{"id":238,"date":"2008-07-10T09:09:42","date_gmt":"2008-07-10T14:09:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=238"},"modified":"2008-07-10T09:09:42","modified_gmt":"2008-07-10T14:09:42","slug":"blood-brothers-by-rick-acker-first-wild-card","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=238","title":{"rendered":"Blood Brothers by Rick Acker – FIRST Wild Card"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It is time to play a Wild Card<\/span>!<\/strong> <\/span>Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a>. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter!<\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

Rick Acker<\/a><\/h2>\n

\n

and his book:<\/h3>\n

Blood Brothers<\/a><\/h2>\n

\n

Kregel Publications (May 31, 2008)<\/strong><\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/h3>\n

\"\"<\/a>Rick Acker writes his novels while commuting to and from his “real job” as a Deputy Attorney General in the California Department of Justice. His most recent novel, Blood Brothers, is an intense sequel to the legal thriller Dead Man’s Rule. Christy award-winning author Randy Ingermanson calls Blood Brothers “an excellent legal suspense novel, with a strong biotech backdrop. It reminded me of Michael Crichton’s latest novel, Next, except that Blood Brothers is better.” Rick is also the author of the well reviewed Davis Detective Mysteries, a series of adventure\/mystery novels for “tweens.”<\/p>\n

Rick is a transplanted Chicagoan who spent thirty-five years in the Midwest before finally trading the certainty of winter and mosquitoes for the risk of earthquakes. He now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his wife, Anette, their four children, and two cats.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $14.99
\nPaperback: 368 pages
\nPublisher: Kregel Publications (May 31, 2008)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 0825420075
\nISBN-13: 978-0825420078<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><\/span>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Chapter One<\/p>\n

A Gift From the Past<\/p>\n

A chill April rain fell outside Chicago\u2019s Field Museum, drenching the wide black umbrellas that protected the designer gowns, suits, and hairstyles of the arriving guests. They came in couples or small groups, checked their coats and umbrellas, and found their way to the reception in the Founders\u2019 Room, a venerable chamber with the feel of old money. The room\u2019s reception area held a collection of fine artifacts never seen by the general public. A massive, ornately-carved fireplace greeted guests with a roaring blaze. Two large crystal chandeliers cast a soft light from the high ceiling onto the guests mingling below.<\/p>\n

The room was full, but not too full\u2014the mark of a well-planned event. White-coated servers maneuvered deftly among the clusters of chatting guests, offering appetizers or glasses of champagne. The selection of baked appetizers reflected a bias for salmon\u2014perhaps because the hostess had been craving it when she planned the menu. Fortunately, most of the guests seemed to like salmon.<\/p>\n

Ben Corbin, who did not like salmon, stood by a table of cheese-based hors d\u2019oeuvres and watched his wife work the crowd. Two hours ago, Noelle had been a no-nonsense accountant, but now she had fully morphed into the role of society hostess: bright smile, well-coifed brown hair, unostentatious\u2014but not inexpensive\u2014diamond jewelry, and an elegant blue sheath dress that complemented her athletic figure and matched her brilliant sapphire eyes. Her dress had been let out a little in the middle to make room for her expanding belly; she was four months pregnant with their first child and just starting to show.<\/p>\n

Shortly after Ben and Noelle had told his mother the happy news, she had commented to Ben that pregnant women \u201cglow.\u201d Ben had privately questioned whether glow was an appropriate synonym for \u201cexhausted, moody, and nauseated,\u201d but now he saw what his mother had meant. Tonight, Noelle glowed. She radiated happy expectancy and never tired of answering the same questions about how far along she was, how she was feeling, whether they had settled on names yet, and so on.<\/p>\n

Ben put down his plate and sauntered over to intercept his wife as she walked from one group of guests to another. \u201cHaving fun?\u201d he asked as he fell in stride beside her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she said distractedly as she quickly scanned the crowd for new arrivals she hadn\u2019t greeted yet. There were at least two dozen, and more on the way.<\/p>\n

Ben followed her gaze. \u201cToo much fun?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. I\u2019ve got to say hi to Senator Fintzen and Justice Gaido. Could you go talk to those people over there?\u201d She nodded in the direction of a group just leaving the name tag table. \u201cThat\u2019s Gunnar Bjornsen and his family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben sauntered over to a group composed of two young men in their twenties, an attractive woman of about fifty, and an imposing sixtyish patriarch. The younger men were both blond and handsome; otherwise, they looked nothing alike. The older one had slightly unkempt long hair, earrings in both ears, a paunch, and a Bohemian air. His younger companion had short-cropped hair, a lean, muscular build, and a well-tailored Brooks Brothers suit.<\/p>\n

He looks like he just stepped out of a Young Republicans leadership meeting, thought Ben.<\/p>\n

