Ex-Secret Service and FBI agent, Jim Sotello, runs a detective agency out of Oakland, California with the help of his college age daughter and son. In the space of a few weeks time, the world he took for granted turns upside down. From an unexpectedly dangerous caseload, threatening his own family’s very existence, Sotello weaves his way into a run for the Governor’s Office of California on the Republican Party ticket. As he honestly professes his ultra-conservative views, Sotello shockingly enthralls the hearts and minds of the California voting public, making him into an overnight sensation.

In Sotello’s campaign, he vows to form a steel wall against terrorist infiltration, and out of control illegal immigration across California’s porous borders and ports. His soaring ascent, in the polls, brings his foes scurrying from their holes in an attempt to defeat Sotello, or remove him entirely. Between special interest groups, and foreign sponsored terrorists, Jim Sotello’s twelfth hour campaign becomes a roller coaster ride into danger.

Born in Warren, Ohio on April 30, 1950, he entered the Navy in August of 1968 after graduation from high school. After serving aboard the USS Ranger from October 1969 until his discharge in November of 1972, he traveled for a time, before settling in Northern California. He earned an AA degree in auto repair in 1977 from Chabot College in Hayward, California and a BA degree in English from California State University in Hayward, California in 1980.

He owns an automotive repair shop in Oakland, California, where he has worked since 1976 and owned since 1983. The author lives with his wife of twenty-five years in San Leandro, California.

"Five minutes Dad, I’ll be ready."

Sotello nodded, and slipped out of the passenger side door with his sap. They had already taken the dome lights out, and disconnected the door-warning buzzer. He slipped the mask onto his head as he moved quickly to the bushes by the side of the neighbor’s house. The wet ground made his footsteps almost noiseless. He crouched and waited.

Craig waited five minutes, and took a deep breath. He made the call. The man answered, a slight slur in his voice. Craig repeated the message he had rehearsed with his Father, and then hung up. He did not crack the window, but he watched the house. A few minutes after the call, a man appeared at the door in a strap tee shirt. His arms bulged with muscle, and Craig could see he had what looked like a pistol held down next to his right leg. The man looked around in both directions, and then headed straight for the van. As the man reached the halfway point, Craig saw a shadow rise up behind him, just before the man’s head snapped to the side.

An arm wound around the man, preventing him from falling. A black clad hand reached down, snatching the dropped pistol up. Craig watched the man’s body leave the ground slightly and get propelled towards the van. Craig wrenched open the door, without letting it bang into its stops. A split second later, the man’s body flew into the van and banged headfirst into the other side. His Father followed it, as Craig closed the door, and jumped into the driver’s seat. He had them headed towards the freeway, without putting on the headlights, until they reached the main cross street. Craig reached Main street, turned to the right, and drove to a street they had plotted out before leaving, called Reservoir Street. He parked the van a hundred yards down the way.

Craig heard a sickening thud followed by the crunch of bones. He turned to see his Father bring the lead pipe down on the man’s other knee with similar results. Sotello threw the man over onto his face as if he were a rag doll. Sotello smashed both of the man’s arms at the elbows viciously with the pipe. He then drove the pointed end savagely into the base of the man’s spine. Craig watched him tear his mask off and grab the man’s head, one hand engulfing his chin, and the other the side of his head. Craig dove into the back, grabbing hold of his Father’s right arm. Sotello’s head jerked up towards Craig, and saw the look of fear on his son’s face. The gale force storm inside Sotello’s head eased, and he let the man drop to the floor of the van. Craig quickly returned to the driver’s seat, as Sotello returned to the passenger seat.

"Thanks boy," Sotello whispered.

Craig nodded and started the van. He drove down the street another fifty yards, before doing a u-turn, and heading back the way they had come. He slowed when they were almost directly opposite the place on the other side of the street where they had first stopped. Sotello went into the back again, and opened the side door quickly. Craig watched in amazement as his Father grabbed the man’s belt, and with one hand from a crouch, lowered the man’s body to the side of the road. Sotello slipped out after him, and placed the man’s pistol back into his right hand. After closing the door, Sotello climbed back into the passenger seat. Craig eased the van back onto the road.

"That will be the last time that son-of-a-bitch ever works over another woman," Sotello whispered between clenched teeth.

Craig nodded, and drove towards home.