Under and Alone: The True Story of the Undercover Agent Who Infiltrated America'

Description: Under and Alone by William Queen In this breathless, adrenaline-charged "New York Times" bestseller, a veteran law enforcement agent tells the true story of how he went undercover to infiltrate Americas most violent outlaw motorcycle club, Hells Angels. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description In 1998, William Queen was a veteran law enforcement agent with a lifelong love of motorcycles and a lack of patience with paperwork. When a "confidential informant" made contact with his boss at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, offering to take an agent inside the San Fernando chapter of the Mongols (the scourge of Southern California, and one of the most dangerous gangs in America), Queen jumped at the chance, not realizing that he was kicking-starting the most extensive undercover operation inside an outlaw motorcycle gang in the history of American law enforcement. Nor did Queen suspect that he would penetrate the gang so successfully that he would become a fully "patched-in" member, eventually rising through their ranks to the office of treasurer, where he had unprecedented access to evidence of their criminal activity. After Queen spent twenty-eight months as "Billy St. John," the bearded, beer-swilling, Harley-riding gang-banger, the truth of his identity became blurry, even to himself.During his initial "prospecting" phase, Queen was at the mercy of crank-fueled criminal psychopaths who sought to have him test his mettle and prove his fealty by any means necessary, from selling (and doing) drugs, to arms trafficking, stealing motorcycles, driving getaway cars, and, in one shocking instance, stitching up the face of a Mongol "ol lady" after a particularly brutal beating at the hands of her boyfriend.Yet despite the constant criminality of the gang, for whom planning cop killings and gang rapes were business as usual, Queen also came to see the genuine camaraderie they shared. When his lengthy undercover work totally isolated Queen from family, his friends, and ATF colleagues, the Mongols felt like the only family he had left. "I had no doubt these guys genuinely loved Billy St. John and would have laid down their lives for him. But they wouldnt hesitate to murder Billy Queen."From Queens first sleight of hand with a line of methamphetamine in front of him and a knife at his throat, to the fearsome face-off with their decades-old enemy, the Hells Angels (a brawl that left three bikers dead), to the heartbreaking scene of a father ostracized at Parents Night because his deranged-outlaw appearance precluded any interaction with regular citizens, Under and Alone is a breathless, adrenaline-charged read that puts you on the street with some of the most dangerous men in America and with the law enforcement agents who risk everything to bring them in. Flap In 1998, William Queen was a veteran law enforcement agent with a lifelong love of motorcycles and a lack of patience with paperwork. When a "confidential informant" made contact with his boss at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, offering to take an agent inside the San Fernando chapter of the Mongols (the scourge of Southern California, and one of the most dangerous gangs in America), Queen jumped at the chance, not realizing that he was kicking-starting the most extensive undercover operation inside an outlaw motorcycle gang in the history of American law enforcement. Nor did Queen suspect that he would penetrate the gang so successfully that he would become a fully "patched-in" member, eventually rising through their ranks to the office of treasurer, where he had unprecedented access to evidence of their criminal activity. After Queen spent twenty-eight months as "Billy St. John," the bearded, beer-swilling, Harley-riding gang-banger, the truth of his identity became blurry, even to himself. During his initial "prospecting" phase, Queen was at the mercy of crank-fueled criminal psychopaths who sought to have him test his mettle and prove his fealty by any means necessary, from selling (and doing) drugs, to arms trafficking, stealing motorcycles, driving getaway cars, and, in one shocking instance, stitching up the face of a Mongol "ol lady" after a particularly brutal beating at the hands of her boyfriend. Yet despite the constant criminality of the gang, for whom planning cop killings and gang rapes were business as usual, Queen also came to see the genuine camaraderie they shared. When his lengthy undercover work totally isolated Queen from family, hisfriends, and ATF colleagues, the Mongols felt like the only family he had left. "I had no doubt these guys genuinely loved Billy St. John and would have laid down their lives for him. But they wouldnt hesitate to murder Billy Queen." From Queens first sleight of hand with a line of methamphetamine in front of him and a knife at his throat, to the fearsome face-off with their decades-old enemy, the Hells Angels (a brawl that left three bikers dead), to the heartbreaking scene of a father ostracized at Parents Night because his deranged-outlaw appearance precluded any interaction with regular citizens, "Under and Alone is a breathless, adrenaline-charged read that puts you on the street with some of the most dangerous men in America and with the law enforcement agents who risk everything to bring them in. "From the Hardcover edition. Author Biography WILLIAM QUEEN spent twenty years as a Special Agent with the U.S. Department of the Treasury, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. A Vietnam War veteran, Queen served with the U.S. Army Special Forces and was awarded the Silver Star during his 1971 tour of duty. After his military service, Queen devoted his entire career to law enforcement. For his groundbreaking undercover work playing the part of biker "Billy St. John," William Queen was awarded the 2001 Federal Bar Associations Medal of Valor, the Directors Award from the Department of Justice, the Robert Faulkner Memorial Outstanding Investigation Award from the International Outlaw Motorcycle Gang Investigator Association, the Medal of Valor from the International Narcotics Investigators Association, and the Distinguished Service Award from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Review Advance praise for Under and Alone"Under and Alone is the dangerous and fascinating true story of an undercover ATF agent and the psychological price he was made to pay for his courageous work."–Joseph Wambaugh, bestselling author of The Onion Field"A riveting story of a one-of-a-kind officer that takes you to the deepest and most dangerous part of undercover work. Highly recommended."–Joseph Pistone, author of Donnie Brasco: My Undercover Life in the Mafia "Top-shelf adventure . . . packed with great intensity . . . a dark and twisted world, fully realized. Dont be surprised if it runs to bestsellerdom."–Kirkus Reviews Long Description In 1998, William Queen was a veteran law enforcement agent with a lifelong love of motorcycles and a lack of patience with paperwork. When a " confidential informant" made contact with his boss at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, offering to take an agent inside the San Fernando chapter of the Mongols (the scourge of Southern California, and one of the most dangerous gangs in America), Queen jumped at the chance, not realizing that he was kicking-starting the most extensive undercover operation inside an outlaw motorcycle gang in the history of American law enforcement. Nor did Queen suspect that he would penetrate the gang so successfully that he would become a fully " patched-in" member, eventually rising through their ranks to the office of treasurer, where he had unprecedented access to evidence of their criminal activity. After Queen spent twenty-eight months as " Billy St. John, " the bearded, beer-swilling, Harley-riding gang-banger, the truth of his identity became blurry, even to himself. During his initial " prospecting" phase, Queen was at the mercy of crank-fueled criminal psychopaths who sought to have him test his mettle and prove his fealty by any means necessary, from selling (and doing) drugs, to arms trafficking, stealing motorcycles, driving getaway cars, and, in one shocking instance, stitching up the face of a Mongol " ol lady" after a particularly brutal beating at the hands of her boyfriend. Yet despite the constant criminality of the gang, for whom planning cop killings and gang rapes were business as usual, Queen also came to see the genuine camaraderie they shared. Whenhis lengthy undercover work totally isolated Queen from family, his friends, and ATF colleagues, the Mongols felt like the only family he had left. " I had no doubt these guys genuinely loved Billy St. John and would have laid down their lives for him. But they wouldn t hesitate to murder Billy Queen." From Queen s first sleight of hand with a line of methamphetamine in front of him and a knife at his throat, to the fearsome face-off with their decades-old enemy, the Hell s Angels (a brawl that left three bikers dead), to the heartbreaking scene of a father ostracized at Parents Night because his deranged-outlaw appearance precluded any interaction with regular citizens, "Under and Alone "is a breathless, adrenaline-charged read that puts you on the street with some of the most dangerous men in America and with the law enforcement agents who risk everything to bring them in. "From the Hardcover edition." Review Quote Advance praise forUnder and Alone "Under and Alone is the dangerous and fascinating true story of an undercover ATF agent and the psychological price he was made to pay for his courageous work." Joseph Wambaugh, bestselling author ofThe Onion Field "A riveting story of a one-of-a-kind officer that takes you to the deepest and most dangerous part of undercover work. Highly recommended." Joseph Pistone, author ofDonnie Brasco: My Undercover Life in the Mafia "Top-shelf adventure . . . packed with