What happens when terrorism takes on a new direction?
Someone is killing off the royal families of Britain. Its newest
queen dies suddenly and tragically amid speculations of infidelity.
Five years later a former backroom analyst for the new CIA gets a
freelance assignment from an obscure art magazine.
Robert was retired prematurely and now lives in New Orleans, a
drop out by all accounts.He suffered from psychological trauma
while on a mission in Turkey.It was supposed to be a short
assignment, some field exposure but it went horribly out of control
instead.
His new assignment, however, seems straightforward enough,
research information and photos of the late queen leading up to and
including details at the time of her death. However, he finds it’s not
so easy, not so safe and a Quantum Leap into the world of
terrorism, clandestine weaponry and the enigmatic world of British
royalty.
This former backroom paper tiger and his new girlfriend are now
constantly in the cross hairs of assassins and his former trauma,he
discovers, is inexplicably connected to the deaths of the British
royals.
Writing has always been Robert’s way of expressing his true calling, story telling. Retiring from a successful career in computer technology and engineering he embarked on a new career. During the last four years he has attended numerous writing workshops and courses. Now writing is his full time avocation and commitment and with a background in engineering and high tech his novels take on traces of the fantastic as he weaves together science, spirituality, mystery and adventure into vivid scenes, provocative plots and unforgettable characters.
Tirrenia laneway ran off to the right as Jorge instructed. Entering
the laneway Robert was struck by how dark and cold it was. Like some
other place it took on the menacing appearance of a darkened tunnel. .
“What the hell am I doing here? This is nuts! This is no place for a first meeting.”
The large Banyan trees lining the far edge of the cobbled stone
laneway to his right, shielded the church wall from the sun as well. No
reflected light. The trees had enormously thickened boles, a good place
for someone to hide in ambush. Something crunched.
What was that?
He thought he saw something move behind the trees up ahead. He
stopped. Should he proceed? The rustling started again. This time
Robert’s face was covered in a cold sweat.
Then he spotted a thin, very wiry wisp of a man up ahead. He was
dressed in a nondescript ragged gray suit with a face to match. The
man did not look like a paparazzi Robert remained hidden by the trees.
Something wasn’t right. The man had an emaciated hungry look about
him more like a hobo than a photographer. He was scary though.
Then it came to him! No camera! Paparazzi always carry cameras.