joelle strained to contain it.  Robert set the rod down, and together they hoisted the enormous sea bass onto the deck, where it flopped around, inciting more yelping.  
Joelle’s smile faded as she peered over the railing. ​“What’s that?” ​“What?”
 ​“Over there!  Floating.” ​Robert strained his eyes.  He picked up his field glasses and focused on the object bobbing on the surface. ​“Looks like a body...”

~~~

Unwanted:

Paladine Political Thriller Series

By Kenneth G. Eade

I loved the latest Paladine Novel...it is a softer, more gentle tale in which we first find Paladine on his boat, with Joelle, who he had rescued during his last mission. Readers may wonder what kind of personal relationship he might have, but, for me, it was good that he at least had somebody to talk and share with during his isolation. The isolation that he had been forced into by those who want him dead... and by those who want him to use his amazing expertise to continue working, fighting terrorism...

This time, however, Robert gets pulled in while fishing on his boat...they sighted a body, went to check and found him dead. Later they could see that an entire wreckage was there and found only one young woman who was still alive. They pulled her onto their boat, helped with her wounds and discovered that she had been part of a boat full of refugees, having paid large sums of money to escape Syria. Often the boats never made it beyond the initial castoff...

Alina had been with her husband and baby and had paid everything they had to escape. Asked who they had paid, Alina identified the Daesh...

ISIS, known by those who were their victims as Daesh, had overrun their village near Dabiq, and actually charged them for passage to Turkey.  Pay or die.  Once they made it to the coastal town of Izmir, Syrian smugglers loyal to ISIS once again charged them thousands of dollars to board a rubber boat to Greece.  The last thing she remembered was a swell that capsized the boat.  She had held on to her baby and didn’t remember losing consciousness.  Suddenly, she realized what had to have happened. ​“I let go!” ​“What?” ​“I let go of her.  It’s my fault!  Put me back in the sea, I want to die!”

Alina was devastated when she realized that she had apparently fallen asleep while holding her child, and she'd slipped away into the sea. What a tragedy... Robert was able to help her with provisions and a little money and dropped her off where she would be safe, though still grieving...

It was not to be that Robert and Joelle would have quiet time together because soon Robert was notified that a former co-worker had been taken captive. But at least readers get to see that they had taken a night to enjoy dinner on shore for a short time... Then Robert got word that a ransom had been placed on the head of Ayisha... Ayisha worked for the same organization for which Robert had worked... And that man knew only Robert could save Ayisha if she was to be saved...

I’ve been kidnapped.  The kidnappers will be in touch through this channel with the ransom instructions.  If you don’t pay within the next 72 hours, they will kill me.

Ayisha had lost her sister to terrorists and had been working ever since as an assassin. She was good, but she really didn't have the heart, or perhaps better said, she did have a heart that couldn't just kill all the time. Still, after Robert had found a way to save her, she refused to not continue to work with those refugees who were losing all of their money to ISIS or some Syrians, often to then lose their lives... Robert was not happy, especially when she had originally agreed that he would lead any actions that took place... But he didn't desert her... And that's just why readers and those who personally learned of Robert had first called him Paladine... At least one time in this particular book, he could have killed, but he didn't when there was no need... This man who was trained to kill for his own country, the United States, and then was put back on the streets with no other training to begin a new life...still had a code of honor that his victims would only be terrorists if he could at all help it...

This time, though, the CIA had heard he was still alive (he had earlier been presumed dead) and sent another assassin out after Garcia. In fact, the man they sent had once been trained by Garcia and knew everything about his usual method of operation... Both knew this would probably be a fight to the death...

Readers do get to meet up with our favorite Russian soldiers, who saved Ayisha while she was separated from Robert...and there is a quick meeting of the eyes between Ayisha and her medic that put an interesting twist to the life of the assassin... Can love from another come to mean more to Ayisha than the revenge for her sister that had once driven her. I'm hoping that Ayisha continues into the next book... She's an excellent gutsy female that certainly adds tension and a different perspective to this already exciting, awesome series... Of course, yes, it's highly recommended as are all the preceding novels!


GABixlerReviews

Described by critics as "one of our strongest thriller writers on the scene," author Kenneth Eade, best known for his legal and political thrillers, practiced law for 30 years before publishing his first novel, "An Involuntary Spy." Eade, an award-winning, best-selling Top 100 thriller author, has been described by his peers as "one of the up-and-coming legal thriller writers of this generation." He is the 2015 winner of Best Legal Thriller from Beverly Hills Book Awards and the 2016 winner of a bronze medal in the category of Fiction, Mystery and Murder from the Reader's Favorite International Book Awards. His latest novel, "Paladine" is currently a quarter-finalist in Publisher's Weekly's BookLife Prize for Fiction. Eade has authored three fiction series: The "Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series", the "Involuntary Spy Espionage Series" and the "Paladine Anti-Terrorism Series." He has written sixteen novels which have been translated into French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese. 

