Five minutes into the future, Newport, NC. Failed law enforcement officers, Turner and Friedman destroy the evil biotechnology company Sirius Bio-Life whose profits are made through the murder and suffering of America's under-classes.
Turner, ex-CIA agent now PI, watches reports of his own murder on TV. Graffiti on his wall, visible on the news reports, leads him to The Levels, a mythically lawless, disease-ridden part of town, where his cohort Charlie lives. Chased by `cops', he seeks an old buddy who sets him up at a `safe' house in The Levels, where he finds Ghost, a fourteen-year old girl on the run. Ghost takes him to a bar where they might find Charlie and they get shot at. Charlie has vanished but in his apartment they discover a list of names headed "Sirius Bio-Life". `Cops' ambush them in the apartment. Ghost does some `Lace', kills the `cops' with a butterfly knife and collapses into a coma. Turner takes her to Turk, who injects the antidote into her spinal column.
While Ghost recovers, Turk tells Turner about The Furies. The Tower at the heart of The Levels is populated by a cult led by the Messianic `Sorrow'. Sorrow delivers terrible even-handed justice on behalf of (or upon) those who request it. He lords over a posse of adolescent girls, `The Furies', runaways and abductees, who are trained to act as his assassins. Ghost has the Furies' tattoo, and Turk assumes she has escaped before her training and brainwashing was complete. Turner returns to the bar where they were shot at, interrogates and kills one of the spooks, then goes to look for their boss with Ghost. They are attacked by one of Sorrows men who explains the Ghost is addicted to `Lace', will die without it and that the cult wants her back. Turner kills him and they go to The Tower where they discover that everyone on Charlie's list (including Charlie and Jarred Bayle) were killed on the same night.
Kate Friedman (ex-NCPD) believing she is about to be mugged, interferes with private security agents working for Sirius Bio-Life (a biotech company) hunting the Sixth Avenue Beast, a serial killer disembowelling and dismembering persons connected to the company. Kate has a skirmish with the Beast and is bitten. So impressed is Thorne, head of the operation, with Kate's abilities that he takes her on board and partners her up with the deeply cynical Kightly, also an ex-cop. Thorne knows the identity of the Beast (Jarred Bayle). Bayle broke into an SBL lab and contracted a battlefield virus. While not contagious, there is a risk of viral mutation. Bayle, appears to be immune, and is hiding in disused transit tunnels under The Levels. Thorne claims that Turner is looking for Bayle too, in the pay of SBL's competitors, and has faked his own murder. Turner is to be shot on sight. Thorne further claims that Kate has been infected with the virus through the bite...
THE LEVELS is an outstanding work at many levels (pardon my pun). It is mercilessly and horrifically violent. It is hilarious, dense and dark. Dialogue is (dare I say it?) almost on a par with Chandler. If writers are really judged by their minor characters, then there is a fair chance that Cregan will be judged as `great'. Cregan's prose style is refreshing and original. He has incurred my considerable jealousy.
The tough old jaded guy plus waif-like female pairing is not an unusual one in contemporary literature or film. Despite being miles away stylistically from Larsson, THE LEVELS begs comparison to
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo . There is almost no chance that Cregan will win the battle of sales with Larsson, but in a straight fight between Ghost and Salander, my money (and my heart) would be with Ghost. Ditto Turner versus Blomkvist; likewise Kate against Berger. THE LEVELS is a book for people who want to be interested in the anodyne activities of Scandinavian intellectuals but really prefer cage-fighting. If Larsson is Tolstoy, then Cregan is Dostoevsky, but not quite so nice.
THE LEVELS is as modern a book as I can imagine. It is cyberpunk stripped of the computer nonsense that everyone found riveting twenty years ago and is now oh so passé. Cregan allows his characters to simply live without saddling them with any social or political prophesy or necessity.
As a work of social literature it is hard to compare almost four hundred pages in 2009 to two hundred and fifty in 1968, but very few readers will not see parallels to
Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?