Authors

Nikhil Pradhan in Five | INTERVIEW AND EXTRACT

A secret forged in the heart of war. A team of disgraced spies. A code that shouldn’t exist… It’s been three decades since Black Team disbanded, agreeing to lock away their secret forever. But what happens when they realise that the secret they’re trying so hard to bury has followed them back?

From the author of Cold Truth, comes a terrifying story of secrets that come home to roost. Find out more about Nikhil Pradhan and his thrilling new book Yesterday’s Ghosts.

Nikhil Pradhan in Five

Is it true that Stephen King inspired the writer within you?
In one word, yes! Even though I had tried my hand writing stories before I came across King, it was reading him that made me take writing seriously. King’s stories of terror, despair, redemption, and hope inspired me then and continue to do so even today.
As a journalist, how difficult was it to make your foray into writing fiction?
Funnily enough, it was the other way around. I had been writing fiction seriously for at least a decade before I became a journalist. So, as a journalist, I had to rein in some of the liberties that I could take when writing fiction.
Your first novel, ‘Cold Truth’ was swaddled in mystery. Can we expect the same from your forthcoming book ‘Yesterday’s Ghosts’?
Absolutely. At their core, both ‘Yesterday’s Ghosts’ & ‘Cold Truth’ are classic mysteries. While ‘Cold Truth’ deals with the enigma of mysterious medical experiments and possible extra-terrestrial contact, at its heart is the mystery of a missing girl. Similarly, while ‘Yesterday’s Ghosts’ is all about espionage and military cover-ups, its core mystery is about four old men haunted by ghosts of their past.
Your experience in media gave you an edge in ‘Cold Truth’, centred on a journalist’s quest for truth. How challenging was it to write a spy thriller?
Fortunately, I grew up reading spy and action thrillers (Ludlum, Clancy, Cussler, MacLean, Forsyth) so I understood the cadence and rhythm of that genre. What was more challenging in the case of ‘Yesterday’s Ghosts’ was to write main characters in their fifties and sixties, something I’d never done before. As a result, I had to step out of my comfort zone to make certain that their personalities and motivations made sense.
What are you currently working on?
My next book, of course! I’m in the early stages of writing a mystery set in a boys boarding school where I’m exploring a narrative style and themes that I haven’t before. I hope to complete the first draft by the end of the year.

Read an extract from Yesterday’s Ghosts:

Castellan: You will tell us what we want to know, Mr Jadon. Or do you prefer some other name? Black King, perhaps?

… _

Castellan: Mr Jadon?

Jadon: Go to hell.

Castellan: There’s enough time for that, Mr Jadon. But before that, I’ve got to tell you, we are all big fans of your work.

Jadon: So, this is about Elysium? You could have just got an appointment instead of dragging me to … wherever the hell this is.

Castellan: Elysium? No, no, no, I’m not talking about your company. Your past is what interests us.

Jadon: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Castellan: There’s no use in hiding things, Mr Jadon. We know about you, about your work thirty years ago.

Jadon: Good for you.

Castellan: Crankiness doesn’t suit you, Mr Jadon. I’d love to hear all about your time in Military Intelligence. As I said, we are all big fans.

Jadon: Fans, my ass. Fuck it. Just tell me what I’m doing here and do it quick.

Castellan: Well that depends on what you think ‘quick’ is, doesn’t it?

Jadon: I’m sixty-two years old. Quick means bloody damn quick.

Castellan: Of course, of course. I think we all want this to be done as soon as possible. But for that to happen, you need to cooperate. You need to answer all of my questions.

Jadon: What questions?

Castellan: Oh, I can promise you they will be very interesting. I have an entire team working on this op. I assure you, they’ve thought and rethought every single question.

Jadon: That’s what you guys do, isn’t it?

Castellan: And what is that?

Jadon: Sit in rooms like this and stare at your godawful computer screens. Not one step outside, oh god, no. Click and click and tap and tap. That’s what it has all become, hasn’t it?

Castellan: I don’t follow.

Jadon: This, all of this! This is what intelligence work has been reduced to. A bunch of morons trying to decipher people from the comfort of the great indoors. Tell me, when was the last time you actually stepped outside, got your hands dirty, did some real intelligence gathering?

Castellan: I’ll be asking the questions today.

Jadon: Got on your nerves, didn’t I? You wouldn’t have survived a week with me back then.

Castellan: Why don’t you tell me what intelligence work means to you?

Jadon: Not this, for sure.

Castellan: Then, what? Humour me.

Jadon: … I was twenty-eight when I got my first op, two years into the work. They sent me to Sri Lanka to meet a minister and arrange a meeting with my seniors.

Castellan: They asked a junior operative to meet a senior foreign leader?

Jadon: Don’t be stupid, of course not. I was only there for recon, to make sure things were safe for the meet. I landed in Colombo and reached out to my local contact, only he tells me that it’s a trap. The minister has plotted to get my officers captured by the army for espionage.

I knew I had to get back to the embassy and send an urgent cable to call off the op but the Sri Lankan army and its spies were everywhere and on the lookout for Indians. So, I paid a cow herder and crawled in the middle of his herd until I reached the embassy. I managed to somehow send the cable out just in time and that’s that.

Castellan: That’s that.

Jadon: I don’t think you still get it. Intelligence work, real intelligence work means getting your hands dirty, sometimes literally. Crawling in the dust and cow shit, on your hands and knees under a sun intent on blasting the earth with radiation, for three hours – that’s what intelligence work is, and I’m only talking about the good days. I don’t smell any dung on you; all I smell is cola and some fried crap that you force-fed yourself an hour ago.

Do you see the difference?