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The 13th Power, Quest Book 1 in the Janis Mackey Sci‐Fi Thriller Trilogy Copyright © 2001 Terry Wright
Library of Congress Number 2001092250 ISBN 0‐9678895‐4‐5 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and/or retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Originally published in trade paperback by Gardenia Press Republished electronically by TWB Press Cover art by Terry Wright For inquires or to order the paperback version of this book, go to: www.terrywrightbooks.com TWB Press 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
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Chapter One
Borneo
Melvin Anderson balled his fists. “Just fly this damn thing,” he
shouted over the clattering engine and slapping rotor blades. Heart
pounding with dread, he twisted in his seat and looked behind the copter.
Three Malaysian Federation patrol choppers were flying a wedge
formation several hundred yards back...and closing. “Damn!”
Fred Jenkins worked the stick. “What the hell do they want?” With
white knuckles, he skimmed the copter over the rainforest canopy. Tracers
streaked past the glass bubble. Faint gunfire rattled in the distance.
“They’re gonna kill us!”
The radio crackled. “Control. Victor Eagle One,” a chopper pilot
reported to his base command post. “We have visual contact.”
Melvin shuddered. “Those bastards never give up.”
“Good idea,” Fred said. “We’ll give up before they blow us out of the
sky.”
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“Easy for you to say…”
“Jesus! I’ve got kids at home.”
“Hope you kissed ‘em goodbye this morning.”
“Damn it, man! We don’t stand a chance against those guys.”
Melvin gulped. Fred was right. This little two‐seater was no match
for those military choppers. Sure—it was risky chartering this copter to
Ketapang, but there was no other way. The Malaysian authorities were
watching every transportation hub. He had to catch a fishing trawler to
Jakarta. He had to get away.
The copter banked left and descended sharply. Melvin’s stomach
floated and dived. He glanced at Fred. Beads of sweat trickled down the
man’s weathered face. He’d probably already pissed in his pants. Little did
he know his high‐dollar passenger would cause him so much trouble. Bad
luck for Fred. “Hope you’re a better pilot than a hero—watch out!”
Fred veered left, just missing a tree branch. “Think you can fly this
thing any better?”
“I was flying crop dusters across Sumatra back when your mommy
was powder‐puffin’ your behind.”
Gunfire rattled again.
“What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Nah! They’re just a bunch of sore losers.”
“I didn’t ask for none of this military shit, and I don’t want in the
middle of your squabble. I’m just running a flying service, for God’s sake.”
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“You’ll be flying with wings on your back if you don’t shake these
guys.” Melvin turned around to check the squadron’s position. Another
volley of tracers streamed past, closer this time. There had to be a way to
get out of this mess. He searched the leafy canopy whizzing by below. An
opening appeared. “Go right, damn it! Go right!”
Copter blades strained in the turn.
“Down there!” Melvin pointed to the river below them, peeking out
from under the forest canopy. “Go! Go!”
“You gotta be nuts!”
Melvin pushed the stick forward. The copter dove toward the river.
“Shit!” Fred pulled his aircraft out of the dive and skimmed the skids
over the frothy surface.
Jungle closed in around them. The riverbed turned dark as night,
except for the occasional bursts of sunlight that flashed through scattered
gaps in the canopy. Melvin swallowed hard. He’d really screwed up this
time.
Fred flipped on the landing light switch. Halogens illuminated the
eerie, forested tunnel. The skids clipped riverbank ferns. The rotors nicked
low‐hanging branches. One wrong move—they’d be swimming with the
crocs.
Streams of white tracers flashed by, bright as burning magnesium.
Hot alarm pumped through Melvin’s chest. He craned his neck to
look back. The Federation choppers were flying single‐file right behind
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them, their spinning rotor blades clipping tree branches as they rocked side
to side in the air. He couldn’t believe the balls on those pilots...following
them into this treacherous tunnel. Another burst of gunfire shredded tree
limbs alongside the copter.
“Warning shots,” Fred shouted as he dodged a fallen log. “They
could’ve shot us down already. Don’t you see? They’re giving you a chance
to surrender.”
“No way in hell!” Melvin snarled. “I’m not gonna spend the rest of
my life in a Sumatra prison. I’d rather die—so keep this bird in the air.”
“Sore losers, huh?” Fred muttered and banked his copter through a
sharp bend in the riverbed. Ahead, another large opening in the canopy
appeared. “We’re getting out of this deathtrap, right now.”
“No, don’t!”
The copter nosed up and broke out into sunlight. Melvin clenched
his jaw. What a stupid move. Now they were back in the open. “God damn
you, Fred!”
The Federation choppers flared out and flanked the copter on both
sides. Now they were flying rotor tip to rotor tip. Melvin glared at the
chopper on the left. The flight officer bared his teeth and pointed his
gloved finger down, mouthing the word land. Melvin sneered at him and
turned to the chopper flying starboard. He locked eyes with the pilot and
flipped him a finger. “Bastard! You’ll never take me alive!”
The radio crackled. “Hail Delta‐Four‐Niner‐Echo. Melvin
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Anderson—you’re under arrest.”
Wide‐eyed, Fred said, “We gotta do what they say.”
Melvin pulled up the pant leg of his jungle fatigues and reached into
his boot. He palmed the cold steel of his .44 Magnum. Risk nothing; gain
nothing. There’d be no prison in his future, even if he had to fly this damn
thing himself—or die.
