Adventuring in the Afghan drug trade
Are you looking for a new series of adventure novels to read?
So my friend Doug Kimball likes to write novels of international adventure, espionage, & friendship between men of interesting experience: Campbell & Green, a US Marine Cpt. trying to retire as a planter in Costa Rica, & a Canadian botanist, also expat. They adventure through Afghanistan working for the American occupation, specifically the crazy things America tried there to get rid of the heroin agriculture (the damned poppy), only to make it so much worse. But in the novel, drug interdiction is done beautifully & succeeds. Then in the sequel, the two men get in trouble with the Taliban. You might love adventure novels & the contemporary settings in Latin America, Asia, & Europe, so here’s an excerpt from each novel & links to ebook sellers if you want to read on! First, here’s how the two men meet—as lovers of jazz!
Virga Joy, or the Adventures of El Colonel De Corona (Barnes&Noble ebook)
Colin was hungry, but his knowledge of the local restaurants was limited & his stomach sensitive to the local bugs, so he stopped at a convenience store for a bag of Plantanos & a Coke. Back at the Hotel Caribe Bar, Tim was nowhere to be found. The bartender said that he & the Canadian girls had left some time before for places unknown. This was neither unexpected nor uncalled for. Colin inquired of the water & food in the hotel & the bartender assured him that the hotel purified all its water, even that used to shower & wash the towels & bedclothes, & that the food, while hardly the best in Limon, was unlikely to cause distress; es muy poco probable. This was not the bold assurance Colin wanted to hear. Colin spoke impeccable Spanish. In fact, his Spanish was so good, he had been able to pick up some of the local lilt & lingo, though his continental Madrid accent, considered highbrow, even aristocratic, remained. Locals were often confused at first when they heard this massive blond & sunburned gringo speak like an educated native, even guilty having perhaps spoken of him rudely in his presence believing him to be influent. Yet when he did speak, he gained something of their respect even if he looked nothing like them, nothing at all.
He quietly & carefully opened the door to his shared room to find two empty twin beds. He showered, still concerned with the water but not concerned enough to remain in a jungle funk, & having already tested the waters, quickly downed a plate of the daily el casado at the hotel restaurant before heading out to the concert. Several artists were scheduled to play, including a jazz trio from the University of Miami & a vocal group from NYU. He was something of a tickler of the ivories, so he looked forward to it immensely. The sun had still not set when he took an empty seat, a small plastic folding chair that seemed barely up to the task, in the front row facing the pavilion. It was a beautiful setting: the Parque Vargas, a botanical garden that bordered the bay. The pavilion sat in front of a grassy pitch surrounded by towering coconut & other palms planted in regimental order & among them were various smaller gardens filled with tropical flowering plants, bromeliads, succulents & other impressive specimens. There were thirty, maybe forty people attending, & perhaps fifty seats. This meant nothing, he knew, as Costa Ricans were notoriously late for everything. The students from Miami were also late however, & when the quartet was situated, the park was filled to overflowing. Soon keyboard, string bass & jazz guitar were conversing, tossing themes back & forth & causing all those in attendance to sway & nod to their syncopated rhythms until the sax came in & forced the music to soar to new heights. Colin recognized the music, an old Stan Getz/Kenny Barron song, but he could not remember the title. He was unaware that his fingers were tapping out Barron’s keys on his knees & this action along with his general sway was causing his chair to push against the chair next to him, causing it too to sway with the music. On the adjacent seat sat a man, tall, very thin, slightly balding, with a long thin nose, unhealthy red-tinged hair, dark olive skin & a somewhat blank expression, a difficult face to read. It was as the quartet reached its crescendo (and Colin’s motions their most obnoxious) that Colin felt what he thought might have been an elbow, subtle, not quite a blow, in his left ribs. Had this blank, thin-faced man just ribbed him? Colin ignored it. When the song ended, he looked at his neighbor & asked, “Was I bothering you?” in Spanish.
The man apologized & said, “Sorry. I don’t speak Española. It’s just you were jostling the entire row of chairs.”
The voice was incongruous with the man, rich, round, & full. Colin, taken aback, had not expected a reply in his native tongue. He reached out with a large, thick, farm-hardened hand & introduced himself: “Colin Campbell. Originally from Omaha, USA.”
