Submit a book review
M. Frank Proctor
booksXYZ price: $18.95
$0.95 of your order (5%) will be donated to the school of your choice.
VIEW MORE BOOKS LIKE THIS ONE
A senior British detective is on leave in Spain, as he tries to come to terms with the tragic death of his wife. The unexpected arrival of an old friend and colleague results in a chase across the Mediterranean, as they pursue a killer that has overshadowed both of their careers. They uncover a web of intrigue far beyond their expectations and are drawn into events of world changing proportions. One of them will come face to face with terrorism and the forces that have shaped the thoughts of man through the ages.
January 1958, Marrakech
Their faces were the colour of blood in the carmine light, and they looked out upon the scene without appearing to see its exotic beauty. The early winter sunset had turned the sky bright red above the old city, a red that was relieved only by the shimmering, golden disc of the dying sun. The two men on the terrace could see the spires and minarets of the city’s skyline in silhouette against the crimson and gold of the heavens.
They were physically very similar, despite displaying considerable differences in dress and style. One was dressed rather formally in an expensive black suit, his raven black hair neatly trimmed. He managed to look cool and comfortable even in the warmth of a North African twilight. The other man was more casually attired in a pale, linen suit that was a little wrinkled. There was a softer gleam in his black eyes, and he had an academic look about him. Their faces, however, were very alike, and the black eyes that were common to both glittered red sparks in the dying light. The ‘scholar’ broke the silence.
“Our very good friend has returned.” He sensed his companion’s gaze turn upon him.
“Where is he?” the other man asked, a smooth intensity to the voice.
“At the moment he’s in England.” The scholar replied. “He’s quite safe. I have made the necessary arrangements for his care.”
“Does he have all seven marks?”
The scholar nodded gently.
“We must bring him in now. I will see to his welfare personally.” The man in the elegant suit spoke firmly, but his companion shook his head.
“No. We must content ourselves with watching from a distance for now. He has been gone a long time and been through a great deal—we must allow him time to recover.”
“That could take years,” retorted the man in black. “We can’t wait forever. We have a great deal of work to do, and we need him with us.”
The scholarly one placed a hand on his shoulder. “Patience, my brother—it is a virtue you know.”
The man in the suit was unimpressed. His impatience, though cloaked, seemed close to the surface. “If all we are here to do is exchange platitudes, then what about ‘procrastination is the thief of time’?”
The scholar allowed himself a wry smile, but when he spoke it was with authority.
“These matters are for me to deal with. You have your own responsibilities. You must not take any precipitant action. It could ruin everything. I will bring this business to a proper conclusion at the appropriate time.”
The two stood side by side looking forward while the red of the sky gave way to purple and indigo as the stars began to appear. After a long silence the man in the suit spoke.
“Don’t leave it too long. We have already lost a great deal of time, and the hand that writes history will not wait for us.”
The man in pale linen smiled into the growing darkness. “History, my brother, is a subjective subject. Let’s not worry too much about history.”
Some distance away a muezzin was calling the faithful to prayer.
Born in the North of England a long time ago, or at least it seems that way, but I have lived in Wales for more than half my life. These days, together with my partner Patricia, I spend about half of the year in Southern Spain (the weather’s so much better.) I have had a varied career, working as a musician and singer for many years, but also as an engineer in a steel mill. (I said it was varied.) I have been writing for quite a few years, but only recently turned to fiction.
Book Publisher: Wings ePress
No. of Pages: 492
Paper Weight (lb): 20.2
If you like this book, you may also enjoy: