Tainted Nog – Chapter 17

Seeing as its Christmas I thought I’d post a little teaser taster of my up and coming festive thriller ‘Tainted Nog’. The second of my Tainted Trilogy and the prequel to Tainted Milk. Its about a journalist who uncovers a terrorist plot to take over a sky scraper on Christmas eve 1988. Enjoy…

Garrison removed his vest and fashioned a makeshift bra for Sandra.
“Here” he said fastening and tightening it with the skilled light touch of a well seasoned seamstress… or lover. “This will keep your breasts warm.” His blood-stained torso glistened under the Christmas lights. The upper reaches of the forty foot Christmas tree provided amble cover while also affording Garrison a bird’s eye view of the entire Karamushi Plaza building’s lobby. From this vantage point, John Garrison could see all three hundred and forty terrorists and the eight hostages they held captive.
“I’ll be back in a second.” He reassured Sandra with the warmth of a well seasoned doctor or lover. Swinging gracefully from branch to branch, giant bauble to bauble, he settled just out of ear shot of Sandra.
“You still there buddy?” he whispered hopefully into his stolen police radio.
“You bet I am!” came back the comforting voice of Lieutenant Brown. “You think I’d miss this firework display?”
“Heh heh heh” chuckled Garrison, genuinely enjoying the banter. “I don’t have much time – I’m holed up here on top of the lobby Christmas tree”
“Sounds good” interrupted Brown, keen to remain involved in the conversation.
“I don’t want to worry her, but Sandra’s having a semi-serious allergic reaction to the pine needles of the tree. She’s swelling up like a stuffed turkey on Christmas day, which is tomorrow. If I don’t get her to a GP within the next few hours or so, she may be left with permanent scarring.” Garrison didn’t mention it to Brown, but it was this swelling that had led to Sandra’s bra not fitting her anymore.
“You know when all this is over John Garrison, I wanna buy you a beer.” said Lieutenant Brown earnestly, but manly.
“No way!” said Garrison curtly, in a way that shocked Brown. Had he done something to offend him? “I gave up drinkin’ a long time ago. How about a coffee instead?”
The sound of Garrison and Brown chuckling at this gag must have been enough to alert the terrorists to his location.
“Merry Christmas, John Garrison” rasped the familiar voice of Fritz Heidrichson and Garrison felt a gun nozzle digging into his neck.
“This is turning out to be one of the best Christmas Eve’s ever!” growled Garrison defiantly. He was being sarcastic though, it was almost certainly one of the worst.

…Not Also, But Only.