Der Schlussel: Hitler’s Key
Hitler’s agent provocateur, Der Schlússel (meaning the key, or Hitler’s key), lays waste to Hitler’s opposition for Lebensraum – expansion of the Fatherland and is charged with his final mission . . . assassinate FDR.
Two young boys come of age . . . one growing up in Germany, the beloved son of a WW I war hero who returns home with a shattered body and a wife who detests the sight of him. The other boy grows up under the love and tuteledge of his hardworking Amish farmer-father. The young German settles with his godless mother, ends up in Landsburg prison in an ajoining cell to an older man with a funny mustache who obviously has important political ties. He is embraced by the older man, taken into German Army after an early release from prison has been arranged and grows to excel in the army rising rapidly. When war breaks out in 1939 he has already spun his web of deadly stealth eliminating one of Hitler’s enemies after another – impediments to his Fuhrer’s plan for growth of the Fatherland. He is used by the Fuhrer interchangeably as an assassin and the star character in the Waffen-SS. While Der Schlussel excises one enemy after another earning him a chestful of medals and promotions, his counterpart in the U.S. has learned how to plow the fields behind his two Percherons and lead a life of simplicity and devotion to his family and Amish community. When the war reaches into the countryside of his Indiana farm, a consuming sense of responsibility to aid the country that has blessed his family – he joins the Army but in a non-confrontational role – an MP guarding German prisoners at a POW camp in central Indiana. The paths of the two boys, now young men, cross at the POW camp and lead to a startling conclusion.
Out of the Shadows
The American President covets a second terms in office but his numbers are down. He needs a shot in the arm to boost his ratings and maintain his office . . . and ego. A Nobel Peace Prize is his ticket. He gambles on leveraging peace talks among the IRA, the British, and Northern Ireland as the means to his end. However, there is a stumbling block he is told – an IRA assassin who must be removed. The President counters by sending to Ireland his own Special Ops assassin, Daniel Riley. . . but all the wrong people die.
Riley learns early on in Dublin that the Irish assassin isn’t really the problem. He discovers that a retired British Admiral, now heading MI-5 has a personal axe to grind against the Irish and has, for years has been conducting a personal vendetta using kill squads under the leadership of his personal bodyguard – a huge man who could crush a skull with his bare hands. Riley and the Irish with whom he joins forces unravel the nefarious plot and are shocked at how high it goes in the UK. Bloodied by their confrontation with the Admiral’s bodyguard and his contract Russian sniper, Daniel Riley and his Irish comrades move to put an end to Admiral Hornaway’s plan to retake all of Ireland under English rule.
The author was informed by a taxi driver heading into the city from the Dublin airport that the plot is not a fictional account. . . but reality – a reality not to be published in Ireland or the UK.
The Justice Paradigm
Excerpt –
The Lamborghini Murcielago two door Roadster idled its way along Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills at a snail’s pace. One might mistakenly believe that the car was under-powered or that the traffic was stop-and-go. There was a message being sent by the intolerably low speed for the incredibly high-speed vehicular masterpiece. Like its audacious color, the speed of the vehicle accented by the low-throated rumble of the exhaust made a social statement – a statement of power or perceived power and influence. It screamed: “Hey! Look at me! Only the greatest drive this car!?” His turgid ego was reinforced by a belief that no one greater had ever lived. The world was his plum to pick. His drive was a “victory lap” for having just beaten his court case for the murder of his wife.
. . . again – another buxom blonde who chest dimension was obviously larger than her IQ. The girl inched her way to the curb to where the athlete had brought the conspicuous car to a halt in a no parking zone. Her skirt was so short it virtually gave away all the secrets without even being asked. It was so tight that her gait had become an art form. The blonde leaned deeply over the sill of the passenger door and in the process exposed what little had been heretofore hidden.
. . . The driver’s eyes had narrowed to BB’s and his jaw set as he tilted his head virtually into the chasm of her cleavage. The decision had been made. He’d use this chick for all that she offered and then teach her a lesson. As he opened his mouth to tell her to get in, a nearly inaudible plinking sound broke the awkward silence and a small hole penetrated the windshield of the expensive car. The projectile also penetrated the forehead of the star athlete. The back half of his head erupted into a million shards of bone, blood and brain enveloping the buxom blonde’s cleavage in a surrealistic display for which she had no audible response. She looked first at the gruesome sight in front of her, then down to her new outfit for which she had just spent a small fortune. “Damn!”
The Graveyard
When a Washington bureaucrat loses his job due to the capricious actions of a president who has a unique agenda for his administration, the vagrant learns his wife has divorced him that day, he has no car and the ex-wife is deep into it with a Paul Bunyan lookalike.
Now homeless and officially a vagrant he wanders into the late night eventually stumbling into another down-and-outer. Sitting on the curb in front of a neighborhood tavern without enough money between them to buy the sweat off a bottle of beer, a large, black SUV pulls up to the curb and two men in black offer the two vagrants $100 each for a short job. “Walk through the graveyard, across the street, we’ll meet you in the back.”
When the spooky-looking, apparent government employees dump a “package” in the hole the vagrants had dug, a human body is exposed when the wrapping tears. The government ex-employee recognizes the face: U.S. Senator and Head of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee Franklin Billingsley.
The vagrants whack one of the spooky-looking Secret Service men over the head with a shovel, grab his ID and hightail it. They are pursued endlessly until the agents, themselves, are killed by their own people and a plot by the Head of the SVR, the KGB’s follow-up, begins to unravel for a Russian takeover of the U.S. government with the U.S. President committed to that outcome.
RELEASE IN SEPTEMBER 2026