Both men were over six feet tall, but they were dwarfed by the man whom Ben guessed to be Gunnar; he stood at least six feet four and still had the arms of a weightlifter, despite his age.<\/p>\n

The two young men talked to the woman, an elegant, aristocratic-looking lady whom Ben assumed was their mother. The older man loomed over the little group, saying nothing, but scanning the crowd with intense, pale gray eyes. His craggy face wore an undisguised look of displeasure, though it wasn\u2019t clear what had upset him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello,\u201d Ben said as he walked up smiling. \u201cMy name is Ben Corbin. Thank you for coming to the reception tonight.\u201d He glanced at their name tags. \u201cAre you related to the Bjornsens of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals?\u201d<\/p>\n

The storm clouds on the older man\u2019s face darkened further. \u201cI am the Bjornsen of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals.\u201d His basso profundo voice had a trace of a Scandinavian accent.<\/p>\n

Oops. Ben\u2019s smile didn\u2019t waver. \u201cPleased to meet you, sir,\u201d he replied, extending his hand. \u201cThank you for your company\u2019s generosity in making this exhibition possible. I know the museum is very excited to be able to display artifacts from a royal Viking burial. I\u2019m personally looking forward to spending an afternoon or two in the exhibition hall.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo am I,\u201d said the big man as he shook Ben\u2019s hand with a firm grip. \u201cGunnar Bjornsen. This is my wife, Anne, and our sons, Markus and Tom.\u201d The sweep of his hand identified the Bohemian as Markus and the Republican as Tom. \u201cMy brother Karl runs Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals now,\u201d he continued with a trace of bitterness in his voice, \u201cso I never saw the final selection of pieces for this exhibition.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d Momentarily at a loss for words, Ben wished he had paid more attention when Noelle had briefed him on the guest list last week. \u201cI . . . well, I hope you like the choices he made. I\u2019ve seen pictures of some of the items, and they look terrific.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anne Bjornsen took pity on him and changed the subject. \u201cAre you the same Ben Corbin who won that lawsuit against the terrorists?\u201d<\/p>\n

Five months ago, Ben had discovered that a routine breach of contract lawsuit was actually a battle over possession of a deadly biological weapon. \u201cThat\u2019s me. I had a lot of help, though\u2014and I had no idea I was up against terrorists when I took the case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI read about that in the papers,\u201d commented Gunnar. \u201cVery impressive. But I assume litigating against terrorists isn\u2019t a standard part of your practice\u2014or is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I did that full time, I would have a very short career. No, that\u2019s the first\u2014and hopefully the last\u2014time I take on a case like that. My real specialty is business disputes: breach of contract cases, shareholder fights, things like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gunnar looked at him with interest. \u201cIs that so? I\u2019d like to\u2014\u201d he began, but Noelle\u2019s voice over the speaker system cut him off. \u201cThank you all for coming. As you know, we\u2019re here tonight to celebrate the tremendous generosity of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals. They have made it possible for the Field Museum to be the first American museum to display artifacts from the Oseberg excavations and the Trondheim Riksmuseum. Let\u2019s welcome Karl Bjornsen, president of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals, to the Field Museum.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease excuse me,\u201d said Gunnar. He turned abruptly on his heel and headed for the door. The other attendees applauded as a large man approached the front of the room, where Noelle and half a dozen museum worthies awaited him. He appeared to be a bit shorter than Gunnar, but burlier, and he had the same fading blond hair and fierce gray eyes. He walked with the confident, shoulder-swinging stride of a man who was used to having people make way for him.<\/p>\n

While all eyes were on Karl Bjornsen, Ben also took the opportunity to slip out of the room. He had never been a great fan of the windy speechmaking that went on at receptions and award dinners. Worse, when executives from corporate donors spoke, they often seemed to feel that they had been invited to do an infomercial for their companies. Now that Noelle had sat down in one of the chairs on the dais, Ben figured he could quietly escape. He made for the entrance to the exhibit hall, which was framed by wooden pillars and a lintel carved with entwined geometric patterns, mimicking the entrance to a Viking hall.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Back at the reception, Karl Bjornsen walked up to the podium and looked out over the crowd. He recognized a dozen CEOs and other senior executives, several reporters, and the head of a large mutual fund. There were lots of decision makers here tonight, and that was good. \u201cThank you, Noelle,\u201d he began, with a smile and a nod in her direction. \u201cAnd thank you, Field Museum. Without the partnership of this great institution and the hard work of its staff, this exhibition would not have been possible.\u201d<\/p>\n

