Then She Was Born by Cristiano Gentili - An Outstanding Novel - And More

How can we, humans, be more beastly than wild beasts?

--Ramadani, Village Chief's Son

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO INVISIBLE PEOPLE

I fear you because you are different. 
I hunt you because I fear you. 
You are different, you are few, 
you are unearthly. 
Suspended between two worlds, 
you are out of my control, and, 
just like the gods, 
you may be our blackest disgrace
 or the gold of our fortune. 
And yet you cry and laugh as I do. 
Are you, or are you not, human?
This is what I want to know. 
But… who am I to ask?
~~~

More supporters can be seen on the Cristiano Gentili Page...

When I was asked to review this book, I had, of course, known of albino children, but I was not aware of why there was a campaign to spread the word about their need... I found a documentary which I decided to share, in case you, too, want to see and learn more... To a great extent, the novel follows what has been documented, but by personalizing it with specific characters, The author has presented characters to whom we are immediately drawn. I purchased the book. It was only 99 cents... I believe you need to read this book if you care about children...

The mother’s body broke open to make way for the baby’s entry into the world. Wild cries traveled beyond the sheet-metal door of the mud hut and into the crowded courtyard on Tanzania’s flat scrap of an island. 

Ukerewe was a jubilant explosion of greens— from apple to emerald— framed by the rich blue of Lake Victoria. Sefu— the father of the newborn— looked beyond the virile, though softening, sun. He considered the great bounty, the brawny progeny it had produced. That sun, too, would rest for the night. He imagined his son being born before the Spirits’ sun sunk into the vast water. He thought of how everything was as it should be. It was almost sunset, and the cool air soaked in reddish light from the day’s final rays. 

Soon, too, our golden crown will shine, our own sliver of the starry canopy, thought Sefu as he waited outside the hut. More time had passed and the sheet-metal door remained firmly shut. It was the beginning of the rainy season so the weather was unstable and capricious. Sefu smelled the unmistakable scent of rain. He sensed that the darkness of night’s first hours, assisted by monsoon winds, would coax heavy clusters of cloud that had been formed from the Indian Ocean. Water will be dumped onto the land by the rise of the next sun, he thought. 

At last, the door to the hut opened. A woman gestured to Sefu. He could now enter. The courtyard grew quiet. He crossed the threshold, and the smile he’d worn since hearing the child’s birth cries vanished. He saw his newborn asleep on a bundle of rags in the corner of the room. His eyes opened wide, and he grabbed his hair with both hands. This cannot be, he told himself. His body stiffened as the tiny creature hypnotized him. He attempted to summon his finger to touch its belly, hoping this thing before him was but a figment of his imagination. Then, with its subhuman powers, it turned him to stone. She was a curse, a judgment. He repeated to himself the name of what she was, denying it at the same time. The air in the hut was drenched in deadly silence. Only Sefu’s breathing could be heard, and its rasp increased as rage filled him. How could I have begot such a thing? he asked himself. He wondered if evil spirits possessed him while he had coupled with Juma. Or maybe this demonic being is the fruit of another man’s seed? That must be it, he affirmed to himself. His wife had to have betrayed him and unleashed a curse by the Spirits of the Lake. His body could not have made that. 

“It has to die,” declared Sefu. Without so much as a glance at Juma, the mother of the phantom, he turned and left the hut. 

Lying on her pallet, covered in brilliant-colored fabrics, her howls numbed by the murmurs of surrounding women, Juma registered this birth and her death were one and the same...

~~~

The child was rejected...first, by its father. And when her husband rejected Juma also, she could not stand to touch the child. The mother held her out to the Midwife. She would not touch her. Only the child's paternal grandmother came forth to claim the child, an albino, a curse, a ghost...A baby that would normally have been taken into the forest and left to die...

But even though Nkamba came forth to speak for the child, nobody would listen. finally she went before the chief and requested that the spirits of the lake be allowed to decide. She succeeded, but she also secretly acted to bring about the decision she was praying for. You see, she had once had a daughter who they'd taken away from her. She was going to make sure this child would live!

