The castle was about sixty kilometers south of Dublin and easily reached from that city’s airport. Levell had picked the location on the recommendation of Tomas Mueller, who had known Dermot Callan since their college days at Dartmouth. Callan had graciously agreed to host the meeting at his ancestral home.
A motor coach had picked the Dogs up at the airport following their flight from Riyadh aboard a private jet provided by the Mueller brothers. Although Prince Bandar had seen to it that they were treated well, Whelan and the others were relieved to depart from Saudi Arabia. The motor coach snaked along the road through the forest near the base of Croaghanmoira Mountain, eventually coming to a stop in Castle Dubhán’s motor court. The dark and ancient structure towered above. The men grabbed their meager baggage and strolled toward the granite steps that led to front door, a heavy wooden piece hanging on thick metal hinges.
“Hey, Brendan,” Nick Stensen said, as he took in the surroundings, “What does Dubhán mean?”
“Black. It’s Castle Black.”
Almeida punched one of Quentin Thomas’s thick shoulders and said, “You should fit right in here, brother.” He laughed at his attempted witticism.
Thomas groaned and said, “Whelan, how do you say idiot in Irish?”
“There are several words for it in Irish Gaelic, but the one that’s most appropriate for the circumstances is Amadán.”
“Amadan. Amadan,” Thomas repeated. It sounded like am-a-dan.
“It’s pronounced like this,” Whelan said, “Ah-ma-dawn.”
“Hey, Almeida, you’re an Amadán.”
“When it comes to describing Rafe, I prefer the good ol’ American term—fucking moron,” Stensen said.
“Works for me,” Kirkland said.
“You pricks are lucky my leg ain’t all the way healed yet; otherwise, I’d be kicking the shit out of all of y’all,” Almeida said angrily. That brought snorts of derision from all of the others.
* * *
The castle’s library looked to Whelan like a set in a Hollywood period piece—walls made of large stone blocks lined with heavy, dark wooden shelves crammed full of ancient looking tomes. He wondered when was the last time any member of the several generations of Callans had read any of the books.
Levell, a study in monochromatism—short gray hair, slate gray cardigan sweater, called the meeting to order. As usual, he chose to sit at the middle of the table rather than one of the power positions at either end, but Almeida quickly grabbed one of them. The others left the remaining power seat open, expecting Whelan to take it. Instead, he chose to sit opposite Levell. It wasn’t lost on Levell. A trace of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, and he nodded slightly in Whelan’s direction. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Levell said. “I know you’re all tired and probably hungry for something that doesn’t have lamb in it.”
“It’s Ireland, Cliff,” Whelan said with a wry grin. “You shouldn’t rule out mutton.”
Levell led the debriefing of the Dubai operation. After ninety minutes, he said, “I owe each of you a sincere apology. I didn’t set the mission up as well as I should have. And it nearly got you killed.”
Stensen made a noncommittal gesture with his right hand. “Don’t bust your own chops too badly, Cliff. You had bad HUMINT.”
Levell scowled and clenched his jaws. “No, the HUMINT was good. I did something stupid, something I know better than to do. I shared the plan with a trusted friend and ally.”
“Bandar?” Kirkland said.
“Yeah. And he shared it with a close colleague who turned out to be a traitor.”
“Prince Khalid,” Whelan said. He spoke the word ‘prince’ with obvious contemp. “Maybe SAS won’t sanction a hit on Prince Khalid, but I’m going to kill him. And before I do another damn thing for SAS.”
“Hey, the sonofabitch sold all of us out,” Kirkland said. “Count me in for the hit.” Heads nodded all around the table.
“Under the circumstances, consider it sanctioned,” Levell said. “But make it appear that it was ordered by Nadir Shah and his Holy Army of the Caliphate, or HAC.”
“Any particular reason?” Whelan said.
“Yeah, it will shake up the Saudis and drive them and others to form an alliance against the HAC.”
Almeida said, “Fuckin’ ragheads. The only good camel jockey is a dead one. We should just go out and kill all the fuckin’ Muslims in the whole world.”
Levell and the other five Dogs stared at him. Finally, Levell said, “Even if all of them were evil, you’re talking a billion and a half people. Does your pea brain have any idea how many that is?”
“Yeah,” Almeida said defensively. “It’s a billion and a half.”
“Listen up, retard,” Stensen said. “There are six of us. If we each killed a thousand of them per day, seven days a week, nonstop, it would take us six hundred and eighty-five years to get them all. And that’s if they weren’t reproducing during that time.”
A pouty look came over Almeida’s face. “Yeah? Well, what if each of us kills ten thousand a day.”