"I've been writing all my life, but began publishing my work out of a passion for the environment. My wife, Valentina, is a professional photographer, who worked for two years on an environmental exhibition called, "Bee Cause I Care" which was exhibited by the Prince Albert II Foundation and is now touring cities in France to bring awareness to the importance of pollinators and the dangers facing them. I penned a few articles on the subject for the Los Angeles Daily Journal and turned my research into my first book, "Bless the Bees." That passion continued with the publication of my novel, "An Involuntary Spy," which is an action thriller that also points to the dangers of genetically engineered food. Then I began publishing the "Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series," which, in part, is based on actual experiences during my long career in law.

"Now I divide most of my time between France, where I have resided for the better part of 10 years, and Russia. I try to put as much realism in my novels as possible, and they all revolve around important social issues. I treasure all of my readers and love to hear from them, whether it's good or bad. Sometimes I make changes based on their suggestions and one reader has inspired a character that has appeared in my latest three novels. Everyone who signs up on my mailing list at www.kennetheade.com gets a free ebook and I give away a Kindle Fire every month to a lucky winner on the list. I love this new adventure and hope you enjoy taking it with me."

Email: info@kennetheade.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KennethGEadeBestsellingauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KennethEade1

Latest Paladine Novel Reveals Realities of Human Trafficking in Traffick Stop by Kenneth Eade

 “You may choose to look the other way 

but you can never say again that you did not know.” 

―  William Wilberforce

Porto Heli

From his little sailboat in the port he could see the horseshoe-shaped harbor of Porto Heli, a summer resort area packed with revelers and partiers, and more easily accessible to him than the party island of Mykonos.  It was about a 30-minute cruise.  His island was dark, quiet – like Robert was.  The sidewalks rolled up at 10 p.m.  Night life was practically non-existent.  

As he sat on the deck and looked out across the sea, he was drawn to the twinkling lights of Porto Heli like a fly to a porch light.  The lapping of the water against the little boats as they bobbed up and down, the sound that used to soothe him to sleep so many nights in the cabin of the bow of his boat, the Lana, now grated on his nerves like fingernails dragging against a chalkboard.  

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.  He started the motor of the Lana, cast off the mooring lines, and, just like that fly, headed straight for the light. It was a short ride that divided the two worlds; the one of the people by day and the other of the people by night.  The day people worked, played, laughed and ate, and then they slept, resting to start the cycle all over again.  
The night people, on the other hand, lived only for thrills, and their object was to have as much fun and pleasure as they could before the sun rose.  As he neared the harbor, he could hear the sounds of partying in the bars and began to ache with impatience – like a dog salivating for a bone.  He threw the fenders over the side, cut the motor and pulled alongside a concrete pier and a man came out, tossed him the mooring ropes and he quickly looped them over the cleats.  He locked up the boat, hopped off and handed the man a fifty euro bill. “I’ll probably be a few hours.” The man slipped the bill into his pocket and smiled a checkerboard smile of half a mouthful of stained teeth.  Robert had made his own price because it was late and the money would probably not be accounted for. “No problem.”
“Make sure nothing happens to my boat and there’ll be another fifty in it for you.” The man smiled again and nodded. Robert followed the sounds of the action like the pack of rats followed the Pied Piper of Hamelin.  His will was no longer his own; he had given it up to the beast, and it was the beast who would be calling the shots tonight.  It didn’t take long to find the best party.  He followed the pulsating beat of electronic music to Nikki Beach Resort.  As he came nearer, he could see what was a seaside patio for sun bathers by day had turned into a dance floor at night, illuminated by sparkling fountains of fire, casting flickering shadows against the dancers, most of them female. 
As Robert approached, he saw the bouncer, a big man with no neck, rustling a man out of the club.  The guy he was handling was well dressed, but he was obviously drunk, so the bouncer had the right to evict him.  But he didn’t stop after he had “bounced” the man.  He went a step further – a step too far.  He pushed him out onto the sidewalk, and the man fell.  The man struggled to get up, and, when he did, the bouncer kicked him down.  
This wasn’t Robert’s battle, so he decided to play it cool.  Unfortunately, however, the bouncer wasn’t content to end the drama with one kick.  Robert observed, quietly, while the bouncer continued to rough up the drunken man, pushing him around and slapping him down.  
Some people, of certain strength, take pleasure in pushing around others with none. The bouncer was probably a bully when he was a kid.  Now, he was a grown-up bully, and one with authority. “Hey, man, you kicked him out.  Why don’t you just let him go?” 
The bouncer looked up at Robert as if he had thrown down a gauntlet.  He had tasted blood and here was another fight.  
“You want a piece of this?”
 “No, man.  I’m just saying this guy’s had enough.” 
The big-necked man grabbed Robert by the collar and came nose to nose with him. Robert could feel his hot, bad breath against his face. “You will take your hands off me and do it now.” 
“Or what, big man?  You gonna beat me up?” The beef-neck began to laugh, tightening his grip.  Like a snake, Robert struck, pushing him back, then slamming him in the nose with a loud crack.  “Nobody touches me.” 
The man’s hand instinctively went to his nose, and then he looked at his bloody palms with anger.  He sized Robert up, hurt now only in his pride.  By that time, another bouncer had joined him.  They looked like two lion statues, the kind rich people put to mark the entrance of their driveways.  
The beast had been awakened in Robert, who stared them down with cold, shark-like eyes.  “Now let’s try this again.  I don’t want any trouble.  I’d like to have a drink, maybe meet some girls and try to get laid tonight.  
Or I can beat the living shit out of both of you.  I’ll get an equal amount of a different kind of satisfaction out of either activity.  It’s your move.”

