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Back Thunder of Heaven Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. PRAISE FOR TEDDEKKER’S NOVELS
  3. TITLE PAGE
  4. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  5. LETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER
  6. DEDICATION
  7. TABLE OF CONTENT
  8. PROLOGUE
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  53. EPILOGUE

“I’ve said it.” Casius eased up on his tone. “Call it a hunch. Either way, don’t try to defend me. I have to leave now.”

“Does this mean you’re refusing to come in?”

“Good-bye, David.”

THE SUBURBAN home had been built in the fifties, a two-story farmhouse crowded by an expanding city. He’d purchased it five years ago and it had functioned as well as he’d expected.

Casius ran through the inventory quickly. He estimated the value of the contents alone at over half a million dollars. Most of it he would leave behind for the wolves. He could only afford to take what would fit in a large sports bag. The rest he would have to leave and risk losing to their searches. It didn’t matter. He had millions stashed in banks around the world, most of it taken from one of his very first hits—an obscenely wealthy militant.

Casius strapped each of three canvas cash-packed straps tightly to his waist. The $700,000 would be his only weapon now. He pulled a loose black shirt over his head and examined himself in a full-length mirror, pleased with his new appearance. His hair hugged his skull in a close-cropped sandy brown matting—a far cry from the black curls he’d sported just ten hours earlier. His eyes stared a dark menacing brown rather than blue. It wouldn’t be enough to throw off a professional, but the ordinary person would have a hard time identifying him as the man in the CIA profile. The money belts bulged slightly at his waist. He would have to wear his trench coat.

Casius glanced around the house one final time and lifted the bag. In an ironic sort of way, leaving so much brought a warmth to his gut. It had all come from them, and now he was giving it back. Like flushing the toilet. The system that had spawned men like Friberg was no better than Friberg himself. He wasn’t sure which he hated more, Friberg or the sewer he had crawled from.

But that was all going to change, wasn’t it?

Casius left the house, tossed the bag in the rear of his black Volvo, and slid behind the wheel. The dash clock read 6 P.M.—nearly twelve hours had passed since his call with David. They would be coming soon. Once the CIA discovered his absence, they would follow him carefully, knowing full well that he would kill whoever got in his way.