Brent Cooper lifted the coffee cup to his lips and let the fragrant steam penetrate deeply into his nose as he took the first sip of the season from his Pumpkin Spice Latte.  He was always glad when winter rolled around and Starbucks brought back this seasonal favorite.

The new guy behind the counter really knew what he was doing.  It was just like pumpkin pie in a cup, Brent thought, as he sipped at perfection and marveled how this was as close to heaven you could get without having to die first.

Brent placed the warm cup on the small round table and turned his attention back to his MacBook Air.  His publisher was eager for the outline of his next novel in the Jason Dark young adult series.  His fourth book in the series had left the main character in a major cliffhanger and Brent’s young fans were relentless in their emails asking when the next book was coming out.

Despite the romantic notion of the novelist writing his masterpiece in a coffee shop, Brent never wrote while in a public place.  The distractions were far too plentiful.  But he could still use the free Wi-Fi access to conduct all the research he wanted.

Staying at home day after day made him a little stir crazy.  So he promised himself to always take time each day and venture out into the real world.  And Starbucks was the perfect spot to enjoy his favorite coffee and sit undisturbed for hours.

 “Excuse me,” the voice asked rather timidly.  “Are you Brent Cooper?”

Brent looked up and smiled. Being a bestselling author wasn’t as bad as being a Hollywood superstar where everyone knew who you were, everywhere you went.  But every now and then a fan would recognize him and make the approach.

The haggard looking man standing before him was not the typical reader of his young adult series.  Maybe this was a fan from his earlier days when he had written two political thrillers that had seen better than average sales before Brent made the switch to the young adult genre.  Now, instead of being a midlist author, Brent Cooper exploded higher onto the New York Times Bestseller list with each successive release of Jason Dark’s next adventure.

“What can I do for you?”

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Brent held his smile.  “I always make time for a fan.”

The man set his duffle bag down on the floor with a clunk and settled into the empty chair across from Brent.

“Actually, I’ve never read any of your books.”

The smile was harder to hold.  “Then what do you want?”

The man leaned in close.  “I need to talk to you about the Red Cell focus group you were involved in two months ago.”

The smile vanished.  “You could have saved yourself some time if you had only read the blog on my website.  I got sick that week and never made it to the focus group.”

The man looked around before pulling newspaper clippings from the side pocket of his faded green military coat.  He spread them out on the table and pointed to each one as he spoke.

“Each of these people were in the same Homeland Security Analytic Red Cell focus group you were.”

“I told you…”

The man ignored Brent’s interruption and continued.  “And each of them thought they had missed the focus group due to illness.”

“Excuse me – what is your name?”

The man barreled on with his monologue.  “And now, every one of them is dead.  All within the past week, look at the dates.”

Brent froze and looked down at the newspaper clippings.  They were all ripped from various obituary columns.  His heart rate rose for just a moment right before a wave of relief washed over him.  He smiled and waggled his finger at the man.

“You almost had me for a moment there.”

The man looked puzzled.

“That sounds like an fascinating premise for a story.  But when I first started, I made a devout pledge to never, and I mean never, write a story with an author as the main character.”

“This is not some fantasy story for your kid books,” the man hissed as he leaned in closer.

“They’re not kid books, they’re young adult thrillers – I don’t need to defend my,” Brent shook his head.  “I really must be going now.”

He scooted his chair back and reached for his laptop.

“Wait,” the man grabbed Brent’s wrist.

They stared at each other for a moment before the man slowly took his hand back.

“I can prove it.”

“Look, whoever you are, I never made it to the focus group.  I was very sick and in the hospital.”

“Just let me prove it to you.”

The man reached down into his duffle bag and removed a tiny black walkie-talkie with three flexible antennas.  He flipped a switch on the side and laid it down on the table.

“What is that?”

“It’s a microwave jammer.  Knocks out cell phones and Wi-Fi up to a quarter mile.”

“What do you need that for?”

“So that nobody calls the police.”

All around them, people were too busy staring quizzically at their computers and cell phones to pay any attention to the real danger that was about to take place.  Brent watched in horror as the next item pulled out of the duffle bag was an Uzi sub-machine gun with the sound suppressor already attached.

Brent realized with increasing dread that his little slice of heaven was about to go all to hell.