Hard Road: Deadly Horizon (Dark Plague Book 2)

by Bradley West

  “I thought we’re going back tomorrow to walk the battlefield and bury Sal, Mona and Kyle?” Tom asked.

  “That’s a luxury we can’t afford. I’m afraid our friends will lie where they fell. Some day when this is over, we’ll erect a monument to Sal and Kyle. Ideally, we’d also try to salvage the Telluride—at least siphon the gas—and burn it if we can’t, but Johnny told me there’s nothing in the glove compartment that will lead them beyond Spice Land and Depot #2. More than anyone, Sal would understand that we put the safety of the group first. Otherwise, half our people died for nothing.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Meatball Matt asked.

  “Tien’s up on the SAW. Brief him on the latest, then come back here and support Shorty as we break camp. Start by waking everyone up, eating something and topping off our tanks. Greg, Tom and I will drive over to Neal’s house to pitch our proposal.”

  “What if he says no?” Greg asked.

  “That’s not an option. I have Sal’s maps of the crossing points. I’ll let Neal know that the number of vials he receives is a function of our people and vehicles making it in one piece into Canada. If he leads us up a goat trail and our RVs get stuck, he’ll end up chained to a Winnebago axle.”

  * * * * *

  Jeff Neal was packing like a man leaving for good when Greg and Tom surrounded his house and Travis rapped on his front door. Tom greeted their guide on his way out the back door and turned him around at gunpoint. The subsequent conversation was one-sided and Travis’ offer was ultimatum than proposition. Travis took the precaution of frisking Jeff and relieving him of a Chinese 9mm pistol. “If there’s any shooting, I’ll be doing it,” he drawled.

  Back at the 3M’s camp, another night of interrupted sleep with badly wounded people to attend to was par for the course. Travis drove the Silverado as a fuzzy Johnny rode in the back seat with the order to put a bullet in their guide’s head if he tried anything. Shorty drove the green ’Bago that housed the four more seriously wounded and Schway, while Erinn, Zarni and Pat supplied nursing skills. Greg took the keys to the blue ’Bago with Carla by his side joined by Greg, Steph and Tyson, and the three Garcias filling out the rear. Tom was handling the white whale solo with an M-4 on the seat beside him for company. Meatball Matt and Tien rode the recovered Harleys, one up front and one watching their six.

  Travis had placed the inoperative M320 grenade launcher and an M-4 in the back seat of the Silverado within Neal’s sight. Tien would handle munitions resupply. Anyone manning a roadblock would be in for a rough evening’s work even absent high explosive grenades.

  Neal realized he’d been outplayed across the board. Too fearful to lead them up a cul-de-sac, he directed the four vehicles across the only open road into Canada that could accommodate a forty-two-foot-long RV with a twenty-three-foot wheelbase. At 6:30 a.m. it had been light for a half-hour and the onboard map app showed the 3M miles into Canada after a harrowing transit of the Salmo-Creston Pass.

  Travis pulled off the logging road outside Salmo, BC and the trailing vehicles juddered to a halt. He turned to his front seat companion. “That was an excellent job. I’m afraid, however, that this is the end of the line for you.” Jeff almost passed out at the news of his impending death. “Get out,” Travis said. Johnny opened the back door and pointed the 9-mil Glock at the terrified guide.

  “Carla!” Travis shouted. His beautiful former beauty queen was sore all over and moved gingerly down the stairs with a Ziploc bag of vials in her hands.

  “Count out five doses for Mr. Neal. Take three back for trying to run away. My math ain’t so good, but I think he keeps two.”

  “I . . . I need a vehicle,” Neal protested. “It’s too far to walk.”

  “I’m sure you think you do. I want you to focus instead on the two Covid cures you have in hand. If you’d like, we can inject you with the first one right here. That leaves you with one to either protect family or friends, or sell for whatever you can get. The going rate a few days ago was a hundred thousand dollars a shot. Today, it could be a million. And Jeff, one other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “We won’t tell anyone you were our willing guide paid in Dark Cure doses unless we believe that you informed on us to the feds. Just to keep everyone honest, Johnny will take a photo of the two of us smiling with you holding the bag.”

