Excerpt from Eradication by Jonathan Miles, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Excerpt

Eradication

The first sailor was beefy and tall and already sweating before the sun was risen. The second sailor was missing.

He'll be along, the first sailor told Adi. With a flashlight jammed between his teeth he was filling out clipboarded forms and humming what sounded like a melody braked to quarter-speed, groany and dirgelike and, for Adi, unsettling in the predawn dark. The boat, a thirty-foot center console with two giant outboard motors, kept thunking the dock where Adi stood as the sailor went rummaging about the deck, opening and closing storage hatches to dash items from his checklist. He'll be along, he repeated, though to whom it was unclear.

After a while the sailor clapped his hands together and motioned to Adi's gear on the dock, which Adi handed down: two fat duffels, a backpack, four cellophane-sealed boxes, a pair of heavy plastic crates, a satellite phone pack, and a long thin black case secured with padlocks. There was no mistaking the latter as anything but a rifle case, and the sailor's hum shifted to a pitchy song of vigilance as it got passed over the water. He parked it with the rest of the gear at the boat's stern and then stood for several awkward moments shining his flashlight up at Adi.

You're not a scientist.

No. Adi squinted, his fingers splayed against the flashlight beam. I'm not.

At this the sailor lowered his light, frowning. But soon he was nodding at Adi and grinning. Then you're an assassin, he said, pantomiming a rifle shot. Adi could see the sailor's broad teeth shining in the dark. A sharpshooter.

Adi shrugged.

A killer, the sailor went on, but this time so acidly that Adi found himself unable to muster any response, not even another shrug.

Just then a pair of headlights entered the harbor. Adi and the sailor watched a taxi thread its way to the dock gate, where a man dragged himself from the back seat and stood swaying, counting out bills for the driver. From the deck the first sailor snorted. I told you he'd be along, he said, but again it was unclear to whom.

The second sailor came swerving down the dock toward the boat. The first sailor whistled low and confirmed what Adi was thinking. He's shitfaced.

You're shitfaced! he shouted.

The second sailor brushed by Adi and wobbled onto the deck. This was the mate, Adi deduced, making the first sailor the captain. Short and bald and snake-hip skinny, the mate was the physical opposite of the captain, as in silent-movie comedy duos. He had to steady himself against the pilothouse to tuck his shirt into his pants. Only half made it in.

You're straight from Angel's, aren't you? the captain said.

The mate blew the air from his cheeks and then, sour-faced, placed a palm on his chest, as though he'd tried and failed to expel something.

The captain growled, You haven't even been home.

The mate ignored him and set himself to work. He hoisted the national flag along with another flag bearing the naval insignia. He unfolded a seat near the stern and with sharp impatient gestures motioned for Adi to board. He freed the dock lines and coiled the ropes and hauled in the fenders while inside the small open pilothouse the captain fired the engines and hummed his drowsy song.

How long will it take us? Adi asked him.

Santa Flora? Six hours. More humming. Maybe longer. Some chop in the water today.

Over the rooftops of the town was rising a thin stripe of dawn. The captain piloted the boat out of the harbor into the slate-colored sea.

Yes, Santa Flora! the captain shouted to the mate, who was leaning over the port-side gunwale, licking his lips. A nice long cruise. We should have music and beer, like at Angel's.

We should, said the mate, though his curdled expression disagreed.

Excerpted from Eradication by Jonathan Miles. Copyright © 2026 by Jonathan Miles. Excerpted by permission of Doubleday. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.