Excerpts for Crossroads thriller

Crossroads excerpts (book available in Ebook and paperback formats. Can be ordered Online or from bookstores--by order. Also directly from www.snedelton.com)


1)

The chase car is still flashing red. A large Mongol with a flat yellow face and shovel-like incisors is holding his passport and visa. The guard’s Russian is hard to understand; his English is impossible. “My car stalled, I’m a tourist,” he is explaining in his bad Russian to the Mongol. The guard laughs, shows off his incisors, then pokes him in the chest with his gloved forefinger. “You play poker. You, you–capitalist spy,” he says in his best English.

2)

The relative bliss lasted for two years...and then the unexpected happened. During his trip to Niece, Monsieur had an accident. A rather thorough subsequent police investigation of the car wreck yielded no clues. The Trade Department became suspicious.

“Just one of those damned accidents?” Boris queried Sokolov.

“As far as we know. Unfortunately, we are the losers.”

“Could it be that they found out something and liquidated him?” Boris wanted a better answer.

“I’ll find out. I’m not happy with the story. The man did not drink. We know that for sure. She would have known it, right? She says that he was always extra cautious in everything he did. Yet, he got himself killed. In the middle of the day. Just doesn’t look like him. Very hard to swallow,” Sokolov said.

Two long months passed and Sokolov got not one step further. The only comforting news was that the new manager would be Monsieur’s former right hand, and that he, too, had an immediate interest in Mme Benoit. That’s what she’d told Sokolov, in any case. And as far as they were concerned, they were floating in the Dead Sea. Very salty and not much hope.

Benoit’s situation became very difficult after her boss’s death, but she didn’t dare tell Sokolov. And for a very good reason. Right after her lover’s death—or perhaps his murder—she was summoned to the office of the new chief.

“Madame Benoit, I’d like to inform you that you will continue as my aide, the same position you held before,” the new manager advised her, “and of course, I’ll continue with your...friendship...wherever it happened to stop. Believe me, it will be much easier on you because I am not married, and I’m much younger.” He smiled mischievously, as if he was telling her a really funny joke.

She wanted to ask him what ‘friendship’ he was referring to, though, obviously, it wouldn’t have made much sense. But he must have read her mind.

“Believe me, I’m quite familiar with all your arrangements and, in fact, I have a few new ones for you...along your lines of expertise—I hope,” he said, still smiling that all-knowing smile.

Almost instantly, she began to hate him. And fear him, too.

She thought: What does he know? How much? Is there a leak at the Embassy? Who told him about me?

She didn’t know and couldn’t even guess. There was a shred of hope, however. They weren’t about to prosecute her. At least not at that ungodly moment. She still had time. Time to run for her life. But she needed to talk to her control before she made any move. Benoit bravely sat there, looking the fiend in the eye.

“I sense that you like adventure, correct me if I’m wrong,” he said and paused, still watching her like a hawk. Gauging her reaction? Looking for fear? No doubt. “In fact, you’ve been highly recommended to me. So, now I have a fresh new assignment for you. Here it is, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the game. Now, listen well. You’re to contact the Russian Embassy and offer your services—in secret of course. Find any simple reason. Remember, a simple one—you hate your new boss, lousy salary, some disgruntled employee bit. We screwed you bad, lied to you about your promotion, demoted you instead—after all these years. The bottom line—you want us dead. You’re sick of everything. Of course, you shall command the top value. And when they contact you—it’ll take them a while—you shall ask for a large compensation. You’ve got no experience—right? Something crazy high or no deal, comrades. Remember, top spies don’t work for free. So, you’ll haggle with them. The more you haggle, the more they’ll trust you. You must make sure they take you seriously. Then, we sit and wait. As long as it takes. Eventually, they’ll come back to you. All right? We will feed you with the information and you shall make sure that they get it. Is that clear?”

He said it all quite conspiratorially, as if he didn’t know a thing about her.

Throughout his long monologue she observed him, never taking her eyes off his face, as if mesmerized. She could hardly feel her heart pumping while the most horrifying thoughts raced through her mind.

