Every time this book sells a portion will be given to Lyme disease research, so if you are looking for Christmas presents and would like to help the Lyme disease cause at the same time, here is the perfect way!
From Amazon, ABOUT THIS BOOK:
“A playful thriller series, by Irish astrologer Raechel Sands, reveals the inner workings of the world of spying – and karma!
In the first novel, Blanka Maguire, a young American woman, is an AI-enhanced OhZone/CIA field agent based at MI6 in London. Her new assignment is protecting the family of Russian germ warfare expert Major Grigori Grinin, a Nobel Laureate scientist who has developed a world-threatening weapon, Metapox.
Caught up in MI6 politics and a new OhZone agent gone rogue, Blanka must also deal with the unsolved murder of her mother, its relationship to the unexplained hundred-year-old Secret of Fatima, and her haunting visions of twin girls tortured and murdered at Auschwitz.
An alternate reality version of contemporary Britain, Metapox 1 blends satire, violence, tech and rock’n’roll to present a Brave New World for the 21st century.
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Excerpt: Chapter 4 – The Judgement of Blanka
Thursday. 8 a.m. MI6 Headquarters, Vauxhall, London S.E.1
C looked at a bank of monitors in the normally locked and unmanned security overwatch room on Floor -1. He occasionally used it to spy on those who spied on his spies: the uniformed internal security guards, but now he, the Queen’s chief enforcer, was watching her worker bees arriving for work. Were they hers? Or his? Hundreds of them, it seemed, crunched through the exhaust-blackened remnants of the snow and streamed across the rush-hour intersection of Vauxhall Cross. A London double-decker, the 452 to Kensal Rise, passed in the fog, its ad banner reading, ‘Save a life this Ramadan.’
Yesterday had been surreal. Blanka on her white horse, the other eight directors in a rare show of independence voting 6 to 2 against him in favor of the Metapox vaccine, then his behind their backs executive decision to terminate Grinin. He called to mind his maxim: ‘If you’re going to beat the bad guys and enforce democracy, you’ve got to think like the bad guys.’ The finale was a rollicking night with Tess in the Grand Hotel Brighton. Simple uncomplicated Tess. He was musing on the absurdity of it all, of life, when The Walrus and the Carpenter, tattooed on his boyhood memory, popped into his head to underscore the madness. ‘The sea was wet as wet could be / The sands were dry as dry. / You could not see a cloud, because / No cloud was in the sky: / No birds were flying overhead – / There were no birds to fly.’
The loyal Crown Servants were carried to Vauxhall Underground and Overground stations from every corner of the metropolis, and he watched them as they waited for the pedestrian light to turn green to cross on to Albert Embankment. C knew them all by name, he made it his job to do so. He smiled as he thought to himself: the women are all good lookers. They and their male colleagues had perhaps now carried the casualness too far. They looked too casual, in their quasi clean-cut, university educated, no-tie, sporty fit alikeness. And not enough beards. Beards were in.
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
They were easy to lie to though, and some were easy to lead astray. The face of Bio on one of the security cameras jolted him back to the present. He glanced at his Rolex anxiously, lest he be late for the call which he could not make from The Office.”
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— Help Lyme Disease Research: it’s getting all author’s royalties from the sale of Metapox 1