I don't work on bombs by D.A.Sanford - HTML preview

Readers be advised

Warning: Contains adult content due to graphic descriptions of any or all of the following:

Battles, Language, Sexual

Both the cover and images in this book are not photographs or hand drawn art. They were created using AI text to graphics programs by the author.

I don’t work on bombs © 2026 D. A. Sanford

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author or publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

for permission from the author contact danielsanford@sbcglobal.net

I knew there was big trouble brewing when I looked out the window of the private jet I was flying on and I saw that stealth jet just off the port wing. It was just keeping pace with us and would adjust its course to match ours. There were only a few others on this jet.

I was asked if I would do a big favor. There was a family of three that really needed to get to my destination. Since my flight plan had been filed and I actually owned that jet, I had the room and the family looked desperate.

After a that other jet was pacing us for a while, I left my seat and went to the flight cabin.

There is a side seat behind the pilot and his copilot that I use. Most of the time, I like to go up to chat because I am mainly the only passenger. Not full of myself, I can serve myself so there is no attendant. When I get up, I tell that family to help themselves to the refreshments. I usually bring up two cups of coffee for the pilots. This time I deliberately do not. I tell the family that I am going up to see if the pilots would like some coffee.

The door is never locked so I go in and close the door then lock it behind me. Looking out the windscreen, I see another jet that is like a guide. The worried pilots just say “We are being directed to follow and not to deviate. It seems that the passengers are special.

We are going to a secret military base. That is all they will say.”

Not needing to ask, I know that the threat to us was real. It was not an advice that we could follow. Someone of the family, either the mother or father were so important for whatever reason that if we deviated in the slightest, they would shoot us down.

Whatever those parents are, they were not going to fall to whoever was opposing this government. So important that they would destroy them rather than letting us abduct them.

An extra hour and we started our descent. We were landing in a heavily guarded area.

Not your average airbase, this has so much security that I doubt that we will be ever allowed to leave.

There has always been a battle in my mind. It is the battle of reason verses paranoia. I have been fortunate, blessed some call it. I have an instinct for making money. I earned every dollar I made. I will invest in a fledgling business. Help them get started. Capital, access to the best knowledge bank and such. My standard is that I own twenty five percent of the profit for ten years. After that ten years, I cede my rights to the owners.

A sort of bank with extras, I am constantly being sought to invest. I am particular in what I invest in. They must come to me with a solid plan for success. Most are turned away because I have one formula that is so simple that all but the solid ones fail to see.

Regardless of what they want to do or make, I must see that they are dreaming big but have small steps laid out to accomplish that goal. The only thing that will stop me from investing will be a simple thing. Can they show me that they have thought out their product or service to the best extent of their own available knowledge. Are they going to actually get their hands dirty?

If they say that they will hire the expertise to invent then they are shown the door. I get involved with the people I invest with, I expect the same. Some have gone on without me but most that I turn away never really succeed. Getting your hands dirty means, to me, that you are fully committed.

I have made billions over my forty year life.

The tires chirp and we now have a ground escort of armored vehicles on either side but one in the lead. All have their weapons trained on us. We are escorted into a hanger but we are still prevented leaving the jet until the engines are completely shut down and the hanger door is closed. I can see that the parents are now relaxed.

Did they know before they boarded?

Now I feel the paranoia winning. Was I singled out? Why? I know that I will not be allowed to just take back off.

The pilot tells us that we need to open and disembark. “You will be briefed on what is happening. We were told that we need to just go to the holding area. Our passengers will be escorted to their new quarters.”

He looked like he also was going to be disposed of because I was going to be escorted to a meeting room, the passengers were shown to their quarters. But the pilots were just held in the hanger. They both figured that they were expendable.

I am just as confused. Now sitting in a blank nondescript room, the typical picture of a clandestine operation. If one was ever divinely lucky to escape, you would never be able to give anything but , it was a white room with no windows. I did not expect who walked in.

Frozen in place, there with the obvious military people was someone who I have had opportunities to be exposed to.

“Welcome Mr. Burton, I’m glad that you have joined us.”

“Frank Swift, what is the meaning of this treatment. Tricked to take passengers then skyjacked to this nonexistent base. Then you come in. I did not join you! You kidnapped

me. I need to know what is the meaning of this, not that I will ever be able to prove anything, being disposable .”

“Raymond, first you are not disposable, you actually were the one that we need other than that woman. I will not tell you her name right this minute. You are important to the outcome of a situation we have. We need your expertise, your method of operation, so to speak. Again, I will not elaborate yet….”

I stop him in midsentence.

Frank Swift is also in almost the same dollar class that I am in but he is mostly governmental orders. We, quite a few times butted heads but never in outright hostility.

He saw how I was making money. Those investments then providing talent for those who I invested in, then sit back and rake in that twenty five percent. He saw pure profit.

His flaw is the fact that he did not realize that I would get my hands dirty. That was the constant investment I would be all in for the first few years but when the time came that I saw the owners involved to the extent that they could start to thrive, I would slowly back out of the day to day. I still would ask for reports weekly but by the time of the third or forth year, they would not need me there.