They pretend they don’t know a thing about me.

If they knew, would they let me get away with…?

Perhaps, no. Perhaps, yes.

At this point I am expendable, on both ends.

Someone has blown my cover.

Assume that it has happened—somehow.

That assumption is always the safest one. And most often true.

Then, they have two options, she thought. One, to open her up, prosecute her; or two, to force her to become a double and eliminate her when she became of no use to them. It seemed to her, though she wasn’t certain, that they had selected the second option.

Excerpt from The Raven Affair

Please check out www.snedelton.com for details and the book progress. Exclusively for the fans of Forsyth, LeCarre,Tom Clancy and other action/suspense greats...


The Jackal is now gone, leaving only Clerk and The Raven. Men whose services are open to hire. And there are those taking part in the chess game of world domination who do not hesitate to call on them to do their bidding.

It is a hunt for one man across two continents and much, much more.

Excerpt:

“Anton ought to be in California, by now. He’s got a brother there, no?” the Englishman said in a low voice.

“Plus all the friends, locals, from Argentina, and from the rest of South America,” Marco added dryly.

Damon dug into his coat pocket and came up with a Camel and a lighter. “My informant tells me he isn’t there. And he has no idea when the bastard will move on.”

“How about our man Raven? He’s in place, no?” Charles looked to Damon for confirmation.

“Of course, but we don’t know where Anton will land. I can see many complications. Cops are there, too. He’ll be protected. They don’t know him from Adam.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, smoking is strictly prohibited,” a passing museum employee sharply reminded them.

“But, of course, of course, sorry.” Damon quickly returned the unlit Camel and lighter to his coat pocket.

Marco turned to Damon. “Raven was instructed to deliver him unharmed. We want him in Europe, before the Court…”

Damon nodded. “Sure, I’ve already told him that. Now, you tell me what he’s going to do if bloody Anton gets twenty-four hour police protection? I haven’t got a clue, have you? Raven will be operating on foreign soil, illegally. What if he gets caught?”

“It’s a real headache. The FBI won’t allow us in, officially. Raven will be okay as long as he’s on his own. And ‘fully responsible for all his actions’. They don’t want to know about the European matters. Furthermore, there’s another complication. The Church is involved—a number of their damn priests and particularly the Franciscans. Hell, Jesus Christ was the greatest man-of-peace, if not God’s son, but His clergy’s damn imperfect…not the fault of our Savior, of course. But we’ve got us a problem. We can’t have the Church implicated.”

Marco looked at Charles. “Sure, but we could get the Sicilians involved. They’d do a perfect job on that swine. More efficient and more appropriate.”

“And he’d end up a martyr.” Charles grimaced in disgust. “No, the orders are to bring him in alive and have him tried. That’s what we’ve got to do. They’ll judge the maniac like a human being for the atrocities even an ignorant animal wouldn’t commit—because we’re civilized. How old is your Hellenic civilization?” Charles looked at Damon.

“Why not use a couple of guys like Raven?” Marco wondered aloud.

Charles shook his head. “Because of too much exposure; more chance for a scandal. No, they discussed that at length and decided on one man.”

“How much does he get?” Marco asked.

“Don’t ask. We’re not supposed to know. It’s not our business, anyway,” Damon mumbled.

Charles looked at Marco, smiling. “A torpedo like Raven? I’m sure that old boy knows how to bargain. He’ll do all right, don’t you worry.”

Marco turned to Damon. “Anyone met him yet? Is he Cuban?”

“No, I doubt it; they just codenamed him ‘Raven’. Could be young. No one’s seen him…the man operates solo, incognito. Those who have seen him probably haven’t lived long enough to tell.

“My assignment’s to keep him informed. Personally, I wouldn’t want to meet him. Hell, it’d be like meeting Mr. Death in person.”

Charles got up. “So, we get together on Monday evening, eight sharp, at the Crazy Horse. A chance to meet Anton’s love. Quite a looker, a South American fire-cracker, they say. I’d love to ask her a few questions.”