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Killer Protocols - a somewhat dark first novel by me
Hey, David, why not post a short excerpt, say, the first couple of pages?Good idea, David.
"Chapter I - A Perfect Place for a Homicide
I DON'T GO to New York unless I have to. I sure wouldn't go there for pleasure. Maybe some people believe all that crap about it being an exciting place filled with great stuff to do. Me, I'm not interested in opera, Broadway shows or art galleries. I get sick every time I hear some East Coast twit say it's "convenient" that there's a subway system overrun with pick-pockets and punks or that the streets are teeming with cabbies who rip you off for a two-block fare. Best I can tell New Yorkers are a bunch of loud-mouthed, [expletive]-for-brains [expletive]s who think getting mugged is a cultural experience.
New York is pretty compelling proof that this country is on a downward slide. The place was overcrowded and polluted long before raghead terrorists leveled the Twin Towers and coated the city with toxic dust. I suspect people who live there have a higher percentage of lead and asbestos in their systems than a World War II Liberty ship. But New Yorkers are a tough lot. After 9/11, the bankers who own most of the city and damned near all the rest of the country dusted off their silk suits and went right back to robbing the country blind. And the rest of the inhabitants picked themselves up and went back to work serving those bankers their fancy coffees and scones; or resumed mugging the bankers and their servants to make a buck. I'll admit, I admire New Yorkers a lot for their grit and determination. But I avoid the place as much as possible. Since I got out of the army, I make it a habit to stay out of war zones.
I'm not alone in my assessment of New York. Hell, New Yorkers obviously feel the same way: just spend a day in the city and see how pissed off everyone who's stuck there is. The first few times I visited the place, I used to keep count of the number of times I heard someone say "[expletive] off" or "[expletive] you, buddy." I gave that up. It's not that I can't count that high—although math's not exactly one of my skills—but it does get boring.
An old army buddy once told me some guy named Oswald something-or-other wrote an entire book about the sorry state of New York and most of the rest of the country, some rant called The Decline of the West. Joe Sprague and I got drunk one night in North Carolina, right after we'd gotten kicked out of the army, and he started rambling about this Oswald guy and the West and how everything we believe in is being undermined. At the time I thought he was just drunk and a little nuts, but I've since learned better. I keep meaning to read the book, by the way.
So I don't go to New York often. But when I go I take the train. I live in Fairfax, Virginia, several miles across the Potomac from Washington, D.C.—a place trying real hard to catch New York in the decline race—and it's pretty easy just to take the subway to Union Station and hop on the Metroliner. My office is close to Union Station anyway—not that I have a 9 to 5 job or anything—so I can check in on the way out and on the way back just to see if any new assignments have come in.
Believe me, the Metroliner really beats taking the air shuttle. Sure, transit time is three hours as opposed to 75 minutes by air. But I can walk into Union Station at 6:55 a.m., buy a ticket from the Amtrak ticketing machine, walk right onto the train which pulls out at 7:10, and I'm in New York, downtown at Penn Station, by 10:15. Take the plane, add the hour you have to wait in the lounge before boarding, and the hour-plus cab ride from LaGuardia or Kennedy into the city, and I figure you really only lose twenty minutes max on the train. And what you get in return is a bigger seat, room to walk around, fewer hassles from stewards and stewardesses trying to make you believe they care about your comfort, and the peace and quiet of half-empty railroad cars. Because most people going to New York from Washington just hate to lose that twenty minutes, so they fly. And that's fine with me, because I like the empty, hassle-free train ride.
I also like the fact that I can get all the way into downtown New York without having to pass through a metal detector. Makes it a lot easier when you're packing a gun, which I usually am when I'm heading to New York. Because, like I said, when I go there it's on business. And my business is killing people.
Get one thing straight. I'm no murderer. Killing someone without a good reason is a crime. There are sick bastards out there who get a thrill killing innocent people. I'm not one of them. I've got a real good reason to kill people. This country's at war, has been for a long time. September 11 was just one of the more obvious attacks by our numerous enemies. Just ask the president; there's a whole axis of evil people out there, and 'axis,' in case you didn't know, means '[expletive].' Or something like that. Ridding the world of the scum who are enemies of decent people is a full-time profession. Lucky for me.
Hey, I have bad days. Sometimes the blackness comes over me, the sick sensation everyone gets from time to time that their life sucks. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I shouldn't have bailed out of my rotten marriage, shoulda stuck around to help raise some kids, shoulda found a decent job selling hardware or cars or something.
Then I remind myself. I didn't do that crap because I got lucky. I'm a lucky guy."
To find out more about Richard Paladin, check out Killer Protocols on Amazon.
