Free Patriots Betrayed by John Grit Page B

American had come to kill him on that night, creeping into his bedroom right rafter killing his son, finding his wife asleep and leaving her bound and gagged. That was why he had to hunt this American bastard down. He lived that night only because he had been called away on business: the execution of a rival thug who had been digging into Janowski’s profits a little too much. You don’t leave someone as dangerous as that American alive, he told himself. Bullshit. He wanted this Raylan Maddox dead for murdering his only child. There was no need for excuses. He didn’t need an excuse to kill an enemy of his business, his family, and his country.
    Janowski swallowed another drink in three gulps. He had been so close, but this American bastard had escaped, taking out nearly every man in America he had in his employ, and several CIA operatives in the process. The Director of the CIA was in his pocket, and the operatives were following the Director’s orders, not knowing they were actually working for an international crime boss. But this Maddox was crazy. All Americans are crazy, he told himself. Killing machines, the bastards are. He had made many phone calls to the States and his people there had managed to build another team of thugs to hunt Raylan Maddox down. Only Maddox had managed to kill many of them, too. Damn him! He was costing Janowski a fortune and still lived. When would this be over? Until it was, he couldn’t sleep well or have any peace of mind. At least now, with the cooperation of a few U.S. senators, and the help of certain people in the CIA, including the Director, his men were closing in on Maddox. It was just a matter of time, he told himself, not really believing it.
    Later, he would stagger to his empty bedroom where his wife should have been. She had died of a heart attack the month before, still grieving over the murder of their son. Fortunately, he had an eighteen-year-old slave waiting that he planned to keep for a while before shipping her off to the highest bidder. Too bad he was too old to really enjoy her. Viagra helped, but a man his age just couldn’t turn back time and become twenty again; the blood loses its vigor, and there was no cure for that.
    His thoughts turned back to Raylan Maddox as he staggered down the hall to his bedroom, feeling the excess poundage on his body more than usual in his inebriated state, and he reminded himself not to vent his rage on the girl like he did last week. Her face was still bruised, and that wasn’t very sexy. He might even accidently knock out a tooth or two, reducing her value when the time came to sell her.
     

Chapter 5
    The east glowed with a blue haze as Raylan pulled the pilfered blue Cadillac into the parking lot of a shopping mall. They had to lose the Crown Vic. It had obviously been burned someway, perhaps satellite surveillance or traffic cameras. It may have been a security camera at the restaurant where Carla broke into the deputy’s car to use his computer. Maybe a drone got the temporary tag number off the car when they were leaving the Wally World the day she called her ex-handler. Who could say? Certainly, the company was utilizing every trick they had. To be safe, they would have to assume their aliases had been burned and therefore their credit cards flagged. They would use cash from then on, until they started using one of their other aliases.
    He hated to wake Carla, who sat sleeping on the passenger side, but there was work to do. He nudged her shoulder. “We’re not far from McLean, Virginia.”
    She opened her eyes, right hand holding the H&K MP5 that she hid under a newspaper in her lap. “My turn to drive again?”
    “No,” Raylan said. “But I think it’s time to load our little autobiographies onto the flash drives I bought, so we can send them to major newspapers.”
    She rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked at him, examining his face. “Know what I’m thinking of?”
    He smiled. “I better not guess. I have