Polite applause.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am very lucky to be part of this great effort to bring treasures of ancient Norway to this new land. When I was a child growing up in Oslo, I remember going to the museums with my parents to see beautiful artifacts that had lain buried and forgotten for a thousand years. It thrilled me then, and it thrills me even more now, to share the glories of my ancestors with the people of this great city where I have made my home and built my company.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I would like to take a few minutes to tell you about a Norse treasure that is not locked in museum cases\u2014a treasure that we can hold in our hands and that can change each of our lives. Last year, a hiker in one of Norway\u2019s national parks got lost in the mountains. He wandered for days, growing hungrier and weaker. He would have died of starvation and exposure if he had not saved himself . . . by starting an avalanche.\u201d<\/p>\n

A few chuckles rumbled through the crowd.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow does an avalanche feed a hungry man? The rock and ice that thundered away down the mountainside that day uncovered a cave that had not seen the light of the sun for a millennium or more. And in that cave were some leaves and seeds from an extinct tree.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe hiker took those leaves and seeds and ate some\u2014but fortunately not all of them. After he ate, he had a new will to live, more energy, and he was suddenly able to think of a way to escape from his predicament. He managed to rip open one of his hiking boots and pull out the steel shank. He found a sufficiently hard stone and struck sparks off it into a pile of dry grass and pine needles. Once he had a fire going, he made himself a torch and limped along the timberline starting fires at regular intervals, which he knew would get the attention of the park rangers pretty quickly. They did, and he was rescued.\u201d Karl paused for a moment to let his audience appreciate the story. \u201cQuite a tale, isn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n

\u201cBut why didn\u2019t the hiker think of that sooner? And where did a man on the brink of death get the strength to tear apart a hiking boot?<\/p>\n

\u201cThe hiker was unable to guide the rangers back to the cave he\u2019d found, so unfortunately whatever secrets it still holds have been lost again. But he did have some of the leaves and seeds in his pockets. Norwegian scientists began studying them, and what they found was truly amazing: the leaves, and particularly the seeds, contained complex compounds that acted together to make it possible for neural impulses to move through chains of nerve cells more efficiently and at greater speed. Theoretically, that means that these chemicals should make the subject\u2019s brain operate faster and his reflexes quicker.<\/p>\n

\u201cTheoretically, that\u2019s how it should work, but what does it really do? We knew the hiker\u2019s story, of course, but that was only one individual and was hardly a controlled experiment. I wanted to find out more, so my company licensed the rights to perform experiments on extracts from these plants and make products from them. Let me show you what we found.\u201d<\/p>\n

The lights dimmed and a motor whirred as a screen descended from the ceiling. The crowd watched in complete silence.<\/p>\n

Karl picked up a remote control from the podium and clicked. The screen came to life, showing two lab rats negotiating identical mazes. A digital display at the top of each maze tracked the rats\u2019 performance.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe rat on the right has been fed an extract from the seeds,\u201d Karl said. \u201cThe rat on the left has not.\u201d<\/p>\n

As the video proceeded, the rat on the right finished well ahead of the other rat.<\/p>\n

\u201cOn average, rats with the extract finished mazes twenty percent faster than those without it.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut those are rats. What about something closer to a human being?\u201d He pressed another button on the remote. The scene on the screen shifted to show two rhesus monkeys struggling to open clear containers with complicated lids that looked like blacksmith\u2019s puzzles. Inside each container was an apple slice. Again, a digital monitor timed each monkey. \u201cThe results were even more impressive than with the rats. The monkeys who took the extract completed the same intelligence-testing puzzles in roughly thirty percent less time, and they were able to do more difficult puzzles than the control group monkeys. In fact, they did puzzles more difficult than rhesus monkeys had previously been known to solve.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there may be another benefit to this extract.\u201d He clicked the remote again and a picture of a monkey cage appeared on the screen. The cage was empty and two of the bars had been noticeably bent. \u201cThis is a picture we took last week. We left the bowl of apples too close to the monkeys one night.\u201d<\/p>\n

A laugh ran through the crowd.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut as often happens in science, our mistake led to a fascinating discovery: those cages are actually designed to hold larger and stronger monkeys than the ones we were using. There\u2019s no way that our monkeys should have been able to bend those bars\u2014but they did! There was nothing wrong with the metal; we tested that. So the only possibility left was that these rhesus monkeys did something that rhesus monkeys can\u2019t do.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re doing additional studies right now, but our best guess is that the extract increases muscle strength by increasing the speed and strength of the electrical impulses transmitted by the nerves to the muscle cells. That\u2019s only a guess, but it happens to fit the facts as we know them today.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned off the projector and the screen recessed into the ceiling. \u201cMany companies say that their products will \u2018change the world,\u2019 and virtually all of them are wrong. But I ask you to imagine a time when a firefighter can take a pill that will give him increased strength and speed of mind and hand before he enters a burning building; when our men and women in uniform can make themselves stronger, faster, and smarter than their enemies during battle.\u201d He swept his hands over the audience. \u201cA time when any of us can make ourselves a little smarter and faster whenever we need to face life\u2019s challenges.\u201d<\/p>\n