He snapped back the breach and pressed the muzzle against Fred’s
temple in plain view of the flanking officers.
“Say goodbye, Fred.”
“No!”
Melvin squeezed the trigger.
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Chapter Two
Boulder, Colorado
Janis Mackey, sweltering in his suit coat, stood on the bandstand and
scanned rows of gold and black banners hanging limp in the hot, still air.
The CU Buffs had a great stadium. They were a great football team. But
today was his day for glory—a day he’d worked toward for a long time.
Like warm spring‐water, pride welled up in side. He looked over the
crowd gathered for his induction ceremony: faculty, friends, and students,
familiar faces, all smiling. They sat in bleachers set up on the fifty‐yard line.
Classes were out; the semester was over. Summertime had come to the
Rockies. He pushed his wire‐framed glasses up the bridge of his nose,
wishing his mother could have been here to share in his moment of glory.
But she didn’t even know who he was anymore.
He hooked a finger under his collar, gave it a tug, and looked toward
the foothills. A gray cloud hung over Flagstaff Mountain. Silent forks of
lightning flashed to the ground. This heat wouldn’t last much longer. The
weather would provide a typical summer afternoon in Colorado:
thunderstorms, wind, and hail, but he loved living here—the peaceful
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university life.
Head dean Dan Billings stepped up to the microphone. Sunshine
glinted off the top of his bald head, and his tie looked too tight.
“A‐hum.”
His voice reverberated around the stadium.
“As you all know, Dr. Mackey has been on the faculty here for
twenty‐two years. He’s been a credit to the University of Colorado and an
excellent teacher. Today he takes the big step up to administration.”
The crowd applauded.
Janis showed them a smile. Had it really been twenty‐two years?
Teaching and researching the awesome power of numbers and the rules by
which they existed had made him well revered in a small group of elite
men. But the job didn’t pay enough—just a notch above poverty level—
after his mother’s expenses: medications, doctors, and the nursing home.
Like leaches, they’d sucked her savings dry—and then his. After the money
ran out, Medicaid kicked in, which helped some, but not enough. There
were cheaper alternatives for her care, he knew, but he couldn’t let her wilt
away in some low‐dollar state‐run nursing home. A single mom, she’d
sacrificed a lot for him in her lifetime. She deserved the best care his money
could buy.
“As head of the Mathematics Department,” Billings added. “He’ll
oversee the faculty and counsel students on their career goals.”
Janis ran his fingers through pepper‐gray hair. How many hundreds
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of kids had he seen graduate? Thousands maybe. He could take that
accomplishment to his grave, no problem, but not to the bank.
“Dr. Mackey and I have been best of friends for the past ten years.
I’m proud of his achievements and honored to have him on my staff.”
Again, applause echoed around the stadium. Janis waved at the
crowd. Finally, a promotion and a raise. Now, after taking care of his
mother, there’d be money left over. He could junk that old Subaru and buy
a new car. And that little house just off the turnpike—buying it was now
within his financial reach.
Dan tapped the microphone. “And by the way, he’s still single, in
case any of you ladies might be interested.”
Janis frowned. He didn’t need any help finding the wrong women.
He’d done just fine on his own—like with Donna. She was a nice gal but
complained he didn’t have enough time for her. She wasn’t really mad
when she left. She just left.
And then there was Jill—what a babe. But her cats stunk up the
apartment. He told her she had to make a choice; it was him or the cats. She
was mad when she left...and took her damn cats with her.
He was never going to find the right woman.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Janis Mackey.”
***
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To purchase a trade paperback copy of this book, while supplies last,
go to: www.terrywrightbooks.com
About the Author, Terry Wright
There’s nothing mundane in the writing world of Terry Wright. He thrives on adrenaline. Tension, conflict and suspense propel his readers through the pages as if they were on fire. Published in Science Fiction and Supernatural, his mastery of the action thriller has won him International acclaim as an accomplished screenplay writer. A longtime member of the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, he runs their annual Colorado Gold Writing Contest. Terry lives near Denver with his wife, Bobette, and a Yorkie named Ginger, who is really the boss of the family.
Learn more about Terryʹs books, short stories, and screenplays at
terrywrightbooks.com.
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Enjoy reading Terry’s other short stories and novels:
The Gates of Hell ( New Line Press, 2010) Justin Graves Series, Book 1 eBook and Kindle short story
Supernatural Thriller
When Justin Graves and his daughter are murdered, he makes deal with the devil to save her soul: one hundred bad guys for her pardon from hell.
Night Stalker (New Line Press, 2010) Justin Graves Series, Book 2 eBook and Kindle short story Supernatural Thriller Justin Graves goes after a night stalker who killed a young bride on her wedding night and got away with the murder.
Black Widow (New Line Press,2010) Justin Graves Series, Book 3 eBook and Kindle short story Justin Graves seeks out a beautiful woman who kills her lovers. She’s every man’s dream date, but don’t disappoint her...or else!
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Z‐motors, The Job from Hell (New Line Press, 2010)
eBook and Kindle short story
Horror
In this satire on zombies in the workplace, the dark side of the auto repair business is exposed, and a mechanic’s quest to overcome unemployment leads his family down a disastrous path.
The Duplication Factor (Essential10 Publishers, 2010)
eBook novel and Kindle
Science Fiction Thriller
Speculation has it, in scientific circles and the press, that in some secret lab somewhere, a human has already been cloned. The truth is there were two clones, a corporate tycoon and a mass murderer. The consequences were horrific.
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