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7.5 x 9.25 paperback |
ISBN: 9781432719159 |
$23.95 |
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Genre: |
BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal Memoirs |
Publication: |
Jan 18, 2008 |
Pages: |
620 |
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FROM THE REAR COVER (CHAPTER-39): Three shots from an AK-47 pierced the air from a distant cluster of palms just north of our compound wall. I turned to exchange glances with the half dozen other members of the departing diplomatic staff as the last of three hundred US Marines in jungle fatigues and full combat gear dashed down the ramp at the rear of the aircraft. Despite the nearby roar of the rotating helicopter blades, I could hear the American Ambassador for the Liberian Mission addressing us."Some of you have heard," he began, with a dour expression, "of this Prince Johnson fellow's threat to shoot our helicopters out of the sky. Well, you needn't worry. We have the situation covered. I am informed that anyone firing upon any of our aircraft will be instantly dealt with in the severest fashion possible. No West African rebel leader will be interfering with the safe evacuation of our personnel on my watch. May God go with you all; good bye... and good luck." THE STORY: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a cop, a Merchant Marine or a spy rubbing shoulders with ambassadors, mercenaries and gold and diamond smugglers in South America, Asia and Africa surrounded by revolution and political intrigue? This is a journey of revelation that packs three lifetimes into one, overflowing with unexpected events and adventures. The author shares his journey beginning with his birth so you can discover for yourself what it takes to form a man into the kind of person who moves through life on a path that carries him all over the globe in search of personal destiny. Throughout his journey the author struggles to balance his compassion and spirituality with a realistic view of reality and his efforts may challenge you to explore and expand your own boundaries and perspectives of life, spirituality, family, love and relationships. How do we recognize and capture opportunities and how do we live with the consequences of our choices? The author finds his answer in the midst of chaos and struggle and he shares his thoughts on personal and spiritual growth as he tells his story. TWO REVIEWS: "Michael has lived well to make such dramatic changes and to be able to hold such opposing forces within. That is how music is made… from the tension in the string that holds two opposing ends together." - Scott Burr: Innovative Thinking Consultant "Although Mike and I come from different continents, Mike being American (a Yank) and I being English (a Brit), I had the pleasure of meeting and working with him in Africa and we have been friends ever since. He is indeed a remarkable man and I can think of no one I would rather have by my side, either in a tight spot on unfriendly turf, or just having a beer and taking in the sunshine. Enjoy the stories. I certainly did!" - Peter Coleman: International Consultant
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FROM CHAPTER-38 (REVOLUTION):
Lately my life had dissolved into some bizarre, nightmarish version of the Five o'clock International News roundup. Only this was no mere nightmare I would wake up from in the morning. Things just kept getting worse and worse. Last Sunday we were relaxing in the palava hut enjoying the peace and quiet of the warm sunny afternoon. Palava is Liberian lingo for talk and Dave was entertaining us with another of his Marine Corps stories when the calm was shattered by a burst of automatic weapon fire from just beyond our north wall. Instinctively, we dove beneath the cane chairs and lay there shaking with our arms over our heads, awaiting the spray of bullets that would turn us all into another news item.
No bullets flew our direction so we just huddled there listening to screams and threats interspersed by the unmistakable 'thud' of a heavy rifle butt impacting on human flesh. We couldn't understand the language, but it was pretty apparent someone was pleading for mercy in some local tribal lingo.
Three more shots rang out, and the screaming came to an abrupt and ominous halt. After about a minute of total silence, I jumped up and ran ten yards to the beach gate to have a look while Dave, Roger, and Sharon took off at a dead run for the main house. Pretty stupid now that I think about it, but at the time it seemed important to know which way the shooters were headed.
Flies buzzed around me in the hundred-degree heat as I peered cautiously around the gate pillar. Normally this section of beach was overrun on Sunday afternoons with locals strolling hand in hand, chatting and laughing. There wasn't a soul in sight now. They'd evaporated like a flock of frightened sea gulls.
Abruptly, two Africans in green AFL fatigues emerged from the clutter of shacks about a hundred yards north. They each had a rifle in one hand and the thin wrists of a man's body in the other. This 'man' didn't look a day over sixteen. He was wearing a single, tattered gray tennis shoe, blue jogging trunks and a blood-spattered white T-shirt with 'New York City' printed on the front in big, green letters over a prominent red apple. They tugged him down to the water line and dropped him carelessly with a dull 'whump' like a sack of potatoes, then stood there talking casually. One glanced up and down the deserted beach while the other lit a cigarette, took a drag, and shared it with his partner. After about thirty seconds, they turned and sauntered up the beach to the north without looking back, laughing and poking each other in the ribs, leaving the waves slapping at the head and shoulders of the victim, rocking him gently back and forth. I crouched there, transfixed by that bloody spectacle, studying the body and oddly entranced by the way the blood dribbled slowly into the white sand from a gaping hole where his left ear had been a few moments before. Each gentle caress of the waves rinsed the growing pool of blood away, allowing a new one to form in its place. I was struck by how the clear, green water seemed to be struggling somehow to purify the beach of the corruption of death. As I studied the scene in a curious mixture of detachment and horror, my mind began slipping back to another beach and another place many years ago.
I was standing like that then, too, frozen in my police uniform, like a big statue among the river willows, insulated from the pain of the world by that blue uniform and badge. The roar of a river was in my ears and the pungent, sweet smell of death was heavy in the cool, crisp spring air.
Detached, I gazed down on another body. That one too, lay face-down in the shallows, rocking gently back and forth. She had been a young girl with long, silky black hair. She was my first murder victim. In my mind's eye I saw my hand reach down and grasp that tiny soft shoulder and turn her over in slow motion in the dark, icy water, liberating an overpowering stench of corrupted flesh. Two empty eye sockets glared back at me from a dark mass of slimy grey tissue. Those eyes had once gazed spellbound at the world around her. That gaping, lipless mouth had once giggled shyly at admiring young boys who drank unashamedly of her beauty. One of those same boys perhaps had slit her soft white throat and dropped her body carelessly into that river, there to cook and simmer and lie in wait for this dark destiny to bring us together. That same dark destiny drew me now to this blood-soaked African beach eight thousand miles from home.
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About Michael James Jaquish
Michael Jaquish is a published poet, novelist and international journalist who has written for a variety of publications including Soldier of Fortune magazine. Following his retirement from law enforcement administration in the Pacific Northwest, he worked overseas in West Africa for many years providing security and Intel and logistical support for The US Embassy, The European Union, The United Nations, Save the Children, Voice of America and NASA. He currently resides in the Pacific Northwest where he writes and serves as an international security consultant and private investigator. He has published several other books, including Time Loves a Hero, Surviving the Darkness, Tales of a Country Cop in Africa, Firearms Marksmanship and Street Survival and The Role of the Security Officer.
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