Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller
Read Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller Online
Authors: Bradley West
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SEA OF LIES
AN ESPIONAGE THRILLER
BRADLEY WEST
“Crisp dialog drives non-stop realistic action across Burma, Singapore, Sri Lanka, China and Australia.”
James Hawes
SEAL TEAM-2,
Author of Congo Covert Waters: First Navy SEAL in Africa
“MH370s fate remains a mystery. This compelling and well-researched novel raises questions that require answers.”
Dr. Dan Crosswell
Distinguished University Chair in Military History, Columbus State University
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INSIDER’S GUIDE TO
SEA OF LIES
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1.
Road to Nowhere
2.
Let’s Make a Deal
3.
Help is on the Way
4.
Club Avatar
5.
The Sting
6.
Back and Black
7.
The Fourth Policy
8.
Pitch Perfect
9.
Rangoon Heat
10.
Toad Hall
11.
Aloha
12.
All Fours
13.
Triangulated
14.
Shanghai Surprise
15.
Question Time
16.
On Target
17.
Dangerous Liaison
18.
Failure to Communicate
19.
Misdirection
20.
Real Deals
21.
Berserk
22.
Glowing Portrayals
23.
Contagion
24.
Turnabout
25.
Spinning Wheels
26.
Cratered
27.
Secrets
28.
Zero Hour
29.
Up in the Air
30.
On the Run
31.
Tracking Errors
32.
Ride Sharing
33.
You Gotta Believe
34.
The Taking of MH370
35.
Flights of Fancy
36.
Double Dealing
37.
Bait and Switch
38.
Changes in Attitudes
39.
Collateral Damage
40.
Last Rites
41.
Maneuvering for Position
42.
Tails, I Win
43.
Colombo Shuffleboard
44.
Bedtime Stories
45.
Countdown
46.
Party Planning
47.
Mind Your Manners
48.
Train in Vain
49.
Death Race Ratmalana
50.
Freedom
51.
Suspended Animation
52.
Diplomatic Impunity
53.
Primed for Launch
54.
Big Bang
55.
Playing the Fool
56.
Hanging Fire
57.
Blitzkrieg
58.
Mac Attack
59.
Beach Wear
60.
Oklahoma Hold’em
61.
The Lizard Cage
62.
Self-Help
63.
Sanguine Shores
64.
Slippery Bob
65.
Rose-Tinted
Notes on Nomenclature: City, Country and Measurement Guidelines
Cast of Characters in Order of Appearance
A Favor to Ask: Please Leave a Review
CHAPTER ONE
ROAD TO NOWHERE
SATURDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 8, EINME, BURMA
Bob Nolan’s head throbbed as the embassy Hyundai Sonata headed west from the Rangoon city limits. Fighting nausea, he revisited last night’s scotch-fueled conversation with the DEA’s Sam Hecker. Nolan had told Hecker that, as of the end of March, he and the CIA were parting ways after almost thirty-three years. Brothers in arms suffering at the hands of the politicians, careerists and incompetents in their respective agencies, Hecker and Nolan accounted for half a bottle each of the blended brown nectar now eating at Nolan’s stomach lining and reminding him he was famished.
Hecker confirmed that Rangoon Chief of Station Lloyd Matthews was a manipulator of unlimited ambition. Singapore-based CIA cryptanalyst Nolan wasn’t in a position to aid Matthews in his career aspirations, so Matthews treated Nolan like the handyman at his family’s Martha’s Vineyard compound. Nolan was happy to put a helpful boot in and told a couple Agency stories that had Hecker roaring.
Nolan nodded in and out of wakefulness. Endlessly looping beneath his conscious mind was the question, “What in the hell are you doing?” Ostensibly on a preretirement weekend vacation visiting an old college classmate now teaching at an international high school, earlier on Saturday Nolan had answered the CIA’s emergency summons. A quick shower, shave and an overheard story on the news about a missing Malaysia airliner, and then a taxi to the embassy annex. There he’d received a twenty-minute briefing before being packed off to tick the lowest-priority box on Langley’s “Could MH370 be here?” checklist. Basically, a waste of a Saturday.
Post-hangover fatigue and the narcoleptic effects of stop-and-go driving overwhelmed the momentary bouts of terror triggered by screeching halts, full-on horn play and evasive action. After almost two hours of slow torture, his lolling neck hurt too much to pretend to sleep any longer. He moved the passenger seat upright and looked around. His driver Kyaw handed him the GPS; they were only twelve miles from Einme, the last speck before they went off the map. The rural traffic was sparse but multimodal: tractors, bullock carts, commercial vehicles, bicycles, mopeds, motorcycles and the odd passenger car. It was a Third World video game with real blood, although surprisingly little of it actually spilt.
Each country had its own driving culture that worked for its inhabitants, but not visitors. Sri Lankans were terrified when driving on India’s roads and Indians couldn’t handle driving in Bangladesh. Nolan experienced the pucker factor nearly everywhere, including supposedly disciplined Singapore. Visiting Burma wasn’t much different. While he hadn’t given it much thought until now, Buddhist countries were particularly dangerous. The prospect of reincarnation surely added to the recklessness among drivers in Burma and Sri Lanka. But Hindu India took first prize. The lower-caste drivers looking for a rebirth upgrade were positively incentivized to steer their vehicles off cliffs and into a better tomorrow.
Einme featured a modern gas station and a few tin-roofed restaurants and shophouses selling everything from lumber to dresses to rice cookers. The tallest building was a four-story shophouse with the top floor only half built. They drove through and headed west by southwest. The GPS unit showed they were only nine miles away from the center of the toll road that abutted Rangoon research librarian Millie Mukherjee’s maybe-building under a camouflaged net. It was hard to tell very much from the low-resolution satellite photo, but Nolan grudgingly admitted that it
could
be a landing strip in the middle of nowhere with a secret building nearby.
The GPS reading didn’t change much for the next forty minutes as Kyaw tried roads and lanes that might take them closer to Millie’s mark on a grainy satellite photograph. No route leading from their initial northern approach came close. Without four-wheel drive, becoming mired anytime they hit low ground was a threat.
