Nikita's Plan, A Novel

Nikita's Plan, a Novel by Stephen Kenner

2008-08-01T19:57:00.000-07:00

Welcome to all,

I was raised in Southern California, but have travelled throughout the states and overseas. My life has always been full of challenges new and old. Spending most of my career as a corporate controller, CFO and Board Member, pancreatic cancer helped me make a major decision to change careers. So, why not start writing about passionate and provocative subjects like Nikita's Plan. Why not try to wake up this country to realities and harsh possibilities. Doggone right this is a risk. Not for me to write it, but for you to read it. Putting reality into a fictional dialogue might just spark interest in some fans. That would be nice since books two and three are in the mill.

I will be adding a snippet as time passes about the novel so as to lead you along and hopefully excite you into buying the book when it is finished.

Stay tuned for the first snippet....the prologue.

Thanks for your attention and responses.

Truly,

Stephen Kenner

Introducing the book's Co-author

2008-07-30T19:02:00.000-07:00

Joanna Whitehall Biography

Born in Birmingham, Alabama, before Pearl Harbor was bombed, Joanna was a Navy Brat, a Navy wife, a DOD civilian employee, and spent most her life on the West Coast until she met her second husband and moved back to Alabama, where they live on a forty acre cattle farm. She was always interested in politics but her interest peaked when Fred Thompson was drafted to run for President. She joined draftfredthompson.com and there met many people who were as conservative as she is, among them Steve Kenner. He asked her to help him with his book, and she accepted his offer. A voracious reader, she never dreamed that someday she would be helping to write a book, but the subject matter is of great importance to her and our nation.

May I add....Joanna has been a tremendous help to me. She softens up my rough language and scenes. She corrects my terrible spelling and writing structures. I would be lost without her help. Stephen

Prologue

2008-07-01T19:22:00.000-07:00

A bulbous, obnoxious man stood up during an early 1961 spring conference in Zurich and said in his rough, loud voice, in Russian, "We will bury you!" He wasn't talking to the world. He was talking directly to the United States. Nikita Khrushchev could barely stomach Ike, and he absolutely hated John Kennedy. No one really took much notice of that statement. After all, Nikita was promising on a monthly basis to blow up the U.S. Two weeks later, he clarified that statement. "We will not bury you with weapons. YOU will bury yourselves from WITHIN." During the following months we started to learn exactly what he meant. Khrushchev laid out subtle comments about our education system, our court system, our politics, but especially little hints about our news media. It's strange how one man could have the audacity to think he would be powerful enough to bring down an opponent in such a devious way. But even when he told us his plans, we ignored it.

How could we have allowed this to happen? How could we have been so self involved that we elected persons of immoral character, persons who put their personal power and greed above the good of our nation? How could we have allowed our education system to be taken over by lunatics, who allowed the dumbing down of America? Why didn’t we turn our backs on the media who supported the far right wing and far left wing individuals and manipulated the news just so they could have RATINGS? What happened to honest journalism? What happened that allowed judges to go from applying the law to creating the law? Why have we ignored and stopped teaching the wisdom of Plato and Socrates? Why aren’t our children studying in depth why the men who ratified and signed the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights risked their lives to create a democracy with wisdom far superior to Plato’s ideals?

Tell me folks, I really want to know. We have allowed this country to go down the drain, to be taken over by our worst enemy. Angry? Yes I’m angry, absolutely. And I blame myself just as much as I blame you. We didn’t need to allow this to happen. We were so involved with our work and play and trying to keep up with the Joneses that we totally ignored our responsibilities to our Nation. You know, the One Nation Under God with Liberty and Justice for All. Pretty hollow words now, I’d say.

So, are we going to stand up and fight for our Country? Are we going to make the same sacrifices that brought about the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution? I doubt it. We’ve learned to stick our heads in the sand and let others take care of everything. We have all been brainwashed by the Sixties me, me, me mentality where we want everything done for us. Who wants to put in a hard day's work when we can get everything we want from our mommy government?

Right now, open your eyes. Look around you. Do you see animosity, hatred, class envy, evil mistrust in our country? Does the U.S. feel like it’s crumbling under your feet? What is happening to our precious security? You have no idea what’s going on around you, so start sweating.

You want a civil war? No, you say?

Tough. You just got one! God help us all.

Snippets #1

2008-05-04T19:34:00.000-07:00

Suddenly there was a knock on the panel door. Jack sprang around rapidly, pulling out his brand new Ruger SR9. Ron had his hand ready on his Glock G21. As Jack slid open the door, he found himself aiming directly at the forehead of ……

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“Who is this guy? And, what are we doing here.” Ron asked. “I have never been more nervous in my life. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. We’ve been asked to spy on the Chair of the Intel Committee. And, it came from one of the top brass. What do you say Jack, how about pulling out and heading to D.C. to find out what’s up?”

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Jack was breathing heavily. Why didn’t he marry what’s her name when he left Cal Tec? What got him into such a mess? He chose this life, but he sure didn’t want it. Every time he saw a mother with children at the store there was always that deep pull, wanting to join. Now it was all too late. Deeply depressed, he felt again that this was the last day of his life. Why did Ron have to be here? It was not fair for him to suffer, too. “Nancy and the kids will never forgive me for getting him into this situation. But I didn’t, so why am I blaming myself?” He felt confused beyond hope, and couldn’t seem to keep his hand off his weapon. . “Oh, God, please help me. Please, please help me,” he whispered.

Snippets #2

2008-05-02T14:01:00.000-07:00

The puzzle was getting more and more complicated, with a bunch of nobodies, a political enemy, and a lot of food. No effort to hide anything. No sound from the L23’s. Everyone must be in the backyard.

