Metal Spies: Shadowfast Action Thriller, #1

By Cole Chase

Rock out with your Glock out in the heavy metal caper readers describe as "a wild ride" with "hilarious characters" and "a great ending."
 

Quinn Richards feels trapped in a world he didn't create. Sure, he inherited a fabulous mansion. But it demands endless upkeep. Even when he masterminds successful cons with his metal band and heist crew, Shadowfast, he remains broke and dissatisfied. He's not sure what his problem is.

 

When a mysterious client hires Shadowfast to steal data, Quinn conceives a flashy heist to play in the big leagues. Instead, he gets played by the big leagues. A shadowy cabal of bend-the-rules politicians blackmail Quinn into serving them. Their intel shows that notorious tech billionaire Brody Bach plans an attack on the US. If Quinn doesn't uncover what the attack is, and when, he and his team face prison for life.

 

Smoldering at being enslaved, Quinn plots how to get free—with a tidy profit. But there's little time for vengeance, when an international whirlpool of counterplots, deception, and assassination drags him and his rag-tag team in over their heads.

 

A technological threat draws the United States ever closer to Stone Age 2.0. The fate of a nation depends upon a creative con man and his heavy metal band. In choosing his path, Quinn will learn whether he can succeed as a scoundrel—or maybe his problem is that he's a good man.

 

Metal Spies kicks off a three-part story tailored to delight fans of Mission: Impossible, Mark Greaney, Lee Goldberg, and Jason Kasper. Click now to read Metal Spies.

 

EDITORIAL REVIEWS

 

"When I came across the Shadowfast series, I found myself deliriously enjoying the fast-paced and witty trilogy packed with badass action and cool characters.  …You simply are compelled to read all these books one after the other. …Delivers for fans seeking a cerebral narrative as much as it caters to readers looking for their next memorable action-packed read.  –Kashif Hussain, BestThrillerBooks.com

 

"Cole Chase takes us on such a fun ride! Like a well written song, it has action, dynamics, and moral dilemmas. It takes us to situations and feelings we can all identify with, which makes it feel so much more personal than other spy novels I have read. I am waiting for the next episode…but not so patiently." – Mark X, RivetSkull guitarist
 

"[Metal Spies] combines the techno-thriller aspect of a Mission: Impossible story with the comradery and humor of Guardians of the Galaxy. I've honestly never read an action book where I looked forward to the banter among the characters as much."  --ladame, Amazon reader

 

"The non-stop action, snappy dialogue, and relatable characters all add up to a great ride with plenty of laughs and unexpected predicaments along the way. . . . but beware! The first two books end in absolute cliffhangers, so I'd suggest that you order the entire "thrillogy" as soon as you can."  –Kindle Customer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fevered Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224369133

Book preview

CHAPTER

ONE

JANUARY 2018 | HONOLULU, HAWAII

I’m in, Quinn whispers.

Though he hasn’t touched the coconut margarita in front of him, he still passes as a Hawaiian-shirted tourist relaxing in the hotel’s outdoor bar. A tropical moon and distant tiki torches provide the only light, and he wears the shadows comfortably.

On balmy nights like this, the five-star resort folds back the movable wall between the bar and the marble corridor that runs from reception to the elevators, blurring the distinction between indoors and outdoors. Quinn shifts his gaze into the hotel and watches Danny, disguised as a gardener, servicing the resort’s indoor plants. The Korean looks unusually muscular, but he must be a gardener, right? Because he wears a green apron with gaping hip pockets, a spade in one and a cultivator in the other. His cart carries a bag of plant food and a cistern of water with a plastic hose running from it. As Danny trickles water onto three kinds of palms in a waist-high planter, his lips move.

Quinn hears Danny’s voice in his ear buds: Secure the perimeter.

Quinn nods. Create a diversion.

Good one. Yeah, I’d watch almost any movie with that line. It’s his turn to think while he sprinkles the palms, shooting glances down the open corridor. Got one. ‘Act natural.’

Manny’s rough voice breaks in on their comms. How about ‘radio silence,’ you bozos. Backslap is moving.

