Welcome! Summer is here, and you know what that means…book tours and releases galore!
This summer, we’re helping Author Jeff Altabef launch not just 1, but TWO books – and only a month apart!
About the Book
The best-kept secrets in 2041 America are the deadliest ones.
A mysterious scarlet haired jazz singer.
A rebel on a motorcycle.
And a killer with a penchant for torture.
Food is scarce, good jobs the rarity, and big brother is watching everyone. Will Jack and Tom’s family be torn apart in the mayhem, and how far will one brother go to save the other’s life?
In 2041, America is rife with ghettos and armed checkpoints, and poverty runs rampant. A bloody civil war is brewing, and everyone will be forced to take a side. Education is the only way out of a life where you’re never sure where your next meal will come from, or what you’ll have to do to get it. Tom aced his assessment tests and scored an education contract, giving him a way out of poverty. Jack isn’t so lucky.
When Jack, a spy for a rebel fraction, goes missing, only his brother Tom can unravel the mystery of his disappearance. He will risk everything to save his brother from Warren, a killer who enjoys torturing his victims and making them beg for mercy. On a mission, Tom plunges into a world filled with secretive rebel groups and spies, psychotic killers, lies and murder at the highest levels of political influence. When he also discovers that his family has been keeping secrets from him—secrets that threaten to doom them all—he doesn’t know whom to trust.
Tom must break every rule he’s lived by, and go head-to-head with a psychopath, if he’s to have any chance of saving his brother—and just maybe, keep America from reaching the fracture point.
More spotlights and reviews coming soon!
Meet Franklin Scott from Fracture Point in this extended, and cut scene! We know how much you love extras, and you won’t find this one anywhere else!
Warren’s father used to beat him regularly—most often with his fists, but sometimes with a belt or a wooden spoon or once with a painting of dogs playing poker, he yanked off the wall. Warren liked the painting and the canvass didn’t hurt that much, but the wooden frame was a bitch and left a nasty bruise. Warren could never please his father. In Franklin’s mind, Warren was useless, stupid, and lazy. It didn’t matter what Warren achieved. Any success was always met with derision. If only Warren would have been more like his father, he might amount to something. Unfortunately, to Franklin, Warren was hopeless and nothing like him.
Franklin’s sour feelings for his son started from the moment Warren arrived into the world. Warren was a large baby, and his delivery was long and arduous. It seemed like, even from the start, he had to fight for his place in this world. The difficult delivery left Warren’s mother, Harriet, barren. Something Franklin unreasonably blamed on his son, a claim he repeated many, many times. Often Franklin was drunk or high when he raged at his son but not always. Sometimes he was cold sober. Those were the worst times.
But Franklin’s difficulties started way before Warren’s birth. Franklin Scott grew up in a small town in northern New York. His family owned and operated a salt mine going back generations. The revenue and the value of the mine made his family practically royalty in their small community. They were the town’s most prominent citizens. The local high school was named Scott High School after Warren’s parents donated a generous sum to replace the football field with an expensive man-made alternative. Franklin had been caught cheating on a math final in eighth grade, and the gift went a long way to resolving the situation.
Franklin was completely average-looking in almost every aspect, except for extraordinarily, wide, round eyes that shined as black as night. They brought charm to his face and transformed an average-looking man into something else, something much better.
As an only child, Franklin suffered intense scrutiny in his small town as the heir to the Scott Holdings. He fled the first chance he got and went to college in California. Finding academic pursuits tedious and reveling in his newfound freedom, Franklin began exploring the world of drugs and other illegal vices.
After barely graduating college, Franklin was drawn to New York City as if he was a sailor that got swept away by a siren’s song. The big city offered an impossibly wide variety of illegal pursuits for the young and wealthy. Having no real ambition, he studied at a third-tier law school in an effort to put off finding a real job for as long as possible. Upon graduation, five years later, he procured a job with the help of his father at a large New York law firm.
