D.L. Marshall’s Black Run reads like a MacLean novel on steroids combining bone-crunching, bullets-zipping action with a whodunit set aboard a rusty trawler travelling from France to England in the middle of a storm.
John Tyler, who’s under contract to a shadowy branch of British Intelligence (not much is explained about the branch, except that the guy he reports to is an asshole), is tasked with securing a high-value target from the village of Château des Aigles high up in the French Alps and bring him all the way to the UK. Although his name is not given, Tyler mentions (the novel is written in first person) target is one nasty piece of work – a neo-Nazi, a white supremacist, spreading misinformation and conspiracy theories.
To get to the UK, Tyler first drives all the way from the mountains to the port of La Rochelle, with the target bound and stuffed in the boot of his Audi RS4 estate. Once there, he boards the Tiburon, a rust-bucket of a ship crewed by a gang of scoundrels, and then makes way across the Atlantic and the English Channel to Devon, England while a storm rages.
Then the target, who Tyler has stowed in a compartment that can’t be opened without his knowledge, gets murdered. And the murderer is someone on the ship – either a member of the crew or one of the mercenaries Tyler has recruited for guard duty. To make matters even more interesting, the target’s minions, led by a sociopath named Branko, are hot on his trail.
The novel begins with a blistering car chase and doesn’t slow down for a second. Most of the chapters alternate between two settings – the village of Château des Aigles and the Tiburon. Like any good thriller writer, Marshall ends chapters with cliffhangers that force the reader to go through the next chapter and then the next. And like a great thriller writer – someone at MacLean’s level – he handles atmosphere exceptionally well.
The scenes set in the claustrophobic confines of the Tiburon made me feel I was in that dingy, dirty ship, navigating narrow corridors, twisting my body to get around the engine room and getting soaked to the bone while holding on to the superstructure so as not be blown overboard by the storm. The ship setting brought to my mind two of MacLean’s great works – HMS Ulysses, his very first novel in fact – and Ice Station Zebra.
The scenes set in the French Alps are also wonderful to read. Tyler and his team plan and surveil the target but keep running into obstacles. There’s a traitor in their midst, and there’s a connection between Tyler and these team-members as well as those he recruited for guard-duty on the Tiburon that somehow involves Tyler’s dead brother.
The novel is packed with brutal, no-holds-barred, no-quarters-asked-for-nor-given violence from the start to the finish. The car chase displays some impressive offensive driving techniques. Later in the novel, we get a fight to the death in the Tiburon’s engine room that reminded me of Calvert’s fight with Quinn in When Eight Bells Toll.
The novel ends in a cliffhanger, so hopefully there will be more in the series.
This review will remain incomplete unless I say something about Tyler’s Audi. It’s one hell of a car. Tyler puts it through that car chase and then places it on board the Tiburon, at the mercy of elements. In spite of all that, or perhaps because of all that, the car becomes a fully formed character. I felt sad about its final fate.
D.L. Marshall, a self-admitted fan of Alistair MacLean and Clive Cussler, has taken the essence of what made these two authors masters of adventure fiction and added his own secret sauce to write a truly special book. He carries forward the great tradition of British adventure fiction developed by Buchan, MacLean, Bagley, Lyall and Higgins with great aplomb.