The Big Spill: Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series, #10

By Kenneth Eade

Mother Earth needs help, but at what cost?

 

Experience the suspense and mystery of the latest in the best selling legal thriller series from the award winning author critics hail as: "One of the strongest thriller writers on the scene."

 

After a large oil spill threatens the coastline of Santa Barbara, Lawyer Brent Marks' girlfriend Rebecca takes on the big oil companies. Initial victories in her class action case lead to her all-out declaration of war against fossil fuels. When she turns up missing, a suspected victim of foul play, Brent finds himself questioning whether to continue with the case.

 

What critics are saying about this action-packed legal thriller:

 

"Few writers in this legal thriller genre can match Kenneth Eade's creative ability to present facts in a way that with the help of his main character Brent Marks we can catch a glimpse in the legal intricacies around us. Said once and said again, Kenneth Eade is one of our strongest thriller writers on the scene and the fact that he draws his stories from the contemporary philosophical landscape is very much to his credit." Grady Harp, Literary Aficionado

 

"Eade, a lawyer by profession, weaves legal dialogue, corruption and international action to create a pacey read with echoes of Grisham, Baldacci and Clancy nipping at his writing heels. Law issues as well as forensics and police procedures are clearly explained with such authority as to add gritty realism in and out of the courthouse, but it's within the court drama that Eade really packs some punch." SPR Review

 

What readers are saying about the Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series:

 

Eade excels at the two most important aspects of writing, character development & the story line. To compare him to Grisham, Michael Connelly, Robert Crais, to name a few of my favorites, is not an understatement. The complexity of his characters & story lines in his novels is every bit as good as these "big boys" of the legal courtroom/ police procedural genres." Kristine Lovas

 

"Held my attention from the first page to the last. I would highly recommend this book and any others by Kenneth Eade." Diane G

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Times Square Publishing
• Release date: Aug 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201806071

Kenneth Eade

Kenneth Eade is an American author known for his legal and political thrillers. Born and raised in Los Angeles, California, Eade graduated from the University of California, Northridge with a Bachelor of Arts. He then attended Southwestern Law School where he earned his Juris Doctor (J.D.) degree. After practicing law for thirty years, Eade turned his attention to writing. He published his first novel, "An Involuntary Spy," in 2013, which introduced readers to his signature blend of drama and political intrigue. The book received critical acclaim and was followed by a series of 20 successful novels, including the Brent Marks Legal Series (including "Predatory Kill," "A Patriot's Act," and "Unreasonable Force") and the Paladine Political Thriller Series (including "Paladine" and the award-winning "Traffick Stop"). Eade's novels often tackle controversial issues such as government surveillance, environmental pollution, and corporate malfeasance. His stories are grounded in his extensive knowledge of law and politics, and he is known for his meticulous research and attention to detail. In addition to his work as an author, Eade has been involved in various legal and political causes throughout his career. He has advocated for criminal justice reform and environmental protection, and has worked to raise awareness about issues such as police brutality and government corruption. Eade's books have been translated into several languages and have been optioned for film and television adaptations. He has received numerous accolades for his writing, including the prestigious RONE Award in 2017, Best Legal Thriller from Beverly Hills Book Awards (2015), and a two-time winner of the Reader's Favorite Awards in 2016 and 2017. He continues to write and publish new works, and is widely regarded as one of the top legal thriller writers of his generation. In the environmental arena, he is the author of the non-fiction works, “Bless the Bees” and “Dr. Gutman’s Microbiome Secrets.”

Book preview

PROLOGUE

As the sun went to rest below the Santa Barbara horizon, the spectacular hues of fiery red and orange gave way to a cobalt blue sky.  Soon after, only the twinkling of the harbor lights could be seen, along with the offshore lights of the oil rigs, which looked like stationary boats a few miles off into the ocean.

The spring morning in May was like most others along the coast, known as the Riviera of the Pacific.  As the palm trees swayed in the early breeze, the sunlight glistened and glinted off the gentle rolling waves.  A lone pelican drifted perfectly parallel to the sparkling water, as if its flight had been programmed by a flight management system computer in a modern airliner.  Seagulls bleated out their calls as they scavenged along the shore.