~~~

Traffick Stop:
Paladine Political Thriller Series

By Kenneth Eade

I have great empathy for Robert Garcia, the main character of the Paladine Series... He, like others, who have been affected by PTSD have discovered that their mental stability have been permanently damaged and that, at times, the beast appears... 

Garcia called that part of him that could no longer be satisfied in retirement, fishing, the beast... Eade begins the book with what happens when this occurs... 

Sacrifice, charity, and concern for others has always been a characteristic of the human spirit.  But there is a wild, hungry, thirsty, selfish creature that lurks deep within the libido of each of us.  That id some of us ignore, others deny, and still others put a mask on it or lock it away so even they cannot release it.  But when the balance is tipped to its side, it can break any bonds that have tied it down, and we are powerless to stop it.  The result can be exhilarating, intoxicating, mind-blowing, or it can be deadly. 

Garcia had been restless for quite a while so that, one night, when the music reached him from a resort bar within close range, Robert took the bait and went looking...mainly for some company, noise, and hopefully meeting a willing woman... But...when he saw the club's bouncer's taking his fun from beating up a drunk being kicked out of the club, Garcia spoke up for the man receiving unnecessary violence... That's one of the things that has brought me to love this character... Yes, he's been mentally and emotionally damaged, but when the thirst comes he must quench, he always still has his moral code that aims it toward a deserving bad guy, of course!

Am I really seeing what this vid represents...?

By the way, he does go into the club and meets Joelle, who returns to the boat to spend the night with him... That's when Robert first met a woman who was under control as a sex slave and was guarded at all times except when she was "hired"  out for a short time period... Robert learns that night that she was soon to be sent to Syria to continue in another place, with the same restrictions... that they had control of her passport and that they threatened her with the lives of her family if she didn't follow their rules.

Robert tried to tell himself that it was not his business, that he couldn't do anything to save her, even though he pictured in his mind a plan to do just that...

And so when his old employer tracked him down through a friend who knew where he was, and Robert learned the story of why he was being asked to take another job... An American citizen was now in the hands of ISIS, serving as a sex slave...