Frank never saw that. He actually did not take the time to find out if they even had the initial knowledge. After quite a few bad investments, he withdrew from that side. I will give him one thing, he did not try to poach my investments even after they were standing on their own feet. He at least had that moral.

“Let me guess,” I tell him “You are so deep in trouble as to need someone rational to step in to the shit you got yourself into. You must be on the cusp of just not existing and you decide to take me with you. Thanks a lot Frank. Just what shit pit has he dragged me into?”

“There is a situation that has arisen. That woman has a project that is going to be revolutionary. The problem is that she had her work stolen but that was just before she realized that there was a blatant flaw in her understanding of the project. A foreign government paid big money for her work but when they tested the device, it blew up that entire laboratory and a few other buildings in their complex. Now they figure that they need to take her prisoner and hold her family as hostage. I have been keeping tabs on you. We looked at your flight plan and with your flaw, kindness, we got them on your plane. The rest is history.”

He looks so smug, I really want to slap the smirk from his face. I now have figured out something that he is not willing to admit. It is not the specifics of his contract or the involvement of that woman. It is something simple, something that has appeared before.

Frank is in over his head in a project that failure is not an option. He is in a life or death bind. That smug look is a false face.

He is in some deep shit and his adult diapers can’t contain it.

“So Frank, you did not learn. Investigate, read the fine print. See exactly what your client wants and can you fulfill the terms. You are now in a world of shit up to your neck and you find that you cannot live with the color brown. You now are doing what I did not do. Drag in others to bail you out.”

I look at the generals then back to Frank. ”Are these the ones that will escort one of us to the outside target range? You do realize that one of us will become redundant. You hijacked me not the other way around. Before you say anything more, will that one get a last meal? I would like a large rare sirloin with baked potato, lots of butter and sour cream. Appropriate wine of course.”

I lean back in the chair I am sitting in and just look at Frank. He is trying to keep his composure but is not doing a good job of it. He has poured himself a glass of water and is taking a long drink of it. Read the posture, the body language. That is one of the things I look for in those who approach me for investing in their ideas.

Looking to the generals, “In general terms, the public general terms not the rank of general terms, what is the threat level if I do not buy into this project? I don’t mean me. I know that my flight will just be one of those unsolved mysteries with my passenger Frank here. I mean national and global threat level. He already spilled more than he should have. Another country stole research and had a devastating explosion. That means the project is going to harness a power that could put nuclear weapons obsolete.

Frank, didn’t you even realize that when you took this contract. You are sloppy. Frank, my price to take on your project is I own your business to the tune of sixty percent of each of your businesses. No expiration date. In other words, to save both our lives, you lose control of your very business. I have had a very good life. A promising life that helped others. Never cocky, never took advantage with the exception of now. Frank, your money or our lives.

These generals are here because you have failed them. They cannot just fire you. Now that I am here, generals, if I take on this project, I want clear and complete control of it.

No one can interfere. I will see it to completion. If this is a success or I come to you and tell you that there is no possible way that this can work with the solid data showing that, you will let me resume my life with a permanent gag order. Oh and by the way, I will take this moron as part of the deal.

Please go off and discuss this. Come back with a modified contract or a firing squad or what ever you use now a days.”

They leave but they do not take Frank. He is now visibly shaken. “You know that we both are going to die.” He tells me. “They were very angry when they found out that the information was leaked by one of her underlings. That one disappeared. We are just going to disappear like her assistant.”

I just let him soak for a while then calmly ask, “Do you agree with my terms? Or do you just want to die?”

He just nods yes and them the generals come back. The four star tells me that the terms are agreeable and they will have a modified contract by the morning. “We will have accommodations for the both of you. As for your pilots, they are being given that lifetime NDA and shown to their quarters. They both need to be allowed to fly your jet to get you to the different facilities that you will determine you need to bring in.

Your jet is now being equipped with a tracking device of our own design. If that jet leaves this countries airspace for what ever reason without our permission, well, it will, as you put it, be an unsolved mystery. As for Mr. Swift here, he is now your assistant. He has no say in that deal you proposed. As of tomorrow morning, you will own one hundred percent of everything he owns. Pay him a salary or not, we do not care.”

He looks at Frank, “Mr. Swift, Mr. Burton was right. You did not investigate that contract.

There were specific terms if you did not complete the contract. The failure to fulfill it was left to our discretion. Up to and including “with extreme prejudice” and I do know that you know what that means. Good night to the both of you. Mr. Burton, your pilots wish to talk with you at your earliest convenience. My aid will show you to them. We will be recording.”

The pilots seemed relieved when I told them that we will live. “I, like always, will not discuss this contract, but you both will need to sign a lifetime nondisclosure agreement about this encounter. You will, when needed fly me here. Just know that the jet is now being modified.

Any and all flights out of the country are prohibited without permission. Even if it is a quicker route, the flight plan must be approved. You will be given a number. When you file a flight plan, that number is to be at the top. That tells FAA that it needs a higher approval. Can you live with that. If you cannot, sign the NDA and I will give you a years severance pay. I am quite sure that they will supply me with replacements.”

They both will sign but tell me that they would still like to be my pilots. I knew that would be the case. Now to get some rest and in the morning, after reading and signing the contract, I need to talk with that woman.