Given how quickly global events can escalate—from political decisions to market shocks—Crude by Mike Bond begins with a scenario that echoes current concerns. A nuclear-attack alert sparks a chain of consequences that reach into intelligence networks, energy infrastructure, and media coverage.
The book opens with a nationwide nuclear-attack alert, throwing the country into panic. Tensions between the United States and Russia are spiraling, and Ross Bullock believes the administration’s actions could trigger unimaginable consequences. He tries to warn top journalists, but instead of sparking caution, his message becomes political fuel. When a Rawhide Energy platform is destroyed in the South China Sea with massive loss of life, it becomes clear that the crisis extends beyond politics. Through multiple regions and systems under strain, Crude merges geopolitical danger, financial volatility, intelligence pressure, and the fast-moving influence of media into a streamlined, gripping present-day thriller.
The US President is escalating tensions with Russia, dragging the country to the brink of nuclear war. CEO of Rawhide Energy, Ross Bullock, invites members of every prominent news organization in the country for the most important announcement he is ever going make in his life: a warning that we are headed into Armageddon if the administration doesn’t pull back.
As the press eats him alive for raising the specter of nuclear annihilation, and putting the President’s re-election in jeopardy, Bullock finds out that one of his oil platforms in the South China Sea has been blown to bits, along with hundreds of team members.
Someone is trying to take him down. The question is: is the call coming from inside the house? Or is it a geopolitical adversary that would have more to gain if he was brought down to his knees?
Unfolding across Mongolia, Indonesia, Washington D.C., Wyoming, and Ukraine, Crudeis a masterfully written super-thriller that takes us to the door of world annihilation and shows us what’s inside.
Enjoy an Excerpt
The shark hit so hard he thought it was a ship keel out of the deep, its gritty hide rasping his thigh and its huge tail
ripping a dive fin off his foot. He yanked a repellant tube from his divepack, fumbled and lost it, couldn’t see it in his headlamp, faced the shark but it wasn’t there, was above him, to the left, below, grinning jaws.
He dove, grabbing for the repellant, watching the shark. It attacked, feinted and dodged, the biggest tiger shark he’d ever seen. His hand bumped the repellant, knocking it away. He grasped for it, trying to circle to face the shark, to stay upright despite the missing fin. Don’t panic.
The shark dove, then rose toward him, teeth glinting in his head‐ lamp. His wrist grazed the repellant, driving it lower. He snapped on his Orca torch, looked around frantically for Two, but the other diver wasn’t there.
Don’t panic.
He sank deeper. His face touched the tube. He grabbed and squeezed it, repellant blinding his mask. The shark circled once, slid into the depths.
The repellant faded. He coughed, realized he had spit out his mouthpiece. He shoved it in, gurgled water, coughed and spit it out. His legs and feet were still there. The shark had just nicked him, tested him. Maybe it had smelled blood from when he’d torn his knee climbing out of the sub.
Or blood from someone else?
Where was Two?
The shark darted beneath him. He wanted to shine his torch at it, but that might attract it, anger it. He pulled in his legs and yanked out a second tube. Black repellant spurted out.
Don’t panic.
One tube left. The rebreather thundered with his panting. Larger and larger, the shark nosed toward him through clouds of repellant, crunching its jaws.
He ripped off his divepack, the rebreather hissing, and smashed the shark’s snout. It dove, tail slamming him sideways, swung round and began to circle him, closer and closer.
Don’t panic.
Faster the shark circled. With only one fin he couldn’t keep up; it would get him. He fired the last repellant.
It clouded the water and he couldn’t see the shark, only felt the crush of water as it smashed past, couldn’t hear over his own frantic gasps. Choking and crying, he shoved his arms back through the divepack straps, tugged up his legs against his body.
Beyond his torch light the watery darkness expanded forever. Without Two, how could he finish? Should he return to the sub? Maybe Two was already there, had abandoned the mission because of the shark? There’d been no message from the sub.
The water grew colder, darker; he was sinking too deep. The repellant was gone. With tiger sharks, he remembered, when there’s one, there’s many.
His watch showed 38 feet. He couldn’t see the shark. Fish schooled past, fusiliers or jacks.
01:52, the watch said. One hour left. If one diver didn’t reach the platform, the other had to do it alone. He turned to 347 degrees and began to swim, slowly kicking the one fin.
Above him the black waves glinted with light. He ached to go up, but the shark would attack if he rose to the top like a dying fish. He swam toward the light till it brightened the wavetops, then surfaced quickly to check his approach.
About the Author: 
Mike Bond is the author of nearly a dozen bestselling novels and an ecologist, war and human rights journalist, award-winning poet, and international energy expert. His work spans more than thirty countries across seven continents, often drawn from firsthand experiences in remote, dangerous, and war-torn regions. His novels are praised worldwide for their intricate plots, vivid settings, and explosive pacing. His reporting has covered wars, revolutions, terrorism, and major environmental crises.
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