STOLEN POWER
PETER O’MAHONEY
STOLEN POWER
A Jack Valentine Thriller
Peter O’Mahoney
Copyright © 2020
Published by Roam Free Publishing.
1st edition.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Belu.
https://belu.design
Also by Peter O’Mahoney
*****
In the Jack Valentine Thriller Series:
Gates of Power
*****
In the Tex Hunter Legal Thriller Series:
Power and Justice
Faith and Justice
Corrupt Justice
*****
*****
In the Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:
Redeeming Justice
Will of Justice
Fire and Justice
A Time for Justice
Truth and Justice
*****
STOLEN POWER
A JACK VALENTINE THRILLER
BOOK 2
PETER O’MAHONEY
Chapter 1
At least twenty-five smiling children were on the play equipment, at least twenty-five potential kidnapping targets.
They looked so happy, so carefree, and so innocent on the Saturday morning. For most of the parents at the playground it was a normal start to the weekend, a moment to let their hair down after another stressful week at work. A chance to forget the stress, forget the rush, and forget the anxiety. Let their kids be kids, and take in some time outside.
The air was fresh. It was a bright spring morning, and although the sun had been up for two hours, dew still clung to the grass. Some of the children wore warm coats, others were comfortable in only their t-shirts. It was a colorful array, matching the spring flowers just emerging around the edges of the park. This was a place of happiness, of innocent joy and beauty, but danger lurked there too.
The kidnapper had parked on the road near the edge of the playground, only twenty yards away from the bottom of the slide. The kidnapper searched for the right target, scanning over the boys and girls, laughing freely with no idea of how easy their lives were.
They were rich kids, privileged and comfortable, the sons and daughters of people with money.
But the children didn’t know that yet, they were still so happy. So free.
The glee in their voices, the excitement on their faces.
Their clothes were so pristine, so perfect. For them, life was still an easy collection of days spent with friends; learning, laughing, growing. They knew danger was alive in their city of Chicago, they had practiced school shooting drills earlier that week, but it was just part of their routine, and always an arm’s length away. Their schools were well protected, with very visible security, so real danger was still an abstract concept. Until now. Not one of the children sensed the threat. They were completely unaware of the menace lurking in the street.
The kidnapper spotted the perfect target.
The father looked distracted, he looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Clean-cut and well-dressed, it was clear this was anything but a day off for him. This man didn’t have days off. Time spent with his child was more an obligation than a joy, a task that had to be negotiated and carried out, while business went on as usual. He took a phone call, shooing his beautiful daughter away. The father couldn’t ignore his phone; the kidnapper knew that. The phone was the father’s lifeblood, his way to make more money. The father was only ever concerned with his wealth. It was his driving force, his reason for getting up in the morning, his all-consuming motivating factor. What he really lived and breathed for.
The phone conversation became louder, and the father stepped away from the playground, away from his five-year-old blonde daughter, putting her in imminent and growing danger with every fateful step he took, both father and daughter completely unaware of the kidnapper’s eyes fixated on them now, watching their every move.
There were so many choices, so many distracted parents. This Saturday morning was a smorgasbord of options.
One five-year-old child had even wandered away from the play equipment by himself, completely ignoring his parents, following a small bird. His wonder was admirable, although they say that curiosity killed the cat.
Kids are so gullible, so easily convinced.
All the kidnapper needed was an instant, one fleeting second of opportunity.
Noble looking, gently swaying, poplar trees lined the yard around the play equipment, and the grass was recently cut. A dog park was next door, and the yapping of the dogs only raised the level of joy in the area. There was a sense of innocence, a sense of joyous freedom.
The kidnapper stepped out of the van and walked closer to the playground, careful not to draw any attention. The kidnapper had dressed to fit in, to look the part of a parent in the upscale suburb, clothes stylish and expensive, but not flashy, clearly designer but without any obvious labels.
“Hello.” The kidnapper leaned down to one little girl, resting a knee on the ground. “I have some chocolates for you.”
The girl smiled.
She was a happy girl, blue eyes, still carefree, a look of pure innocence. Her skin was soft, her cheeks round, and her clothes were clearly brand new. Her shoes were perfectly white Mary Janes, her socks pulled up to her knees, and her fingernails looked like they had been manicured.
The girl didn’t have a worry in the world. Not yet.
“I love chocolates.” The girl smiled.
The plan was perfect. So simple. So easy.
Closer.
The other parents in the park were so at ease, so calm, that they didn’t realize the danger lurking within their own park. They were distracted, too busy with their own lives,
