Dead Spies in the Basement
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
1944
The river was calm, showing only the ripples the boat left as it glided through the water. The boat had no trouble navigating against the steady flow heading for the
“Tie the boat over there,” the larger man directed.
“Let’s hurry. I will be glad to get out of here,” the smaller one responded. The two of them started up the embankment. The larger man was in much better shape, and he had to pause at the top to wait for the other.
The smaller man looked up at him, “Go on, I will catch up with you.” Seeming not to hear him, he continued to stare at the man as he neared the top. Once together again, they headed towards their destination through the woods. The smaller man stumbled, falling over an old rotten limb. As he did, it snapped, bringing the larger man to a stop. He seemed very nervous.
“Please be careful and try to be quiet,” he shouted.
Gray Wolf awoke, startled by the breaking of a twig. Someone was coming. She moved from her current position looking for better cover. A nearby thicket of bushes would do for now. Catching her breath, she peered through a small opening in order to get a better look. The noises grew louder. Not again, Scarface is still here. He had found her. She was too tired to run anymore. Gray Wolf would take her chances from her current cover. She could now see two men walking toward her.
The men were wearing strange clothing. Gray Wolf confirmed to herself this was definitely not Scarface or his warriors. They were not from any tribe she had met nor heard about before. Gray Wolf remained still as the men walked within ten feet of where she crouched. She held her breath.
The two men were walking down a path well traveled by them before. Their destination was a house just down the hill. As the trees thinned, they could see the house. The larger man felt a cold chill pass through him. He could not help but think about getting away from this place. He had felt the same unexplained chill many times before. It ran through his body. He felt like it even penetrated his bones. He did not like this house. He did not like the chills. His thoughts were causing him to increase his stride as if to shorten his final day here. He planned to be done and gone before long.
Gray Wolf closed her eyes as if she thought this would further conceal her presence. She listened to the voices grow louder, and then they began to fade. She opened her eyes. She could not understand how they did not see her. She felt that they did not belong here. Not knowing what action to take, she followed the men. After a long walk, a large object came into view. Gray Wolf had never seen anything like this before. It was tall with holes in its sides. No, it must be a cave as the men went into an opening. She wanted to go home; she was tired. These men should leave these woods; this ground is sacred.
Gray Wolf made up her mind that she would force these men to leave. She searched her mind for a solution. The tragic events she had witnessed clouded her thoughts. Gray Wolf sat down to rest, to think, but she fell asleep.
The men entered the rear of the house and immediately began to carry out their task. Each had separate duties and went their respective ways. Later, they would meet up for their final duties before leaving the house. Together, they would finish on time. They had no choice. Failure would not be acceptable in their world. The larger man named Schultz looked at his companion. He was a good soldier, but so was Schultz. His thoughts made him sad.
“Comrade, we must finish and leave this place quickly,” Schultz said as he continued to watch the man.
“Yes, yes, I know. We are almost done. We can still make it in time.”
Both men had worked non-stop through the night making several trips to the lakes edge. By now, they had worked continually for the last 14 hours. It was beginning to show in their work and attitudes. Tempers were nearing the surface. Time was short, and both men where becoming stressed. Their work was beginning to show signs of their attitudes. Although neither talked about what was next for them, they knew it would not be pleasant. The men they reported to would not tolerate failure. They had seen many men shipped to the war front for less than what they now faced. They also had administered punishment to failed comrades themselves. These men were traitors. Their demise was never pleasant. Both chose not to discuss there future.
“The sun will be down before we can finish. Let us just leave now. No one will know.” The smaller man was thinking about where he would go. He had already decided he was
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About the Book
A small time oil man, Will Evans, buys an old home only to uncover the secrets from its past. Will’s two daughters visit him for the summer and decide to assist him in remodeling the home, only to discover a basement filled with a shocking past. Will is forced to divulge some of their finds to his lawyer. The mysteries of the basement take them on adventure through the demise of a German spy to an Indian princess’ spirit. As Will digs into the background of the home, he stumbles upon a past too horrible to believe. Will and his daughters, Rachael and Rebecca, find themselves in the middle of two corrupt politicians. The senators are desperately trying to silence them. Will and his daughters receive assistance from the most unlikely source, the Indian princess that died almost 300 years earlier. Their troubles and adventures begin in
About the Author
William J. Evans was born in New Orleans Louisiana. He was brought up in the small town of Houma, located in the deep southern portion of the state. He attended South Terrebonne High and Nicholls State University. For the major portion of his life he has worked the Oil Field, in drilling and production industry. His career has taken him from South Louisiana to Texas and finally to Alabama, where he now resides in the city of Huntsville. He is married and the father of four children and two step children. Throughout his active career in the Oil Field, he had the opportunity to meet a variety of diverse people. This in combination with his great ability as a “storyteller” and his active imagination led him to begin writing. At the encouragement of his younger sister, he began to write” “Dead Spies in the basement”—thus his first novel is born.