The Bleiberg Project
by David Khara
We are delighted to welcome back novelist David Khara to Omnimystery News.
David's first in series thriller The Bleiberg Project is out in trade paperback from Le French Book this month, and we are pleased to provide you with an excerpt from it, Chapter 29. (Use this link to read the first two chapters.)
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WE'RE MAKING GOOD TIME. THE GPS estimates arrival in four hours. I didn't see anything of Switzerland. Shame, it's supposed to be pretty. I'd like to think I'll take in the sights next time. If there is a next time.
Jackie's asleep in the backseat, still dazed from Bernard's killing and the shootout. We're all taking it bad. Even Eytan Morg. They knew each other better than he's letting on. Maybe he'll tell us about it in his own sweet time. I hope so. His bathroom break hasn't made things simpler. He drives, eyes staring at the road ahead. Tough shit, I need to talk. "Besides work and getting high, what do you do all day?" No answer.
You're out of luck, pal. I'm pigheaded. "The journey will seem shorter if we talk, don't you think?"
He sighs. "When I'm not on an assignment, I paint." I can't help laughing. "You think that's funny?"
"I'm picturing you on a stool with your palette and brush, gazing at a green valley or a snowy mountain- top. Sorry, but with your look and build, it's funny!"
"If you're just going to make fun of me, the trip is going to seem very, very long." He clams up.
"There's no harm in a little fun. OK, I'll stop," I snort, laughing even louder. Why do giggling fits al- ways hit at inappropriate times?
"What about you? Besides driving home from clubs dead drunk, what do you do?"
Bastard. That's below the belt. On second thought, I guess I deserved it. "I try to survive. I thought about blowing my brains out, but I'm too much of a coward. So I drink. I smoke like a chimney. Every day, I destroy myself a little bit more."
"Suicide isn't a sign of bravery, but of giving up. We all make mistakes. You don't judge somebody by the number of blows they can give."
"What do you judge somebody by, Mr. Freud?"
"The number of blows they can take."
His words hit home. "You've taken a lot, right?" I ask. A long, long beat.
"More than you can ever imagine."
Why am I not surprised? This guy's been around the block. I'd bet my life on it.
"How do you do it?"
"Pardon me?"
"Blowing guys away like that. How do you do it?"
"Who said it was easy?" He sighs heavily. A long awkward silence. My questions seem to carry Eytan onto a stormy sea whose crashing waves he'd do anything to avoid. I plow on.
"I saw you kill two guys in my building. Jackie told me you eliminated two more who ambushed her. And now the rest-stop massacre. No trembling, no hesitation. By my calculations, you've wasted eight guys in under twenty-four hours."
"I suspect the total is closer to ten — one every three hours since we met."
He glances at the dashboard clock. "Another hour, and I'll have to kill somebody else to keep up my bat-ting average."
Maybe Eytan thinks he can laugh this off. My frown disabuses him of the notion.
"Don't try to worm your way out of it. I repeat, how do you do it? I want an answer." Unintentionally, I raise my voice. "I need an answer!"
"Why? How will knowing help you? Am I your fan-tasy? Does death fascinate you or the idea of killing turn you on? Maybe it revolts you. Whatever. What do you expect me to say? Yes, I kill. Killing is my job."
Excerpted from The Bleiberg Project by David Khara. First published in French as Le Projet Bleiberg © 2010 Editions Critic. English translation © 2013 Simon John.
First published in English by Le French Book.
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Photo provided courtesy of
David Khara
David Khara studied law, worked as a reporter for Agence France Press, was a top-level athlete, and ran his own business for a number of years. Now he is a full-time writer. Khara wrote his first novel — a vampire thriller — in 2010, before starting his Consortium series.
Learn more about the author and his work on the Le French Book website.
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The Bleiberg Project
David Khara
A Consortium Thriller
Are Hitler's atrocities really over?
1942, Poland. The head of the SS meets secretly with a scientist in charge of a major Third Reich project.
Present day. After another late night with yet another woman whose name he doesn't remember, self-pitying golden boy trader Jay Novacek learns that his long-lost father has died, precipitating events that lead him to board a plane to Zurich. He's got a Nazi medallion in his pocket, a hot CIA bodyguard next to him, and a clearly dangerous Mossad agent on his tail. What was his father investigating? Why was his mother assassinated? Why are unknown sides fighting over him with automatic weapons? Far from his posh apartment, he races to save the world from a horrific conspiracy. Can it be stopped?