And for many years she did, even though the child was ignored by most villagers... Nkamba went to the Christian priest to beg assistance. The child had not yet been named. Again Nkamba succeeded and the child was called Adimu... Nkamba started immediately to guide her granddaughter toward secrecy and self-protection. She knew Adimu would some day have to care for herself since Nkamba was already old when she'd taken the child.

At one point Adimu came to meet the wife of the richest man in the area, Mr. Fielding. Sarah and Adimu immediately bonded and Sarah longed to have her as their child. Her husband refused, although even then at their first meeting, he was also drawn to the child... And then one village woman stole Adimu from NKamba's home and was planning to take her to the forest and leave the child, hoping to help the family get over the disgrace. Then she looked at the child and was drawn to her as well, and could not allow her to die. She took her to the Fielding's home, handing the child to Mr. Fielding, assuming that this white man was the father of the white child. But they brought the child back to her grandmother.

Nkamba had been given a telephone number of a place that albino children could be cared for and educated. She'd placed the number on the wall of her home, needing to keep it close. If she had known what was to come, she would have sent her away immediately, to keep her safe...

Because human traffickers, kidnappers, and criminals who worked for those that believed that Adimu was worth more dead than alive, were constantly searching and stealing these children. And Zuberi, the witch doctor of the village where Adimu lived was one of them... He would promise "parts" of an albino to cure various ailments of his clients and then send men out to fulfill his need. It was only because of the early agreement with the village chief that Adimu lived as long as she did...

And then a white man and a black woman came to Adimu saying they represented the school that had been contacted several years ago and wondered if they could still help... Nkimba and Adimu had immediately agreed and on the way to meet them, Nkimba had died and Adimu went home to bury her grandmother. She was put to work immediately by her father's first wife, doing all the washing for his family, but Adimu still stay at Nkimba's home at night...It was there that the same couple came and took Adimu away. And she meets for the first time, another smaller albino girl who was leaving her grandparents for this opportunity. But it was all a scam...

Danger, with thieves stealing from other thieves, abusive treatment, and more comes for the two children...They were taken to a place that had no other children, into buildings that had not been used for years, and they were locked in, finally, to prevent their escape. It had all been lies...

Adimu had been an intelligent little girl and the Fieldings had provided her with a set of encyclopedias and reading glasses to help Adimu be able to read... She would carry one of those books with her, no matter where she went and used every spare moment to gain more knowledge. She had promised her grandmother that she would someday become a doctor...

Now, after what had been done to her, what future did she have? 

I loved the way the author created his character, Adimu... But the Fieldings couple were unbelievable in presenting the pull between love, greed, and cultural superstitions... Kudos to the author for this outstanding character-driven drama! 

This book has a heartbreaking, but remarkable ending, as it does most times in fiction... I applaud the author, Cristiano Gentili and those supporting this campaign, to share the truth about how many albino children are being treated due to superstition and...greed! I highly recommend you consider this book not only because of the exceptional story but to support this effort! 

GABixlerReviews

Cristiano Gentili is an author and a civil servant, from the Italian region of Tuscany. He is married and has a child.

Since his graduation, where he obtained a BA in political science, a MAs in humanitarian assistance and a PhD in social science, Cristiano’s work has taken him to some of the most challenging locations around the world, often dealing with the after effects of war and natural disasters. He currently works in Ukraine, in the hazardous border area with Russia.

In 2011, he went on a personal fact-finding trip to Tanzania, to assess the living conditions of Africans with albinism. From that experience his goal became to raise awareness of the living conditions of African albinos through the #HelpAfricanAlbinos campaign. His novel, Then She Was Born, is the English translation of his book, originally written in Italian.

Cristiano has met with eleven Nobel Peace Laureates, the Dalai Lama and Pope Francis, who have each read a part of his novel and have leant their considerable support to the campaign.