The air hung heavy with the combination of morning dew and a thin coat of fog that still hung over the horizon.  Beneath the waves another perfectly balanced ecosystem thrived with creatures unseen, except to the morning fishermen trolling along in their boats, drinking coffee and watching a school of dolphins which seemed to fly out of the ocean as they sped by. 

Twelve-year-old Teddy Nestor had set out from his family’s campground after breakfast to do some exploring along Refugio Beach.  As he picked up shells along the palm-scattered sandy seaboard, he imagined himself a pirate, coming to ground in his longboat, in search of Coronado’s gold.  Teddy approached an area where the smooth sand gave way to rocks and ventured out onto them to explore the tide pools.  He bent over and peered into a small pool which held black sea urchins and hermit crabs rumbling around them and was assaulted by a sulfurous, pungent smell, so strong he felt like gagging.  He turned and headed back to camp to tell his dad.  That’s when he noticed the small, rich black dirt clods that had washed up on the beach.  The idyllic Santa Barbara coastline was once again under siege by a silent enemy lurking beneath the surface.

CHAPTER ONE

Brent Marks tucked his laptop into his briefcase, snapped it shut and stood up from the counsel table in the courtroom.  He reached out and shook the hand of his adversary, Tom Riggins, against whom he had fought an amicable, yet arduous battle, one of many to come.  The judge had already left the bench, supposedly to ponder the legal arguments that he had witnessed Brent and Tom hurl at each other, like two Roman gladiators fighting to the death.  Now, after the show, they were just two colleagues, sometimes on opposite sides and sometimes on the same side, retreating to their respective corners.

Brent was in pretty good physical shape for a man in his 40s.  He tried, at all times, to eat right, which was difficult in a town like Santa Barbara, which had more restaurants than mini-markets and gas stations combined.  Exiting the courthouse with all the other lawyers at noon, although he was dressed in his battle gear – a two-piece blue suit from Versace – he seemed different than the other costumed litigators emerging from the old adobe landmark.  Most of them were dressed in nondescript greys of different shades, loosely hanging from their slumping bodies.  One look at Brent and younger women usually felt right away that he was strong, urbane and passionate.  Older women sensed that he was sympathetic, tender and understanding.  Both were correct.

Normally on a Friday afternoon like this day, Brent would head to the office to make his to-do list for Monday morning.  Throughout the fluctuating degrees of his personal life, which varied from the company of his cat and an occasional outing with his friend, Jack Ruder, who performed the role of investigator in his business life, to passionate, yet seemingly fleeting relationships with strong and interesting women, the normally tenacious Brent had always made the rule for himself not to bring work home, unless he was in trial.  But today was different.  Brent and his new girlfriend, Rebecca Bekker, an ex-client (Brent also had a rule never to date clients) had planned to take the rest of the week off for a romantic getaway up the scenic California coast.  All of that changed when he received her frantic call.

It’s another oil spill.  Don’t they realize they’re killing our ocean?

Rebecca?

Sorry, Brent, I’m a public volunteer.  I’ve got cleanup duty.

How long is that going to take?

I don’t know.  Depends on how many gallons of crude oil those assholes have dumped this time.  Sorry but we have to cancel our plans for this week.

Well, can I join you?  With the cleanup?

I’d like to say yes, but we take special training for this.  Not anyone can do it.  I’ve got to go, Brent, they need me.

Brent said good-bye to Rebecca and disconnected.  She was the daughter of a client of his who had been murdered, and who had amassed a sizeable fortune before he had passed on.  This had left Rebecca a very rich young lady, who wanted for nothing, which allowed her to concentrate on her passion – charitable work.  She was an anti-war activist on the one hand and a champion for veterans’ rights on the other, but her strongest passion was protection of the environment.

Rebecca was the opposite of what you would expect from a poor little rich girl.  Magnanimous as she was alluring, her dark, doe-like eyes could stir up a ravenous appetite in any man.  Those who tried to pierce her outer veil of beauty with the aspiration of grabbing onto her heartstrings, and, thus, her purse strings, were often disappointed by the sharp wit of her twenty-four-year-old mind.  Brent had not been, and neither had she.