great intensity . . . a dark and twisted world, fully realized. Dont be surprised if it runs to bestsellerdom." Kirkus Reviews From the Hardcover edition. Excerpt from Book Chapter 1 September 1998 Somewhere near Visalia, California "All right, Billy, how long was your fuckin academy?" Red Dog pressed his ruddy, windburned face three inches from mine. I smelled that thick mix of Budweiser and crank-fueled sleeplessness on his breath. The words he spat felt hotter than the midday Southern California sun. He cocked his head to one side and pushed closer. "Im askin you a fuckin question, Billy!" Red Dog, the national sergeant at arms of the Mongols Motorcycle Club, stood six feet tall, with long, stringy hair and a rust-colored handlebar mustache that drooped below his chin. From his pierced forehead, a silver chain swept down ominously past his left eye. His powerfully muscled arms were sleeved out with a web of prison tattoos, and his right hand clutched a loaded 9-mm Glock semiautomatic. Behind him, six other Mongols--Evel, C.J., Domingo, Diablo, Bobby Loco, and Lucifer--all in various states of drunkenness and methamphetamine highs, were slapping magazines into their Glocks and Berettas. More than one had his Mongol colors decorated with the skull-and-crossbones patch, boldly announcing to the world that he had killed for the club. Here at the end of a long dirt road, in an abandoned orange grove a 180 miles north of Los Angeles, what had begun as a typical Southern California day--that perfect golden sun beating down on a ribbon of black highway--had quickly turned into my worst nightmare. For several months now, working deep undercover on assignment for the Department of the Treasurys Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF), Id been posing as a Mongols "prospect"--a probationary member of the club, a position that allowed me to wear my black leather vest with the lower rocker reading california but not yet the official black-and-white center patch and top rocker that distinguished a full-fledged member. As a prospect, youre a slave, the property of the club. You have to do everything a member tells you to do, from hauling drugs and guns to wiping a members ass if he orders you to. Some members were good for simple orders like "Prospect, go get me a beer," or "Light my cigarette," or "Clean my bike." But other members, guys like Red Dog, took inordinate pleasure in making a prospects life a living hell. Prospecting inside the Mongols was a dangerous game. According to intel developed by ATF, the Mongols Motorcycle Club had assumed the mantle of the most violent motorcycle gang in America, a tight-knit collective of crazies, unpredictable and unrepentant badasses. With 350 full-patch members, the gang was a small fraction of the size of the Hells Angels, their hated rivals, but the Mongols had wreaked more than their fair share of havoc since they were founded in the early seventies. Their most significant violent acts in the 1970s and 80s were committed against the Angels, with whom they fought (and ultimately won) a seventeen-year war. But by the mid-nineties, infused by the ruthless Latino gang mentality of East Los Angeles, the Mongols indiscriminate violence spread outside the biker underworld and began to terrorize the general populace of Southern California. When the Mongols frequented mainstream bars and clubs, where people were not as familiar with the gangs fearsome reputation, the result was a series of vicious assaults, stabbings, and gunfights. In late 1997 the Mongols got into a confrontation in a club in the San Gabriel Valley, just outside of L.A., which resulted in a shoot-out, leaving one man dead. Also in 1997, the Mongols went to two nightclubs in the Los Angeles area and stabbed patrons in plain view of dozens of witnesses, but no one would come forward to testify against them. Nor was the Mongols violence limited to the outside world; even within the ranks of the club, the gang had such a reputation for assaulting its prospects that by the late nineties, the membership was dwindling: No one wanted to join a club if it meant that every day and night he had to worry about taking a savage beat-down. In 1998 they adopted a new national policy: No beating on the prospects. And almost everyone stuck by it, except for Red Dog. Despite the fact that as national sergeant at arms he was supposed to be enforcing the clubs rules and constitution--yes, the club had a seventy-page constitution--Red Dog was a loose cannon, riding his Harley through life with a "fuck everyone" attitude. For months he was in my face, smashing his heavy fist into my chest, at times uppercutting me as hard as he could. More than once hed sucker-punched me in the gut, leaving me doubled over, gasping for air, and ready to puke. But I was a prospect, so I gritted my teeth and sucked it up. That morning we had all hooked up at C.J.s house, where the dudes drank hard and I did my prospect thing, fetching beer for the patches (as fully inducted members of the