Road To Babylon | Book 10 | 100 Deep Read online

  100 Deep

  Copyright © 2020 by Sam Sisavath

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Road to Babylon Media LLC

  www.roadtobabylon.com

  Edited by Jennifer Jensen & Wendy Chan

  Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

  Contents

  Books in the Road to Babylon Series

  Also by Sam Sisavath

  About 100 Deep

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Books in the Road to Babylon Series

  Glory Box

  Bombtrack

  Rooster

  Devil’s Haircut

  Black

  The Distance

  Hollow

  Daybreak

  The Ranch

  100 Deep

  Nice Shot

  Also by Sam Sisavath

  The Purge of Babylon Post-Apocalyptic Series

  The Purge of Babylon: A Novel of Survival

  The Gates of Byzantium

  The Stones of Angkor

  The Walls of Lemuria Collection (Keo Prequel)

  The Fires of Atlantis

  The Ashes of Pompeii

  The Isles of Elysium

  The Spears of Laconia

  The Horns of Avalon

  The Bones of Valhalla

  Mason’s War (A Purge of Babylon Story)

  The After the Purge: Vendetta Trilogy

  Requiem

  Tokens

  Remains

  The After The Purge: AKA John Smith Post-Apocalyptic Series

  Mist City

  Run or Fight

  Shoot Last

  The Allie Krycek Vigilante Series

  Hunter/Prey

  Saint/Sinner

  Finders/Keepers

  Savior/Corruptor

  The Red Sky Conspiracy Series

  Most Wanted

  The Devil You Know

  The Fall of Man Post-Apocalyptic Series

  The Break

  Homefront

  Firebase

  The Tide

  About 100 Deep

  THE SPY GAME IS NO PLACE FOR A HERO.

  The ghoul apocalypse reshaped the world. It also changed people. Some for the better, often for the worse.

  For Keo, it’s the former. Well, mostly.

  He’s a changed man now that he’s found the love of his life, but when he agrees to help his old comrades at Black Tide with an important mission, Keo probably should have said no. But Keo being Keo, he didn’t.

  Shoulda, woulda, coulda, pal.

  The job is to gather vital intelligence that could have dangerous ramifications, as well as alter the balance of power in what remains of the United States of America. It’s a tricky business, this spy game, but if anyone can do it, it’s Keo.

  Or, at least, Keo hopes so. Or he might not see Lara again.

  One

  It was a full moon. Bad things always happened on a full moon. Everyone knew it, from the ancient Greeks to the modern Americans. They wrote essays about it. Poems and books and such. He was pretty sure the guys that came before Homo sapiens chiseled cave walls about it—not that he had any proof or anything.

  “Chang.”

  It wasn’t that the lack of a full moon would have prevented all the bad things that were about to happen tonight from happening. In Keo’s experience, the bad stuff always happened whether you wanted it to or not. The trick was to adapt. Which brought to mind a saying that was favored by his old friends at Black Tide: “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

  “Chang!”

  Not that Keo was hoping for anything right now. Hope didn’t get you anywhere. Because people did things during a full moon they wouldn’t have done on any other nights. And others, well, they’d always wanted to do those things, but just never had the courage. For some reason, a full moon always got those types’ bloodlust going.

  “Hey, Chang!”

  Keo wasn’t one of those people. He did things because he had to, because not doing them cost him more. A led to B, which ended up at C, and eventually, D. Or something like that. He could have been slightly off his alphabet by a letter or two.

  A loud whistle, followed by the half-amused, half-annoyed sounding, “Eyes over here, champ!”

  Keo looked over at the whistler.

  A big man with shaggy blond hair that would have made him look like a hippie, except for the rest of him. Broad shoulders and a neck as big as one of Keo’s thighs. Not fat by any stretch of the imagination. Harvey was just big.

  “We didn’t come here to sightsee, champ, we came here to do work,” Harvey said.

  “Work?” Keo thought. This isn’t work, pal. You don’t know what real work is, but maybe one day I’ll show you.

  Keo hopped off his saddle. The animal he’d been given was a nice, tall thoroughbred, but Keo had ridden better versions. There was once a horse named Horse that had served him pretty well for a while. Then Horse got it into his horse’s head that he didn’t need Keo and took off. Or maybe Horse just realized being around someone like Keo was bad for his health. Not that Keo could blame him. Most people he’d met would say the same thing, never mind such a clever animal like the horse named Horse.

  A horse was a horse…until it wasn’t. Or something like that.

  “Man, where are you right now?”

