Putsch

Putsch

A Hannah Fisher Thriller.

Augusto Pinaud

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 Augusto Pinaud

All rights reserved. This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews or mentions of the book.

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CONTENTS

DEDICATION

OTHER BOOKS BY AUGUSTO PINAUD

PUTSCH

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

FEEDBACK, COMMENTS AND REVIEWS

Special Thanks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Para Olga Pinaud, mi Abuela Ima.

Para Dolores Vegas, mi Ane.

Por todos los recuerdos, todo lo que aprendí, todo lo que me enseñaron y todas las cosas que compartieron conmigo mientras crecía, todas esas cosas me hicieron lo que soy. Estoy muy agradecido por todo, mi corazón siempre se alegra cuando recuerda esas aventuras de niño.

To Olga Pinaud, mi Abuela Ima.

To Dolores Vegas, mi Ane.

For all the great memories and all that I learned. All that you taught me; and all the great things you shared with me growing up. All those who made me what I am today. I am grateful for everything, and my heart will always smile as I remember all of the early adventures as a boy.

OTHER BOOKS BY AUGUSTO PINAUD

- The Writer

Available on Amazon on PaperBack and Kindle, Apple iBookstore, Sony Ebook Store, Diesel, Kobo, and Smashwords

putsch |poŏ ch |

noun

a violent attempt to overthrow a government.

ORIGIN 1920s: from Swiss German, literally ‘thrust, blow.’

CHAPTER ONE

Marco Aurelio was walking totally satisfied; he had just enjoyed a large meal of steak, chorizo, potatoes and two glasses of expensive red wine. He didn't care that the rest of the second bottle was going to be wasted; anyway, he hadn't paid for the meal. Everything was paid for with the government credit card, his nice expense account, and as always he was satisfied with the fact that the deal was closed, full of himself, proud and happy, the expropriation of the land was going to bring him a little over a million dollars to his personal fund. One more closed deal, he thought. With this he was going to be able to get that place his wife wanted in France. Generally a great night; he was not only happy, but also proud.

He jumped into his silver Jaguar, the smell of new leather, the chrome luxury finish of the car; it was not only a Jaguar, but it was one of the most expensive ones you could get. It didn't matter that he didn't know how to use most of the features; the objective was to show that he was a powerful man, a rich one. He pushed the button that turned the engine and listened to the car roar. Smiling and satisfied, he began driving. What a smooth ride this car was. He was going home, it was time to spend some time with the family; tomorrow was going to be another great day. If things worked out, and things always worked out for Marco Aurelio, he would be able to reach an agreement and execute the other deal, expropriate the other land, and make the other million he was expecting. Not bad, a couple of million in that week. Without a doubt he was enjoying the feelings of success, he was feeling like a two million dollar man. He was so full of himself. It didn't matter that the people in the country he was helping to govern were dying from starvation and that people didn't have money to buy basic needs; he had done well for himself: he had a big house, drove an imported car, a full luxury imported car and had, more importantly, power and immunity. He knew that he was untouchable, almost invincible. No one would dare touch him. He had done well, he was on top of the world, and he was sure to show it to all those people that were not. In his mind there were two kinds of people: people like him, first class people, and the rest, and the rest were there so they could be of service to those that were first class people like him.

Twenty minutes into the drive, enjoying the feeling of superiority, he saw her in his rearview mirror. Then he felt the cold tip of her gun softly on the side of his head.

Continue driving, don't do anything dumb, and I will keep you and your family alive.

Who are you? he asked.

I am the one asking questions here, understood?

Marco Aurelio just nodded. Regardless of how bad crime was in the country, Marco Aurelio knew that this was not simply a thief, no thief would dare to touch him, also her voice sound educated, refined, and she was not even a little bit nervous. This was most likely something else.

What are you looking for? I can give you some money. I can help you get anything you need, but let me go. How much did they pay you? I will double it.

I am not interested in your money. I have money. I want to go to your house, and don't try any funny business; the life of your kid depends on it.

Please, don't involve my Marcos. I have friends, money, power, and I will help you, but don't involve my family. Please don't harm them. All that feeling of being on top of the world was disintegrating at this moment. A feeling Marco Aurelio was foreign to, fear, was taking control. There’s nothing like a gun on the side of your head to help you get things into a little perspective. Maybe he wasn't on top of the world and wasn't as invincible as he thought, but he knew that he could change her mind, and if things got in his favor, make her pay.

Again, just drive home, relax, when we get there I will tell you what I need from you and we will make a deal. Everything will be done the way it should be done.

Okay. Marco Aurelio knew that he would most likely make a deal, make a promise, and hunt her down, until her entire family was dead. He had done it before, that was part of the power he had, and he knew how to use it.

Hannah Fisher didn't move, and Marco Aurelio simply drove his Jaguar until they arrived at his home. It was clear to him that she not only knew where he lived, but she wasn't playing any games, so he decided not to play any either until things were more in his favor, and then he would make the right move. There was a car in the driveway that he wasn't familiar with, but he knew better than to ask if someone was there. He would find a way to deal with the situation later. They got out of the car and walked into the house with Hannah Fisher on his back, and the gun on the right side, cold and hard.

I brought you to my home. What do you want now?

Hannah didn't answer, but hit him with the gun, hard on the head. This guy was testing her patience and she didn't have much. Marco Aurelio fell to the floor, bleeding;

I told you to be quiet, the next time I will not be this nice, she said.

He stood up, putting his hand on the bleeding spot where his blood was warm. Then he continued walking inside of the house.

Go to the master bedroom, she said.

He began walking up the stairs, confused, with the beginning of a headache generated by the blow to his head. What does this lady want? he asked himself. And why is she looking for me? Where is my family? There were so many questions and obviously this lady was not going to have unnecessary conversations with him. So, he simply walked to the master bedroom on the second floor, opened the door slowly and a smell came out of the door, a smell he wasn't familiar with but she was. He entered the room and went to his knees in panic. On the bed were his wife and kid in a pool of blood. He began to cry, feeling desperation and sadness. For a moment he even forgot about the bleeding, the headache, the gun and the woman behind him. He was going to begin raising his voice over his crying, trying to talk, trying to beg, trying to ask why, when Hannah Fisher pull the trigger, and made everything end instantly. The silence took over the room again, now it was just the smell of fresh blood and gunpowder.

Hannah put the gun that she used to kill the kid and the wife in Marco Aurelio's hand to make it seem