He held up a single leaf. \u201cThis came from a tree grown from one of the seeds found in that ancient cave. It is a gift from our past. It is also our future, and it is a future bright with promise. We stand here tonight at a meeting of the ages. Past, present, and future have come together, each enriching the other. Thank you for coming tonight. I hope you enjoy the exhibition.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Ben crossed the threshold of the exhibit hall and paused to let his eyes adjust. The interior had been made to look like the longhouse of a Viking king. There were no windows, and the only light came from the entrances and strategically spaced \u201csmoke holes\u201d in the roof. Dark timbers covered the walls and sloped upward to form a steeply peaked roof supported by richly carved beams bearing images of dragons and serpents that intertwined to form complex patterns that confused the eye. Artifacts protected by Plexiglas cases were arranged to make them appear to be a natural part of the long hall. A collection of eight golden arm rings, each in the form of an emerald-eyed serpent swallowing its tail, lay carelessly arranged in an iron-bound chest, as if some warlord had tossed them there after returning from a raid. Two swords with gold-inlaid hilts hung from pegs on the wall, their bright blades still bearing the notches of long-ago battles. In a dark corner near the end of the hall, an ancient chair of exquisitely carved black oak sat in a rough circle with several modern copies, in which visitors could sit and imagine a conversation with the lord of the hall. To complete the illusion, one of the chairs held the hulking figure of a Norse warlord bent in thought and shadow, brooding over plans for his next conquest.<\/p>\n

Ben decided to give his feet a rest and headed for the little grouping of chairs. As he got closer, he noticed that the clothing on the Viking mannequin didn\u2019t look right, though the light was too dim to say exactly why. As Ben approached, the figure stirred and looked up. It was Gunnar. \u201cAh, Mr. Corbin. I see that I\u2019m not the only escapee from the hot air blowing out there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe speeches do start to sound the same after a while. I figured the exhibit might be more interesting than the people talking about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPretty impressive, especially when it\u2019s empty like this. They\u2019ve really created the atmosphere of another place and time. When I walked in here, I almost felt like I\u2019d arrived early for a Viking war council and that any minute the king and his generals would walk in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gunnar regarded him with an odd, piercing look for a moment. \u201cIt\u2019s interesting that you should put it like that. I\u2014\u201d There was a noise behind them and Gunnar looked past Ben\u2019s shoulder. Ben turned and saw Karl Bjornsen walking up to them. \u201cGunnar!\u201d he said in a booming voice. \u201cI\u2019m so glad you could make it to our exhibition.\u201d He was smiling, but it was the hard, predatory smile of the victor greeting the vanquished.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to make sure you didn\u2019t screw it up too badly after I left,\u201d Gunnar replied. He stood and looked around. \u201cIt looks good. I assume someone else took care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked away, but Karl continued to smile. \u201cYou\u2019re right. I was so busy cleaning up the mess you left at my company that I didn\u2019t have time to work on this myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gunnar\u2019s face hardened. \u201cDitt selskap, sier du?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJa. Og min teknologi som du stjal,\u201d Karl growled in reply.<\/p>\n

Gunnar tensed and clenched his fists. \u201cDin helv\u2014\u201d He stopped himself as he noticed a group entering the exhibit hall from the reception. \u201cExcuse me; do any of you speak Norwegian?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do,\u201d replied a matronly woman with white hair and a tentlike dress.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow unfortunate. Since that is the case, I will limit my remarks to wishing you all a good night,\u201d Gunnar continued with an icy smile. \u201cEven you, little brother.\u201d Then he pushed past Karl and out of the hall.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Two hours later, the festivities were winding down. The bar was closed, everyone who wanted to see the exhibit had been through the hall, and most of the crowd had left. The Corbins had spent the past half hour near the door, saying good-bye to guests. At last, even Karl Bjornsen and his wife had gathered their coats and were on their way out into the blustery night. As Ben watched their retreating backs, he leaned over to his wife and asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s the deal with him and his brother? I thought they were going to start fighting when they ran into each other in the exhibit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you about that,\u201d replied Noelle. \u201cThey founded Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals together decades ago. Karl was the chairman and Gunnar was the president, but they set it up so that neither of them could make any major decision without the other\u2019s consent. That worked fine for a long time, but about a year ago they stopped agreeing. It turned into a feud over control of the company, and Karl won. He forced Gunnar out in a proxy fight about a month ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben vaguely recalled seeing articles about the brothers\u2019 battle, though he hadn\u2019t read them. \u201cThat was in the Tribune a while back, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Crain\u2019s,\u201d replied Noelle. \u201cA couple of the board members didn\u2019t want to invite Gunnar tonight, because they thought there might be a scene.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was a scene.\u201d Ben recounted the incident in the exhibit hall.<\/p>\n

