Now it appears in the collection I call Tidal Wave that you can only get by joining my exclusive reader group (Join by visiting http://www.davidfberens.com/readergroup) but I’m including a couple of chapters after this note. Oh, and if you missed the connection, T.J. was the boy who was allegedly Troy’s son from Rogue Wave and even though it turned out that was false, it was cool to have him represent a younger version of Troy. (Fun fact, T.J. stands for Troy Junior.)
I also included (with his blessing) a “real life” person in this book. Michael Banks is by all accounts a Troy Bodean superfan. He’s been a reliable reader from the very beginning and has supported me and my journey with this character on every step of the way.
The character I wrote in this book is a fictional representation of Michael with some minor tidbits of fact sprinkled in as well. Michael, thank you for letting me have some fun with your character and still write you with integrity and heart. It was fun to have you represent the “older” version of Troy. (Reader, if you get my newsletter, you will have seen a photo of Michael and when I picture Troy in a more “seasoned” way, that’s the guy I see!)
So, if you think about it, I was able to write a trio of Troys in Shark Wave. T.J. represents young Troy. Troy is present Troy, and Michael is older Troy. That’s something not many authors get to do with their characters in a believable way. I think that’s cool and I hope you do too.
There is also a great new character in the man named Ronnie “Wayfarer” Hobgood. Oh, boy, there’s a lot to unpack here. First, you might have noticed that I quoted his lyrics on each of the Part intro pages. These are all fictional and written by me. (I used to be a singer in a rock band in a previous life.)
Ronnie was a last minute creation due to the fact that I originally wanted to use actual lyrics on those pages, but never heard back from the publishing companies about whether or not I could print them. Thus, I scrapped that idea and wrote my own lyrics.
I liked the idea of Ronnie so much that I had to write him into the book. I’m even thinking about doing a short story with him as the star. I also named him Hobgood as a tribute to a performer I saw play many times at Irish Kevin’s in Key West.
Jared Michael Hobgood was his name and he was the best entertainer I ever saw (and to this day, have ever seen) sing and play guitar in a bar. Jared passed away before I got the chance to see him play again and I hope this small tribute is a way to express the impact he had on my life.
Goodnight and joy be with you, Jared. Cheers.
Anyway, I enjoyed writing this book immensely and I really hope you have enjoyed the ride. It was one of the fastest stories I’ve told about Troy and that’s always a good thing. I love writing about this guy, and I know he’ll be back for more thrills soon.
Thank you, Kind Reader,
Knucklebones
An Excerpt from A Troy Bodean Prequel
1
Smokin’
Troy Clint Bodean didn’t know the I.E.D. would go off in exactly fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds burying a piece of jagged metal almost two inches deep into his knee and blowing both of Harry Nedman’s legs off at the hip. If he had, he would’ve smoked his last Morven Gold cigarette before stepping down out of the cockpit of the AH-64 they’d dropped in the middle of the road just outside of Kabul. Hell, if he’d known that, he would’ve put the chopper in the air and gotten their asses out of Dodge!
Harry had been his co-pilot for the entire year in Afghanistan and neither he, nor Troy, had taken so much as a scratch… until the bones had started showing up at the safe house. One by one, in a small, blue velvet lined box about the size of a deck of playing cards, the knucklebones were delivered to the house designated as safe for U.S. officials to hide out in when terrorist chatter began to get heavy in their direction.
Without proper lab facilities at their disposal, it was impossible to determine whose fingers these bones might’ve come from American, Afghan, or otherwise. The bones were clean of flesh and blood, but not yet bleached from the sun, meaning they’d come off of the person missing them recently. Relatively intact, they all seem to have been removed with some care… not just butchered or torn off. Someone was sending them a message.
2
Finger
Intel – Three Days Earlier
It all started with the pinky finger delivered lying in the box like an exhibit in the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History. All three pieces of the separated digit were laid carefully in a row: proximal phalange, middle phalanx and distal phalanx.
The second day brought the ring finger, the next, the middle finger and so on. By that time, a full on investigation had begun bringing top brass on site and sending non-military personnel into the safe house. Troy’s Apache had escorted the UH-60 Blackhawk carrying General James “Buff” Summerton in to sort out what the hell was going on. The sixth day brought silence, no box, no finger, no nothing. The seventh brought the note.
