Shock after shock jolts decorated ex-marine; ex savvy-cop, Dan Haggard as he struggles to survive in the battle for his life.
Haggard, a respected businessman is arrested at the border for smuggling Cocaine under his motorhome and his wife is brutally attacked by drug dealers looking for their Cocaine. Haggard has nowhere to turn to and no one believes in his innocence. Haggard’s business is deteriorating and people want to kill him. His heavy losses are overwhelming.
Finding those responsible for setting him up as a mule and clearing his name seems like an impossible task as the police and the DEA dog his every move. Time is running out.
As the underworld tries desperately to find him, Haggard is left with only one resource, himself! With nothing left to lose some people will fight back. Dan Haggard is one of them and he isn’t worried about being polite either.
Author Barry Lee Davies
EXCERPT FROM (c) "THE MULE"
All Material, Whole Or In Part Is Copyrighted.
The frogs croaked constantly now, stopping only when they became aware of a dangerous presence. Sigger set down his items on an outside rail while he placed the night-vision binoculars onto his head. He adjusted the straps and looked into the darkest area at the rear of the house. The dark and moonless night blossomed suddenly into an eerie florescent-green landscape that resembled a planet in some science fiction movie. What had been in total darkness a moment before now exposed every bush, rock, and movement.
Leaning against the railing, Sigger took a bite of his sandwich, his shotgun sitting comfortably close by. He enjoyed this time, with nothing to think about but the night and what moved around in the darkness. He adjusted the old 9mm semi-auto Browning that was sticking into his back, and took a swig of his beer. It was almost time to move into position.
The dogs brushed up against his leg. He hadn’t heard them approach. Their eyes sparkled evilly and looking into the bottomless green florescent marbles made him shiver involuntarily. It was like looking into the eyes of the devil. He was glad he didn’t have to face them in the darkness.
Trained not to bark, they moved silently wherever they roamed, moving in on a person like silent phantoms. Now they just stood there, quivering with restrained power, waiting for his command.
Sigger let out a soft belch and picked up the shotgun, moving off the back porch and into the darkness beyond. The Dobermans padded softly ahead, crisscrossing from side to side. They seemed eager, looking back at Sigger in what seemed like anticipation. Again, their marble green eyes looked like something from hell.
One hundred feet beyond the chicken barn the dogs scooted under a split rail wooden fence and disappeared into a neighboring cornfield. Sigger climbed over quickly and walked through the corn a short distance. He reappeared at the fence and stopped.
He desperately wanted a cigarette after the food and the beer, but he quickly put it out of his mind as he settled back for the wait. The frogs started up again, the sound soothing to Sigger’s ears.
Twenty minutes later the frogs stopped croaking and the dogs appeared suddenly at his side. They were sniffing the air and looking intently into the darkness towards the east. There was a bit of ground fog and it drifted in lime-colored, effervescent waves on the small breeze.
Three men stepped out into the open. They were all dressed in dark clothing. They stood there, looking for any signs of danger. So, Sigger thought, the information I was given was right. Sigger strained to get a closer look at their faces. Please, don’t let them be kids.
Sigger wasn’t worried whether they were young punks at all, but he wanted them much older so at least one would be able to carry the message back to the right people. He wanted everyone to know that it could be an ugly scene, and dangerous, to fuck with Sigger.
The three men crouched down and ran to the side of the barn. Not finding what they wanted they came towards the end where Sigger was standing.
“Shit!” one man said. “Where’s the fucking door?”
“It must be down the other end,” another one answered.
“From what I heard this place is loaded,” the third one said in a loud whisper.
“Yeah, well let’s find a way in first. If it’s like you say and there’s only one old Chinaman, we’ll rake off a load.”
Sigger walked quietly over the grassy ground in complete darkness. Now he could see them clearly. They were all in their late twenties or early thirties and it looked like they meant business. One carried a baseball bat, the second man appeared empty handed while the third carried what looked like a machete.