Noelle sighed. \u201cI\u2019m glad it wasn\u2019t worse. It sounds like Karl gave Gunnar the bump just as their company was developing a new product that could be huge. I\u2019ve never heard of anything like it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat new product?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at him first with surprise, and then with suspicion. \u201cYou snuck out before Karl\u2019s presentation, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew the speeches would go downhill as soon as you stopped talking,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n

She smiled affectionately. \u201cGood answer, but you missed a really interesting talk.\u201d She summarized the story of the hiker\u2019s discovery and the results of Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals\u2019 test results.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow,\u201d Ben said when she had finished. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I missed that. So he\u2019s invented brain steroids, huh? I wish we\u2019d had those when I was in law school.\u201d<\/p>\n

One of the servers walked up with a question, and Noelle turned her attention to the aftermath of the party. \u201cThe caterer says there\u2019s seven pounds of grilled salmon left,\u201d she informed Ben a few minutes later. \u201cWhat do you say we bring it home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrutus will love it,\u201d he replied. Brutus was their ten-pound cockapoo\u2014fifty percent cocker spaniel, fifty percent poodle, and one hundred percent terror. Noelle had picked the breed, and Ben had picked the name. Brutus was still a puppy and had a huge appetite, particularly for human food.<\/p>\n

She made a point of looking appalled. \u201cNo way are you giving it to the dog!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll stink up the fridge if we have it in there for more than a day,\u201d Ben countered.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. We\u2019ll take half, and it will be gone in thirty-six hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben knew she was up to the challenge. \u201cDeal.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Gunnar\u2019s car would have been uncomfortably silent had it not been for Markus\u2019s intermittent snoring. Tom nudged his brother, who was quiet for a moment before starting up the chain saw again.<\/p>\n

Markus was drunk, as he generally was by late evening. After a contemptuous remark from his father in the parking lot, Markus had put in his iPod earbuds, tuned out his family, and fallen asleep by the time the car reached the highway. About fifteen minutes later, Gunnar said \u201cMarkus!\u201d in an irritated voice. No response. \u201cMarkus!\u201d he boomed.<\/p>\n

His son bolted awake and cringed. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were snoring. Stop it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Markus replied in a slurred mixture of subservience and resentment. He turned up the volume on his music and closed his eyes again. But he didn\u2019t snore.<\/p>\n

Gunnar drove fast. He always did when he was angry. Early in their marriage, Anne would urge him to slow down, but she soon learned that there was no reasoning with him when he was like this. All she could do was wait for the storm to pass and pray that he didn\u2019t hit anyone. So far, he hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you still planning on taking the boat out on Thursday?\u201d she asked, hoping to distract him from his wrath.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid the weather forecast change?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

She debated whether to dig deeper and decided it was worth the risk. \u201cThen why wouldn\u2019t you go sailing?\u201d<\/p>\n

He was silent for so long that she began to think he wouldn\u2019t answer. \u201cI think I\u2019m going to see a lawyer.\u201d<\/p>\n

She leaned over and whispered, \u201cAbout the boys\u2019 inheritance\u2014about Markus?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he replied. \u201cAbout the other problem male in the family.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

The Corbins walked into their Wilmette home and were energetically greeted by ten pounds of fur, tongue, and bark. \u201cWhoa! Down boy!\u201d said Ben as he tried to protect the pants to his best suit. \u201cI just had these dry cleaned.\u201d<\/p>\n

After Brutus\u2019s affections subsided, Ben and Noelle trudged upstairs, worn out by the busy evening. Ben changed into a pair of sweats and got ready for bed. Then he lay down and let his mind idle as he waited for Noelle to finish her complicated ritual for removing her clothing, jewelry, and makeup after society evenings.<\/p>\n

His thoughts wandered for a few minutes, but he soon found himself thinking about the exhibition. The intricately worked gold, the weathered runic inscriptions, and the sense that he had been walking among the ghosts of warrior kings all percolated in Ben\u2019s tired brain. He imagined mist-shrouded fjords and mountain forests growing over the burial mounds of ancient Viking lords.<\/p>\n