  Keo looked over at the person who’d asked the question. Lance, though Harvey called him Lancelot. Because Lance was blond with boyish good looks that helped him seduce any woman he wanted and was hell on wheels with a sword. Actually, none of those things were true. Harvey called Lance Lancelot because Harvey had, once upon a time, seen the movie Excalibur and thought it was funny. Keo didn’t have the heart to tell ol’ Harvey that Lancelot, not to mention his buddy Arthur and all their pals of the Round Table, didn’t actually exist and were just a figment of some Briton’s imagination. Probably.

  The real Lance didn’t look anything like the Lancelots portrayed in all the movies and TV shows about the King Arthur myth. The Lance that walked up the cobblestone driveway next to Keo was dark-haired and short. Keo had 6 inches or so on him, depending on what shoes Lance decided to wear on that given day. Lance wasn’t so much skinny as he was a bag of bones. His arms looked more like chopsticks, and Keo was always a little paranoid the man’s web gun belt would slide down his hips—the holstered firearm and sheathed knife, not to mention the ammo pouches, right along with it. He also stank of cigarettes. The man smoked religiously and probably had for many years since he was a kid. That was probably why he was stuck a midget his whole life. Keo had heard that tobacco could stunt your growth.

  Maybe Lance�
��s lack of height and heft was why Harvey appeared so intimidating by comparison. He was bigger than all of them, and in this game, physical intimidation, without the need to actually do anything, was a major asset. Certainly, Harvey made the FN FAL battle rifle he was carrying in one meaty paw look like a child’s toy. The gun, also known as the “Right Arm of the Free World,” appeared weightless as he walked up to the front door of the big two-story house and rang the doorbell.

  Keo and Lance stopped about five feet behind Harvey. There was a fourth body behind them, but he was busy tying up the horses to a streetlamp at the curb. Keo glanced back as that person, Steven, jogged over to join them, running across the homeowner’s well-manicured lawn as he did so. Keo wondered how the homeowner had managed that; or maybe, more importantly, why? Who took care of their lawns these days? The man’s neighbors sure as hell didn’t. Half of the houses Keo saw as he rode up the street, their path lit by solar-powered streetlights, had jungles for lawns.

  “Horses good?” Lance asked Steven as the young man reached them.

  Steven nodded, slightly out of breath despite the short distance. “Good. They’re good.”

  “Secured?”

  “Secured.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure, sure?”

  Steven grinned. “Sure as sure can be sure.”

  Lance chuckled.

  That was a joke between them. Keo had counted three times that they’d done that and hadn’t found any of it all that amusing.

  Must be an inside joke or something.

  That, or just an example of some really bad sense of humor.

  It was probably that. Keo had met a lot of guys in his time who thought they were funny. One of them was Danny.

  Steven was younger than Danny, so he had an excuse to be bad at comedy. Fourteen years old and taller than Lance but shorter than Keo, with a physique that was about in the middle of the two older men standing in front of him. The kid shared Danny’s sandy blond hair, though his was a bit longer.

  Unlike Lance or Keo, the teenager’s web gun belt only had pouches for supplies and a sheathed knife. He was also not carrying a pump-action shotgun like Lance or Keo’s slung MP5K. The knife was all Steven got until, Keo was told, the kid earned something more, though no one explained to Keo exactly how that would come about. Not that Keo couldn’t have guessed. Places like this operated strictly on a meritocracy. It wasn’t who you knew, but what you did—or were willing to do that got you noticed.

  When no one answered his first ring, Harvey pressed the doorbell again. He hadn’t bothered to turn around to look at Keo and the others. He didn’t have to; the plan was already explained before they climbed on their horses.

  Harvey didn’t have to press the doorbell a third time. Light appeared on the other side of the door’s security glass, signaling that the homeowner had woken up. The sounds of locks opening—three that Keo counted—and finally the obvious clank-clack of a deadbolt sliding out of place.

  The door opened, revealing a man in white pajamas with a lantern. Light danced across his wrinkled face and wide forehead; brown eyes peered out at Harvey and stayed here. He recognized the person in authority. It certainly wasn’t Keo or Lance, or the kid, Steven.

  “Harvey,” the old man said. “It’s late.”

  “Can we come in, Roy?” Harvey asked.

  “What’s this about? It’s late.”

  “I know it’s late. Can we come in?”

  Roy gave Harvey a Like I have any choice look before stepping aside. “Come on in, then. I’ll get Mary to make some coffee.”

  “Don’t bother,” Harvey said as he stepped inside. “We won’t be here long.”

  “Mind telling me what this’s about?”

  “Let’s talk in the living room.”

  “Mary—”

  “Let’s not get her involved.”

  “Okay,” Roy said.