  Johnny did the honors and handed his phone to Travis, who shared the photo with Jeff. “That’s a nice shot, don’t you think? Two amigos with your Dark Cure baggie, and me with a smile and a big thumbs-up.” False cheeriness over, Travis reverted to default mode. “You don’t know what happened to us. Just that we had left when you checked the campsite.”

  “How will I get back across the border and home?”

  “In your house, I saw age-category participation trophies for half-marathons and at least one full marathon. I figure you’re good for at least fifteen miles to cross into the U.S. From there, you can jog, hitchhike or call an Uber. Any more questions?”

  “No.”

  “Jeff, one more thing. If you double-cross us, I won’t have any trouble killing you. Do you know why?”

  “N— no.” Jeff’s vocal cords constricted involuntarily.

  “Because once I’m done in Canada, I have to come back down here to bring my ex-wife and kids up. I’ll be in the ’hood twice more, going and coming. Think about that when the feds knock.”

  * * * * *

  Under the cover of British Columbia virgin forest, the tired 3Mers conducted Mona’s funeral and held a brief memorial for Sal and Kyle. Carla gave the eulogy. “Sal once said we shouldn’t try to save the world before we had saved ourselves. At the time, I didn’t appreciate the insight underlying that thought. None of us would be alive without Sal’s sacrifices, and the sacrifices of many others. I hope the worst of this hard road is behind us. In time our wounds will heal, but let us never forget that the 3M is a family who lives or dies together. I pledge that we will all make it to our new home, in peace if possible and by force of arms if necessary. We stand here today in triumph and in sorrow, united as one. We started this journey with twenty-one passengers, and we’ve gained and lost many along the way, but as of this morning we remain at twenty-one.”

  Barb raised her Solo cup. “To Sal, the Twenty-One and Canada!”

  “To Sal, the Twenty-One and Canada!” her comrades shouted with a strength that belied their bandaged, haggard appearances.

  Shorty took Travis aside and said, “We need to talk about our fuel situation.”

  Travis said, “We’ll do that after we swap over these BC plates. Sal thought of everything.”

  LOOK FOR THE HAVEN IN 2022 FOR THE CONCLUSION OF THE DARK PLAGUE TRILOGY.

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, I find myself surprised by Covid-19's staying power (most recently via the delta mutation) which in turn has kept the Dark Plague trilogy relevant when by rights, the disease should be over and the topic passé. Fortunately, we've yet to see a mutation close to the lethality of fictional Covid-20, but the pandemic is far from dead as of mid-2021.

  Like Dark Cure, I wrote Hard Road: Deadly Horizon in isolation in Singapore. Hard Road was edited and finalized abroad in England, Mexico, the Bahamas, and the U.S. My wife Lai Fan and I left Singapore in late April, and I'm still abroad on a six month-long odyssey. Later this year, I'll start the final instalment, The Haven. For now, I admit that the distractions of the road have slowed my work pace with family, friends, food, fine wine and fishing often taking precedence.

  I dedicated my first novel Sea of Lies to Jim Hawes, a real-life giant in 1960s and 1970s special and covert operations, and the fictionalized model for Countless Lies arch-villain, Frank Coulter. Until Hard Road, I'd not dedicated another book. This time, Lai Fan receives overdue recognition. No author writes novels in a vacuum, and there are plenty of days featuring either writer's block or self-doubt. Having my biggest fan under the same roof, always willing to offer constructive criticism and encour
agement, helps me write confidently and more creatively. The second person listed on the flyleaf is our friend John Ford who died of ALS far too young. John's humanity, humor and talent live on in his family, and his memory continues to inspire his many friends.

  Real-life man of action Don Mann found time between recording episodes of his new T.V. series Surviving Mann to once again review the book's action scenes, assisting both on the medical and military fronts. It's good to have a former SEAL Team Six member as an adviser.

  Juan Padrón designed the book covers, doing his usual excellent job. Fellow Ohioan Geoff Smith reprised his copy editor's role in End of Lies and Dark Cure. Not many authors have the benefit of such a curious and expert mind.