In the case of Pope Francis, Cristiano was invited to an international symposium on Africa at the Vatican, to speak about Africans with albinism. He stayed in the Pope’s residence for four days and had a private meeting with him during that time. As a result, the #HelpAfricanAlbinos campaign is now endorsed by Pope Francis as an universal and interreligious message of peace and brotherhood.

Cristiano’s next target is to get celebrities to record video messages, just as the Nobel peace laureates and the Pope did, and spread them on social media to increase awareness of the living conditions of Africans with albinism, the last among all others.

The official campaign website is www.HelpAfricanAlbinos.com

#HelpAfricanAlbinos

Weston Kincade's A Life of Death - Sensational YA - Adult Paranormal Novel!

“Every man has a turning point in their life. I would have to say that mine is by far the most interesting story I’ve heard. I don’t know what set the events in motion. It defies all logic, but to this day I attribute it to sixteen days and a research project a lot like yours.”
Jamie let out an exasperated sigh at the reference to school, a sore subject they often argued about.
Alex chuckled with familiarity. “When I was your age, I looked at life a lot like you do. I was a high achiever until I reached high school. But, there was one fateful day that changed my life forever.”
“The day Grandpa died?”
Alex nodded. “I was never the same after that. It started before I even made it to Madessa High School. Life at home fell apart after your grandfather passed. Your grandmother sold the house and moved us into a small trailer park. We stayed there, in Tranquil Heights. She found what work she could, but things were never the same. Before a year had passed, she remarried. For the following three years, I walked to school, passing through town like a stranger. Before your grandfather died, I did everything by the book. I got good grades, did what Dad asked, and things turned bad. With your grandfather gone, I became different, isolated. That went on for years.
By the time I realized something was changing, I had started my last year in high school. “School had become a chore. Each day was the same; hours were spent in classes where I did as little work as possible, and I barely managed to pass. I had a pathetic excuse for a substitute father and didn’t look forward to going home, if you could even call it home. So, I always tried to make that walk from school last forever. It was never long enough. “Each day I stopped by my father’s grave at the old cemetery. At the foot of his grave stood an ancient pine. I often sat under its drooping branches and stared at his gray, unadorned tombstone. Other headstones mentioned time served in the military, like my father’s. At the time, I didn’t understand how something like that deserved to be remembered. It had been his decision, but I hated how much of his time it had stolen from me.”

A Life of Death

By Weston Kinkaid

When his son has a paper to complete for school, Alex tells a strange, mystical tale that captures his attention...just as he now has done for many readers... You'll want to be one of them if you enjoy the paranormal, the spooky, and the unique. Yes, at least for me, I'd not heard of the concept for A Life of Death. It is about a young boy who has begun to "see" the deaths of those from whom he's touched a possession. Why just the death? Read it... 

Alex's father had died and his mother soon remarried...into an abusive environment. Alex was confused, hurt and still grieving, so he wasn't willing to do much to put effort into the family either. He had gained two sisters, both of whom he ignored, at least at the beginning. Still they wanted to walk to school with him, although later he would speed up and leave them... It was while he was walking when the first time happened...

What am I saying?

 I tried to look around, but movement was out of my control. The jumbled words became clear. However, it wasn’t my voice. It was feminine and too proper. There was something else in the tone, too… fear. The same emotion filtered into my thoughts and through my body.

 “Please, Theodore, I didn’t do anything.” Suddenly, I was thrust backward, away from the large house. I slammed into something cold and hard… the iron fence. Pain pierced my thoughts like a lightning bolt. Hands tightened around my throat. My eyes settled on a man less than a foot away. He pulled me back toward him. Something about his chiseled jaw and cheeks looked familiar. Large, rough fingers tightened around my neck, and the middle-aged man slammed me against the gate. Again, pain lanced through my mind.

“The hell you didn’t,” he rasped at arm’s length. His anger engulfed his eyes, lighting them with a fire that could illuminate the night sky. It was an anger I had come to know well over the last three years with the drunk. “I saw you at the Independence party. You were pandering to any man that set eyes on you. You even blew kisses at the Quigley boy, off the veranda.” 

