“This well written thriller moves along at an exhilarating pace. The scenes read with a truth that make you wonder whether the author was immersed in this particularly murky world himself. A page turner to the end.”
~ Pete Carter, Author This is Us
Combat hardened veteran and high ranking CIA officer Tony Mancini, and his ambitious MI6 counterpart Caroline Sinclair, journey through the USA, UK, Finland, Germany and New Zealand in a sinister clandestine world where a powerful force known as Minerva controls global events and governments through manipulation, fear and terror. What starts for Mancini as a far fetched proposition put to him by Sinclair, soon turns into a terrifying chain of global events and revelations that start costing lives and threatening the very fabric of democracy and society. At every turn Mancini and Sinclair find the stakes get higher and more terrible as they get closer to the faceless entity known as Minerva. Nothing in Mancini’s years of combat in the deserts and jungles of the world could prepare him for what he needs to confront this threat and bring Minerva down.
“Assassinations, betrayal, and a global threat kept me on the edge of my seat, while the deftly drawn Mancini and crew—tough but vulnerable heroes—gave this thriller heart. Their camaraderie made me want to join their team. The twists, turns, and repercussions of their chase left me questioning who they could trust.”
~ Andrea Barton, Author The Godfather of Dance
Extract… The Minerva Agenda
He was alone. In the open. Exposed.
Mancini shook himself. “Get a grip, man. You’re in England!” He strode toward the clucking hens. One of the barn doors was ajar.
He stopped at the entrance. “Hello! Anybody there?”
He peeked in, eyes adjusting to the dark. Inside, a couple of chickens scampered past him as he wove past a wheelbarrow, rakes, shovels, horse equipment, and a saddle slung over a rail. Further in, he caught the smell of hay, sacks of grain, and animal feed. He accidentally sent an empty whiskey bottle skittering across the floor.
“Anyone here?”
He tripped on some rope and stumbled into a tin bucket. The clatter startled a resident owl into flight. The wind from its beating wings brushed Mancini’s face as it swooped past. He ducked and looked up. A pair of shoes hung a little over head height. Mancini gasped as his eyes tracked upwards.
A body swung silently in the shadows.
“Jesus!” He stared at the corpse hanging motionless from the rafters.
The barn door creaked behind him. He spun toward it, skidded on the slippery hay, and clutched a rail to keep his balance.
Moonlight at the barn entrance silhouetted a figure in the doorway.
Mancini reached for his gun, but he wasn’t wearing his holster. They’d come for him!
He searched wildly and grabbed a nearby pitchfork.
After all the dangers he’d experienced in the military—the wars, the battles, the missions—and this was it? A showdown in a barn in England? He steadied his feet, preparing to charge.
The silhouette reached inside its jacket. A gun!
A pitchfork versus a Glock. No chance. He was finished.