So, David, you say it's "somewhat dark," but is it really noir or gritty?Well, that's a good question, David. There's always this excerpt . . .
"Today's client was from some African shithole—Mali, I think—and had worked at the UN for years. I had no idea what he did there. Most of the time, I'm left pretty much in the dark about specifics. I had his job title; Third Undersecretary to the Secretary of the General Undersecretariat or some such horseshit. That told me exactly nothing. But I usually try to figure out what it is that makes each one of my clients so special. In this case, I figured Mr. Mohammed Hassan Abdulkar Mohammed was probably some kind of spy or terrorist or something. I mean, he looked more African than Middle-eastern, but with a name like that, I suspected contacts with al-Qa'ida or Palestinian terrorists.
Looking him over for the second time was enough to piss me off, too. He was wearing a three-piece suit that I'll bet was silk or fine wool. Hey, I'm no fashion expert. But Mr. Mohammed Mohammed sure dressed like he was one. And he was wearing a watch that I'm certain was mostly gold. Add to that at least three rings on each hand and a very nice leather briefcase and you get the picture of somebody with lots of excess money burning a hole in their pocket. And man, did that piss me off. Here's some lousy foreigner living great in New York City where thousands of good Americans are struggling just to pay the rent. This was a guy who deserved what I had in mind for him.
So this is how I played it. He was about thirty paces away when I stumbled out in the street in front of him, doing my best imitation of someone who's had a few too many. I staggered up to him and threw my left arm around him. Oh, he tried to sidestep me, ignore me, keep walking, but I've had plenty of experience at this. Maybe other people on the street think I'm just a friendly drunk falling into him, but I've actually got a real good grip on Mr. Mohammed Mohammed.
"Hey, buddy. Come have a drink with me. Waddya say?" Playing a drunk is ideal for getting away with murder in New York. Everyone else on the street was just happy I'd picked someone else to annoy. People made absolutely sure they looked the other way.
"Let go of me, you fool. What do you think you are doing?"
Mohammed's English was impeccable. I was surprised, but not enough to lose my grip. I pulled him into the alley.
"I got something to show you, buddy. Come on." Mohammed was struggling, but I'm smart enough to know that staying fit is part of my job. I run about fifty miles a week and work on my upper body strength constantly at a northern Virginia gym. No way he was going to break free. I dragged him around behind this big dumpster that dominated the alley—the thing looked like it hadn't been emptied for days. Mohammed kept trying to yell, but I had pretty quickly moved my left hand up to his mouth to keep him quiet. And the whole bit—grabbing him and dragging him into the alley—took less than a minute. He never really had a chance to figure out what was happening.
Draped over my right hand was that nylon windbreaker. Under that was the silenced .38. I squeezed off one round into Mohammed's midsection to stop him from struggling and, well, sort of to get his attention. Then I shoved him down behind the dumpster.
The look on Mohammed's face was a classic of disbelief. One of the things I've learned in this job: no one expects to die. Not in a back alley in New York. Not in the garden of their lovely Savannah, Georgia home. Not even in bed. People always greet death with disbelief.
I didn't relish Mohammed's shocked expression for long. Efficiency is critical in the execution of a premeditated killing. I aimed the .38 at his skull and shot him two more times. One bullet is not a sure thing. Lots of people get lucky and survive that in this age of modern medicine. Major metropolitan areas are littered with hospitals sporting expert trauma teams—and what does that tell you about the state of our civilization? But plugging your mortally wounded victim five or six times is, well, unprofessional.
Don't get me wrong. I appreciate as much as the next guy taking pleasure in your work. And, believe me, you haven't lived until you've emptied the magazine of a high-power handgun into some unsuspecting son of a bitch. It's an awesome feeling you get seeing that look of total surprise followed by a glimmering awareness that this is the moment of death. And if you're really lucky, and I mean grab-your-wallet-and-head-to-Vegas lucky, those fading eyes will focus on you and your smoking gat right at the last moment in an acknowledgment that the bastard understands just who blew his ass to Hell."
Any other questions, David?
Yeah. How long have you been talking to yourself?
Hi David,Does the questions Richard starts asking (re: Kyoto and his targets, etc) also cause him to question his world view? Is there a character arc?
Your link worketh not. I'd love a review copy.
Jed wrote: "Your link worketh not. I'd love a review copy."See if these links work. Or just send me a snail mail address and I'll mail you a copy.
Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007J5T2I0
Paperback
http://www.amazon.com/dp/146818637X
Adrien wrote: "Hi David,Does the questions Richard starts asking (re: Kyoto and his targets, etc) also cause him to question his world view? Is there a character arc?"