From his overwatch post, Quinn can see it all. While he lurks in dim mood lighting, the hotel corridor blazes with light.

From his right, the hypnotically handsome Cooper—code-named Backslap, for his skill at ingratiating himself with strangers—escorts a slightly older, athletic brunette woman. They present the very picture of an upscale date. Cooper’s dark teal linen sport coat pulls a color out of his Hawaiian shirt and sets off his blonde hair to startling advantage. His potential paramour’s clothes, hair, and jewelry mark her as affluent. Her sleeveless gown and high-cut sarong show more cleavage and leg than she probably does at home, judging from her milk-white skin. As they promenade down the corridor, her occasional minor lurch and the lustful way she gazes at Cooper tell Quinn that Cooper lubricated the mark with alcohol—probably fruity tiki cocktails, unavoidable on the island.

The earbuds Danny uses for comms look like phone earpieces a bored gardener might use to stream music. He looks convincingly oblivious as he packs up his hose, turns to move on, and bumps into Backslap and his date.

Danny’s Asian eyes pop wide as the couple stumble to keep their balance. I’m so sorry! He bobs in different versions of bows. I didn’t see you! You… okay?

The woman reacts slowly, confused. Cooper runs a solicitous hand up and down her arm, as if checking for injuries. No problem, amigo, Cooper says graciously. Just an accident. Right, Bethany?

Bethany paws at her hair, dazed, while Danny keeps bowing. When the woman doesn’t respond, the supposed gardener looks at Cooper and says, I get management? Let me go get management. He leaves the cart and hurries away, seemingly deaf to Cooper calling after him, No need.

With Danny gone, Cooper nudges Bethany along the corridor. As they resume their slow pace toward the elevators, Quinn stands and drops a couple of bills on the table. As an afterthought, he grabs the coconut margarita he ordered as a prop and takes a gulp. It’s not as terrible as expected.

He plucks a blazer off the back of his chair, hooks it over his shoulder with one finger, then saunters away. He descends the stairs from the terrace bar down to the sandy beach where breakers sigh rhythmically in the night. Overwatch is yours, he says.

Manny sits in a commercial van somewhere in the hotel parking lot, close enough to hijack the hotel’s Wi-Fi signal. He has hacked into the hotel’s closed circuit surveillance system. I have overwatch, Manny responds. Backslap is at the elevator but having trouble separating.

Quinn slows. He was heading for the van, but Cooper isn’t away clean yet. Ripple? he asks, using the codename Danny earned by being so muscular that even changing his mind would make his muscles ripple. They used to call him Eight Pack, but anyone who got a look at him would see through that code name.

Almost there, Danny responds.

Someone has just discovered their jewelry is missing, Manny informs in Quinn’s ear.

Quinn pivots as he shrugs into the navy-blue blazer. Plan B, he orders.

Plan B, acknowledged. Ripple is with me now.

Stand by to stand by, Quinn jokes. He quickens his pace around the outside of the hotel, ignoring the heady sweet fragrance of lotus blossoms. As he walks, he smooths his hair and runs his hands over his collars, making everything straight.

It’s after two in the morning, but the hotel hasn’t locked the side door. He enters a short corridor, perpendicular to the one Cooper walked down, leading straight to the elevators. Within a few paces he reaches Cooper and Bethany.

I swear I just had them, Bethany is saying. She seems distraught, peering at the carpet around her.

Hotel security, Quinn announces. Is there a problem?

Oh thank god, Bethany breathes. My jewelry is missing! Can you help?

Quinn frowns. From your room safe?

No, no, I was wearing it! Somehow, it’s gone!

Quinn studies her. Those are beautiful earrings. What exactly is missing?

It was a set, Bethany explains. Earrings, necklace, bracelet. She touches her ear, but in her state, it takes two tries. These are real diamonds! I wore it all when we were in the restaurant.

Maybe the clasp broke, Cooper offers. We could retrace our steps.

Clasps don’t break on a bracelet and a necklace at the same time, Quinn declares bluntly. He glares at Cooper suspiciously. Ma’am, how well do you know this man?

