Tight Lies by Ted Denton

Release date: July 4, 2019

Subgenre: Action thriller

About Tight Lies: 

 

Ted Denton’s explosive debut novel is an exhilarating action thriller pitching the privileged seductive world of a professional sports’ agent against a backdrop of political double dealing, corporate corruption and brutal violence. 

A young Daniel Ratchet arrives in Spain to begin his dream job as a golf agent on the European Tour. In London, the Russian Rublex Corporation, with its history mired in ‘Vory’ mafia criminality, is working on a huge gas deal off the Falkland Islands with the British government. Veteran civil servant Derek Hemmings is tasked to rubber-stamp the deal for the Foreign Office. But things are not what they seem ... With the help of Wallace, a cantankerous old golf coach, Daniel discovers match fixing, fraud and corruption on the Tour, all at the seeming behest of Rublex. A thorn in the Russians’ side, Daniel is kidnapped before he can expose the truth. Wallace, needing help, contacts an old army buddy who deploys violent loose cannon Tom Hunter on the mission to save him. A tense race against time ensues – both to rescue Daniel from the clutches of the ‘Vory’ and for Hemmings in Whitehall to prove that the deadly deal is corrupt. The stakes are high. As the body count mounts will the volatile Hunter get to the truth or will he be just too late? Dead or alive. The truth always comes at a cost.

'Hard, fast and really good!'--Lee Child "bestselling author of the Jack Reacher series "

"I can attest that Ted Denton's 'Tight Lies' pretty much tells it how it is in the current affair's real world of big business and political skulduggery. I should know, I lived it."--Nicholas Anderson "Author and former SIS officer " 

 

Excerpt:

 

I rose slowly and surveyed the bar, scanning for threats. The rest of the punters continued about their business. Ox was leaning forward, meaty forearms resting on the bar, smirking and enjoying the show.

I staggered across the bar in feigned inebriation, as if solely intending on ordering yet another drink. Approaching the Target, I took two quick steps forward and kicked the edge of the table hard and purposefully into the chest of the unsuspecting biker. The

force smashed him backwards off his chair, onto the floor. I flew after him and, pushing the girl aside, stamped on the knee joint of his flailing leg. I pulled the table off, held it up and over him.Shouted at the girl to stand up. He screamed out in pain, hands groping hopelessly at the shattered kneecap. Going nowhere fast. Without pause I slammed the table’s sharp edge downward into his windpipe.

I looked up to see the huge bartender, moving faster than his corpulent body belied, wielding The Peacemaker in both hands and smashing it down towards my head. I dived sideways as the bat collided with the table, cracking the top in two. Momentum slid me into a table of three older guys with long greasy grey hair wearing tasselled leather jackets.

One of the men pulled me off the floor by my hair and hit me in the temple hard, scrambling my senses. The Ox was coming for more, swinging The Peacemaker with gusto like he was batting out the ninth inning for the Dodgers. I stooped and, reaching into my boot, pulled out the eight-inch hunting knife strapped inside. I thrust out wildly into the armpit of my mature assailant and twisted. It was enough to free me from his grip and I lurched forward again pulling out my Beretta.

‘Stay the fuck where you are!’ I shouted in general at the bar, spinning and pointing the gun towards the motley crew assembled at ringside. ‘Nobody fucking move and we are out of here. If so much as a fucking finger reaches for a gun I swear I will shoot it the fuck off.’

Ox stood still. Breathing heavily, sweat pouring off his fat acne-scarred face. His expression contorted with rage. The Peacemaker rested still in his double-handed grip, making him look like an oversized tennis player. All he needed was a headband. ‘You’ve fucking killed him, man,’ he howled, glancing at the biker sprawled on the floor of the bar. ‘He’s not moving. You’re dead, you son of a bitch. I’ll lose my licence. I promise you are fucking finished, punk.’

I backed up slowly, covering the bar evenly with the barrel of the Beretta as I moved. I reached the young girl who was crying and shaking. ‘You cool?’ I said, briefly glancing into her mascara streaked face. She nodded. Taking her wrist I continued to edge backward together until we reached the door. We piled through into the sunlight; behind us a cacophony of cursing and shouting.‘Who are you? Where are we going? What the hell is going on? You killed my boyfriend asshole,’ she cried, tears streaming down her pretty face.

‘Listen, I don’t know how the fuck a nice girl like you got caught up in this shit but from where I was sitting it didn’t look like you were having much fun. Your parents hired me to get you away from that bastard. It’s a done deal. My car’s down the next street. You’re coming with me and we’ve gotta run. NOW!’

We turned the corner on the block as a throng of people rushed out onto the street behind us, followed by the throaty punch of gunned motorbike engines. I was practically dragging the girl off her feet and, by the time we reached the car, she was missing a boot. The beaten-up rusting red jalopy was specifically picked for this job so as not to stand out in this low rent gang-infested neighbourhood in Bell, the predominantly Hispanic suburb of Los Angeles. Right then I wished I’d gone for speed over style. I ripped open the unlocked car door and pushed the skinny brown girl onto the seat. Jumped into the driver seat and turned the ignition. On the second time of asking it spluttered into life. As it backfired I shouted across, ‘Consuela—there’s a blonde wig in the bag at your feet. Put in on now.’

‘What? Like no way. This is all just so fucked man.’ Her tiny fists were balled up tight in her lap. I could swear she was pouting. ‘Connie, put the fucking wig on now.’ I urgently swivelled my neck around me checking the streets. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. We’re dead if they catch up with us. Do it now!’

Scowling, she pulled on the wig. It was thick and heavy with platinum blonde curls. I threw on a baseball cap and sunglasses kept ready in the dash box. Rolling down the window halfway, I stuck my elbow out and casually slid the vehicle into the road. We weren’t going to outrun anyone in this thing— we’d have to bluff our way clear. We approached the intersection. A screech of tyres and two leather clad bikers pulled out sharply, skidding into the path of a fast moving blue Ford pickup truck running in the opposite direction. One of the hogs bailed onto its side in the effort to stop and slid under the wheels of the truck, the rider’s leg trapped underneath. Its driver, fully moustached and mulletted and wearing the obligatory checked flannel shirt, threw open his door shouting and gesticulating wildly at the pair. The fallen biker rose to his feet and wiped his bloodied mouth on the back of his hand. As if watching some carefully rehearsed synchronised dance move, he pulled out his handgun at the identical moment his wing man and mirror image did so too. They started to pump holes in the side panelling of the sky blue Ford, tearing the metal apart. This was the perfect opportunity for us to slip away unnoticed, so I threw the jalopy in reverse and backed up down the street. Spun the vehicle in a neat skid, flipped into a side street, and put my foot down, leaving nothing but dust behind us.

We drove for twenty clear minutes on the freeway out of town, most of which saw Connie sitting with the blonde wig on her lap and a sorry pout across that cherubic face. I punched some numbers into my cell phone. ‘Mr Rodriguez, I’ve got your daughter. She’s safe and well,’ I said, grinning over at Connie. The girl’s instant response was to wrinkle up her nose and dart her little pink tongue out at me. ‘We’re ready to make the drop as arranged, Mr Rodriguez. See you in an hour.’

 

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About Ted Denton:

 

Ted Denton was offered a bursary at an early age to serve as a commissioned officer within the British armed forces. Fascinated with both geo-political relations and bipartisan negotiation, he has engaged with international governments, political faculties and Non-Governmental-Organisations (NGOs).

Ted has forged an exciting career through founding a private international consultancy and has undertaken extensive solo global travel. He is passionate about boxing, writing and adventuring.

Tight Lies is his first book.

 

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