I can't promise much deep, philosophic reflection by Paladin. He's less the type to question himself and more the type to question whether his bosses know what they're doing. And he likes his job.
Killer ProtocolsSo, David, I finally got this into Goodreads. It's an e-book on Amazon, too.
Stop already, David!
Thanks to Benjamin and Jed for their reviews!
Bookend
Happy 4th of July, everyone. Even those of you down under!
Killer Protocols is just $.99 for Kindle on Amazon to celebrate the imminent release of the next Richard Paladin novel. Look for Clean Coal Killers in August.
Here's a short excerpt from Clean Coal Killers.JOSEPH FORRESTER was quite the prominent citizen of Scranton, Pennsylvania. A native son, he'd spent his whole life close to home, excelling in high school as an honors student and track and field star, studying pre-law at the Jesuit University of Scranton and then spending his only significant stretch away from home getting a law degree at Penn. He moved back to town after passing the bar, but he didn't hang up his shingle and start chasing ambulances. Joe Forrester went to work for the city legal department, serving the good people of Scranton. In fact, he worked for the city for twenty years, acquiring a reputation as a stand-up guy who worried about making sure the city always did the right thing, not merely concerning himself with what the city legally could get away with.
Joe left city government when a local TV station offered him a position doing consumer affairs reporting—such was his reputation for honesty and serving as a voice for the little guy. For the last ten years he'd roamed the city with a camera crew making sure restaurants were clean—and outing corrupt inspectors who were responsible when the restaurants weren't—exposing questionable business practices when some consumer wrote in with a plaintive story, generally just doing his best to make Scranton a place where people could live decent. There were probably people in Scranton who didn't like Joseph Forrester, but you'd have had to search pretty hard to find them. Most everybody in the place thought he was about the nicest guy on earth.
What I was able to pull together about him from his file and a lot of Internet research at the public library certainly painted a picture of a guy who deserved a testimonial dinner and a big good-citizen medal. Certainly nothing in his biography suggested he should have come to the attention of someone like me. Of course, if scumbags were easily identifiable by having 'bad person' pop up when you Googled their name, our entire Congress would be in serious trouble. The bad guys know better than to make it obvious.
Still, learning about Forrester, watching him for a few days, I couldn't help but remember an old movie I'd seen years before, "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter." This isn't an action film, which makes it surprising I'd ever watched it. The story is about a deaf guy who helps people because he is just a really decent fellow. He spends afternoons taking a retarded guy from a local asylum to amusement parks and ice cream shops. He helps an awkward teenage girl break out of her sad life and discover something of the world around her. He just does good deeds for about two hours. Then he kills himself because people are so ungrateful that they let him be nice to them and never pay enough attention to see that his life is pretty fucking depressing.
"Hunter" turned out to be food for thought. Joseph Forrester was exactly the kind of Good Samaritan who gets tragically taken for granted. If Joe turned up in his sparsely-furnished home with a bullet through his head and a handgun lying next to him, people would assume that poor Mr. Forrester had been sad and lonely all these years and just kept it to himself because he's such a nice guy. After all, he'd remained unmarried through the years—I suspect because he's one of those rare people who gets so much joy from helping lots of folks that he never really took time to carve out a home life. People are actually relieved when someone like him commits suicide; it's the only chance they get to feel superior to the truly good people of the earth. If there are any.
Clean Coal KillersRichard Paladin, America's top Environmental Protection Agent, is back with a new boss and a new assignment, finding the terrorist who's leaking critical information from a coal-fired power station in Pennsylvania. But when Paladin starts digging through the personnel files at the plant, he finds a lot more than the EPA bargained for—like a partner who's not playing straight with him, a security guard who appears more spook than goon, a stripper who's a little too interested in him, and an old flame he knows is a professional agent. But his fellow government thugs don't seem interested that someone really is leaking security information about the plant. They're more concerned with something that smells a whole lot like corruption on a congressional scale. But Paladin's in Pennsylvania to do a job, and despite the distractions of temptresses and thugs, he damned sure plans to find the leak—and plug it.
I haven't bumped this thread in awhile, so I thought I'd let whoever's looking know that the 3rd Paladin novel should be out before Christmas.
Well, you know that I'm going to buy it. I'd be happy to buy it from you directly of that's possible and thus have an autographed copy but if not, Amazon is my usual source.Your fan,
Jed
Jed wrote: "Well, you know that I'm going to buy it. I'd be happy to buy it from you directly of that's possible and thus have an autographed copy but if not, Amazon is my usual source.Your fan,
Jed"
Hiya Jed. It's not like I'm making a lot of money off these books, so I'll be happy to send you an autographed copy when it's available. I think you're going to like it!