  Advance copy readers include Jon Zax, Jeevan William, Mike Ellsworth, Andrew Jordan and my mother, Jewell.

  Another big thanks to the readers of the True Lies blog on www.bradleywest.net. This is where I get the inspiration to research and fictionalize contemporary conspiracies.

  Bradley West (August, 2021)

  About the Author

  I've been blogging and writing full-time since 2014. When I started the Dark Plague trilogy in 2020 with Dark Cure, I steered clear of Covid-19's origins because so little was known. However, I did devote four blog posts in True Lies (www.bradleywest.net/blog) to exploring the lab leak hypothesis. At the time of writing (August, 2020 onward), anyone proposing an accidental escape from the Wuhan Institute of Virology was dismissed as either a Trumper or a raving conspiracist. Times have changed, and mainstream media and the science community concur that the balance of probability points to a lab leak. It didn’t affect Dark Plague or Hard Road, but does point to the press' shortcomings and politicization.

  * * * * *

  I'm originally from Ohio but was always interested in living and working abroad, so I completed an undergraduate degree at Georgetown's School of Foreign Service. After an MBA from London Business School, I was shipped to Singapore on a short-term project now in its thirty-eighth year. Along the way, I've been fortunate enough to live mostly in Singapore, but also logged many years in Hong Kong with stops in Kuala Lumpur, Bangalore and Colombo.

  I live in Singapore, where I'm a keen mountain biker, former baseball coach and avid fisherman. I enjoy red wine, dark chocolate and raucous friends around the table. If you'd like to connect, I'm on Facebook under Bradley West, Author and have an author website at www.bradleywest.net.

  Bradley West

  August, 2021

  A Favor: Please Leave a Review

  If you have a few spare minutes, please post a Hard Road: Deadly Horizon review on www.Goodreads.com. Honest reviews help readers choose from millions of similar books. It's the primary way independent authors of eBooks differentiate themselves from the pack. Even reviews that aren't four or five stars establish credibility, particularly when the reviewer shares specific criticisms. Constructive suggestions also help new authors improve subsequent novels.

  There is also the 800-pound gorilla in this space (the name of which I can't mention as it violates other eBook retailers' policies), and their ranking algorithms weight reviews more heavily than actual sales (which are easily padded, especially for lower-priced eBooks). A review there would be welcomed . . . you know who it is.

  My Facebook author page is www.facebook.com/bradleywest.net, and I welcome your comments and contributions.

  Thank you very much for reading Dark Cure, and a double thank you if you find time to write a review.

  Visit www.BradleyWest.net and sign up to the Readers' Group and the True Lies newsletter to receive a copy of A Viper's Nest of Conspiracies, v.2.0., featuring exclusive content investigating the true origins of Covid-19. Spoiler: It's not just China.

  UPDATED Greatest Hits from the True Lies Blog

  Contains NEW content on Covid-19's Origins

  Dark Plague Trilogy

  dark cure: A Covid Thriller

  Covid-19 mutates into far deadlier Covid-20 and strikes hard. A biotech executive uses an experimental treatment to save his infected daughter and grandson. His ex-boss hires mercenaries to kidnap the grandson to trade for the vaccine. The kidnappers discover that the newborn's blood cures Covid, so they return and snatch the mother, too. The stakes increase when a wounded kidnapper vows to kill the mother once they finish draining her blood for the Dark Cure.

  A ragtag group tracks the abductors to their hideout while law and order collapse. Facing remorseless adversaries, can they rescue the pair and escape a plague-ravaged United States?

  Countless Lies Trilogy

  SEA OF LIES

  Flight MH370 disappears. Finding out what happened could ignite WWIII. American, Russian and Chinese agents vie to discover the truth. Or bury it. CIA cryptanalyst Bob Nolan finds the secret airstrip where MH370 landed. A beautiful Chinese spy joins Nolan on his quest, but will his new lover be his salvation or ruination?

  The next eight days will see a war fought, a regime toppled, and lives upended as Nolan runs for his life, tries to protect his family, and unspools a dark web of murder and treason.

