In the near future, China wins the Pacific War that leaves the United States vanquished and bankrupted.

Beijing is plotting to make a puppet of the next US President, in command of a corrupt and hypocritical government that has created two Americas: one of ease, affluence, and influence; and one where people struggle to survive.

Now paroled military officers and ordinary Americans are beginning to fight back.

Their plan is to put a spy into the highest reaches of government.

Philip Nolan agrees to infiltrate the Internal Security Division--America's Gestapo--and replace his look-alike brother as the head of a vast secret police network built to intimidate, arrest, and imprison the government's critics.

Nolan risks capture, torture, and death as he works undercover to aid the rising Resistance.

This is a gripping dystopian thriller that explores the themes of loyalty, identity, and the struggle for freedom in a world where truth is a rare commodity and courage is the ultimate weapon.

Excerpt

Chapter 4

On the Streets of Chicago

Nolan put the palms of his hands on the gangway wall and let his head sag into his folded arms for a long while. He was tired, and he felt it deep down. He gathered himself and stood stiff and erect. He rolled his shoulders to ease the pain in his neck and back, then turned again to the street and walked mechanically.

His thoughts drifted to the suspension of his parole. This year, in the summer, maybe fall, he could start. At the latest, he would be ready to bicycle into Canada and seek asylum by next spring. He knew he could be ready. Then he pushed those thoughts aside. Once more he was on his guard.

Nolan lifted his head and scanned the street. Something wasn’t right. He felt as if he were being watched; not just watched but followed, and if he were being followed, he dared not make any sign that he knew it. Not until he had the advantage of position, a place he knew well enough from which to fight or run. This thug would not be another desperate parolee he could talk around.

Nolan listened behind him for the echo of footfalls and heard nothing. He searched for a patch of sun so he might see a moving shadow and saw nothing. He glanced to his left and caught a reflection in the darkened store window across the street. A hooded figure. Long, heavy coat. Hands in pockets. Tall. A man keeping to the shadows and thirty-five, forty yards behind. Quiet.

Nolan knew where he was. Two years of long rambling walks had made him familiar with every street, every intersection, every building. The next corner would take him to an alcove if he turned left. A large space once open to both crossing streets had been partially walled off. He turned left and pressed himself against the wall. He would take down the shadow man as he passed by.

Nolan slipped the knife from its hidden pocket, wrapped his fingers around the handle, and eased the blade free of his sleeve. The shadow man passed and hesitated. Nolan stepped forward. In one smooth motion he took the man from behind and spun him into the wall. Nolan shoved the full weight of his body onto his left forearm, jammed it into the man’s chest, and swiftly brought the tip of the knife up to the soft flesh of the exposed neck. The man threw back his head instinctively.

Nolan gasped.

The man’s hood had fallen away, and a thick scarf had come loose in the violence of Nolan’s attack. Now he stared at half a face. No ear, scattered tufts of hair on the seared left side of the head, a milky unseeing eye, and raw pink and white burn-scar tissue ran from the temple, down the cheek and jawline, to the throat he held at knifepoint. Nolan lowered the blade and stepped away.

The hood flew back up, and a thin, scarred hand reached for the tangled scarf.

“Too ugly to rape?” she asked in a voice that failed to hide her fear in sarcasm.

He swallowed hard and stared at her. “I’m not a rapist,” he snarled. “You were hiding. You followed me.”

She hid her ruined face with one hand and turned her good eye toward him. “You pulled a knife on me.”

He slipped the knife back into his sleeve. “Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like? I might have killed you.”

She pulled the tangled scarf over the side of her face. “If you must know, you were headed the same way I go. I saw no harm in just walking behind you. Can I go now?”

She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. “I saw—no that’s not right—I mostly heard what happened back there.”

“Back where?” Nolan demanded.

“In the gangway. I was hiding in the doorway next to it, facing the street. I heard everything you said to those two men. You were shouting. I didn’t think anybody still felt that way. Not after all that has happened, and—”

“And what?” Nolan asked. But his voice had softened. It all fit together.

“And I thought if there were trouble, if I needed help, you… you would help me.”

Nolan stared at her. She stared back.

“It’s been so pleasant to meet you,” she finally said. “We must do this again sometime.”

Nolan shook his head. “Let’s just walk together. You said you were headed the same way. So where is that?”

“Forty East Grand,” she said. “I am in residence in the Homewood Suites.”

This excerpt is from Ralph DeFalco’s new novel, “The Counterfeit.” Reprinted with permission from Lost Coast Press.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Hardcover | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Ralph DeFalco is a historian, writer, and national security intelligence professional with a career that spanned five decades and five continents. Retired from a 25-year career in the rank of Captain in the U.S. Navy, he also served as a civilian intelligence professional on the Pentagon staff of the Director of Naval Intelligence. He is a distinguished graduate and former faculty member of the National Intelligence University. He graduated, with highest distinction, from the U.S. Naval War College and later served as Fleet Professor on the college’s faculty. DeFalco writes about history, world affairs, national security intelligence, strategy and policy, and geopolitics. His essays, articles, commentaries, and reviews have appeared in a variety of publications and online. His current work is online at Law & Liberty.

When he is not writing, DeFalco will be tooling around Amelia Island, FL, in his 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, or on cruise ships where he is a featured speaker presenting the maritime history of ports of call or his insights on world affairs.