“Then he told me an interesting story.  One of Williamson’s employees was a software engineer by the name of Rahbi Moghadam.  Rahbi had a daughter – Rasha.  When she was 19, she took a trip to Turkey to celebrate her graduation from junior college and her old man paid for it.  “What he didn’t know was that Rasha had been convinced by an ISIS recruiter to come to Syria to give humanitarian aid to civil war victims.” Robert nodded.  “My guess is that she disappeared?” 
“That’s right, malaka.  Her father spent a lot of time and money tracking her down, and the trail ended in Syria.  Rasha had been forced into a jihadi marriage to six ISIS fighters.  Her only purpose in life for an entire year was to be raped repeatedly by those jihadist assholes.”

~~~

Garcia realized he was ready... But first he checked out the new leader of that group and only then was he willing to meet to discuss what was needed...

This is another part of this series that Eade does exceptionally well... The planning, execution, and extraction plans for Garcia are brilliant in their creation... unless, of course, the author has decided to create a situation where Robert must use ingenuity and, this time, luck, to get him out of danger!

Which brings up another character that I also love. Those reading the series will remember the Russian warrior who Garcia met and vacationed with in the last book! In this book he shows up to save Garcia! Yes, we get to enjoy Garcia and Lyosha as they meet once again in Syria. When Garcia tells Lyosha why he is there...to deal with human traffickers, and hopefully free the women, which includes Russian women, before they were sold in auction... Lyosha immediately volunteers his Russian Warriors...

http://ahtribune.com/world/north-africa-south-west-asia/1221-yazidi-sex-slaves.html

Eade points out two issues that I was thankful to see (1) that the organization for whom he was working also financially supported trying to ensure help for the secondary victims of terrorism, the peace-loving and innocent Muslims living in the States who were blamed for the acts of extremists... and (2) that today's warriors, no matter what country they are from, will work together to rid our lives of extremists and criminals everywhere... if only for a short time when political ploys do not stop them!

Wow, I loved this book! Let's us hope that the discussions and appeals to congress that are now happening in America, actually "take care of business" like Paladine does! Thank you, Kenneth Eade, for providing us with hope that Paladine's work will be accomplished as effectively as if Paladine were leading the fight!

This is not just another thriller...it is more...Eade's political thrillers are taking us directly into the underbelly of the world and, even in fiction, showing us what is happening, and, in my mind, scaring you enough to become involved in whatever way you can...starting with ensuring you and your children take necessary measures to protect your family members. This is reality fiction, which happens to be an excellent, look at a major money-making activity that is increasing at unimaginable rates. Read this book to enjoy the hero, Paladine...but also to become even more aware of what human trafficking is doing to this world! Kudos to Kenneth Eade for tackling this major problem! I consider this a must-read, for anybody who cares about the victims... primarily women and children... who need help!


GABixlerReviews

Described by critics as "one of our strongest thriller writers on the scene," author Kenneth Eade, best known for his legal and political thrillers, practiced law for 30 years before publishing his first novel, "An Involuntary Spy." Eade, an award-winning, best-selling Top 100 thriller author, has been described by his peers as "one of the up-and-coming legal thriller writers of this generation." He is the 2015 winner of Best Legal Thriller from Beverly Hills Book Awards and the 2016 winner of a bronze medal in the category of Fiction, Mystery and Murder from the Reader's Favorite International Book Awards. His latest novel, "Paladine" is currently a quarter-finalist in Publisher's Weekly's BookLife Prize for Fiction. Eade has authored three fiction series: The "Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series", the "Involuntary Spy Espionage Series" and the "Paladine Anti-Terrorism Series." He has written sixteen novels which have been translated into French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese. 

"I've been writing all my life, but began publishing my work out of a passion for the environment. My wife, Valentina, is a professional photographer, who worked for two years on an environmental exhibition called, "Bee Cause I Care" which was exhibited by the Prince Albert II Foundation and is now touring cities in France to bring awareness to the importance of pollinators and the dangers facing them. I penned a few articles on the subject for the Los Angeles Daily Journal and turned my research into my first book, "Bless the Bees." That passion continued with the publication of my novel, "An Involuntary Spy," which is an action thriller that also points to the dangers of genetically engineered food. Then I began publishing the "Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series," which, in part, is based on actual experiences during my long career in law.

Finale! Anissa of Antioch by Jonah Pierce Brings Explosive, Totally Unexpected Ending!

Once the move was complete, the focus of my work at the MCA shifted from Syria to the situation in Northern Iraq, after ISIS had invaded the area in early August. ISIS fighters had massacred hundreds of Yazidi men and sexually enslaved their women; about seventy children died while fleeing, and about fifty thousand civilians were forced to seek refuge on Mount Sinjar after the Kurdish fighters protecting them fled the ISIS threat. The refugees were trapped on the mountain without food, water or medical care, facing starvation and dehydration. 
When the crisis emerged, Michael insisted that the MCA focus all of its advocacy efforts on the dire situation there, even though the Yazidi religion is not a sect of Christianity. “They are a religious minority facing the same exact threat from Islamist militants that we Christians face, and we must stand with them,” he explained. I completely agreed with him and was glad that we were doing whatever we could to help. I was angry and disappointed at the world’s delayed reaction to the crisis, but finally, in the second week of August, the U.S. responded with airstrikes on ISIS units and convoys in the Sinjar area, and eventually began an operation to rescue the refugees, who were sustained by humanitarian airdrops of food and water by U.K. and U.S. forces. 
Meanwhile, there was also the gut-wrenching news that ISIS terrorists had begun their promised killing of Christians in Mosul, and had started with younger victims. According to a few grisly reports, some children’s heads were placed on the top of poles in a city park. 
Yesterday, the entire world was finally exposed, for the first time, to the horrific barbarity of ISIS, when the Islamist animals beheaded U.S. journalist James Foley. After a North American reporter fell victim to Islamist brutality, the savage crime has been broadcast nonstop for all to see (as if this were the first time that Islamists had beheaded an innocent person). The disproportionate coverage was almost offensive on some level – like this man was somehow more valuable and worthy of global attention because he’s from the U.S. and a member of the media. But perhaps there is some silver lining in this atrocity (and the special treatment that it has received from the press): this issue finally seems to be getting the attention that it deserves.

~~~

Anissa of Antioch

The Syrian War, A New York Love Triangle, 
and A Mideast Christian State 
The Love of Antioch Series – Book 2

By Jonah Pierce

Only a Syrian refugee who is learning of the beheading of U.S. Journalist James Foley, could realize that such an horrendous action against the United States, could ensure that the issue would be getting the attention that it deserves. Because beheadings had been happening in Syria for a long time, without many even knowing or considering what this meant world-wide. Of course, this is not totally true in reality since there were people such as the author and others who have been trying to garner support...

In the book, Anissa's friend, Michael, a PhD candidate had taken on a major role in calling attention to what was happening in Syria, to Christians as well as minor religious groups. His goal, was to create a Mideast Christian State. As mentioned in my review of the first book, I am concerned that separating out Christians in a new state there would just continue the war. The only salvation would be that there would be a government to protect individuals from such atrocities that are happening daily...

Even some Sunni Muslims quietly complain

that ISIS is just bastardizing Islamic law

 as a way to impose its authoritarian rule 
 over the people of this city. 

