What I’m Writing
The Plot to Kill Andropov
An action-thriller set in the world’s most interesting city
Would you kill Hitler if you had the chance?
What about someone potentially worse than Hitler? Someone with the power to burn the world into a radioactive cinder?
Berlin, 1983. The Cold War is impossibly tense as the Kremlin’s new boss, Yuri Andropov—also known as Stalin’s greatest apprentice—is ramping up the repressions. He’s starting wars all across the world. Meanwhile, in a change of direction for weak America, the Reagan administration is confronting Andropov everywhere and at all times. As the proxy wars increase, a billion people across the globe fear they are living in end times.
Kurt Weber is just an ex-soldier who is trying to provide for his family. But Marie, his wife, is playing a dangerous game. A dissident against their nation’s dictatorship, she passes out forbidden literature. She tells people that everything they think they know about their nation is a lie.
And then, one day, it happens: sweet, idealistic Marie isn’t there anymore.
But Marie was the only bright spot in Kurt’s life. Set into an emotional tailspin, he joins a group of revolutionaries who know that the mass-murdering Andropov will soon secretly visit East Berlin.
These revolutionaries plot to kill him. After all: Andropov is a modern-day Hitler. The only difference? Where Hitler ranted, raved, and reveled in public performances, the shady Andropov simply orders deaths from his office.
But when the Americans learn of the plot to kill Andropov, they are terrified. Yes, Andropov is a stone-cold mass murdering dictator. But the Americans also know that Andropov death could trigger literally anything: reprisals. Invasions. Wars.
Ultimately, both sides have nukes.
The Plot to Kill Andropov is a roller-coaster thrill ride. Loaded with soldiers, spies, courage, betrayal, and love, this novel asks a question moral people hate to consider:
If you can kill a dictator before he strikes—shouldn’t you?
(P.S. I’m not saying you should. It’s a novel, for goodness’ sake.)