Noelle walked in, interrupting her husband\u2019s Nordic reverie. \u201cHey, honey,\u201d he said, \u201cwhat do think about maybe taking a trip to Norway? We\u2019ve never been there, and it\u2019ll be a lot harder to take trips after the baby comes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d She thought for a moment. Every now and then they had vaguely discussed taking another overseas vacation, but they had mostly talked about Asia, not Scandinavia. \u201cWe\u2019ve also never been to China.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but just imagine how good the Norwegian salmon will be. Also, I\u2019ll bet the plumbing is a lot more modern in Norway.\u201d Two years ago, they had spent three weeks touring southern Italy and Greece. During their travels, Noelle had found exactly one bathroom that was remotely acceptable by her standards.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose are excellent points,\u201d she responded. \u201cBut do you think you can take any more time off from work?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben hesitated before answering. Shortly after his victory against the terrorists, and partly because of his sudden celebrity, he had settled a large trade secrets case on very favorable terms. The contingent fee portion of his compensation had amounted to two million dollars, plus one hundred thousand per year for at least the next ten years. That, combined with some good investing, meant that he no longer had to work unless he wanted to\u2014and he often didn\u2019t want to.<\/p>\n

He had a couple of cases that occupied about fifteen hours per week, and some pro bono work that took around five hours more, but that was it. He spent most of his time reading, working in his woodshop, or watching old movies. Noelle was not a great fan of her husband\u2019s newly relaxed lifestyle, and had said so on more than one occasion. Her question was therefore a dangerous one and needed a careful answer. \u201cI think so. Things are starting to pick up at the office, but I should be able to make the time for a vacation. Besides, this will probably be our last chance before the baby is old enough to travel.\u201d<\/p>\n

She thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. \u201cMaybe you can take the time, but I can\u2019t. There\u2019s just too much to do. I\u2019ve got two new clients with quarterly reports coming due, and one of them has SEC filings to make. And that\u2019s on top of all the other stuff I\u2019ve got to do.\u201d Ben knew that most of that \u201cstuff\u201d involved catered brunches in large homes, luncheon board meetings, and charity dinners. He was surprised she hadn\u2019t put on thirty pounds even before she got pregnant. \u201cOh, and it looks like we\u2019re going to get invited to the Adlers\u2019 son\u2019s bar mitzvah. The Bishops and Gossards are likely to be there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s nice,\u201d Ben replied with a yawn. \u201cWe can send him a card and a sweater from Norway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean we could if we were going to be there instead of at his bar mitzvah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d give up three weeks in the Land of the Midnight Sun for three hours making small talk with the Bishops and Gossards? They\u2019re nice people, but they\u2019re not that nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. \u201cYou were thinking of taking three weeks off?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, two weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head. \u201cI just don\u2019t have time, bar mitzvah or no. And neither do you. Going to Norway would mean even more time out of the office\u2014and you couldn\u2019t possibly spend less time there without retiring.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben rolled his eyes. \u201cIf I take up shuffleboard and start complaining about how young people drive, would you stop bugging me about that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019d bug you about being boring.\u201d She changed her tone and tried again. \u201cDo you remember what you said when we were thinking about going out on our own?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cI said a lot of stuff. The only one that sticks in my head was that I was going to miss the free catered lunches at B&R.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe one that sticks in my head was that you wanted to do something more important than defend the rights of Fortune 500 companies. Remember that? We prayed about our decision, and you said you felt that God was calling you to use your gifts to make a real difference in the lives of real people. What happened? Now that we\u2019ve got money, is God calling you to spend more time sitting in front of the TV or to make Shaker chairs in the basement?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMan, you\u2019re hard to please! A few months ago, you were complaining because I worked too much. Now you\u2019re complaining because I\u2019m not working enough. Make up your mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not saying you have to spend all your time suing people, I\u2019m just saying you should do something. Maybe you could do some work for the Field. I could introduce you to some very interesting and charming people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are plenty of interesting and charming people in the world,\u201d Ben replied testily. \u201cNot all of them have five-thousand-square-foot homes and live on the North Shore. In fact, I\u2019ll bet a lot of them live in Norway. Who knows, maybe we can even find some rich people there for you to talk to.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stopped getting ready for bed and glared at him. \u201cDo you really mean that? Do you really think I spend over a hundred hours every month working for free just so I can talk to rich people?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben sighed inwardly. Why did these speak-the-truth-in-love conversations always seem to happen when he wanted to go to bed? \u201cThat was a cheap shot, and I\u2019m sorry. No, I don\u2019t think that\u2019s the only reason you do it, but I do think it\u2019s one of the perks. I mean, if there was nothing to it, would I have hit a nerve like that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s test that little theory,\u201d she returned sharply. \u201cWhy don\u2019t I try hitting a few of your nerves, and then you can tell me whether there\u2019s anything to my comments. Deal?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben chuckled ruefully and sat up in bed. \u201cHow about I apologize again and you forgive me and then I give you a backrub to soothe that nerve I hit. Deal?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo deal. As long as we\u2019re sharing constructive criticism here, I want a real answer out of you on why you think it\u2019s okay to spend ten hours a day putzing around here at home and only four or five in the office. And half the time when you\u2019re there, I see you playing solitaire on your computer or surfing ESPN.com.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to remember to keep my door shut.\u201d He yawned. \u201cLook, we\u2019ve had a long night and I\u2019m beat. Can\u2019t we talk about this over coffee and muffins in the morning?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we can\u2019t. You\u2019ve been ducking this one for months. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