“Look,” Levell said, “if we don’t stop the jihadis—and very soon—there will be a world Way III. The jihadis are poisoning the well of Islam. Even the so-called moderate ones will be won over by the continuing success of HAC. It will be one and a half billion Muslims globally versus the rest of the world. In the end we’ll wipe Islam off the face of the earth. But at a cost of two to three billion non-Muslims. That metric is far worse than the toll taken by the Black Plague or any other scourge this world has ever seen.”
Shaking his head, Whelan said, “Let’s get back on track. Cliff, I think you owe it to us to explain SAS’s strategy going forward.”
“Yeah,” Larsen said. “Particularly if you expect us to be a part of it.”
Levell nodded in agreement. “You’re right. And it’s not that complicated. The primary objective is to protect the United States, at least until the next election. And hope the electorate makes a rational choice for a change.” He paused. “If they’re given a rational choice.”
“What’s the strategy for achieving that goal?” Thomas said.
“With all the shit going on all over the world, and SAS, for the most part, being a shadow government, we plan to take a page out of AGU’s book.”
“Meaning?” Thomas said.
“Pit all these hostile factions against each other—Kurds, Saudis, Emiratis, Egyptians, and Israelis against Shah and his HAC, along with Syria and Iran.”
“That’s just the Middle East,” Whelan said. “What about the other major troublemakers who are preying on America’s weak leadership?”
“Our plans include pitting Russia against China, too.”
“That’s an awfully ambitious plan,” Whelan said.
“Yeah, it is. But it’s doable.” He paused and looked intently at Whelan. “The truth is we have the players; we just need to ensure they’ll come on board. That’s where you men fit into the picture.”
“What?” Stensen said. “You expect us to drag a bunch of candy-ass Arabs into a confrontation they’ve spent years and fortunes avoiding?”
Thomas said, “Not to mention they’ve spent billions supporting these same jihadi bastards.”
“I know. I know. But they’re finally beginning to realize that the radicals intend to slaughter every non-radical, Muslims included, down to the last man, woman, and child. They’re scared shitless of the jihadis. Except the Kurds. The Peshmerga, supplied with sufficient weaponry, is the toughest bunch of fighters in that part of the world. Even the Turks don’t want to mess with them.”
“So how does SAS intend to get those other Arab pussies to actually fight?” Larsen said.
“We form a broad coalition where each thinks the other is going to lead Pickett’s Charge, and arrange to provide them with armaments, military advisors and special ops tacticians, along with overwhelming air support.”
/> “And SAS can make this happen?” Whelan said.
“Hell, what other options do we have?”
Endangered Species: A Sleeping Dogs Thriller
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Brendan Whelan – an innkeeper in Dingle, Ireland, and leader of the deadly hunter-killer special ops unit known as the Sleeping Dogs
Caitlin Whelan – Brendan’s wife and partner
The Sleeping Dogs - (together with Brendan Whelan) the deadliest hunter-killer special ops unit in history; genetically evolved—Mother Nature’s beta models for humans in future generations):
Sven Larsen – the most physically powerful of the Dogs and closest to Whelan
Marc Kirkland – an esthete and master of martials fighting and weapons techniques
Nick Stensen – a loner and certifiably insane; he hunts down and kills criminals who have escaped the law
Quentin Thomas – a philosopher king; the best pure athlete of the Dogs and professor of Eastern philosophies
Rafe Almeida – genetically gifted like the other Dogs, but an inveterate substance abuser and skirt-chaser
Cliff Levell – former Marine and CIA operative now leader of the Society of Adam Smith (SAS), a shadow government attempting to counter the elected government’s destruction of American values and freedoms. He’s confined to a wheelchair because of injuries incurred in an automobile accident
Mitch Christie – an agent of the FBI pursuing Whelan and the other Dogs
Harland Fairchilde IV – a fourth generation scion of an über wealthy family and leader of the Alliance for Global Unity (AGU), a global organization of financiers and government officials seeking to impose a one-world structure on mankind
Maksym Kozak – a ruthless killer and genetic freak who works for the highest bidder and intends to kill all of the Sleeping Dogs for the sake of revenge
Kirill Federov – a former Spetsnaz (Russian special ops) colonel serving in the SVR, Russia’s external intelligence agency; he seeks vengeance against General McCoy and Cliff Levell
Tom Murphy – Caitlin Whelan’s father and a former member of the UK’s SBS; currently An Garda Síochána (the Irish National Police force) District Superintendent for County Kerry, Ireland
Padraig (Paddy) Murphy – Caitlin’s brother and the Sergeant in Charge of the An Garda Síochána station in Dingle, Ireland
General Roscoe “Buster” McCoy – Marine Corps 2-Star General and head of Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command, or MARSOC
Maureen Delaney - chief executive of one of the largest and most successful technology companies on the planet, and Levell’s love interest