His neighbor returned his gaze with what might have been a smile, or if the circumstances had been different, what might have been taken as a look of condemnation, took Colin’s hand into his long, thin fingers with a firm grip & said in a strong baritone, “Dr. Alan Greene, Montreal, Canada, & jazz aficionado.”
Colin returned the man’s gaze with a broad, warm smile & shook the man’s hand up & down nearly in time with the music as the quartet began anew. He was too filled with the music to be angry & his joy was contagious. Through the remainder of the concert both men laughed, bounced, swayed & stamped to the music, constantly jostling their entire row though no one else complained. The locals were accustomed of the odd ways of the gringo touristas. Colin & Greene were transported with the music, its soaring lines &, when the group from NYU performed, its impeccable harmonies. Both men stood, hooted & applauded when the concert ended, hoping to initiate an encore, but their fellow Costa Rican brethren, now significantly depleted, did not share their enthusiasm & their entreaties went unfilled.
They both remained in their seats for some time, still taking in the afterglow of the concert, when Colin felt the first sensation in his bowels, a growl. He stood, then quickly sat back down as a rumble preceded a sharp cramp in his lower abdomen. Greene noticed this distress & asked him if he was OK. The cramps rolled through Colin’s guts in an excruciating wave. This advanced to a more immediate need to vomit & soon, Colin was fertilizing the bromeliads with the remains of black beans, rice, peppers, plantains & some sort of fish. Greene did not abandon him & asked where he was staying. The two men slowly made their way through the two blocks that separated Parque Vargas & the Hotel Caribe. Once in Colin’s room (no sign of Tim, none expected) Greene helped Colin to the bathroom & handed him a wastebasket, both entry & exits, covered, then called room service for tea. When the tea arrived, he rummaged through his backpack, selected two packets of dried herbs, & placed a pinch of each in the boiled water, making an herbal tea. Once it had steeped, he poured a cup & brought it to Colin. “Drink this,” he told him & Colin, depleted, incapacitated & compliant as the Mayan Revenge attempted to turn him inside out from both ends, did as he was told. The liquid worked almost immediately. Soon Colin was in the shower, cleaning himself up once again.
Once out of the shower, as he dressed, he thanked Greene & asked, “What kind of doctor are you, one of those naturopaths?”
“Actually,” said Greene, “My PhD is in Botany. I specialize in primitive cultural remedies.”
“You’re not a physician?”
“Nope. The tea I gave you was actually a combination of two herbs used by local indigenous Indians. One is for dysentery & the other for an upset stomach. I’ve used both for much the same problems you had & found them to be quite efficacious.”
“A miracle cure, I’d say,” said Colin. “You could make a fortune with this.”
“Perhaps,” said Greene.
“Seriously,” said Colin. “This is the sure-fire hangover cure. Now if you could only fix impotence...”
“I think I have something for that,” Greene interrupted.
“And male pattern baldness,” Colin continued & repeated, “You have something for that?”
“I do. Impotence is a problem that transcends all cultures.”
“Really,” Colin replied. “Lucky for me, I’m not there yet. Sounds like you have a fortune there in that backpack.”
Excerpt from Operation Free Bird (Barnes&Noble ebook)
Lt.Gen. Stanton, now acting Director of Defense Intelligence, arrived in Landstuhl, Germany in a brand-new Air Force C37B, a modified Gulfstream 550, compliments of his new position. He had one last duty to perform as Commanding General All Forces, Afghanistan, to present Purple Hearts & other commendations to the several Soldiers, Marines & Airmen recently wounded on his watch & who were being cared for at the Landstuhl US Military Medical Facility. Traveling with him were his staff, Army 1st Lt. Robert Gong & Cpl. Peter Falzone, as well as Cpt. Ralph Rossini, USMC. All three men had agreed to follow the General to DIA, though there were the extensive background checks to go through & all men would first spend the next several weeks in training at Camp Peary in Williamsburg, VA, just south of Washington.
Stanton did not relish beginning this assignment without his most familiar faces & loyal men, but he wanted their training completed before the beginning of the new year. He’d spent the better part of a year at Camp Peary back in the day, a very long time back. His men would suffer a much-abridged training; enough, he knew. Besides, of the three, only Rossini would likely see the field & he had undergone significant Special Forces training at Quantico.