So it’s really just about power and control...

~~~

Because of the importance of the book, while the material is for mature audience, the author recommends that this book not be read by those under 16 - the alternative book is more explicit and is available as preferred by adults.

 

Anissa gets involved with Michael's work while at the same time attending college. She had successfully completed her first semester with high grades; now she was willing to begin participating in other events and she made friends with Maya, who began introducing her to social sites and ultimately to a private party...

Held by one of Anissa's professors. The professor was known as a womanizer but also gave great parties and Maya could take her as a guest...which led to more... I'm not going to cover the on-again-off-again relationships Anissa had with both Michael and Julien, except to note that Julien was already attracted to Anissa after meeting her in class and that he was a very wealthy man, who became a contributor to the problems being addressed by Michael's group. 

Anissa still had some family in Syria, so, with the money, there was opportunity to try to get them relocated. to Kessab. This happened once, but where they relocated, it, too, was destroyed and only Anissa's sister was still alive...

“To Kessab.” I looked up as I tried to recall what I knew about that place. “Isn’t that a Christian-Armenian village?” “Yes. It’s about a five-hour drive west of Raqqa, and is just south of the border with Turkey. Actually, it’s roughly where historical Antioch was located, but it’s been an Armenian village for centuries.” “Why there?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. It seemed odd for my family to be moving to an Armenian village, although the fact that the village is Christian certainly made the decision more understandable. “So many places, like Homs, are now out of the question with fierce battles raging between Islamists and the Syrian Army. Many non-Armenian Syrians – especially from the war-torn cities of Raqqa and Aleppo – have been seeking refuge in Kessab, and in other coastal cities like Latakia and Tartus. I personally suggested Latakia to him, because there are more Alawites and regime protections there, so it seemed like a safer bet. But nothing is guaranteed, and Luke said that he has a very good friend in Kessab and some business contacts, so he thinks that village would be his best option at this point.”

~~~

This short video is In support for the Armenian town of Kessab in Syria.

Kessab was attacked on March 22nd. At around 4 am, this peaceful civilian town was attacked by 3,000 attackers coming mainly through Turkey. Almost all civilians escaped, few young men were killed/beheaded. Until this date (April 19,2014) Kessab is still occupied by the invaders.

~~~

.. mentioned that he was doing his best to find Syrian rebel contacts who could track down the details of the kidnapper who held my sister – a situation that was now confirmed, unfortunately. I can’t even imagine what poor Maria must be enduring these days and my heart aches every time I think of her. Michael already sent money to many potential informants, after allocating the last $ 50,000 in the MCA’s bank account to get precise information on Maria’s whereabouts and to pay any ransom that might be involved in releasing her. He is even offering the captors some initial money in exchange for allowing a Skype call between her and me, so that I could at least see that she’s still alive. He said that our call may happen even later today, so I’ve been full of anxious anticipation to talk with my sister again. Michael decided that he would also be making a trip to Syria soon, both to help with the release of my sister, if and when that could be arranged, and to manage the countless details that he was having trouble overseeing from afar: coordination among different Christian militia groups, ensuring their proper military and related training, developing and communicating policies for sharing certain emergency resources that MCA had purchased, church repair projects, etc.

~~~

This second book is also written in diary form; however, Julien takes turns with Anissa as both are writing. Each of these individuals are also under therapy, so readers have the opportunity to learn not only about events but the inner thoughts of these two main characters as they describe their issues with the therapists...There are, of course, spots of narrative related to history and the lives of characters, but there really is no problem in keeping up with the story in the chosen format.

The format on one hand does not easily permit twists and turns, the author uses ongoing references of major issues that have not yet been covered, so that when the major finale twist that many of us expect in a novel, well, I can only describe it as a monumental "detour"! When that happened, for me, the entire novel came together and answered any earlier issues that had been raised about what was happening. Brilliant in its conception, it also carries an important underlying issue that we must all remember... Not everybody wants to participate in wars and killing. There are many who want to live in peace, as was happening in Syria--before!

Although I didn't believe that Anissa's new life in America was realistic for those torn from their homes, I did think the conceptual development of the overall story allowed for this new life, albeit with Anissa having to go into therapy and continuing to have flashbacks and nightmares... Kudos to the author for bringing a variety of issues effectively into the book--issues that MUST be addressed world-wide! I was grateful to have the opportunity to read these two books and develop the empathy needed to realize the tragedy of living under fanatic rebels...

May you share concern for those who have lost their homeland, this time in Syria... I consider this a must-read, don't you?!


GABixlerReviews

Adult Graphic Version Available

Jonah Pierce graduated from Harvard College, where he studied mostly literature, psychology, philosophy, and film. After college, his first job brought him to New York City, where he was working during the attacks of September 11 – an event that profoundly marked him and deepened his interest in global affairs and the Middle East. Almost fifteen years later, Jonah was moved by headlines about the tragedy in Syria and the threat of ISIS, and wondered how these developments might feel from the perspective of a Syrian refugee. He began to envision a young Syrian woman fleeing fear, violence, and tragic loss, and finding a new life in the United States. Thus was the character of Anissa Toma born, and The Love of Antioch series recounts her saga.

