A trusted ally. A relentless terrorist. An artificial intelligence network racing to uncover the truth. Deadly Odds 9.0 by Allen Wyler blends cybercrime, suspense, and personal stakes as Arnold Gold finds himself fighting a threat that refuses to stay confined to the digital world.
Seattle cyber-detective Arnold Gold has learned that instincts can be as valuable as evidence, and they tell him something is wrong during what should have been a quiet evening with Kara Winston. His fears are confirmed when Rashidi, a patient and methodical terrorist, begins targeting Arnold through the people he values most. The discovery that someone has tried to poison his dog, Chance, signals that the danger has become immediate and deeply personal.
Meanwhile, Gold, Patel, and Associates is struggling with growing internal conflict that threatens to undermine the firm from within. As sophisticated cyberattacks continue to unfold, Arnold turns to SAM, his advanced AI network, to identify those responsible before more lives are placed at risk. With enemies closing in from multiple directions, every decision becomes part of a much larger fight for survival.
Enjoy an Excerpt:
Prickly spider tarsi skittered up Arnold Gold’s spine, causing his shoulders to scrunch together as the hair on the back of his neck became erect. Stopping in mid-sentence, he glanced over his left shoulder—as if he intuitively knew that was the only possible reason for such a strong sensation—but he only saw other diners and the familiar maître’d. Suddenly his eyes locked onto a darker skinned male hurrying toward the front door, the image triggering a sense of foreboding familiarity.
I know him.
Arnold stared at the space the man vacated as the visceral sense of danger subsided. Why did the fleeting image vise-grip his attention with a déjà vu familiarity and instinctive animal fear?
Did he know that person?
Naw, not possible.
Really?
Perhaps, but there needed to be a reason for such sphincterspasming sensations playing hide-and-seek with him these past few days?
“What’s wrong?” Kara asked, obviously alarmed.
Slowly he returned his attention to her. Overshadowed by the familiar restaurant clatter, the spine-scintillations faded like echoes in a canyon. Not just a passing glance—serious scrutiny. But like other episodes of the past few days, he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary when he looked.
He wasn’t just imagining them. They were as real as his right hand. Yet they continued to skitter in and out of consciousness, waxing and waning. His Spidey senses didn’t cry wolf often—they were damned canny.
“Arnold?”
After a quick headshake, he spoke.
“Naw, it’s nothing.” He instantly realized how insincere that sounded. “Really,” he added, and knew immediately he’d only made things worse.
Kara went through an exaggerated show of sniffing the air, then flashed a blatantly insincere smile before saying, “Smell that?”
Furrowing his brow, Arnold sniffed the air. “No. What are you talking about?”
“No? Really? Because I swear I smell bullshit.”
Poof. Just like that, the glow of his first honest-to-god date with Kara Winston evaporated.
As the background restaurant din settled heavily over their table, Arnold scrambled for words to salvage the evening, realizing that the longer he stayed mute, the deeper the hole got—and the harder it was to figure out what to say.
She gave a resigned sigh, then said, “Nothing? Seriously? You’re really a terrible liar, dude.”
Guilty as charged. It was precisely why he never played poker face to face—only online, where opponents could only see his cards.
Now what?
Tell her? Yeah, and sound totally whacko paranoid? Naw, that idea was a non-starter. And, as just proven, trying to bullshit wouldn’t fly. So, where did that leave him?
About the Author: 
Allen Wyler is a retired neurosurgeon who lives in Seattle. Visit him at his website.
Buy the book at Amazon.
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