An old family home appeared
with a cast-iron fence. Rounded
 steeples perched atop each post.
 The enclosure guarded the
 majestic house, which had always
 belonged to the Brogand family. 
They were well respected in town,
 and their ancestors were some
 of the original settlers of 
this part of Virginia. 
~~~

“No, I was not,” I whispered, too prim and proper, but my voice quaked with fear. His words brought memories of the night to mind, a party of elite celebrating a country’s newly acquired independence. The styles were archaic, but vivid. It was as though I’d been there that very night. Mr. Quigley was a young man in his early twenties, and he was quite taken with me—no, her. It was difficult to distinguish between the two of us, like when you take some other form in a dream. You almost lose yourself and live within the vision. That has to be what this is––a dream. The memories stitched their way through my thoughts, overwhelming my conclusion and giving her lie away. She’d done everything Theodore claimed––flirted, stolen kisses, and more. “Please don’t do this,” she beseeched him. 

The objection infuriated the man further. His black coat strained against his muscle-bound form, and his arm quivered, tense and strong. I tried to fight back, clutching at his forearm, but it didn’t faze the brute. He was solid as a rock. His rage took hold, and he threw me into the gate, over, and over. My skull rattled at each impact with the unyielding metal 

spires, shattering my thoughts until the world collapsed into the blackest of nights.   * * *  

I stumbled away from the iron-wrought gate. The Brogand manor stood like a silent witness under the sun’s morning rays. The light flew through sparse clouds to illuminate the large home, but something dark lurked in its shadowed corners. The trees still held their multi-colored leaves, each of them preparing to leave on the winds of change. Homeless Bob hadn’t even caught up to me, yet. What the heck was that… a dream? If it was, it was a doozey. I wavered between school and returning to the trailer park. After a few indecisive moments, I picked the least dreadful of the two and proceeded to school. The rest of the way, I stared at the sidewalk, contemplating the vision as I meandered down odd streets that barely registered in my conscious thoughts. Was it a dream, or am I going insane?

~~~

Alex had been walking through a residential area, happened to touch a gate and had seen a young girl being murdered...or, really, for awhile, he had been that girl and she had spoke through him! By the time he had dragged away from the fence and mindlessly walked on to school, he was late, of course and went right into his Coach who was telling him to run laps...

Soon Jessie, a friend, asked about how he was, but it was only when he met Paige, with whom he could talk about his home life, that he shared a little...

A moment later, the only other person I found worth listening to caught up and matched my stride. “Hey, Paige,” I mumbled.

 “Hey, Alex, how are you?” Her gray gym shirt attempted to make her into a drab clone of the rest of us. But if the school had enacted a uniform dress code, it wouldn’t detract from her beauty. Brown curls bounced over her shoulders like ocean waves. She smiled as she fell in step. For brief moments, she turned her honey-brown eyes on me. They were like amber pools, deep enough to drown in.

“Not bad,” I lied. I wanted to tell her about the dream. I was sure she’d see through my fib, like Jessie had. But I still didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone. What if something was wrong with me? 

“Is the drunk still being a Neanderthal?” she asked in a subdued whisper. She liked the characterization. Having only seen him once, the reference was motivated by my stories of his brute behavior and the aftereffects of his tirades that I couldn’t always hide. Paige was the one person I could talk to about my home life. She hadn’t gone through anything like I had, but her caring soul was visible with just a look. 

“Yeah, pretty much. I just ignore him as best I can. One more year and I’m gone.” Paige sent me a pitying look. “How’s your morning?” I asked, trying to steer clear of me as the topic of discussion. I could tell she was concerned, but she humored me. 

“Fine. You missed Trig this morning. Mrs. Easely gave us a quiz.” I shrugged it off. “You think you did well?” “Yeah,” she answered. “What about you. What’ll you do?”

