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River of No Return A Jake Trent Novel by David Riley Bertsch
River of No Return A Jake Trent Novel by David Riley Bertsch
River of No Return A Jake Trent Novel by David Riley Bertsch
The boy, Xiao, tottered from one foot to the other. He had been
standing in the water line for hours without a single step of progress. Hundreds of people were in front of him. Pain seized his
ankles. The summer heat made him sweat, and he swatted at biting flies.
His breaths came shallow and fast. Dry. Hed not had a drink
in almost twenty-four hours. No food either, but that wasnt even
on his mind. Other needs had to be fulfilled first.
Shoddy apartment towers littered Kowloon City. In contrast to
the immodest skyline of Hong Kong, the precarious gray sentinels
stood as a memento of hard times following the Japanese occupation during World War II, twisted obelisks teeming with the destitute and the depraved.
The new water main had been installed by Hong Kongs Social
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River of no return
The gutter? You bastard.
Shui stood and backhanded his younger brother hard across the
face. Xiao sat still for a moment, then picked up the railroad spike
the family used for self-defense. He turned to Shui and stabbed his
brother until he stopped moving.
Theres never enough, he said to his brothers raw body.
Xiao took the soda bottle and guzzled the rest of the water.
Xiao sweated and vomited for three days in the stench of his familys death. Mother and brother gone, and a father hed never
known. He wanted to die, yearned for it, but his fever subsided.
On the fourth day, he gathered every bit of strength he could
and wandered outside. He remembered a building where his
mother had said boys and girls went when they had no mother or
father. So he went there.
Once he was showered and fed, they began the tests.
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WEST BANK, SNAKE RIVER. OCTOBER 15, 2013.
3 P.M. MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME.
You sneaky little bastard! Jake Trent hissed under his breath.
Talking to himself. A sure sign of obsession.
The object of his disdain wasnt that little. Seventeen or eighteen inches at least. A good-size fish. Big enough to be a worthy
adversary, if he could ever get the size 18 cinnamon ant where it
needed to be.
It was a tough shot: forty-five feet across Trout Creek, upstream
of the tree roots and ten inches in under the willow. It would
require a big mend, but without submerging the ant, which would
prevent Jake from seeing the strike. He was on river right, looking
upstream and across to river left, where the king sat in his castle.
The mend, the upstream flip of the fly line meant to preserve
the dry flys natural drift, had been the problem. Jake had made the
proper cast a few times, but his mend pulled the fly under the sur5
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River of no return
the guesthouse, Jakes own residence on the property he owned
a little irony he enjoyedbroke down the three-piece rod, and slid
it back in its case. He could leave it conveniently assembled for his
next walkabout, likely tomorrow, but Jake liked to put everything
back in its place: the reel in its faux-velvet bag, and the eight-foot,
four-weight Winston back in its PVC tube.
After his equipment was stashed, he grabbed a diet soda from
the fridge and shuffled over to an old cowhide sofa by the woodburning stove. The flames from the morning were withering, and
the pile outside was diminished. Jake made a mental note to pick
up the cord of wood that J.P.his occasional employeehad
chopped for the bed-and-breakfast, the Fin and Feather.
Jakes cell phone was buzzing on the side table. Area code 202.
Jake flew through old associations. DC. Who could be calling from
Washington?
Hello?
Jake? A womans voice.
Who am I speaking with?
Its Divya.
Momentary confusion, then a bolt of recognition. Divya
Navaysam?
How many Divyas do you know? A sweet, flirty tone.
He thought hed recognized the voice, but it had been so long.
What in the world does she want?
Im calling to ask you a favor. Its about a legal issuea civil
rights issue, actually. Influencing Washington away from some
scary legislation. Speaking truth to poweryour sort of thing.
Divya went silent for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. I
think youll want to hear what I have to say.
Im not a lobbyist.
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