Mobocracy: Detective Matt Deal Thrillers Series, #3

By Stephen Bentley

Mobocracy means mob rule, the opposite of democracy

The series is set in the near future...

 

Anarchy and mob rule are prevalent with law and order breaking down in the United States. Even Washington D.C. is under siege from lawless groups of rioters.

In Florida, Matt Deal has now been appointed the chief of detectives reporting to newly elected Sheriff Fretwell, his old friend.

A British stranger starts making inquiries about Deal. Who is he? Is he an additional threat to Deal and his family?

Meanwhile Special Agent Steele recruits a disgraced cop to infiltrate the outlaw biker gang hired to kill Deal.

What will Deal do? Fight or flee?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hendry Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201446529

Stephen Bentley

Stephen Bentley is a former British police Detective Sergeant, pioneering Operation Julie undercover detective, and barrister. He now writes in the true crime and crime fiction genres and contributes occasionally to Huffington Post UK on undercover policing, and mental health issues. He is possibly best known for his bestselling Operation Julie memoir and as co-author of Operation George: A Gripping True Crime Story of an Audacious Undercover Sting. Stephen is a member of the UK's Society of Authors and the Crime Writers' Association. His website may be found at www.stephenbentley.info where you may subscribe to his newsletter. Stephen also writes crime fiction in the Undercover Legends series as part of a writing team under the pen name of David Le Courageux. You can listen to Stephen talking about his Operation Julie undercover days on the BBC Radio 4 Life Changing programme/podcast.

Book preview

1

The Year 2033

Up to this point in his life, Detective Carew of the San Antonio PD had never heard of Matt Deal. He was thinking of more pressing matters. Who is this guy following me back to the station? Does he know I’m a cop?

Carew had decided to walk back to the police station after a planned drugs buy bust went wrong. The snitch had either got it all wrong or he, Carew, was being set up. He was a veteran of undercover stings. Gang infiltration was his thing. He detested these buy-bust operations because they targeted small fry. Small but sometimes armed and dangerous.

Dressed in his torn blue jeans and a dirty denim jacket, Carew blended into the surroundings. His walk, more an amble, was only a few hundred yards. He could see the communications mast on top of the police building and crossed the street from the park towards the stores lining one side of the thoroughfare. Still ambling, he looked at the reflection in a storefront window. Yes, he’s still there. He’s tailing me. Ducking into the next side alley, he broke into a sprint until he reached some garbage bins. Once hidden behind a large green bin, he unholstered his weapon. Then he waited.

It didn’t take long. He heard an alley cat shriek. Then a man cursing. Then the bin lids were thrown down as if someone were checking inside the bins. Carew knew the guy was close. Collecting a small stone at the base of the bin, he threw it at a metal gate. Before it struck the metal, Carew peeked out over the bin that had been hiding him. His tail, a muscled young man aged about twenty, looked surprised as they faced each other, some two yards of fresh air separating them. Both had guns drawn but Carew was smarter. Clang! The stone hit the gate. Muscle man turned his head. Carew hit the muscle man. Hard. On the side of his skull. Kicking the muscle man’s gun away, Carew waited again.

A few moments later, muscle man groaned as he lay sprawled on the alley floor.

Who are you? Carew said.

To Carew’s surprise he got a reply. Dante.

Well, Dante, that’s a name but it isn’t who or what you are doing, is it?

No. What do you want to know?

Why you’re following me.

If I tell you that, will you leave me be?

Scout’s honour.

Cops sent me. They set you up.

What cops? Names?

Can’t say.

Carew had heard enough. He left Dante unconscious after striking him about the head three times.

SOME WEEKS LATER

You know, Frank, your attitude stinks. It reminds me of some lines from a book I read. The words have always stuck in my mind. You want me to quote them? Special Agent Elaine Steele, asked.

Please yourself, Detective Carew said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Steele took a good look at the man sitting opposite her in a corner booth of the diner. The lunch time rush was a couple of hours away, so the place was deserted.  Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked a little like a Johnny Cash impersonator. But he was leaner in the face than Cash ever was. She also could see he had a lean body and guessed he weighed in at about one ninety pounds; he was a man in his forties with a rugged tanned complexion and a straggle of unruly brown hair tied in a ponytail. There were flecks of grey at the temples. She also guessed he was about six feet tall. Steele found herself looking out of the window onto the street outside to avert her gaze from intense blue eyes set above a fierce, slightly asymmetrical nose. The eyes looked angry, as if they were picturing the guy who bust up his nose in some bar room fist fight.

Gathering her thoughts, she looked right into the angry eyes before continuing, It was written by a guy called Gaddis...

What was? Detective Carew interrupted.

The book I was telling you about.

Right, and...

Yeah, the lines. Let me think... ah, got it... ‘Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning... and maybe the bed’s shoved up against the wall... and that attitude is a permanent condition.’

That all?

No. The rest goes ‘the stage is set for an unhappy beginning, middle, and ending.’ Get it?

Yeah, I’m not stupid.

Right? So, beating up a suspect and putting him in hospital when the department already has you on a last warning isn’t stupid? Steele said.

Detective Frank Carew and FBI Special Agent in charge of the El Paso office, Elaine Steele, were sitting in a San Antonio diner sipping iced coffee on another hot day in the state of Texas.

Carew was curious. Agent, what brings you here, all the way from El Paso? I’m sure you have better things to do than tear me off a strip.

I do, I can assure you. I’m here for a good reason, and one that may save your career as a law enforcement officer... Carew made as if to speak but Steele raised her hand and continued, I’m told you are one of the best undercover cops in Texas. If that’s right, then I have something for you. She waited for a reaction, sipping her iced coffee but keeping eye contact.

Carew stayed silent for a minute, then blew out his cheeks before speaking. Okay. You have my undivided attention.

Good. Now, here’s the deal. I’m told you have a solid back story as a renegade biker. If that’s right, we need you to infiltrate a biker gang in Florida.

What gang?

They go by the name of Neue Macht.

What? They freakin’ Germans?

No. It means ‘new power’ and they are a neo-Nazi outfit.

Tell me more, Carew said.

First, are you in or out?

Depends, Carew snapped.

On?

Before she could finish, Carew said, Who’s my handler? It can’t be you. You don’t dress right to be seen hanging with a biker.

Trust me. I have someone in mind who I believe you can work with.

Okay. I’m in then. I feel I can trust you, Carew said smiling. Do you date?

Drop that right now, mister.  This is serious, and besides, I have a regular guy... and you’re not my type. So, drop that shit, otherwise I’m walking out, Steele said with eyes blazing.

Okay, okay, already. Only kidding.

Steele ignored him, saying, You will get a full briefing soon enough, but here’s what you really need to know.