Franklin’s father paid the law firm enough in extra fees to cover Franklin’s salary and expenses, plus a tidy profit. In return, they assigned Franklin to a “special projects” division where he reported to the office a few times a week and worked on “long-range” assignments that never progressed very far.
This arrangement suited him. He enjoyed all the recreational activities New York City had to offer with the façade of a high-charging and high-paying career. Franklin’s most difficult responsibility was to make sure that his expensive habits (i.e., drugs, gambling, and prostitution) did not cost more than the generous salary he took in from the law firm. He routinely failed at this modest goal, often requesting bonuses from the law firm to cover unforeseen expenses. Franklin’s parents, through the law firm, always satisfied those requests with little fuss, enabling the young man’s spiral downward.
Life was easy, if not empty, for Franklin until his mother and father died during a burglary at their estate when Franklin was twenty-seven years old. Everything changed from that moment on for Franklin. The job at the law firm disappeared, and Franklin faced the responsibility of his family’s business back home in his small, rather dull, town. The transition did not go well for him. As the months crept by, Franklin fell into a steep depression.
At Franklin’s darkest point, he found himself lying on the floor in the lady’s restroom of one of the three bars in town, the Pink Pussycat. The cold porcelain toilet pressed against his forehead as vomit still clung to parts of his shirt. He had no idea where he was when he saw the fuzzy headline of the local newspaper: the congressman who represented his district had died of a massive heart attack. Franklin literally saw the opportunity as a sign from God. He cleaned most of the vomit from his shirt, splashed water on his face, brushed his hair back, staggered to the stage, and sang a very well received rendition of God Bless America (it was karaoke night), and went home to start planning his political ambitions. Franklin had never been interested in politics, but a few of his long-term assignments over the years dealt with political lobbying campaigns, and the Scott name was still well regarded in his district.
Franklin met with a professional political operative who readily agreed to leave his job as a used car salesman to run Franklin’s campaign for the special election. For the first time in his life, Franklin found something that excited and interested him that he didn’t buy in a form of a pill, injection, or sleazy one-night stand. He focused on his campaign with an energy and interest he had never shown in anything else in his life up to that point. Christian conservatives dominated Franklin’s district, so he publicly embraced those beliefs, painting a picture of himself as a pious, hardworking person that no one who had previously known him could have recognized.
Franklin’s campaign was well financed by his holdings. More importantly, Franklin had found something he was finally good at. He was charismatic and able to repeat the views his campaign manager handed him. His popularity as a fictional, righteous, hard-working, small-town politician exploded. The fact that he held very few political positions of his own only enhanced his standing with local special interest groups. They found someone they could support and influence, creating a perfect political marriage.
Franklin enjoyed campaigning, and for a short time in his life, he limited his usual vices. He met his future wife, Warren’s mother, during the campaign. Harriet was a young staffer that fell in love with the charismatic politician. For the first and only time in Franklin’s life, he felt at peace, immersed in the campaign, and amused by the affections of his young assistant.
The election produced a landslide victory. Franklin won by such a wide margin that, for a short time, he became a darling of the national party. Within months after the election, after substantial prodding by his campaign manager, and a near scandal involving two strippers, cocaine, and a horse in Washington, DC, Franklin married Harriet. The marriage started off well enough. Harriet lived in Franklin’s hometown with Franklin making frequent visits back home from Washington. On one of those visits, Harriet became pregnant with Warren.
Franklin took the news of Harriet’s pregnancy poorly. The responsibility of fatherhood felt like a noose tightening around his neck; he could practically feel the rope burns. Franklin began staying in Washington for longer periods and lapsed into his prior vices with a renewed vigor. Warren’s birth only accelerated his father’s decline.
Throughout Warren’s life, Franklin stayed in Washington for substantial periods, earning Franklin the unjust reputation as a hardworking and dedicated representative. Having very little talent or interest in governing, he relied on staffers to do the work for him, but he was a gifted campaigner and had a talent for throwing extreme and lavish parties. The campaigns kept him going as he won one reelection after another, and the parties bought him favor with other members of the Congress.