  The old man finally looked over at Keo and Lance. Roy kept one hand on the door, the other holding the lantern. Keo wondered if the man was thinking about slamming the door in their faces. Not that that would have done him any good, since Harvey was already inside. And it wasn’t like Roy had anything on him but his pajamas at the moment.

  Probably should have armed yourself, Roy ol’ pal.

  Roy wasn’t completely weaponless, of course. He had the lantern. But it would have been the lantern against Harvey’s FAL and sidearm, not to mention his large KA-BAR blade. Given those odds, Roy probably figured it was better to see if he could talk his way out of this. The old man nodded at Keo and Lance as they, too, stepped inside.

  “Lance,” Roy said.

  “Hey, Roy,” Lance said.

  “Chang,” Roy said to Keo.

  Keo pursed a smile back. It didn’t matter how many times people called him Chang; it always took him a moment to respond.

  “Roy, sorry to bother you so late,” Keo said.

  “No worries. I was gonna get up to pee anyway,” Roy said. He, too, pursed a smile back at Keo. “Old man bladder, and all.”

  “I hear that.”

  “Not yet, but you will, soon, kid.”

  Roy didn’t bother to acknowledge Steven. Most people didn’t bother with Steven.

  The click as Roy closed the door behind them. Then, for some reason, did all the locks again. All of them.

  Harvey had made himself at home in Roy’s first-floor living room and found the switch that turned on the lights. Two of them, both LEDs powered by solar panels in Roy’s backyard. Keo knew that because he’d helped Roy set up the second panel three days earlier. Not that he’d had any choice; as a newcomer, he’d been given mostly random labor duties. Becoming one of Harvey’s gang—at least for this one night—was a big promotion.

  “Sit down, Roy,” Harvey said as he walked around like he owned the place. The big man glanced up at the second-floor railing before peeking at the stairs.

  “I’d like to know what this is about,” Roy said. He hadn’t sat down.

  “Sit,” Harvey said.

  “Tell me what this is about first.”

  “Sit.”

  Roy sighed and sat down on a brown armchair. The furniture was mostly immaculate, except for a tear on the right armrest. All Roy had to do to pop out the leg rest part was to lean back slightly, but he didn’t do that now. He could probably already sense the mood and knew being comfortable wasn’t in the cards tonight.

  Keo thought Roy looked much older than his fifty-nine years. Crow’s feet jutted from the corners of his eyes, and old scars lined his chin and forehead. His broken nose had never been properly reset, just one more proof that he hadn’t survived The Purge without having to fight for the privilege.

  Watching the man attempt to figure out what was happening and how he was going to survive the night made Keo feel sorry for him. He’d been in situations like this before and felt Roy’s fears. He could see it in the man’s slight twitches, the way he rested both palms on his chair’s armrests, fingers digging slightly into the fabric. There were no obvious signs on the face or in the eyes, because Roy was putting on his best game face.

  But it wasn’t convincing enough.

  At least not to Keo. He’d simply been around too long, done too many things, and seen too much to miss all the signals. He was looking at a man who knew his life was dangling from the edge and that any wrong move could get him killed.

  Harvey stopped pacing the living room to look back at Roy. “Where were you last night?”

  “What?” Roy said.

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “Is it?”

  “Simple enough that you shouldn’t have any problems answering. Where were you last night?”

  “Here,” Roy said.

  “Here?”

  “Yes. Here. At home.”

  “That’s funny, because someone saw you around the hotel.”

  Ro
y’s already lined forehead furrowed even more. “What?”

  “Which part didn’t you understand?”

  “I was nowhere near the hotel last night. I was here. Here.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “I was with Mary. You can ask her.”

  “She’s your wife. She’d say anything you told her to. Even lie for you.”

  “She wouldn’t lie for me.”

  “So you’re saying your wife doesn’t love you?”

  “What?” Roy shook his head. He looked like a drowning man trying to fight his way back to the surface. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. She loves me, but she doesn’t have to lie. Because it’s the truth.”

  “Lancelot,” Harvey said.

  Lance took something out of his pocket and tossed it to Roy. The old man was surprised and didn’t extend his hand fast enough. That “something” clinked on Roy’s tiled floor.

  It was a key. Slightly bigger and longer than a regular key. Heavier, too, by the sound it made as it landed.

  “Look familiar?” Harvey asked.

  Roy stared at the key for a moment. He squinted before leaning forward to pick it up, then held it up to the light.

  “Well?” Harvey said.

  Roy lowered his hand and looked across the room at Harvey. “This is mine.”

  “Of course it is,” Harvey said. “You think we’re here by accident?”

  “But…” Roy held the key up again and squinted at it even closer.

  “It’s yours,” Harvey said. “It was used to get into the hotel last night. Why were you there, Roy?”