club are called), lighting their cigarettes, watching them do line after line of crank and coke. Then when Red Dog figured everyone was drunk and high enough, he gave an abrupt order: "Lets go shoot." This was a Mongols membership requirement: Before any prospect could attain full-patch status in the club, he had to prove that he owned a firearm and was a decent shot. When I got behind the wheel of my bullet-pocked red Mustang, I thought we were heading out to an actual firing range--and so did my ATF backup. We formed a ragged convoy behind Red Dogs burgundy Monte Carlo as we left the Visalia city limits. I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, checking to see that my backup was still there. But as we got farther and farther into the countryside of vineyards and orange groves, eventually turning down a remote dirt driveway, I realized we had completely lost my backup. I also realized this wasnt going to be a standard firearms-qualification exercise. There was nothing ATF could do to help me now. If shit went bad, it just went bad. I was alone. Now, with a collection of new semiautomatic pistols on the hoods of our cars and the loaded magazines clicking into place, the mood in the orange grove suddenly turned dark and twisted. One Mongol brother stood loading rounds into a street-sweeper, a high-capacity, drum-fed semiautomatic 12-gauge shotgun that looks similar to the old Thompson submachine gun from the Prohibition era. An awesome assault weapon, beloved by drug dealers and hard-core gangsters, the street-sweeper has since been banned by the feds. I knew that a gun like that was useless for target shooting; like the tommy gun, a street-sweeper is a pure killing machine. Without warning, Red Dog was up in my face again, head cocked to one side, hollering crazily--accusing me of being an undercover cop. "How long was your fuckin academy, Billy?" "What are you talkin about, Red Dog?" "You know what Im talking about, Billy! Who the fuck did you tell you was comin up here? Who the fuck did you tell you was gonna be with the Mongols today? Who, Billy?" "I didnt tell nobody. Come on, Red, why you acting like this? I didnt tell nobody I was coming up to Visalia." He locked his slate blue eyes on mine and, in torturous silence, stared at me for fifteen seconds. "So youre saying if I put a bullet in the back of your fuckin head right now, aint nobody gonna know where to start looking for you? Is that right, Billy?" "Yeah, I guess thats right, Red Dog." He gestured across the dusty, desolate, trash-strewn field, told me to go set up some cans to shoot at. My first thought was of the infamous 1963 Onion Field case, chronicled in Joseph Wambaughs bestseller and subsequent movie, in which two young LAPD officers, after stopping a vehicle in Hollywood they suspected had been involved in a series of armed robberies, were kidnapped by a pair of ex-convicts and taken to a remote onion field outside Bakersfield. Officer Ian Campbell was shot dead while Officer Karl Hettinger watched in horror before escaping with his life. When I turned my back to Red Dog and the other armed Mongols, the icy realization hit me: After the firefights in Vietnam, after twenty-five years in law enforcement, this was the way it ended--I was going to die on a gorgeous Southern California day, by a Mongol bullet, in the middle of a godforsaken, abandoned orange grove somewhere outside Visalia. I closed my eyes and began to walk, waiting for the bullets to start tearing through my back. I couldnt even turn to shoot it out: Red Dog and Domingo had made certain that I was the only one without a gun. It was a simple equation: If theyd made me, I was going to die today. I stumbled across the field in my motorcycle boots and suddenly saw an image of my two sons standing tearfully over my open casket. Id felt similar eerie premonitions during my tour of duty in Vietnam, but here, without question, there was nothing worth dying for. Suddenly, I heard a loud pop and felt my boot crunching an empty beer can. My knees buckled, but I bent down and picked up the can. I glanced back toward the Mongols and saw them talking in a tight circle instead of pointing their guns and training their sights on me. No, they werent going to shoot me, at least not right now . . . Details ISBN0345487524 Author William Queen Short Title UNDER & ALONE Language English ISBN-10 0345487524 ISBN-13 9780345487520 Media Book DEWEY B Year 2006 Imprint Random House Inc Subtitle The True Story of the Undercover Agent Who Infiltrated Americas Most Violent Outlaw Motorcycle Gang Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States DOI 10.1604/9780345487520 AU Release Date 2006-03-28 NZ Release Date 2006-03-28 US Release Date 2006-03-28 UK Release Date 2006-03-28 Publisher Random House USA Inc Format Paperback Publication Date 2006-03-28 Illustrations 16-PP B/W PHOTO INSERT Audience General Pages 288 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:137572081;

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