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Description:

Secrets cost lives, and the next 72 hours will hammer that point home as ex-British MI6 agent Alex Jordan tries to get to the bottom of his mentor’s murder—and finds himself in the middle of a terrorist plot.

Jordan follows the trail to former MI6 boss and Soviet double agent Paul Grady, who has been nursing an unrequited desire to build an intelligence empire all his own. Grady is plotting to assassinate the North Korean President during a state visit to Britain so he can replace the demigod with a power-crazed thug from within the Korean military—giving him lucrative intelligence rights in Asia. The only threat to this plan is a journal that Alex’s friend passed on to an MI6 messenger as life insurance after infiltrating Grady’s organization, but the journal is useless without the decipher key-code that died along with the messenger.

Desperate to avenge his friend, Alex is forced to turn to his former lover (now a senior police officer) for assistance—pushing them both past the limits of endurance as they discover the true meaning of loyalty.

“As the camera captures an image, so a skilled writer can bring a scene to life. B. J. Kibble’s unique style breathes instant life into his characters while his stories explode with emotion and action.” — Dick Ross, Writing Well

“Kibble’s latest book is an excellent read fr om start to fi nal page. The book was hard to put down as it is rare for a story to be so satisfying. Highly recommended to those who enjoy a great crime thriller.” — J. F. Ward, Amazon Review

Excerpt:

"Billy Fawlks didn't make mistakes," Alex Jordan said. "So it's bloody obvious, even for a supercilious prat like you, that he was betrayed, fingered, you choose the word."

Grady leaned forward, fists on the desk, his face twisted with contempt. "And you're the damned expert, are you?"

"I was."

Grady skirted the desk, perched his skinny arse against it and folded his arms. "Was is the correct word. Past tense, old boy. You walked out, we didn't abandon you."

"You left me no choice." Alex shot up and tapped a finger against Grady's ribs. "Your lot abandoned me in Kosovo."

Any trace of pink vanished from Grady's face" leaving it sheet white. "We did what we could."

"I was betrayed, but thanks to Billy I escaped."

"We do things differently now." The thump of Grady's heart passed through Alex's stiff finger. The weasel regained his chair and cleared his throat. "I suggest you leave before I have you thrown out?"

"Give me a name and I'll sort this my way. Let me talk to Fordingham, my old handler."

Grady's laugh rattled with nervous undertones. "Fordingham's retired. Go back to the safety of your eatery. We do things differently now."

Alex sat and twirled his thumbs. Because of the angle of his foot, the muscle in his left leg shook involuntarily beneath the khaki ginos while his black brogues tapped a silent rhythm. "But people die the same way they always did... badly."

"Grow up, man. Fawlks was in way over his head, and..."

Alex was around the desk in the blink of an eye, his hand grasping Grady's scrawny neck. He shoved him and chair hard against the radiator. "You can't breathe can you? Finger and thumb at forty-five degrees to the larynx. A twist, a crack and poof... you're dead. You lot trained me well. Ironic isn't it?" He pressed harder. "No more private men's club or Soho lap dancers for you... or are you into little boys?"

Grady's face turned scarlet and his eyes rolled up. Alex had his complete attention, and like the old days, it felt good. "A name, and get it right. I'm gonna release you and I want a name. Do you understand?"

Grady managed a barely discernible nod.

Alex released his grip.

Grady rubbed at his neck. "Emile Cassel was the last man to see him."

"Good old Emile. Still the covert postman. Still keeping secrets." Alex straightened Grady's shirt. "I'm gonna walk out of here now. I'll drop the first man who tries to stop me."

"Get out!"

Alex left the door wide open and hurried down the deserted corridor. Grady shouted after him. "Keep out of it, or you're a dead man walking."?

The door to Room 42 slammed. The bang echoed down the long cloistered hall and escorted Alex to the double doors. As they swung shut behind him, he exhaled a deep breath in the noisy silence.

What was it that Grady didn't want him to know? Whatever it was killed Billy, and Billy was a hard man to kill.

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