The "Land of the Rising Sun" is at it again, this time attempting to steal U.S. secrets for the supersonic passenger jet of the future that will allow America to dominate the global market. With rough-and-ready FBI agents, business tycoons, and a tough-talking president, East meets West in a showdown of steel nerves and military muscle.
A sexy, mach-speed thriller, America First, by Michael G. Basford, will leave you flying high.
I did not mean to be killed today.
Dying words of Vicomte de Turenne French commander, Battle of Salzbach,1675
The two Pasadena cops sat in their patrol car on Colorado Boulevard discussing the possible sexual proclivities of the two young ladies walking toward them. They had picked up a couple of Big Macs and fries at the local golden arches and were relaxing on their unofficial break. Their favorite spot was under the eucalyptus trees in the cool shade of the boulevard.
Zeb, the older cop, had about ten years on the force and on the whole was a damn good cop. He had gone to seed physically-too much weight had been added with a corresponding proportionate loss of hair. He had a reddish complexion with a lot of freckles, and light blue eyes. In his younger days people told him he looked like Van Johnson, the movie star. He had been through one divorce and was currently separated from his second wife. The force considered him an excellent mentor for younger officers, steady and heavy on common sense. His younger partner, Vince, who had been on the force a year, looked good in his uniform and cut a wide swath through the ladies and some who were not so ladylike in Pasadena. Vince was six foot two with a slender build, sparkling brown eyes and short cropped brown hair. He had a keen sense of humor, which Zeb kept telling him that he'd soon lose in another year or two on the force.
"Shit, Zeb you mean I'll be an old grouch like you," he kept responding to his older partner. He and Zeb worked well together and had developed into an excellent team.
The women they were currently ogling were in their twenties and wore ass hugging mini skirts and tight sleeveless blouses and had figures that raised the cops' libidos enough for them to put down their burgers. They looked almost like twins, California look alikes, blonde and healthy, one a trifle shorter with a fuller figure.
Vince said, "I've got a flashing red light, Zeb." "You're always on overload Vince," from a leering Zeb. The ladies, obviously employed in one of the numerous banking or investment houses in that area, wore fashionable clothes that spoke to the generous salaries of the Pasadena area. The women had that certain look that went with money or at least aspired to it.
The city was of course known for the Rose Bowl, the big parade and its classic line, `little old ladies in tennis shoes.' It was a very sedate city of stodginess, old money and a financial center that rivaled many of the better known centers of the world. All-in-all a city that was conservative and had considerably less crime than other cities it's size. The cops were better off and far happier than their cousins in Los Angeles. Pasadena a city and a people satisfied with their lot.
"That's pretty primo stuff," said Vince to his partner. "God yes," Zeb responded, "Watching the action on Colorado Boulevard is better than looking over the whores on Sunset Strip."
Meanwhile the young women were observing the cops as well.
"Do you think those lechers in blue are talking about us?" asked the taller one.
"You can bet on it, burgers, donuts and sex in that order, that's all their little minds can handle," responded the shorter one with a laugh.
"You ever dated a cop?" the tall girl asked.
"Yeah, he was fun when he wanted to be but sometimes he would be kinda far away. A great lover but don't even think about marrying one, it would be a bum trip."
As they walked by, the young cop said, "Morning ladies," with a big smile.
"Good morning officers," they responded and walked on with just a twitch of their asses.
"Oh lord," said Vince.
About that time they both noticed an Oriental carrying a brief case start across the street in the middle of the next block. He was well dressed and fit in with the other citizens in this part of the city, but obviously his mind was elsewhere as he did not bother to look up as he stepped off the curb.
Katsui was thinking that last night was the finest in his life. The sex was "tak-san", and that long legged blonde had turned him every which way but loose. What a night!
"That guy can get killed doing that," Zeb stated. "He probably just bought Pasadena and is now our new boss," chuckled Vince.
Simultaneously an enormous yellow Cadillac came hurtling down Colorado Boulevard. It looked like there was no one driving it, but upon closer examination there was a large set of sunglasses peering between the steering wheel and the instrument panel.
"Oh shit," said Vince, as if in slow motion the enormous car struck the Oriental and tossed him over the Cadillac. He had sensed the car coming and turned his head just before impact. He had the wide-eyed mouth open look of pure terror, like a deer caught in the glare of headlights. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, the body parts seeming to flop like a Raggedy-Ann doll. There was the squeal of brakes and the Caddy came to a stop some 70 feet beyond the inert form of the Oriental.