Torn From Today's Headlines, Author, Jonah Pierce, Takes Readers Inside Syria To Meet Anissa...

Dedication –––––––– 

To the people of Syria. The world let you down.

“This follows the disturbing pattern that we have seen from the State Department of ignoring the particular targeting of Christians by ISIS, while giving preferential treatment for asylum to other groups with expedited processing — like Somalis, Iraqis, and Syrians, some of whom could very well be members of jihadist movements.”

http://www.jihadwatch.org/2015/07/after-4-months-iraqi-christians-who-fled-isis-still-detained-by-immigration-officials

~~~

A shootout ensued and part of me felt too resigned to fate to move – almost as if a preordained defeat had left me stuck to the sofa, waiting to die from a bullet or a knife-wielding Islamist. But then the impassioned words spoken by my father not even an hour ago bellowed through my mind: “... you can do far more for us from America than you can from here, where you’re just another defenseless Christian.” I had to survive this nightmare, I told myself. I somehow had to make a difference, from a position of power and strength – not like this. I realized that I had to flee, however I could, in whatever minutes of fighting remained. I dropped to the floor, getting on my hands and knees to stay below the gunfire, as I scrambled further into our house, until I reached the corner, where I turned left towards the stairs. With the sound of fighting and shots still raging on the other side of the wall now protecting me, I stood and sprinted up the stairs as fast as I could to my room, until I reached my bags.

~~~

Anissa of Syria:

 A Christian Refugee’s Saga From

  the Syrian War To the American Dream

By Jonah Pierce

Used to provide illustrative example...not a part of this book...

No matter what you might have read in the newspapers or seen on television, I have found that authors who have researched a topic and created a story to present all issues is the most effective manner for me to gain insight into the realities faced by men, women, and children around the world. We all have already formed strong feelings about what ISIS is doing... but when one single individual, and/or her family become real to us, the impact reaches each reader in a uniquely personal manner as we become concerned with those met in fiction. However, the refugee situation is now...in the present...this brings an overpowering influence that forces, yes, forces, a reaction!

Anissa's father was a doctor; and mother, a pharmacist until the danger demanded that they consider relocating. What they chose was to send their children to relatives... Anissa, alone, was going to be sent to America. But right before she was scheduled to fly out, trouble had arisen and it was arranged to have their neighbor drive Anissa to the airport...

So it was that this young girl, at age 16, had barely escaped, her family having been killed and she was forced to either live with what had happened, or accept a different reality. She did the latter--each night she would go through the ritual of talking to herself, begging her parents not to get in the car, where they were killed... She was lying to herself, every night, trying to prevent the devastating nightmares she'd been having of the reality that had actually happened...