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“There go my babies. One by one they’re shutting down. The place is being swept. OK, you tell me why a bunch of nobodies don’t want to be heard,” asked Jack?

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“I have a special surprise for you!” Simpson exclaimed. “I have instructed Anya to throw out all your food. She has spent all day preparing Salad Olivier, Kotlety Pozharskie, Badymzhan, Dolmasy and Belorussian Borsch.” The room came alive with excitement. Congressman Rhinehardt reached over to the senator and patted him on the back. “You have always known how to please an audience. What a fabulous treat for us all,” he said. One of the guests said, “I haven’t had any Dolmasy since I was 18, and that was 45 years ago. This is a great gift.”

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“We have all been here for many, many years. Our task was monumental, yet here we sit in our old age looking for that next adventure. Your dedication to our beloved Rodina has been superior in all ways. I am now happy to announce that…” The senator was cut off by Anya entering with the shot glasses of vodka. She slowly passed them around until each held it with both hands as if they were about to take communion.

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Ron looked over at Jack. He was intensely studying the voice patterns and tagging them when he found a name related to that pattern. He really wasn't listening too carefully to the conversation. "Wake up!" Ron hissed. "Are you even listening to what they are saying? We've got a whole room full of Ruskies that have been here covertly for forty-five years, and all you can think about is voice patterns?"

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"Screw the tools," Jack said calmly. "They have us blocked. I'm sure they have heavy weapons." Jack rapidly shucked his telephone worker’s disguise, checked his Ruger and counted his clips. He shoved his weapon into the shoulder holster under his brand new sports coat. "Did you call for back-up yet?" he yelled to Ron

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Jack's stomach came up into his throat. There were two toddlers playing in their sandbox in back of the house. Their mother was next to the back porch, weeding a flower bed. “I have to get out of here, now," he thought. As he turned to jump back over the fence he heard heavy footsteps running toward him. The truck driver had dropped off his passenger to follow Jack on foot. The Russian started to climb over the fence. Jack saw his massive body just on the other side of the grape stakes. Jack fired. Four shots went directly through the fence and into the gut of the Russian, who let off a string of shots as he slumped over the top of the fence.

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There was a red square lit button on the console between the Cadillac driver and his front seat passenger. The driver looked over to the passenger with a deep, blank stare, and while slowly cocking his head to one side, he pushed the button.

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The twenty minute drive to D.C. might as well have been a lifetime for Jack. His eyes were blurring and his hands were trembling, and he kept seeing the face of that precious little girl. “Senator Simpson is going to pay. He and his Commie buddies are going to pay, if I have to kill every one of them myself,” he thought to himself. Jack opened his cell and called the D.C. office.

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Responses

2008-05-01T12:12:00.000-07:00

I wish to thank all of you that have written to me at: stephen.kenner46@gmail.com

Your enthusiasm and suggestions are unique and quite appreciated. I am so excited to have you as friends in this battle for our country. Keep the faith and God Bless you all.

Stephen

Snippets #3

2008-04-01T07:19:00.000-07:00

Ron sat in the loft for a good hour playing with his guns and thinking about his next move. No contact with Jack, no contact with Nancy, holding onto this hotter-than-hell CD with no trusted place to pass it over. Think, Ron, think, review all of yesterday. What would Jack do? What would he want you to do? No, you're on your own now, you make the decisions. First, get out of here unseen. Second, get a long haired wig, mustache, sunglasses, or whatever. Third, get a cell phone, one of those prepaid jobs. Fourth, get a few clothes. Fifth, find a cheap motel some two hundred miles away from this hot spot and think things out.

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"Dan, I don't have time right now to reminisce, I need your help. Are you near a computer?"

"What's wrong, your computer down, your fingers broken? Ah, go ahead, its right in front of me, shoot."

"I need to find the location of Ronald and Nancy Tibbetts. I need everything you can get me on Senator Marcus Simpson. I need some equipment," said Jack.

"Ok, no problem. What do you want on the Senator, and why?"

"Can't answer why just yet, but I need a full background; birth, schooling, parents, where he learned to speak Russian."

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Maybe the bus hadn't been such a good idea. There was far too much time to think. Ron's mind was full of pictures of Nancy, Amy and Jeff. He couldn't get over the reality of his situation. How in the world could all of this be happening? Our country is overloaded with checks and balances. Are our intelligence departments so absorbed with red tape procedures that they could not see this coming? We have CIA, FBI, NSA, Secret Service, Military Intel, and a host of others. Were they so wrapped up in their own directives that they couldn't cross the communication line and find or pass on a hint that something was terribly wrong? You couldn't have thirty-eight thousand false people in this country without something being triggered. Or could you?

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"Ron! Oh, my God, it's you!" Amanda exclaimed. "Jack said you would be calling."

Ron's heart started beating again. “He's alive! I'm not in this by myself!” Contact; the greatest feeling a human can have is to know he’s not alone, especially when Hell is boiling up from the depths of the Earth.

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Ron's stomach was churning. He knew already what he had to do, but Jack's list made it sound so clinical. "If he calls back, tell him I understand." Ron just hung up the phone without responding to Amanda's questions. There was no sleep or food for this agent, not with what he had coming up.

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"Senator, this is Art. One of our people might have spotted Tibbetts at the San Francisco Airport last night. He tried to follow, but lost him in downtown Frisco.

"Shoot him!"

"We don't know where he is exactly."

"No, shoot our man, the idiot that let Tibbetts out of his sight. Then get hold of Pat and warn him. Have Pat set up a trap at his hotel room.”

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There was only one thing to do. Ron took the safety off both guns, and staying on the floor, pulled forward far enough to fire. His only chance was to catch them off guard.