Special Envoy to Afghanistan, Sid Phillips, had been kidnapped. The note was short and sweet. Deliver 1.5 million U.S. dollars to a specified drop location, Sid would be returned unharmed (except for his right hand.) If the ransom wasn’t paid, they would continue to send bigger pieces of him to the embassy.
“The hell we will!” Buff slammed his fist down on the table, “The United States of goddamn America does NOT negotiate with terrorists!”
“But sir,” Ambassador Williams protested.
“No buts!” the general stood up, “Goddamn Phillips went and got himself kidnapped, so he’s on his own.”
“With all due respect, sir,” the Ambassador remained calm, “not retrieving Mr. Phillips will send the message that we are weak and they will simply escalate their operations to abduct more personnel.”
“Which is precisely why you people shouldn’t be over here in the first place! He was about to be downsized out of a job anyway for Christ’s sake,” General Summerton raised both hands in a gesture of futility, “This is a damn war with an enemy who don’t want your diplomacy.”
“But the people of Afghanistan do.”
A long moment of silence passed before the general asked, “you so sure about that, Ambassador?”
“Yes, I am.”
Summerton inhaled deeply through his nose, his lips pursed together tightly. He drummed his fingers on the table.
“And the president?” the general asked.
“Has been informed and has agreed to the transfer of funds.”
“In cash?”
“In cash.”
“What in Sam Hell is happening here?” the general growled, “There once was a day not long ago that we woulda told these cut-rate terrorists to kiss our asses. When you come into a warzone, you take on the risk that you might not come back.”
He stared into Ambassador Williams’ eyes, “do you think Sid would want us to come get him? Negotiate with these bastards?”
“General, you’ve got to be kidding me,” it was the ambassador’s turn to put his hands up, “these people are surgically removing his body parts one at a time. I’m pretty sure he’s open to the idea of negotiating with them at this point.”
“Shit,” Summerton exhaled.
No one spoke for a long moment. Outside the office, they could hear the distant rumble of explosions. They weren’t as common now that the enemy had been pushed back, but there were still roadside bombs, car bombs and the occasional RPG fire. Most of that was non-casualty fire though, taking down the odd drone every now and then.
“Are we thinking sting?” the general asked after a time.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Pretty simple,” the general scratched his chin, “tracking device, follow the money, shoot the bad guys?”
“You don’t think they’ll expect this?”
“I don’t think these guys are savvy enough to see this coming,” Summerton stood, “and besides that, I don’t care what they think, once we’ve got Phillips out of harm’s way, we blow these idiots to kin
gdom come.”
“I don’t know, general…”
“Bill, give me twenty-four hours to get some intel on the situation,” the general headed toward the door, “See if anyone in the office can come up with somethin’ on who’s delivered these packages, where they came from, where they headed when they left. Let me do a little recon and I’ll get these bastards.”
“Okay, but at the end of 24 hours, we ransom Phillips and get him out of there.”
“You bet,” the general flashed a thumbs-up sign and a not-so-genuine grin.
“General,” the ambassador shook his head, “what would you do if they were cutting off your right hand one finger at a time.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t care,” he shrugged his shoulders and held up a hand, “I’m left-handed.”
Also by David Berens
Tidal Wave - Available as a FREE download for joining my reader group. Visit http://www.davidfberens.com/readergroup to grab a book full of cool short stories and a Troy Bodean prequel.
Troy Bodean Tropical Thrillers
#1 Rogue Wave
#2 Deep Wave
#3 Blood Wave
#4 Dark Wave
#5 Skull Wave
#6 Shark Wave
Jo Bennett Archaeological Mysteries
#1 Temple of the Snake - With Nick Thacker
#2 Tomb of the Queen - Nick Thacker & Kristi Belcamino
A Troy Bodean Adventure
By: David F. Berens
All Rights Reserved © 2018 by David F. Berens
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
Finegan Press 2018
Contact the Author at:
http://www.DavidFBerens.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Shark Wave (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 6) Page 22