He flopped back down onto his pillow. \u201cOkay, fine. The answer is that I worked my butt off for eight years after law school because I had to. Now I don\u2019t have to anymore. I kind of like the change, but I\u2019m not as motivated as I used to be. Maybe I should be, but I\u2019m not. It\u2019s a lot harder to drag myself out of bed at six o\u2019clock every morning when the only reason I\u2019ve got to go into the office is that I feel called to do it. Satisfied?\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled. \u201cOf course. I just needed to hear you say it. And I think you needed to hear yourself say it. Now, did you say something about a backrub?\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Captain Tor Kjeldaas put the Agnes Larsen\u2019s engines in reverse and pulled her out of the slip she occupied at the crowded municipal pier in Yuragorsk, a small but booming port city tucked away in the far northwest corner of Russia. It was a starless, rainy night and the seas were choppy, but the captain welcomed the darkness and the foul weather.<\/p>\n

The Agnes Larsen was a fishing boat, but there were no fish in her holds tonight. The Norwegian and Russian processing plants had dropped the price they would pay for cod, and the crew of the Agnes Larsen were feeling the pinch. So they decided to supplement their income by importing fifty cases of vodka with them when they returned to their home port of Torsknes, Norway. The Norwegian government held a monopoly on sales of hard liquor and charged exorbitant prices\u2014usually three times or more the price in neighboring countries. The result, of course, was a brisk bootlegging business over Norway\u2019s long and sparsely populated borders and coastline.<\/p>\n

Captain Kjeldaas steered his little ship cautiously, his leathery face a picture of concentration in the dim, green glow of the instrument panel. He continually made minor adjustments to the wheel and throttle, his gnarled hands moving with great precision and delicacy despite arthritis and dozens of scars from a half century of working these waters. His experienced blue eyes scanned the black waters for the subtlest change.<\/p>\n

April was a dangerous time for sailors on the Arctic Ocean, even in calm waters and bright daylight. Warmed by the spring sun, icebergs calved off from the polar ice pack and coastal glaciers, drifting for weeks or even months until they finally melted. They ranged in size from huge floating islands, which could be easily spotted and avoided, to small chunks that were little more than ice cubes and bounced harmlessly off even the thinnest hulls. The truly deadly bergs lay between these two extremes\u2014jagged masses of ice that barely disturbed the waves rolling over them, yet could smash fatal holes into any ship unlucky enough to meet them.<\/p>\n

The Agnes Larsen puttered along at only a few knots to minimize the risk from ice. Her speed was further reduced because the running lights were set as dim as possible to avoid detection by the Kystvakt, the Norwegian coast guard. Captain Kjeldaas was a careful and experienced sailor, but neither care nor experience were complete protection against the hazards of the Arctic Ocean. As he looked out through the rain-streaked pilothouse window, he saw an odd pattern in the waves a hundred meters ahead. He frowned and turned his craft a few points to starboard to avoid whatever was causing the water to behave strangely. Then a trough in the waves exposed a pale white mass several times the length of his ship. Most of it lay to port, but a long spar of ice jutted straight toward the bow of the ship.<\/p>\n

The captain swore and slammed the wheel as hard to starboard as he could, but the wind and current pulled the little craft to port and she barely altered course. The captain gunned the engine in a desperate effort to give the Agnes Larsen enough power to answer her helm. She began to turn, but it was too late. \u201cHold fast!\u201d he shouted to his crew as he braced himself against the pilothouse walls.<\/p>\n

A second later, the ship lurched, shuddered, and tilted sharply to starboard. Men shouted incoherently belowdecks and objects fell and crashed. A loud, deep groan issued from the ship\u2019s timbers, accented by the squeal of ice on wood. Then came the sound the captain feared the most: a sharp crack followed by screams of \u201cWater! Water! The pump!\u201d<\/p>\n

All at once, the Agnes Larsen rolled back to port and then rode level. The noises of wood and ice ceased, but the men still shouted belowdecks. Captain Kjeldaas swore again and hurried down to see how bad the damage was. The Agnes Larsen was too small to carry a lifeboat, so if the ship went down, he and his crew would be adrift in the frigid sea. Hypothermia would kill them a few minutes after they went into the water.<\/p>\n

