The Moscow Whisper (Sean Richardson, #3)by Michael Jenkins
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB
Author, Soldier, Mountaineer, Explorer.
‘Sometimes you have to enter the death zone to save the innocent.’
A top-secret clique of former spies meet for dinner to hatch a plan to murder a competitor, not knowing that they are under surveillance from a covert arm of British Intelligence. Hours later, with bodies strewn across a terrace, a piece of secret intelligence reveals an international plot of colossal magnitude.
For disgraced agent Sean Richardson, this is the beginning of a deniable mission to infiltrate and disrupt a group of Russian mercenaries who are working clandestinely to take over a nation state.
Acting covertly as an illicit arms trafficker, Sean is dropped into a deadly cauldron of terrorism and high-tech weaponry that will take a nation down. As the bullets fly and the chaos rains in, can Sean take down the merchants of death…or has he finally met his match?
Sir Rhys Eldridge stood at the window and watched the helicopter pilot manoeuvre his Sikorsky S-76 before it hovered for a short while, then landed with a double bump on the front lawn. This was a moment of some delight for the British Minister of State who knew that the Canadian man disembarking from the aircraft was about to make him an offer he could never refuse. This wasn’t a negotiation. There was no deal to be done. But there were some loose ends to tie down after the offer was made. An offer that few men in the world would ever be privy to.
Sir Rhys grinned and made his way to the 1950s bar bureau to pour a quick sharpener. A small whisky delicately poured from a copper still shaped decanter. A gift from a Scottish oil tycoon, the Glengoyne decanter once had a lacquer finish on the copper which had now come away from years of polishing. A gift from an elderly man who had set him on a pathway from his youth to a destiny of wealth and power.
Sir Rhys was a former oil trader and multi-millionaire who had flirted heavily over the years as an investment magnate making an even bigger fortune. He was also mired in controversy. Mainly through his dubious association with shady oil deals that included companies that had been fined heavily for providing kickbacks for oil deals in the Balkans. The gossip of his links to dubious businessmen never went away. But despite it all, he had still forged out a highly successful political career in the Conservative party, rising quickly through the ranks to become a Foreign Office Minister by the age of fifty-five.
Casa de Pere Caria was one of several homes owned by Sir Rhys. A white marble mansion overlooking the resort town of Palma de Mallorca where the fresh sea breeze and the brightness of the sun flowed easily through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the living areas of the two-storey mansion. Surrounded by lush grounds and patrolled by two Belgian Malinois dogs and their burly handlers, it had two swimming pools and several large terraces providing stunning views across the Balearic sea.
One of Sir Rhys’s business associates ushered the Canadian gentleman past the ornate marble staircase and into his office. Sir Rhys stood at the entrance to greet the man as the yowl of the helicopter engines waned during shut down. He had agreed to join a highly secretive cabal, and this meeting was the formal invitation to join which would be followed by the much-rumoured induction of its membership. He was piqued with curiosity.
‘Welcome to my home Christian,’ Sir Rhys said, holding a long arm to guide his guest into the office. ‘I think we can safely say that I look forward to your messages this afternoon. Drink?’
The Canadian was a handsome man in his early fifties, with a bold nose, hooded eyes and neatly trimmed grey hair. Sir Rhys, dressed in a tailored blue suit with a Carlton club tie, was not expecting too much chit-chat from the man stood in front of him. By all accounts, he was an inveterate worrier who rarely smiled, and was chosen as the perfect gatekeeper to the covert society he represented.