|
|
|
Home Books Biography
Reviews Articles Blog Discussions Order Accessories
|
|
|
Chapter 1
August
1961 Hans Freid shuffled
closer to the checkpoint that barred him from leaving the Soviet Sector of
Berlin. He stood out among the workers streaming to day jobs in the West. For
one thing, he was the only one wearing a homburg hat. Only professionals wore
such hats, and academics like him rarely claimed to have business with the
Americans. He had even more reason
to sweat that warm morning. Inside the hat was a hand grenade. If the border
guard discovered a secret envelope tucked under his belt, Freid was prepared
to blow himself up. When he finally
reached the guard, he swallowed hard and pulled his identity booklet from his
suit coat pocket. The Russian was younger than him, but had a rifle over his
shoulder. He probably couldn't read German, but flipped through the pages
anyway. Suddenly the booklet
snapped shut and the guard faced him directly. Freid caught his breath. The
soldier tapped the booklet against his gloved hand. Freid gulped. A man nudged him from
behind. At last Freid realized
that the soldier was merely handing back the booklet. He let out his breath,
took the booklet and stumbled into the West. He would live that day. And he
was free. But most importantly, he would be able to carry out his mission. He let the sullen
crowd carry him onto the modern streets, where the air smelled sweet. He felt
lightheaded. Half a block into the
city and he grew disoriented. Was he just too giddy? He had lived there as a
child. That was before the war, fifteen years ago. The buildings he
remembered must have been destroyed by bombs and hauled away. "Bitte?" Please? He got
the attention of a stranger. "Where is the American Consulate?" The burly man turned.
He was a street sweeper for the Americans, an enviable job for any German.
The man pointed to a bend in the road where others were headed. "It's on
Clayallee." Even the street names
had changed. Freid tipped his hat,
and the grenade rolled forward. He flinched and caught it with his free hand.
His blood froze, but the thing didn't explode. The sweeper gawked at
him. This was awkward. Freid attempted a
smile. "Would you dispose of this for me?" The fellow grabbed the
grenade and studied it with an experienced eye. Freid's hopes sank. He had
escaped the Soviets, only to fall in the hands of the Americans. The man turned the
grenade over to read its label. The lettering was in Cyrillic. His eyes
flashed up to Freid. All
he could do was stand there fingering his hat. At last the guy grunted and tossed the grenade into a
trash bin. It landed with a dull thud. "Russian-made," Freid said. "Worthless." He donned his hat and hurried away before his fellow
countryman thought better of it and turned him in. It was ten a.m. when he found the U.S. Mission in Berlin.
How much longer would his luck hold out? He straightened his tie and tried to
tidy his wrinkled suit, then gave up and entered. |
Description
Hitler
survived the war and slipped away to the Far East. Today's world leaders
begin disappearing in western China. This all adds up to a crisis of
international and historic proportions. But will Brad West's Chinese
sweetheart accept his hand in marriage? Not unless he can find her father,
who has also been abducted. Brad and his eclectic gang take a dramatic flight
from Paris to Paradise in search of May's father and missing presidents. Help
Brad elude INTERPOL, evade insurgents in Baghdad, escape China's army and
crack the Shangri-la Code in this action-packed thriller on the road to
Shambhala. Bookstores
Books
and e-Books (click one): |