Water sprayed in from a half-dozen leaks, but the hull planks had buckled in only one place\u2014and that was above the waterline. The men had already started the pump and were breaking out the emergency patching kit. The first mate looked up at Captain Kjeldaas with a giddy, relieved grin. \u201cShe\u2019ll be dry in half an hour, captain!\u201d<\/p>\n

The captain surveyed the scene again and nodded curtly. \u201cGood.\u201d He turned and went back to the pilothouse.<\/p>\n

As dawn broke, signaled only by a lightening of the gray sky, the Agnes Larsen limped into Torsknes. Water continued to drip inside the hull and the pump ran intermittently. The growing light showed that much of her paint had been scraped away on the port side, which also bore several deep gouges. Captain Kjeldaas knew where his share of the vodka profits was going. In fact, he\u2019d probably have to make another smuggling run next week just to cover the cost of repairs.<\/p>\n

The ship cleared the sea wall and came into view of the dock. Captain and crew had expected to see a truck waiting at the dock to take their cargo. Instead, they saw a police car. Two Kystvakt launches floated just inside the sea wall, lest the Agnes Larsen try to run back out to sea.<\/p>\n

Captain Kjeldaas set his mouth in a hard line and headed for the dock. He\u2019d lose his cargo, of course, and probably get slapped with a stiff fine. That would likely be all, though. There were enough ex-fishermen in the police force and judiciary to ensure some leniency when an old sea captain got caught in the time-honored practice of rum-running. Still, the loss of his cargo, a fine, and the repair bill for his ship would come close to bankrupting him. He\u2019d have to find a way to make a lot of money fast\u2014faster than he could smuggling vodka, and a lot faster than he could catching cod.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

The evening was a great triumph, Karl decided. A great triumph. He walked over to the living room window of his palatial sixtieth floor condo and looked out on the glowing Chicago skyline, replaying pleasant memories from a few hours ago\u2014the interest and applause during his remarks, the enthusiastic questions about his new product from stock analysts and captains of industry, and the jealous bile in his brother\u2019s face and voice. With luck, Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals\u2019 stock would be up strongly tomorrow as reports of his presentation circulated.<\/p>\n

His satisfied smile faded as he recalled a detail he hadn\u2019t focused on at the time. Gunnar had been talking with a younger man who seemed vaguely familiar, but whom Karl couldn\u2019t immediately place. He also recalled having seen the man with the hostess at some point during the evening. Who was he? And what had he and Gunnar been talking about in the exhibit hall during the speeches? Karl turned as his wife walked into the room. \u201cGwen, who was that man at the reception with Noelle Corbin?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn his thirties, brown hair, athletic build, good-looking, but a little on the short side?\u201d she responded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have an excellent memory of him,\u201d Karl replied drily. \u201cYes, that\u2019s the one.\u201d<\/p>\n

She laughed. Before marrying Karl fifteen years ago, Gwen LaCharriere had been a runway model known for two things: her elegant, raven-haired good looks and her reputation as a flirt\u2014though she had always thought of herself as merely friendly. One of the things that had drawn her to Karl was the fact that he was confident enough not to be bothered when she talked to other men. Still, it was fun to tease him. \u201cThat\u2019s her husband, Ben Corbin. He was in the papers a while back\u2014something about Russian terrorists.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now he remembered. He stood silent for a few seconds, weighing the significance of this new piece of information. \u201cChechens,\u201d he said. \u201cThe terrorists were Chechens. They bought their weapons from Russian smugglers. Ben Corbin was the lawyer who beat the Russians in court and then hunted down the Chechens, wasn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Karl began to understand his brother\u2019s interest in Mr. Corbin. He also began to wonder just how much Gunnar knew about Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals\u2019 activities. This situation bore watching. Close watching. In fact, it bore more than that.<\/p>\n

Karl considered what to do next. When he and Gunnar were boys, one of their favorite pastimes was to spar with long sticks. At first, Gunnar always won, because he was older and had a longer reach than Karl. But Karl eventually learned that if he could strike the first hard blow, he could put his brother on the defensive and control the fight.<\/p>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/h3>\n

Combine cutting edge scientific research with Norse mythology, throw in feuding brothers, shady business practices, external criminal elements, and courtroom drama, and you have Blood Brothers<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Blood Brothers<\/a> is a riveting read that will keep you guessing as different factors come into play throughout the storyline. The Norse history\/mythology was well researched and adds an interesting twist. Blood Brothers<\/a> is intense and emotional and covers the gamut of human weaknesses such as greed, jealousy, hate, lust for power, deceit, violence, etc. – yet at the same time highlights some of the best traits that come only from a relationship with Christ – love, loyalty, forgiveness, and redemption.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his\/her book’s FIRST chapter! You never know when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-238","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/238","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=238"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/238\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=238"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=238"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=238"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}