I, I… Her voice falters as she sees Cooper as if for the first time. I met him here. Yesterday.

Sir, Quinn says with authority, protocol requires me to search you. It’s easiest for you if you cooperate fully.

Cooper spreads his arms wide. Of course. Whatever you need.

Quinn pulls a detector wand from the blazer’s inside pocket. When he turns it on, it whines and hums as if alive. He makes a show of tracing the lines of Cooper’s body. Naturally, it doesn’t trigger, because Backslap dumped the jewels into Ripple’s yawning pockets when they collided.

He’s clean, Quinn tells Bethany as he pockets the wand.

She blinks, weaving slightly as she stands. She squints at Quinn as if seeing him through gauze. You look like Hugh Jackman. She looks around, as if for a movie camera. Is this real? This is real life, right?

Quinn shoots a glance at Cooper. Unspoken, it asks, What did you give her?

We were on our way to her room, Cooper cues.

Of course, Quinn counters. Ma’am, let’s get you safely to your room. I’ll send a staff member to get a full description of the jewelry. We will search the restaurant and the grounds on your behalf.

Bethany nods mutely.

You have your key card?

She pulls it from a clutch and shows it.

Very good. Quinn summons the elevator, which at this time of night opens immediately. Room number? he asks.

Four something. Bethany has to think. Four sixteen.

Quinn reaches into the elevator and discreetly palms the buttons for every floor up to four, buying a little more time for their escape. Someone will be with you shortly, he promises Bethany, waving her into the elevator.

I’ll help look, Cooper says. I know where we were sitting.

Grateful for the assistance. Let’s go. He nods officiously at Bethany, who fumbles to find words as the doors slide shut.

Once the doors close and the elevator’s floor indicator increments, Quinn and Cooper drop the act.

Head outside to the van? Quinn suggests.

Right up the corridor is direct, Cooper says. And we said we were going back to the restaurant.

Quinn shrugs and they stride back up the corridor Cooper just came down. Their shoes slap on marble as they pass lush planters of palms. They seem isolated in the spacious resort—the fun-and-sun crowd dropped their reddened bodies into bed long ago. Incoming, he adds, for the benefit of Manny and Danny.

Fired up, ready to go, Manny’s voice answers.

The axes? Quinn asks. He means musical instruments. The crew’s cover story for being in Honolulu is that they’re a band. Which they actually are.

Loaded, Danny says. Cleared to go.

After a few paces, passing the bar where Quinn kept watch, he asks Cooper, Who is she?

Insurance executive. Cooper smiles. She has her nose so high in the air, she could drown in a rainstorm. First, she was bragging about how many maids she’s fired. Then she went on about why I should believe QAnon.

Quinn smiles back. Fair game, then.

Cooper’s smile falters when he gazes ahead. Uh, might could get ugly.

Quinn looks down the corridor. A group of men and women cross the lobby, chattering as people do when going out after a good show. A Hawaiian couple leads the group, but it’s one of the white couples that snags Cooper’s attention.

A man casually glances down the corridor. He’s a quintessential normie, wearing an Izod polo shirt and khaki slacks. He has a balding head but wears his hair thick on the sides, and Quinn mentally dubs him Fenders. He looks oddly buttoned-up on the laid-back planet of Hawaii. His expression shifts instantly from amused, to stern. Hey! he barks.

Quinn and Cooper slow. There’s nowhere to hide in the wide flat corridor. They’ll look suspicious as hell if they turn around. But they can’t just stand there, either.

You! Fenders commands, pointing at them. Stay right there! He hustles toward them.

Cooper maintains his pleasant smile but hisses, Shhhit!

CHAPTER

TWO

Like a smiling ventriloquist, Quinn asks without moving his lips, Who is he?

Security from Tuesday night’s hotel, Cooper says. Does that bar we just passed have a back exit?

Leads to the beach.

Fenders needs only ten more strides to reach them.

Go.

They dodge back into the bar where Quinn sat minutes ago. The bartender doesn’t turn his head from a surfing competition replaying on the TV.