Franklin was an original member of the famous, “Heavenly Seven.” These seven representatives sold themselves as the staunchest conservatives in Washington, living together in a townhouse that they unofficially called the “Rectory,” as one of the seven was an ordained minister. The Rectory became famous for its “special parties,” which revolved around drugs, orgies, and gambling. Congressmen of both parties competed fiercely to get invited to the affairs. The guests were unaware of the sophisticated surveillance equipment installed in the bedrooms. For a time, the Heavenly Seven was the most influential members of the House of Representatives.
Warren, however, grew up in a loveless household. Harriet, being deeply religious, never considered leaving Franklin; and Franklin, who crafted a very elaborate public reputation as a staunch Christian conservative, could not afford to divorce Harriet. Besides, the arrangement worked well for Franklin as Washington offered him many opportunities to indulge in his two favorite vices—drugs and prostitution.
Harriet subconsciously blamed Warren for her husband’s frequent absences, which led to an overwhelming tower of resentment toward her son. In many cases, mother and son didn’t speak for most of the week except in preparation for their visit to church.
Warren had mixed emotions about his father’s infrequent visits back home. In equal parts, he both dreaded and looked forward to his father’s arrival. He desperately wanted his father’s acceptance and love, but his father inevitably abused him, both physically and mentally.
Warren fed off his father’s contempt, using it for motivation. He worked extraordinarily hard to prove his father wrong, not only achieving the highest academic awards in his schooling but also learning how to be cold and calculating in his relationships with others. Unable to connect with other people, he fostered acquaintances that he thought were valuable from time to time, but could never make any real friends. He trusted no one.
As Warren’s graduation as valedictorian from college approached, he decided to give himself the one graduation gift he most desired. He planned to kill his father. Franklin was busy in Washington and would not attend his son’s graduation ceremony. The night before graduation, Warren drove down to Washington, a six-hour drive, snuck into his father’s room in the Rectory, and found him passed out with a hooker lying next to him.
Warren stared down at his father for a long moment, savoring the opportunity to end his life. He resisted the urge to wake him up and make one last attempt at connecting with him. Instead, he focused on his father’s neck. Quietly and purposefully, Warren reached down, wrapped both of his hands around his father’s bloated neck, and squeezed. For a brief moment, Franklin opened his wide charismatic eyes, and for the first time in his life, Warren believed he saw respect and affection in his father’s gaze. Franklin didn’t even struggle as the light left his face. The prostitute never woke up. The next morning Warren gave an outstanding valedictory speech, praising his father’s influence on his life.
The police investigation ended quickly. No one suspected Warren’s involvement in his father’s death, and, fearing a scandal, the other members of the Heavenly Seven influenced the investigation, forcing the police chief to rule that the death was a simple heart attack. Warren briefly considered running for Franklin’s newly opened representative’s seat but decided he was better suited for more important pursuits.
About the Author
Jeff Altabef is an award-winning author who lives in New York with his wife, two daughters, and Charlie the dog. He spends time volunteering at the writing center in the local community college. After years of being accused of “telling stories,” he thought he would make it official. He writes in both the thriller and young adult genres. Fourteenth Colony, a political thriller, was his debut novel. Evolved Publishing has published Jeff’s second thriller, Shatter Point, which won the Pinnacle Book Achievement Award for Fall 2014 in the category of Best Thriller.Jeff’s first young adult novel, Wind Catcher: A Chosen Novel will be published in March by Evolved Publishing. He’s extremely excited that his daughter, Erynn Altabef, is his co-author on the Chosen Series. As an avid Knicks fan, Jeff is prone to long periods of melancholy during hoops season. Jeff has a column on The Examiner focused on writing and a blog designed to encourage writing by those that like telling stories.