Sometimes emotional survival means deceiving everyone – including yourself. And ever since that infernal night, on January 18, 2012, I’ve been trying to lie to myself by pretending that certain things didn’t happen – because sometimes it’s the only way for me to stay sane. So I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you those details. With God’s mercy, maybe I’ll finally believe the falsehoods that I recite to myself every night in bed, in the hope that I can, at last, sleep with some solace. And if that happens, then even you, My Dearest, will never know those details, because the lies of my imagination will be all that I can remember.
~~~

The book is written as a diary, so that Anissa captures her thoughts, as was 

suggested by her therapist--her relatives had realized that she needed to have counseling after leaving Syria. [So the "My Dearest," is her choice of salutation as she begins each diary entry.]

I must admit that, after arriving in America to live with her relatives, I expected to learn more about that family. Instead the author chose to immediately place her into our American setting. Anissa had been her father's choice to send to America because of her intelligence and drive in her educational requirements, as well as her interest in helping Christians remaining in Syria.

Thus Anissa was almost immediately moving onto campus and beginning her college education--thrown quite inexperienced into the routine of college life. For most of the time, she would spend all of her time studying.

Anissa had met Michael on line and immediately developed a crush on this vibrant man who was actively working to help the refugees in Syria, while dreaming of a future where Christians could be safe in the Mid-East...

I had mixed feelings on what began to happen; however--with a forewarning for those who don't like books leaving you right smack in the middle of a dramatic setting--but, when I was left hanging, I was happy to be able to immediately learn that the sequel was already published... So expect my review on that book soon!

On a personal note, I have to share that my mind hearkened back to a book I reviewed last month, No Other choice by Paula Rose Michelson, when it was those of the Christian faith who were persecuting Jews in Spain. This was an historical novel, but the circumstances were the same. How can the world continue when group after group attacks others on the basis of religion? How can force, violence be the basis of demanding conversion to another religion? To me, it is only through the demonstration of that faith in action, not in violence, that could ever possibly be effective...but I digress... Except to say that it is my belief that history has continuously proven that the demand for conversion into another's religion has never proven effective.

That does not downgrade, however, the impact of this book as I watched a naive Syrian refugee fall immediately into contemporary college campus situations...my protective motherly instincts wanted to be her adviser in dealing with what she was facing... We know the reality of the refugees is very much today's news... Considering the after-lives of those who move to other countries, especially America, was, to me, a heartbreaking eye-opener...

Perhaps a must-read for many of you who are concerned about what is happening in Syria...and ISIS...?

Please note that this book and its sequel is also available under a different title and different name...the books I am reading center on the actual relocations of family, while the other, by Zack Love, emphasizes the relationships with Anissa's two admirers...Choose the one you prefer...G or Romance ratings...

GABixlerReviews

Free thinkers don't

  charge for advice...

Jonah Pierce graduated from Harvard College, where he studied mostly literature, psychology, philosophy, and film. After college, his first job brought him to New York City, where he was working during the attacks of September 11 – an event that profoundly marked him and deepened his interest in global affairs and the Middle East. Almost fifteen years later, Jonah was moved by headlines about the tragedy in Syria and the threat of ISIS, and wondered how these developments might feel from the perspective of a Syrian refugee. He began to envision a young Syrian woman fleeing fear, violence, and tragic loss, and finding a new life in the United States. Thus was the character of Anissa Toma born, and The Love of Antioch series recounts her saga.

Extraordinary Retribution by Erec Stebbins - An Excerpt...

1

By the time he reached the razor-wire, the Syrian landscape had shrugged off the delusion of the irrigated greenery around Damascus. Here, the Old Man, the desert, could not be hidden and refused to be banished. Cold even in the oppressive heat, crueler than the scalped links fencing out trespassers, the sands smiled sadistically, remembering centuries of slaughter and dreaming of future screams of anguish.

For the man in the truck, gazing across the landscape, the screams returned to him now. Howling, gasped, panicked. His own and many around him. Images of dank stone, blood and waste-soiled cells. Eyes. Faces. Tormentors and their hideous tools. The weeping of grown men echoed inside his mind as the winds stirred the dry sands around his vehicle. He squeezed the steering wheel tightly, refusing their summons, determined more than ever to rise above their damage and demons. He had come too far to be defeated now.

He stepped out of the begrimed pickup truck and slammed the door. Glancing over the barren land, he followed the fence line to the horizon. The entrance was at a large distance around the perimeter of the compound, hidden in part by an outcropping of desert rocks. His well-paid sources had been accurate: an entrance from the rear would likely go unnoticed. And what madman would ever break into this place? He did not expect vigilance.

 He moved around to the back of the truck and untied a dusty canvas covering the bed. Underneath were several heavy crates. He opened each, removing weapons and explosives, strapping them to his body, and moved to the passenger side of the vehicle. From the glove compartment, he removed a map, glanced at it fleetingly, and pocketed the ruffled pages. It was memorized.

Night fell quickly in the deserts of Syria. In the darkness and desolation, short metallic clips sounded and fell mute on the empty sands. As a shadow, he passed through an opening cut into the gray outlines of the fence and vanished into the blackness.

Through the sandy winds sweeping across the compound, lights twinkled from a handful of incandescent bulbs. Near the gated entrance, he left a guard inside a small shed, seeming to doze peacefully, the unnatural angle of his neck observable only at close range. Before him, a desolate stone structure was dimly outlined by the band of the Milky Way, a single window of light visible in the darkness. Voices could be heard, at times loud and rude, spilling clumsily from the room. Harsh, staccato bursts of laughter confirmed the presence of the prison guards inside. He darted past the window and pressed himself flat against the compound walls. He slid along the rough surface toward the door, arm raised, his hand ending in an extended, metallic cylinder. He made no sound until he spun and kicked in the flimsy wooden door.