Fenders yells, Stop! and runs for them.

As they thread through the tables, they knock over each chair they pass to block the way behind them. They take the stairs down to the beach three at a time, and when their feet touch sand, they break into a sprint.

Coming in hot, Quinn tells his remote partners. Hostile in pursuit.

Ack, Manny’s voice says, short-handing acknowledged.

Their momentum carries them through pools of moonlight and patches of darkness. In the tropical air, Quinn sweats enough that his shirt immediately glues to his back. When they round the side of the hotel and pass the beach volleyball nets, he looks back. No one’s behind us.

Fuck. That means he’s calling reinforcements.

Both men pause their flight to shrug off their suit coats. While Quinn scurries over to a hotel trash can and shoves the coats out of sight, Cooper approaches a small sundries shack and using his elbow, shatters a pane in its cute door. He reaches through the broken pane and opens the door. In seconds, he’s wearing a hotel-branded boonie hat to cover his blonde hair, and hands Quinn a sun visor. It’s as feeble as quick changes get, but from a distance, they don’t wear the navy blazer and linen coat the security guy saw, and their hair color looks a little different. It might buy a second or two.

Then again, any moron will quickly realize, they’re the only two sweaty haoles running on the beach in the wee hours.

Cooper fishes his earbuds from his pocket and inserts them as they hurry along.

We can’t reach you, Quinn says. Drive toward the marina and pick us up there.

Moving, Danny answers.

In the quiet night, just over the rush of lapping waves, they can hear the van’s engine, distantly revving but unseen among row upon row of vehicles.

Quinn, lightly winded from their sprint, speed-walks toward the marina. Pushing against the soft sand, it takes twice the effort to go half the speed.

Goddammit, Dread, why didn’t you warn us? Cooper fumes aloud, now that he’s on comms.

Warn what? Manny’s voice scoffs. "All I saw was civilians walking into the hotel. Plus I was watching you guys and the woman. We don’t have enough eyes for a 360-degree lookout."

Ripple should have seen it, Cooper says, grumpily.

I was getting distance after the handoff, Danny reminds him. He adds, with passive-aggressive emphasis, As we planned.

What’d we score? Quinn asks, hoping to move Cooper’s thoughts onto a different channel.

Hard to say in the dark, Danny’s voice replies. Five figures for sure.

Maybe high fives, Cooper says. If that necklace is real diamonds, it’s long. In the light, good color, good clarity, looked good and felt good. Lotta stones.

Danny agrees. At least twelve carats. Maybe fifteen.

They pass a stand of coconut palms and reach the docks. Expensive sailboats bob gently, their lanyards clinking mournfully against their masts.

The planks underfoot provide better traction than the sand. Quinn and Cooper run the last fifty yards to meet the commercial van, which brakes to a stop before them. Danny has the headlights off, making the van less obvious in the night.

The side door slides open. Manny’s beckoning wave urges them in.

Danny drives, and Manny, big Samoan that he is, fills the second row that is advertised as three man. He has to scooch over for Cooper, because cases filled with drums, guitars, and a keyboard pack the back. Quinn slams the side door, grabs shotgun for himself, and Danny rolls before Quinn gets his door fully closed.

Where to? Danny asks, as parked cars pass on both sides of the aisle.

Away from the plane, Quinn says. Into the mountains. We’ve got to lose them before we can double back; otherwise, we’ll just lead them to our escape vehicle. We need time to load it.

Lose who? No pursuit yet.

Oh, it’s coming, Manny says, typing on his laptop.

Get us out of here, Quinn says. But play it chill.

The resort parking serves the hotel on one side, the marina on another side, and a golf course on yet another side. It’s so vast that the hotel runs trams to and from the extremes, so that once a visitor parks, they don’t have to hike a mile in the tropical sun.

Danny threads the van through it. Quinn can’t immediately spot the exits.

We should have more than one vehicle, Cooper announces from the back. They catch us with these instruments, the whole game’s over.

We would need a bigger crew for that, Quinn