Black Ops

There is a version of the American thriller where the hero has a corner office and a gadget and a woman draped over the cover like furniture. This is not that book. This is bourbon in a hurricane. This is a man standing in the rain because at least the rain is honest. This is the Everglades at low tide with the gators gone quiet and the pythons patient and a compound built by a dead man who expected trouble every day of his life and was never once wrong about it. Dirk Lasher lives where the institutions stop pretending. Where the CIA runs operations out of glass towers full of men and women who have never bled for anything. Where the money moves through Panama and Brickell and shell companies with fourteen employees and no soul. Where women get shot and tortured and the people responsible call it a line item and tell her to get some rest. Where every room full of smart people produces the same thing. Stupidity. And where the man they keep in the drawer because the modern tools stopped working has finally figured out how to open the drawer from the inside. Black Ops is the first book in the Operation Deep Clean series by David Edward, author of Panama Red. If you've been with Dirk Lasher, you know what's coming. If you haven't, start here. It is not clean. It was never going to be.