  PACK OF LIES

  Flight MH370 appears in Balochistan, Pakistan instead of on the seabed. A corrupt Malaysia Prime Minister, a devious CIA director and the secret forces behind Osama bin Laden's death conspire to thwart former CIA cryptanalyst Bob Nolan as he seeks the plane's fate.

  Instead, he uncovers a devil's bargain with global terrorists, faces down the world's most dangerous hacker, and finds himself in the middle of the Taliban's attempted heist of nuclear weapons. In Sri Lanka, Nolan searches for proof of treason against senior CIA officers while his ex-boss waits to kill him. Amidst the chaos, a sultry China spymaster entrances him while ruthlessly pursuing vengeance against his CIA colleagues.

  Can Nolan discover the truth, or will it remain buried within the lies?

  END OF LIES

  Russia interferes in the run-up to the 2016 presidential election. A North Korea nuke is on the loose in the U.S. compliments of China. The right-wing deep state plots a coup d’état under the direction of an anonymous emperor-in-waiting.

  Burned out CIA cryptanalyst Bob Nolan is on the trail of Higher Love and its sinister leader, but the conspiracists kidnap his family and two arch nemeses—one ex-KGB and one ex-CIA—aim to kill them all. Nolan's small team battles formidable opponents, but with victory within sight he is forced to choose between family and country one last time.

  Read on for the first chapters of END OF LIES

  End of Lies: Chapters One-to-Four

  Another Trip to the ATM

  Monday morning, July 14, 2014: Sharjah, United Arab Emirates

  Retired CIA officer Bob Nolan had declined the White House's entreaties to head a new, ultra-secret project and instead decided to reconcile with his estranged wife and children. The next day Nolan departed D.C. for his home in Singapore, with a week's detour in the United Arab Emirates on personal business. In the three months he'd been away, he'd realized that a life in perfect isolation was much less desirable than an imperfect marriage. Now it was a matter of how to handle that fraught conversation with his wife, Joanie.

  At the moment, Nolan sat in a sweltering surveillance van with two Drug Enforcement Administration moonlighters. His hired hand was in the lobby of the Sharjah Bank branch that serviced the surrounding industrial zone. At the appropriate time, the man posing as the account holder would power up a clone of a dead hacker's phone, retrieve the confirmatory PIN, and provide the bank with the six digits required to complete the two-factor identification process. What the stand-in didn't know was the U.S.'s all-seeing National Security Agency would flag the clone as soon as it connected to a cellular network. Within a half-hour, the bank would be abuzz with armed men.

  By Nolan's calculations, collecting the four fifty-five-pound suitcases was a twenty-five-minute event, from front door to loading dock. His man had been in Sharjah Bank for twenty-six minutes. More importantly, thirteen minutes had passed since he'd activated the clo
ned phone. The operator seated next to him monitored the video feeds while the headset-wearing driver scanned the conversations captured from the mikes they'd placed inside the bank earlier in the week. One of Nolan's burners buzzed. "Yes?"

  "Better late than never. Our van just pulled out," said Travis Ryder, the DEA's head of South and Southeast Asia security. The former SEAL fidgeted in an office that faced the bank's parking garage entrance and exit. He'd collected a through-and-through in his right hip saving Nolan's ass in Pakistan. Ryder was a fan of the former Agency codebreaker, more recently recast in the roles of vigilante and unwilling media darling, but he didn't want to be Bob's bullet catcher again.

  "About time. One of your men on it?"

  "Yeah, the motorcyclist. Your squirter won't be able to give my man the slip even if he's Langley-trained."

  "Hold on. Let me confirm the money's on the move." Nolan checked the adjacent screens. "Probably a decoy. None of the suitcases left the bank. I didn't tell Mustafa to switch cases, and he wouldn't have been able to swap contents in the fourteen minutes he's been AWOL."

  "Here we go!" Ryder said. "Silver Cadillac Escalade, black windows, drove into the parking lot eight minutes ago and exited at speed in the opposite direction to our van. What do the beacons say?"