 “Eh… she’ll have me do a make-up, like usual.” 

~~~

Fear took hold, and a
 feminine voice tumbled across
 my lips, pulling my thoughts
 back to the overflowing
 bathroom.
 “No, I tried… I did…
I’m sorry.”
The child gave no sign
 of hearing.
~~~

And when, later, she suggested they work together on an English paper, he was thrilled because he'd wanted to spend more time with her... But then, that's when it happened again... Alex had gone to her home to work on the project and had gone to the bathroom... He bent over to admire and touch the claw-toed tub and immediately knew...

When he returned, he looked pale and Paige noticed so he mentioned the tub and maybe having stomach troubles. But then Paige shared the back story with him and how she hated the tub...

A visible shudder ran through Paige. “It haunts me every night.”

 “What do you mean?” Her answer made me less certain about the truth of the dreams. 

“Aunt Sarah hit her head and drowned in that tub. Why my parents kept it, I don’t know. They said it belonged to my great grandmother and they couldn’t bear to part with it… but each time I step out of it, I still feel dirty.”

 I nodded, knowing the feeling.

 “What caused it?”

 “The police said she probably slipped on the tiles, but I always wondered if it might have been something else.”

                                                                            ~~~

Alex thought more and more about what was happening and realized that what he was seeing was apparently true accounts of the deaths of different people!

So while he and Paige began to work on the paper which would cover the Civil War, a different type of investigation began--who had murdered the people he was seeing die?!! And when they visited the battlefield, he blacked out, having been involved as men died all around him. It was only when a small group told him, "it's not your time." that he realized he was alive...

By now Paige was used to things and sharing in the investigation...as well as working to complete their paper!

Secrets from the past are never easily discovered...and uncovered...but when somebody was right there at the scene, it helps quite a bit! But when terrible things happened at home, that was first priority...and made a connection with the police that moved things much more quickly. Readers get the chance to participate in searching and putting the researched clues together. Although the ending was hard to accept, it fit well into the story and was not unexpected...

Kinkaid's written a fascinating tale that will both share psychic scenes of murders in progress as well as the personal life of a teen within a terrible home life, as he struggles with the death of his father and a completely new family, including an alcoholic, abusive father, while discovering a gift that's he's received that's scaring him more than even his stepfather! The story flows easily and quickly becomes a page-turner as readers are thrown into horrible murder scenes at any time--i.e., when Alex touches something connected to death...

I'm looking forward to the next book in what appears to be a promising long-running series that can't help but have a very successful run. I recommend you get in right at the beginning with A Life of Death!


GABixlerReviews

Official Author Bio:

Weston Kincade is the author and editor of the science-fiction/dark fantasy series Altered Realities, the paranormal coming-of-age mystery A Life of Death, and co-author and editor of Strange Circumstances, a short story anthology about twists of fate. Some of Mr. Kincade's short stories, including "Prison Torment" and "House Al-Amin," have been featured in separate short story anthologies by Thadd Presley Presents. Weston is currently working on the sequels in his series and a few new books. To find out more about Mr. Kincade and his work, visit http://www.kincadefiction.blogspot.com.

Tagline
I'm an editor, author, and writing instructor and can't keep my thoughts to myself. I hope people enjoy them, but at least now they aren't banging around in my head.
Introduction
Editor at http://www.wakeediting.com, author, and writing instructor. I hope to help people through my experiences and writing. I enjoy books, movies, and much more.
Bragging rights
I have a great wife, have written multiple books, wonderfully supportive friends and family, and even a few wonderful fans.

Related articles

• Book Review: "A Life of Death"

Extraordinary Retribution Went Into My Top 10 for 2013! Erec Stebbins Brings Passion Caused By Today's Headlines Into Fantastic Thrillers!

Sometimes evil is not born of madness, but madness of evil...