Brent was discouraged that their travel plans would inevitably have to be altered, but also perturbed at the thought of another assault against the Santa Barbara coastline.  The hazards of offshore drilling had already wreaked havoc on the environment throughout the 20th Century, and now, even in the face of evidence that reducing our carbon imprint by cutting out all fossil fuels was not enough to forestall the upcoming environmental disaster to end all disasters, oil companies were still rallying for more offshore drilling, more pipelines, and fracking.  The last Santa Barbara spill in 1969 killed thousands of birds and sea animals.  Another spill was out of the question.

Offshore drilling should be prohibited, period.

Brent knew that Rebecca would not only share his thoughts, but also call for action, and he needed to be prepared for that.  His plans foiled, he headed home.

Home to Brent was a hillside split-level with a double wall of glass facing a spectacular view of the Santa Barbara Harbor.  Today, what would usually be a warm homecoming was marred by his angst.  As he opened the front door of his house, his cat, Calico, began to meow, but, sensing his unease, backed off as if she had come face-to-face with a rabid guard dog.  That didn’t stop her from running to the kitchen for her dinner, which was her afternoon routine. 

Brent set down his laptop, hung up his jacket, and went into the kitchen to do his part.  The cat happily slinked between his legs and purred as he prepared her meal.  He knew he wouldn’t be hearing from Rebecca until after sundown – maybe even later than that – so he fell back into work mode to fill the void.  Brent had become accustomed to Rebecca’s company.  In less than a year, his bachelor’s life had been transformed into one for two.  It was going to be a very lonely day.

CHAPTER TWO

The normally shimmering turquoise blue waters off Refugio State Beach were a glossy, murky black, which had turned the usually sandy shoreline into sticky pools of stinking, coagulating tar.  When Rebecca arrived on the scene, carrying a shovel, she was immediately engulfed by a cornucopia of unpleasant smells, from rotten eggs to what it smells like when you spill gas while filling up your car.

When she reached the shore and checked in as a volunteer, she looked around for the apparent person in charge.  There were dozens of people, some in street gear and some in white protective wear, scooping up the oozing goo and depositing it into orange buckets.  A woman in overalls with a see-through yellow sun visor hat waved her over.

You Rebecca?

Yes.

The woman stretched out her hand.

I’m Veronica Struthers, volunteer coordinator.  You’ve been through level two training, haven’t you?

Yes, I have.

Okay, then put that shovel down.  I need you on bird cleanup.  We’ve got a bit more than we can handle.

She pointed down the soiled beach.  See those two guys over there?

Yes.

That’s all we’ve got so far.  You make three.  I’ll come and join you as soon as I’m done assigning all the duties.  They’ll walk you through it and give you everything you need.

Great, thanks.

Rebecca joined the other two, one of which was patiently cleaning the feathers of a snowy plover, and the other who was picking up carcasses of sandpipers and placing them in plastic bags. 

***

As Brent sat on the balcony and gazed out across the Pacific Ocean, he thought it strange that, unless you had heard the news, everything looked the same from here.  The surface of the water was as tranquil as the night and as smooth as glass.  But underneath it was an ecosystem under attack. 

The day droned on like a lazy river in spring.  Brent called Rebecca a couple of times to find out how she was doing but she never answered.  He texted: Hey, how is everything coming along?  Two hours later he received a response: Very busy here.  I’m on bird cleaning detail.  Have to go.  Brent expected as much, so he knew also not to wait for her for dinner.  He texted back: Please let me know when you’re home.

He went into the kitchen, followed by his ever-curious companion, Calico, who sat in the middle of the floor, swishing her tail wildly as she observed Brent open the refrigerator.  He withdrew a pan of chicken with vegetables which was left over from last night’s dinner and the cat smacked her tongue.

You want this?  He held the pan out to the cat, and she stood up immediately, tail squirming like a serpent, as she let out a tentative meow.

Jeez, I’m talking to my cat!  I guess I forgot how to live alone.

Brent took a piece of chicken out of the pan and held it toward the cat, who went