The story follows the adventures of Mick, an army veteran and now a Bronx bumpkin of sorts. His exploits take him back and forth from the gritty streets of the Bronx into the more trendy New York City, as he watches over the life of a young female Detective Devine of the NYC police force. As the story progresses, Mick finds himself up against some evil villains, some of which include an assassin, a drug lord, a Russian mobster and a knife wielding city serial killer. To keep himself out of theirs, and others clutches, Mick has found a vagrant and unusual way of hiding in plain site. Will this, his wit and his army training, mixed in with a self destructive nature, be enough to keep Mick alive and allow him to help others? EXTRACTS: (Could this be someone’s apartment or the inside of a derelict building?) Midafternoon and Mick, a solid looking man, guessing mid late forties, filling a propane heater and turning it on to vent heat. It is a small heater more something one would bring camping. Next to that, is what appears to be a nonworking fireplace. Next to the fireplace is a makeshift bed obvious by the sleeping bag laid out on the floor next to it and likely where Mick camps. The rest of the room is void of furniture, walls busted, and the only visible window is patched up to avoid from seeing in and I suppose to keep the cold out. Most would refer to the place as a dump! Somehow, there is electricity (outside the abandoned building is a rigged up wire leading inside from a Con Ed electrical box) From the back seat of Detective Devine’s car, we see the back of her blondish head in the driver seat and, in front of her car, NY City is outside her front windshield. From what we can see, she is some-what attractive, normally overweight and nice eyes from the rear view mirror! She could be in her mid to late twenties. NYPD badge visible with Devine named on it and a gun hidden in her plain-clothes trouser suit set up. Obviously, she is a detective. She blows cigarette smoke out the open window. The police radio calls out again for her. Under the glove box a listening bug has been planted that she has no clue about. Devine: “Here Cap.” Back in the Bronx Mick is listening. About an hour or more later on the ‘4’ train the subway is head-ed north mostly dropping off. As it enters the Bronx, at this time of day, the train was empty so Mick sat with one side of the car all to himself. Now, he could be less covert, as his mission was complete. It was dark outside so the flash of street and building lights shun off his face. From his day of ‘focusing’ he now retreated to internal thoughts. (A normal balancing I guess) Mick’s mind drifted to his past. He was in Iraq serving his country. Hot sun, sandy territory, day time, all contrasting his train ride. Mick was there, uniformed, at most early twenties, he was on the satellite phone, noncombat, and the news he was getting was not good. Wife: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t live like this.” Mick: “Honey, don’t do this ... we can fix this?” Wife: “It’s too late. I’m sorry! I’m leaving! It’s over!” Mick drops the phone, his mind in disbelief starring at the sandy ground under his feet. Why couldn’t it open up and swallow him. Inside an average Hotel room, queen bed and we see the back of a man working hard on an unseen woman below. Room has a cold blueness to it. Bedside, on the floor lies a hurried off suit next to a brief case and Wall Street Journal. The ongoing queen bed event is a morning session (or in other words one for the road.) The man, probably in his fifties, completes, rolls off the bed, grabs his stuff and heads for a shower. On the bed it’s revealed that Devine was the woman underneath that older man. She lay there unsatisfied, unemotional and unorgasmed. Not a word is spoken. Devine just stares into nothingness.