Five Star Review
Very, very good...well written: the language flowed and not a hitch in the story line and no stilted dialogues…each character well drawn and believable and most important for me, all too human. The depiction of the Israelis rang true, which is not often seen in "Mossad Novels" …
Ernest James: Reviewer Amazon.com

The Pakistan/Afghan border
Krystian got unsteadily to her feet, watching warily as the tribesmen in the group moved a few steps closer, circling around her, watching her with hungry eyes. With shaky fingers she obeyed Kabir Khan’s instructions, took off the hijab and dropped it on the ground. Her long wavy copper hair was held back in a loose ponytail and caught the sun as she shook her head, free of the binding of the head scarf. There was a growing murmuring from the band of armed men who were openly assessing Krystian’s body with hungry eyes which Kabir Khan stopped dead with a chop of his hand.
Krystian lifted her water bottle to her cut lip, washing away the salt tasting blood. She recognized that this man was dangerous and this was his turf. He was imposing his authority on the group – showing his men that he was in full command of the situation. She knew she would be robbed by Kabir Khan and she would be killed and there would be no witnesses other than his own men who owed him total loyalty.
If she was alone it would be a terrifying prospect.
But she was not alone.
She could afford to smile. The odds against her were not ten to one; they were ten to two. And Scobie had her back.
‘OK Red. Annie Oakley time…’ the familiar gravelly voice whispered in her earpiece.
She smiled at the words and the voice behind them. She looked back at Kabir Khan, looking him directly in the eyes. Hers was not the face of a terrified woman; it was the face of a poker player holding all the aces.
She would give him one last chance.
Just one.
‘I think you and your men should go now.’ She said, looking him directly, not backing down.
Kabir Khan was amazed. The arrogance of this bitch was boundless.
‘And if I do not?’
‘Then you and your men die.’ She said simply.
As if on cue, a small red dot of immense intensity buzzed Kabir Khan’s eyes, dazzling him momentarily then moved down to rest on his chest.
The Warlord Kabir Khan was not a coward nor could he be scared easily but the promise of instant death that the red laser dot represented gripped his heart with a cold fear he had only very rarely felt before.
There was a sniper out there.
And he was the target.
‘Sorry.’ She said, allowing herself a smile of apology at Kabir Khan’s confusion. ‘But I don’t think I ever actually said I was here alone.’

Krystian Romanova
Krystian Romanova, a one-time Mossad operative, burned by the IDF on trumped up charges and exiled from her Israeli homeland. She makes a lucrative living amid the conflicts that still ravage the Middle East as a kidnap intermediary, a negotiator and, in extreme circumstances, a hostage rescuer. She, together with her partner and mentor John Scobie, a quiet and deadly ex SAS trooper, make a formidable team in a dangerous game.
When she is called upon by an Israeli Professor with a tale of a brother abandoned and held Prisoner of War for a quarter of a century by the Syrians, she and Scobie are sceptical and reject his appeal for help. They both know that it is a matter of faith with the Israeli military that they will always get their people back.
Later, visited by Solomon Hertzog, a Director of The Mossad, she realises the old academic’s story may have some truth. Too late, he has disappeared into war-torn Syria.
Hertzog dangles the possibility that if she can find and return the Professor safely to Israel, the IDF charges brought against Krystian may be dropped.
She would – after three years of exile - be allowed to return home.
But for that to happen, she would first have to agree to go into the hell that is Syria on a rescue mis