"The man looked up from the floor, confusion on his face. "Why can't you kill me?" He seemed almost desperate.
"Lopez sat down as well, the sirens much louder and the sound of men's shouts ringing out above them. He pulled his knees up into his chest, fingering the weapon.
"I believed I would be a holy man by becoming a priest," said Lopez, a sad smile on his face. I thought that the sacrament of ordination would fill me with the Holy Spirit, and I would then overcome myself and march toward righteousness." He laughed, pointing the barrel of the gun at his chest. I always feared what was inside. Terrible things. Violence. Murder. Things to be suppressed. Confessed. I ran from it all, praying that God would cure me. But God has not.
"Lopez flipped the gun into the air and caught it. He repeated the process over and over as he spoke. "When I walked into that cabin in Gatlinburg and saw what you had done to my brother - things changed. I have chased you now for months. Not for justice. Justice is impartial. It is procedural. It is careful. I wanted none of those things. I wanted you dead. I wouldn't let myself see it, but I wanted to kill you. I chased after you for vengeance."
"So do it!" demanded the wraith. "Now you can! Take your vengeance!"

~~~

Extraordinary Retribution

By Erec Stebbins

I'm happy I read this book by Erec Stebbins first. Actually, he had already submitted requests for two other novels, but my backlog had prevented my not even opening those requests. They, too, are great books, but this one, for me, was clearly my favorite. One of the top 10 favorites for the year... In his acknowledgements, Erec recognizes his main character, whose voice he had heard and could not get out of his mind. This novel reveals the passionate response to this character--it is the author's exorcism... I felt it and shared it. I wonder--if the world could--or would--cry together for this character, maybe all wars could cease... May you cry for this...wraith... May he only remain a fictional character... For what if all...

"It had been a difficult week--his usual teaching
load, a marriage, two funerals, and tonight's
coming mass. He had already met twice with
the local city council, pleading a case for
Hispanic families who felt terrified by the new
Alabama anti-immigration laws. U.S. citizens,
he thought bitterly, who already were becoming
second-class citizens because of the fears of
immigrant workers. And the laws were achieving
their goals. Fields were full of rotting harvests
because no Americans wanted the jobs, schools
with dropping enrollments, and businesses
sucker-punched in a recession as the workers
took their pay to other states...
"Hanging over everything was the constant
reminder that his Catholic school was bank-
rupt. The church had decided to close it down.
They protect pedophiles in their ranks and
turn children out on the street! He felt like
a heretic once again, crossing himself as he
stacked his lecture notes. Have we failed you,
Lord?
~~~

Where the offense is, let the great axe fall. 
                                                     --Hamlet, Shakespeare

Father Francisco Lopez had received a frantic call from his sister-in-law. Miguel had rushed home, tossed clothes into a bag and gone! Telling her that he loved her and to tell the kids,  still he had left. Running Scared!

Now he was dead... But he had made his last confession to his Priest...his brother... Miguel had said goodbye, hoping also for some forgiveness from God... although he had never told him what he--and the others--had done.

Others had died before him, some also had tried to run...

Now Miguel remembered his childhood, hoping to find that safety with family he had once felt:

"Turning northeast, he finally began the drive toward the old cabin. It had been in the family since before he was born, and as very small children, he and Francisco had spent many vacations there...
"But it had been abandoned--too old, too far, and too much trouble once his sons had grown. His father had never even bothered to sell it. Or maintain it, he thought and smiled. It had cost him a lot of work and money to bring the cabin to the condition he required of it. He had told no one. Why he thought there was a need for a safe house had no rational answer. It was that part of his mind that had kept him alive, the part that sensed vulnerability and constantly sought ways to reduce it.
"The family's mountain cabin was the perfect solution. He had nearly rebuilt the entire structure, to a different set of specifications. The walls were reinforced with thick steel, the windows of bullet-proof glass. Security systems spread like a web from the cabin into the neighboring woods: cameras, a centralized control module in the cabin itself. Underneath the floor, he had built a storage room that housed an armament of weapons from high-powered assault rifles to grenades. Somehow, some part of his sensed that it would all be needed someday. That day was now.
"He didn't know why this was happening. That it was could not be denied. The victims, one after the other, were all known to him. They had run the secret operations together. They had handled the cargo as a beam. They had followed orders. Orders from above that told them that this was necessary, that this would save the lives of potentially thousands of Americans. This was a war, even if the form and manner of the execution was unlike anything ever seen before. In war, you followed orders; that much he knew from the battlefield. 
But sometimes, things went wrong..."

~~~

But the safe house, his family cabin,  was not enough to keep Miguel safe. When Father Lopez had finally remembered their family cabin and had arrived, he saw the remainder of a nightmare. Almost all of one cabin wall--a wall that had been reinforced inside by steel rebar--was gone. Something had ripped the wall apart! It was clear that Miguel had fought to the bitter end, but whatever, or whoever had been there had won...

And that's when it started to get strange... Father Lopez knew what he'd seen, but later when he talked to the police, they indicated that it was probably just a robbery. The nightmare scene had disappeared...

Sara Houston had come to Miguel's funeral and started saying some strange things to Lopez. Who was she and what had his brother been involved with? But by the time Lopez had learned more, he was making a demand of his own--to participate in the investigation! Would he be able to get over what he was discovering about his brother, and others?

To find out more, Houston and Lopez broke into a "secure" CIA compound!

CIA Compound
"He's involved because his brother
was killed only days after I took that
leave! Before I could warn him! You
remember Miguel, don't you Jesse?"
"Don't you patronize me, Sara! Her
boss relaxed momentarily and ran his
palm across his sparse hair. You don't
think I've gotten enough heat with the
deaths of so many agents? A conspiracy
to hunt down and kill CIA agents has
a nice, satisfactory Jason Bourne feel
to it. It gives meaning and makes sense
out of what are, from all the facts,
unrelated, coincidental deaths...
"That they all were involved in covert
missions together, hidden from the
rest of us, going on for years? That
this topic is so hot-button that infor-
mation on these missions is denied
to most CIA employees?...
"You've taken to covertly investigating
your own division?"
"Damn it, Jesse, it's not covert!
!!!

"But he saw that her pain was deeper. She was losing part of the America that she had devoted herself to, that she loved and served with all her heart. Her agency directed these atrocities. Her entire belief system was collapsing...
"Houston grunted. Not all is great. According to Fred, the CIA now has me listed as a top-priority catch. And if you can believe it, I'm coded 'GADAHN.' You're listed as a possible accomplice, if that makes you feel less left out.
"What's Gadahn? Accomplice to what?
"Adam Gadahn, the first American indicted for treason in more than half a century...
"Basically, you're fucked," said the floating head of Fred Simon on the monitor. His pixelated image showed little emotion. Lopez and Houston sat close together in front of the screen listening to the parade of bad news. It was worse than Lopez could ever had imagined, even given what they had done. Their theft of CIA documents had crossed a line in the Agency neither Houston nor Simon knew existed.
"They can't make a charge of treason stick, of course, but that won't matter for the manhunt..."

~~~

But he was also having a major personal issue--his growing feelings for Sara and what that meant to his vows to the church...

Now there were a sufficient number dead to know that a specific group of individuals was being hunted. The hunted had to become hunters...or else... But they were hunting not only who was doing the assassinations, but anybody else who got in their way of coverup--and that included Lopez and Houston if necessary...

So far, the hunter had gotten near enough to kill every target he was after...and there were more to come...

Those of you who have already read The Ragnarok Conspiracy which told of a conspiracy intensely affecting the entire world by actions of a group of terrorists, will find a much more subtle, almost quiet--elimination. Yet, the suspense is so much more heightened, even once readers know who initiated the actions... The back cover calls him a madman... I find it important to repeat the phrase I quoted from the backcover:

Sometimes evil is not born of madness, but madness of evil...

This novel is a confrontation to every reader--every American. How will you receive it? With understanding?  With empathy? Will it change your thinking? This story demands a reaction, a realization? It is an outstanding explosion of reality--smack in our faces! There are those in the United States who are just as evil as those we are asked to fight in other countries...

I loved it! Payback, retribution, revenge...What if every victim of crime began to fight back? Chaos, yes, but...  Is it time to stop the evil before madness reigns? I recommend this highly as a must-read!

GABixlerReviews