In my thriller Dead Meat, Gil Becker just wants to be left alone in the abandoned brewery he calls home so he can perfect his beer recipe, but the guys who blew up the newest hotel and casino on the Las Vegas Strip didn’t get the memo. That’s when the call came in. His day job. Yeah, driving a thirty-foot promotional vehicle shaped like a canned ham sounds glamorous, but that’s just his cover.
See, Becker kills people. Professionally. He’s so good at it the Department of Homeland Security thought he should work for them. That’s how Becker ends up driving the Ham-ster to Vegas just in time to get shot at by an old buddy of his from the FBI who’s working for the other team. Why he goes to Colombia to get intentionally abducted by the revolutionaries who’ve taken credit for the bombing, just so he can have a little chat with their reclusive leader.
But then the bad guys try to kill Becker in his own brewery. Well, technically it belongs to the IRS, but thanks to some sleight of hand they think it belongs to Homeland Security, who believes they transferred it to the CIA, who doesn’t care. Not the point. They came into his home, and now he’s mad. Becker recognizes one of the attackers: he works (worked) for one of those private contractors, run by a pair of guys he knew from his Navy days. Mercenaries. Men afraid of losing lucrative government contracts once America reduces its presence in the Middle East. They’ve picked a fight with their own country to keep the gravy train rolling, and Becker is the one man standing in their way.
Dead Meat weighs in at 68,700 words. I received First Place in the 1,000-Word Fiction Contest at the 2007 ---- Conference, and Honorable Mention in 2008. I am a member of the ---- Writer's Association. Upon request I can send you the complete manuscript.
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