Vehicles were waiting for them on the tarmac as they exited the plane & they were quickly whisked to the hospital. Stanton knew the status of each of the wounded. Two had suffered loss of limbs in IED attacks & both were said to be in good spirits & nearly ready for transport to rehab facilities stateside. Another was in grave condition, a sniper victim. Still, he was in the best hands possible & though the prognosis was 50-50, he was optimistic. The other injuries were incidental, not combat injuries per se, but the result of the chaos & difficulties of war zone deployment. One in particular, Marine Major Colin Campbell, caused him the most concern. Major Campbell had worked closely with Stanton, running his highly successful Afghan anti-opium interdiction program. He’d contracted some kind of chronic third-world crud that had worn him down to a nub. The Major collapsed in the line of officers greeting the Sec. Def. on a recent visit to Camp Eggers. This resulted in an ugly head gash & copious loss of blood. He had nearly died there in front of his fellow officers.
But tough as he was, he didn’t. He was immediately transferred to Landstuhl & according to the report provided Stanton, the intestinal infection that had caused his collapse was under control. Stanton was particularly fond of Campbell & wanted the Major to join him at the DIA. It was a good fit, Campbell was a decorated intelligence officer with years of embassy attaché detail in South & Central America, as well as several other DIA deployments.
Stanton & his three followers were escorted to the bedsides of each of the wounded. Stanton had reviewed the records of all the men & could recall all the details, service, rank, unit, deployments, hometown, etc. It was a gift of eidetic memory & it served him well as he greeted them, made small talk & presented their medals, bars & commendations, except the sniper victim, still in an induced coma; Stanton left his Purple Heart with the duty nurse with instructions to keep it safe. The last visit was with Major Campbell, who was embarrassed to be presented with a Bronze Star. The Lt.Gen. objected & reminded him of the success of his team’s efforts as well as the several stitches that were required to close up the wound the Major received in his collapse on the tarmac.
“Secretary Hagel dropped, almost fainted, when he saw you go down. He thought we were under attack.” Stanton laughed.
Colin sat up in his bed grinning. “I appreciate the visit, General, & guys,” he said. “You all done in Kabul?”
“Oh yeah,” said Stanton. “I already have new orders.”
“Fort Wainwright, sir?” Colin asked. Fort Wainwright was a remote base high in the mountains in remote, northern Alaska.
“You wish, Marine. No. D.C.” Stanton smiled, a rare occasion. “Major Campbell, you are looking at the acting Director of the DIA.”
Colin had not expected that answer. “Isn’t that a civilian post?”
“No, that would be my civilian boss, the Director of National Intelligence,” explained Stanton. “The guys are all coming with me. I want you to join us, when you’re ready to climb back on that horse.”
“Sorry, sir,” Colin responded, “it might be a while. I’m not…” Colin stumbled with his words. “I have to get through a PFT.”
“You take your time, Marine,” said Stanton. “When you’re ready.”
“OK, yeah, sure.”
“By the way, you sound a lot better & they say they have this thing under control, but you still look like you just stumbled out of a ten year stay in a Siberian gulag.” Stanton was not a man who felt any need to filter his observations. In fact, he quite enjoyed his own brutal honesty.
“I bounce back, sir. I once wrestled 157 at Annapolis. I made weight in the morning & wrestled in the afternoon. By the time I hit the mats, I was 185. Pinned the cadet in less than thirty seconds.”
Stanton smiled again & said, “That was what, twenty years ago? Get better, Major. I’m counting on you.” The three others, Rossini, Gong & Falzone, each shook Colin’s hand, congratulated him on his commendation & wished him a quick return to duty. They all looked forward to working with him again. Stanton gave Colin’s shoulder a final squeeze & whispered, “I can get you a medical, if the PFT is problematic. I want you on my team, Marine, even if you come on as a civilian.” Stanton then told him to hurry the heck up & get his butt to Washington, except he did not say “heck” or “butt.” He returned Colin’s salute & backed out of the room, still grinning.
Note: Virga Joy & Operation Free Bird are also available on Apple Books & at most other eBook sellers & subscription services.