"Hit the lights and siren and I'll call for an ambulance and back up," said Zeb.
"Watch the damn cokes and burgers," said Vince.
The younger officer immediately started the patrol car and they proceeded to the scene. It took only a few seconds, but there was already a crowd gathering around the broken and inert form.
"He has to be dead," said the younger cop, as they exited the police car.
"I'll take the guy. You take the old gal in the Caddy," said the older cop. The old lady had exited her car and between crying and cursing was telling the world that, "The oriental just stepped out in front of me."
She was eighty if a day and had on a set of huge sun glasses. To the young cop, she looked like a big bug. Her sack dress was ugly but expensive and her grayish-blue hair was well taken care of. But I'll be a son-of-a-bitch - she has on tennis shoes, he thought.
"Lady, please calm down and let me get some information," said the young patrolman.
"I think I need a lawyer," she cried, "Not a policeman."
Another patrol car and the ambulance had arrived on the scene and some order was being restored to the accident site. Keeping the traffic moving was always a problem at the scene of an accident. The good citizens had to see the blood and gore. Zeb had taken the Japanese guy's (he was now a known as his passport and other ID had been removed from the body) open briefcase that was lying on the pavement. He scooped up the papers and put them in the briefcase and put it hurriedly into the back seat of their car.
The Jap (improper but used often) is dead and has a passport so Headquarters needs to call the Japanese consulate for disposition, thought Zeb. The precinct supervising Sergeant had arrived on the scene and finally, with the removal of the body, things had quieted down and most of the, `looke lous,' had gone about their business.
"The old lady is really chewing on the sergeant's ass. "God I love it," said Zeb to Vince, "She's blaming the cops for not enforcing the jay-walking law. Shit, the skid marks indicate she was doing at least 50 miles per hour in a twenty-five mile per hour zone."
"Poor fucking Jap never had a chance-old ladies in tennis shoes driving caddys could stop a German panzer division," laughed Vince.
"Let's go and you'd better watch that word `Jap', get politically correct or you'll be back in watermelon school" said Zeb smiling.
As they got in the patrol car, Vince said, "What about the briefcase?" It was lying on the back seat, partially opened with papers sticking out.
"Meant to give it to the Sarge. Yeah, you better button it up," said Zeb.
As the younger cop got out and opened the back door to straighten up the brief case he opened it completely and glanced at the papers.
"Oh shit," he exclaimed, "Have a look at this!"
"Why, what did you find? Money or dope," chuckled Zeb. "Take a look," Vince responded.
The papers were obviously detailed engineering drawings and data and all marked:
FEDERAL AIRCRAFT COMPANY SECRET COMPETITION SENSITIVE
"This could be very sticky. Call the supervising sergeant and let him sort it out. I don't think the Jap had any business with those papers and data."
"OK," responded Vince and he reached for the mike. "Shit, more paperwork," said Zeb.
Pasadena Police Station
The sergeant looked at the papers ill the brief case and turned to the watch commander, "What do you think Lou?" The police diminutive for lieutenant the country over.
"LAPD's got a group involved in this stuff. I'll call a friend over there and see if this is of interest. My gut feeling is that this is a bomb and we need to pass it along immediately. "
"Okay, it's all yours," said the Sergeant.
"I got it. Shit, with the Jap dead and the consulate soon to be involved, I better get cracking," and with that the Lieutenant returned to his office.
Picking up the phone he called his friend's number in the LAPD. "Hello Jack ... yeah it's me ... Clay, over in Pasadena."
"Thanks, you too, are you ready to leave the LAPD yet? No? I thought not. Listen, I may have a hot one for you. One of our little old ladies in tennis shoes just took out a Jap national."
"No she didn't shoot him. Jesus, she hit him with a large caddy...yeah that's right, most dangerous thing on earth since the dinosaurs disappeared. Heh heh."
"Jack, come on over and take a look at the contents of his briefcase. It looks like industrial espionage to me ... yeah I'll spring for lunch.
"No that's too nice a place for an LAPD cop, we'll do Chinese. See you in an hour."
He hung up the phone thinking "those poor bastards in LA... they really have to be dedicated, they take so much shit. What the hell, it's their choice I guess"
Maybe I can get something done before lunch.