With Hurricane Sandy raging all around me, I thought I'd post an appropriate excerpt from Killer Protocols.WHAT I'D ASSUMED was a passing summer thunderstorm Thursday night turned out to be a stalled low pressure system that brought wet and miserable weather for several days. Not that I mind a little rain. Friday morning I got up early and did my five-mile run to the university and back, pushing myself extra hard and remembering that time in basic training when we'd been sent out on bivouac in a category 3 hurricane, everyone in the unit shivering all night thinking we were going to drown in swollen creeks or die of hypothermia. Everyone except Graham, of course. It hadn't fazed him.
"Christ, Graham, are you human?" I had to shout to be heard, even though Graham was six inches away from me. We were sitting in a foot of water at the bottom of a foxhole while the wind snapped limbs off trees and sent them crashing down around us. He'd clipped his flashlight to his tunic and was reading a paperback under his poncho.
"Always remember, Kyle, no matter how deep a s###-hole someone puts you in, you choose where to put your mind."
"What the f### are you reading?"
"Xenophon. Life of Cyrus. Now shut up. I'm trying to concentrate."
I couldn't tune out the world like Graham. But I had learned something on that bivouac. No matter how cold and miserable you are, you can gut it out. And the colder and wetter and muddier things get; well, a hot shower and warm rack just feel that much better afterwards. I actually caught myself smiling as I sprinted through the rain back to my apartment.
I'm awaiting the proof of the paperback version of Richard Paladin #3. It will be available before the end of the month. Until then, here's the first couple of pages. And there's still time to read #s 1 and 2 to prepare.BEAUMONT, TEXAS is one hot, muggy, miserable town, even in November. I'd been there a week and was looking forward to being anyplace else. As far as I can tell, the whole Gulf Coast is just one long strip of refineries, chemical plants, and poisonous snakes. It's a tribute to human ingenuity that people have been able to carve out an existence in such an inhospitable place. Of course, it probably wasn't quite as inhospitable before they built the refineries and chemical plants. But the snakes have always been there.
Most people wouldn't be surprised that I'd been sent to the area by the Environmental Protection Agency. It might surprise them to know why, though. I wasn't there to make sure those refineries and chemical plants weren't spewing toxins into the ground water and atmosphere. There's about as much chance of a government agency stopping corporate pollution as there is of stopping the sun from daily turning Beaumont into one hot, muggy, miserable f###ing place. Less, really. Corporate America has the resources to buy off enough elected officials to keep the government out of its hair: the sun doesn't have a lobby that I know of.
But even the deep pockets of big business in the USA aren't deep enough to buy off everyone. There's always somebody who wants to make trouble. Hell, there are even people who object to Christmas. You just can't please all the people, as they say. Although, I have to admit, I've always been a bit suspicious myself of guys who like to dress up in red suits so kids will sit in their lap.
I wasn't in Beaumont to fight pollution or save Christmas. My mission was more critical. I'd been dispatched to take care of a client who seemed to have a bug up his ass about what he described as the "despoiliance" of the water-moccasin infested swamplands surrounding Beaumont. At least, that's what he called it in the anonymous letters he kept mailing to every newspaper and posting to every environmental web forum he could find. He made the mistake of mailing several of them to the EPA. That got my department's attention.
Crackpots are usually harmless. Maybe one in a thousand might actually do something more than rant. People call in bomb scares to schools all the time. It's not like the police can run down every one. That's why they just sit around eating donuts until a bomb actually goes off in some school somewhere, then track down the perpetrator and throw him in jail. Most of the time, anyway.
But when you're talking about something important, like a refinery, something that generates millions of dollars and fuels the trucks and cars clogging America's highways, the government can't afford to sit on its hands and wait for the serious crackpots to act. We're paid to protect the environment, after all. At least, the important parts of the environment.
So I was in Beaumont tracking down a crackpot to determine if he was harmless or not. Well, actually, I was just there to kill him. The EPA doesn't like to take chances.
So I'm taking comments on my blog from anyone who would like to see Killer Protocols free on Amazon for a couple of days. Drop by and leave a comment if you're in favor of such a promotion in advance of the release of Paladin #3. If you don't care, well, feel free to leave a comment to that effect, too! The Killer Protocols Blog
I've enjoyed both books and eagerly await book 3. Really, they shouldn't be free but if that gets more attention, I won't be the only one hooked on the series.
Jed wrote: "I've enjoyed both books and eagerly await book 3. Really, they shouldn't be free but if that gets more attention, I won't be the only one hooked on the series."Thanks for the encouraging words, Jed! Not sure but maybe you and I are the only people reading this thread. ;-)
Benjamin, thanks for the review of Clean Coal Killers. Glad you liked it. Benjamin's review of Clean Coal Killers
It only takes two great minds to run the world. The Parker, Pike and Reacher fans will discover you eventually.