He saw four men around a small table, cigarettes in their mouths, pornography and cards strewn haphazardly across the stained wood. As the door swung madly on its hinges and smashed into the wall, they jumped, confused, turning toward him. Even that small pause meant death.

He fired several shots in the confined space. The explosions were amplified and echoed throughout the stone chamber, spilling down the poorly lit hallway opposite to the gunman. Two of the men arched, their heads snapping backward as the bullets blew open their skulls. The whitewashed walls were sprayed red. As the other two men lurched upward and towards him, he spun, his right foot arcing like a sledgehammer coming down, whipping the nearest man backward onto the table. Glasses shattered, and cards dispersed as the guard rolled roughly and fell hard on the stone floor. The intruder channeled the momentum of the spinning motion, and his gun hand came whirling around toward the second man, who now stood unprepared, barely having obtained a fighting stance. His attempted blow was smashed aside, and his jaw shattered as the man’s gun arm brought the metal crashing downward. All four guards now lay still around the table, two dead, two unconscious.

The assailant aimed his weapon at the guard near his feet, firing directly into his head. He then turned and aimed at the other prone figure, rendering a similar judgment. He studied the faces carefully. “At night, five remain once the others leave for the day. And Mahjub works late.”He didn’t need to be told this by his informant. Yes, he knew Mahjub worked late. He would never forget. Nor would he forget his face. Mahjub was not in this room. He must be….below. He had been busy, perhaps.  But not now. By now, he would have heard the shots. He would be afraid.

The assassin smiled.

Two floors below, buried deeply in the Syrian sands, a long hallway with numerous cells ran its begrimed course. Broken men were locked behind stone-walled enclosures with iron doors. The cells were like graves: shallow pits scraped into the rock, devoid of light or even the space to stand. At the far end of the hallway, opposite the stairs, was a small room without a door. Inside Mahjub Samhan clutched a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. Both hands shook as he cowered behind an upturned table in the middle of the room. He cried out in a high-pitched voice.

“Kamil? Saif?” There was only silence. “Bassam? Nadeem!” He wiped the dripping sweat from his eyebrows and tried to focus toward the stairs. A solitary bulb dangled limply from exposed wires in the middle of the hallway. His left leg began to shake. “Answer me! Who is there? What is happening?”

Suddenly, before he could focus or react, a shadow seemed to leap from nowhere, an explosion slapped his ears, and the bulb burst. Shards of glass rained on the stone floor like small bells. A terrible darkness blotted out his vision. In panic, Mahjub screamed, firing shots wildly into the blackness.

A bright light leapt from across the darkness, blinding him. A sizzling rod landed only a foot away from the table. Momentarily confused and distracted by the fire, Mahjub stared down at the stick burning beside him. Explosive? Too late, he turned his weapon toward the sound of rushing footsteps from the hallway, the searing afterimage of the flame obscuring his sight.

A gunshot rang. His right shoulder exploded in agony. His knees buckled, and he fell backward against the wall, releasing a howl of pain as he slid to the floor. He dropped the knife from his left hand and reached over to hold his injured shoulder, grimacing as he felt the warm blood coat his arm and fingers.

He squinted against the light as it was raised above his head. He saw a tall, dark shape behind the flare, a gun in one hand aimed at him. In a swift motion, the table was righted and the flare violently wedged into the rotting boards like a candlestick. The figure crouched beside him.

“You always were a coward, Mahjub,” spoke the voice in accented Arabic. Trying to block the pain, Mahjub strained to place the origin. Saudi? Pakistani?He stared at the face partially concealed in shadow. He had never seen it before. Light hair, blue eyes…American? Nothing made sense. Had the Americans turned on them after all this time? Did they need to bury this operation so completely? With all the chaos in the nation, did they care so much now?

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Mahjub?” the figure asked, almost with amusement. “How fitting, to lie here in pain, your death awaiting you, and not know the first thing about your tormenter.”

Mahjub felt the panic well within him again. “Sir, please, don’t kill me. Whatever we have done wrong, we can fix. We will not speak. We will disappear. Please, not like this.”

Mahjub’s eyes widened at the sound he heard. The man with the gun laughed. Laughed at him! “Mahjub, how do you live outside this place?” The Syrian only looked at the gunman in distress.

“I mean, when you buy fruit at the market, mixing with decent people, or entertain your mother-in-law, do you think about breaking men’s fingers? Sodomizing them? Do you think of blood and vomit when you stir her coffee? Do their screams, their pleas for mercy keep you awake at night?”

“Sir, no, please, I don’t know…”

“You know,” said the man, his blue eyes seemingly glazed over, frosted, utterly cold. The shadowed form whispered ominously, “See, I know what you do, what you are.” Mahjub felt his blood run cold.

“These poor men here,” said the pale man, gesturing toward the hallway, “they don’t know who you are, but they know what you are.” The man spoke with such venom, a snake’s hiss. “It took some time to track you down.”

Mahjub began to cry, clutching his blasted shoulder, grime and blood on his hands and face. A man with such power over others, now powerless, weeping like a child. “Please….”

There was no pity in the cold blue eyes before him. “Consider me more merciful than you ever were.”

The man stood up and aimed the weapon.

“No!” Mahjub began to scream, but a final gunshot ripped through his throat, silencing his cry as he fell against the wall. He gasped vainly for breath, his healthy arm at the gurgling wound, his eyes swimming, his feet kicking madly as he drowned in his own blood. It was over in less than a minute.

The assassin spat on the dead man, turned, and carried a set of keys from the room. One by one, he unlocked the doors along the hallway as he walked toward the stairs. He spoke loudly. “They’re all dead! Leave now, if you can. God soon brings fire to this place!”

Soft sounds of bodies stirring could be heard within the cells. The hinges of one door ground behind him. When he reached the first step, he dropped the large keychain and ascended to the upper floors.

The truck made a startling sound in the desert night as he turned the key. Twenty minutes. That was enough. If they had not escaped yet, they were as good as dead anyway. He stared down at a small radio transmitter on the seat next to him. A red light blinked at the upper-right corner. He pressed the button underneath, and a bright orange glow flashed before him in the darkness. Several seconds later, the sound arrived, the rumbling blast from an explosion as the compound was blown into the sky, rubble and embers raining down on the dark sands.

The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.

He doubted Jesus had meant it that way. He shifted gears and raced away from the inferno.

It had begun.

~~~