Rhee Kang-Dae – Levell’s personal assistant, driver, and bodyguard
The Mueller Brothers (Alfred, Hermann, and Tomas) – billionaire industrialists and patriots who fund SAS operations and provide leading edge technological support
Camila Ramirez – a sheriff’s deputy in Albuquerque, New Mexico and Mitch Christie’s love interest
Lou Antonelli – an agent of the FBI and Mitch Christie’s coworker
Aaron Rickover - a twenty-something newcomer to the FBI
Dr. William Nishioki – a geneticist who, with his late colleague Jacob Horowitz, discovered the advanced genetic makeup and helped Levell and McCoy recruit the Dogs; retired and living in coastal California
Gennady Vasilyev – Russian general and head of SVR, Russia’s external intelligence agency
Prince Bandar bin Nayif al Saud - head of Saudi general intelligence
Prince Khalid bin Salmon al-Rahman - Saudi minister of finance
Nadir Shah – leader of the Holy Army of the Caliphate, a radical group establishing an Islamic state in the Middle East
Zheng Bao Xun - the minister of finance for the Peoples Republic of China and former official in the Chinese Ministry of State Security, the PRC’s external espionage organ
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Throughout school, I received top grades for my writing efforts. My English teachers and creative writing instructors uniformly encouraged me to write. But, like John Lennon famously said about life, I was “busy doing other things.” Now I enjoy writing and work continuously to become better at my craft, but the story isn’t all about me. There are many people to whom I am especially grateful. Not the least of which are my readers. I write for you.
A great many people have contributed to the experiences that have shaped me as an individual, and developed the perspectives that shape my writing. I’m grateful to all of them, even the ones who were involved in the not so pleasant experiences. Each of us, after all, is the product of the sum total of our life experiences.
Without doubt, the most important person in my life is my wife, “Annie”. She has been my most ardent supporter in this effort.
My dad, a self-described (tongue-in-cheek) “fine Irish bastard”, played a major role in my desire to write. He encouraged my thirst for adventure stories as a youngster. More importantly, he totally freaked out when, at about age ten, I announced that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I remember the salient bits and pieces of his diatribe: “freeze to death…bare, unheated attic…starvation…no friends…no money”. It was a blessing in disguise. I spent years moving in other directions and gained much valuable experience and insight, which, hopefully, have made me a better chronicler of the human condition.
At a very early age, my mother taught me to read and took me to the local library where I was introduced to a vast treasure trove of adventure. She also instilled in me toughness in the face of challenges, an unwillingness to settle for second best.
Our son Ryan, an articulate, intelligent young man, spent many hours proofreading my efforts and offering valuable comments and suggestions, including cover art and layout. Do not be surprised to see his name on bestseller lists one day.
I owe a special thanks to my beta readers: Joe Braden, Jim McGowan, Ryan, and others. I don’t publish until they’ve read it.
Suzanne Anderson, a friend, former student of mine, and published author (Mrs. Tuesday’s Departure, among other books), was very kind in taking time to help guide my early efforts with Sleeping Dogs: The Awakening.
I’m grateful to Caitlin Alexander, a former editor at Random House and freelance editor for independent authors. She provided invaluable developmental and line edits, feedback and constructive suggestions for improvement on reader engagement, structure, narrative voice, dialogue, pacing, plot, character development, suspense, and marketability, with a particular eye toward tightening the manuscript to a more commercially viable length.
My thanks also to Tatiana Villa at Vila Design for her creativity and talent in designing the cover of the book.
* * *
For current information on my works in progress, and more, visit SleepingDogs.biz and sign up for my short and occasional newsletter.
About the Author
John Wayne Falbey writes techno-political spy thrillers and adventure novels. His debut novel, Sleeping Dogs: The Awakening, has become an international best seller on Amazon.com and was endorsed by Compulsory Reads. He also is the author of The Quixotics, a tale of gunrunning, guerilla warfare, and treachery in the Caribbean. A native Floridian and former transactional attorney, Falbey is a real estate investor and developer in Southwest Florida. He invites you to visit him at www.sleepingdogs.biz, where you can sign up for his newsletter announcing publication dates, appearances, and other matters relating to the Sleeping Dogs thrillers and other novels by the author.
Connect with me online:
http://Twitter.com/jwfalbey
https://www.facebook.com/wayne.falbey
[email protected]
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Endanger Species: Part 3: A Sleeping Dogs Thriller Page 9
