— Omah DeLion and Bri recruit a tree expert to help them locate the missing chess Grand Master Ezekiel Bentwell and the quantum AI, A-9. —
‘So she did record our conversation in her office,’ Omah thought, as he left the meeting.
Used to clients’ frustration, the detective shrugged off Greentree’s attacks, took a relaxing lunch with Rialto and led him to meet Bri in the conference with the tree expert. A large blow-up of the photograph had been projected on the wall, and the expert paced up and down in front of it pointing out shrubs of interest with a laser pen. Half an hour passed without him giving them anything of interest. Omah glanced at Bri, as if to say,
“Let’s wind this up.”
But then the expert coughed and pointed to a sapling in the corner of the photograph, asking:
Bri and Omah nodded.
“This is the most interesting of all. It’s Prunus trilobal, the flowering almond shrub. I had to do some research because I haven’t come across it personally. It’s only found now in
Omah and Bri sat up, but the expert didn’t say anything else.
“Well!” Omah said, losing patience.
“Tell us!” Bri added.
The expert smiled.
“It grows around the Barro area, near the Behrendt Sea. Hope that helps!”
This is Issue 1 of a daily news update of News in the seven worlds of Rip – Find the Magic Key.
Omaya and Mesago scale the walls of the last Currencian stronghold, while Brina suffers as a pleasure slave in the President of Tasman’s Palace
Omaya stripped naked and rubbed damp mud all over this skin. By the time he finished he looked like a clay man.
“Ready?” Mesago whispered, incredulous.
Both men bit onto their knives and picked up the coils of rope.
“Neither of you have done this before, have you?” Barian whispered. “Tie your knives around your necks!” He handed them both knives on cords and backed away.
“Damn, these are heavy!” Omaya moaned, trying to adjust the weight of rope.
“Stop being a cry baby.”
They hunched and crept from behind the eucaly bushes up to the base of the cliff. On its other side waves of the Tasman sea crashed against vertical cliffs that the President’s best soldiers hadn’t been able to scale.
“Not many handholds!” Mesago muttered.
“Follow me. I’m lighter.”
“Makes sense. Sort of!”
Omaya felt with his finger tips and began the long ascent. Everything became a blur to him as he fought for breath at the half way point. He knew he had reached half way because he couldn’t see the ground nor the top of the cliff in the gloom. The pale rind of a waxing moon didn’t give off enough light to help much.
I’m very pleased and proud to announce that my latest book, Screaming Angels, will be published by A-Argus some time in the summer. This story is a historical account of one the strangest deals the British ever did with Soviet Russia, with a romantic twist. If you love romance, this will be right up your street. And if you love aviation tales, especially about Cold War jets, you will also love it.
On a personal note, this book has caused my quite a lot of strife! I already knew about the Rolls Royce Nene engine fiasco, and then I had a strange dream. This became the inspiration for a new book, but the first draft didn’t electrify me, or my beta readers. It seemed to lack emotion, and the plot needed a twist. I sought inspiration in classic romances like Wuthering Heights and Lady Chatterley’s Lover and, six rewrites later, it has a lot of feeling and a great twist! I think I finally got it right. Read on if you want to sample some excerpts!