Jed wrote: "It only takes two great minds to run the world. The Parker, Pike and Reacher fans will discover you eventually."
I'll just have to be patient, Jed!
Richard Paladin's back!The Killer Trees
A logging company's employees have been turning up mysteriously dead. Terrorist tree-huggers seem the likeliest culprits, and when what's at stake is a contract to fell a national forest in Oregon—and the President of the United States just happens to be good friends with that company's CEO—it's time to send in Richard Paladin, America's top Environmental Protection Agent. But Paladin may just face his toughest challenge yet, because his adversary displays all the talents of a professional killer. Add a haunted wood into the mix, and it's an assignment Paladin may need all his luck to survive.
I'm ordering it from Amazon right now. I can't wait.
Great. You fan base is building and some day these first editions will be valuable enough that I'll move to a castle in Switzerland.I loved The Killer Trees, I can see you're getting even better at writing these. I didn't review it because I reviewed the first 2 and I don't want someone to think that I'm just a slave reviewer.
As fast as you can write them, I can buy the next one.
Jed wrote: "Great. You fan base is building and some day these first editions will be valuable enough that I'll move to a castle in Switzerland.I loved The Killer Trees, I can see you're getting even better ..."
Thanks for the positive feedback, but don't put a down payment on that Swiss castle just yet!
Haven't talked to myself here for awhile, so thought I'd stop by and mention that The Killer Trees has made it to the quarter-finals of this year's Amazon Breakout Novel contest.
Well, I'll keep it going by telling you that I've really enjoyed all 3 books and I can't wait for the next one.
I just ordered the third book today along with 2 new ones by Mary Roach. I've enjoyed the previous 2 & am looking forward to it.
Thanks, Jim. Looking forward to hearing what you think of book 3.Let me know what you think of Roach's books, too. I looked her up and she writes some interesting-looking books!
Not to hijack interest from your own books, but hers are entirely nonfiction, very interesting stuff, though. I love her sense of humor which was very evident in her monthly 2 page articles for Reader's Digest. It serves her in good stead as she explores odd corners of science, too. Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers was the first book I read & loved.
Hijack away, Jim! Sounds like a book I should read.
Just wanted to let anyone interested know, Amazon (US only) has knocked a dollar of the paperback price for Killer Protocols and The Killer Trees, so you can get them for the time being for the cheap price of $8.99.
So....are you going to be a prolific author and will I see my next book soon?
Jed wrote: "So....are you going to be a prolific author and will I see my next book soon?"Jed, I appreciate your support, and as such I want you to know that Paladin will be back. But I am currently finishing a non-Paladin book that has been haunting my hard drive for too long. Be patient with me!
David
Okay all you faithful Richard Paladin fans (both of you), check out the Washington Post article linked below. Truth really is stranger than fiction.Washington Post article on the EPA
I've always assumed that the Paladin books were historical texts rather than fiction. So, I'm not at all surprised ;-)
For the record, in case anyone asks after I'm dead: I am not a Jehovah's Witness.
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Books mentioned in this topic
Killer Protocols (other topics)The Killer Trees (other topics)
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers (other topics)
The Killer Trees (other topics)
Killer Protocols (other topics)
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Killer Protocols is the first novel in a series that will run to at least three in coming months. If anyone out there reads it, feel free to leave a comment or ask a question and I will respond, politely and with humility, of course.
What's it about?
Richard Paladin works in the shadows eliminating terrorists, spies, and just general riff-raff who threaten the security of the United States. At least, he assumed that's who he'd be killing when he was hired into a secret department of the Environmental Protection Agency. But when one of his "clients" turns out to be a seemingly harmless Missouri housewife, then he's ordered to eliminate the owner of the local northern Virginia bar he frequents, he starts to ask himself a few questions—like what any of this has to do with the U.S. Government's reluctance to sign the Kyoto Protocol. Still, if he can run the gauntlet of spies and goons who keep cropping up unexpectedly, he might just be able to hold onto his job and keep doing what he loves—arranging fatal accidents and suicides. Because Richard Paladin hasn't got a clue what he would do for a living if he loses his job as a government killer.
One reader complained elsewhere that the book has too much profanity, so avoid it if you don't like that sort of thing.
It's available on Amazon.
Kindle Edition
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007J5T2I0
Paperback
http://www.amazon.com/dp/146818637X
Anybody wants a review copy, just ask.
Thank you for your tolerance.
David