Prologue
France, May 1993
He was safe. The man surveyed the clearing, inspecting the rearranged landscape for the last time. The mounds of rock and dirt surrounding him dropped unevenly, pock-marking the ground in no visible pattern. Nature had spread her hand, healing the upheaval she’d caused a year ago by covering the ground with short-cropped grass, dehydrated moss, bramble, lavender, thyme and the local version of oregano bushes.
There was no evidence anywhere of his search, past or present, nor did the metal detector sound any signal of Nature regurgitating the remaining strongbox it had so callously devoured. The man’s hands curled around the plastic bar of the metal detector, tightening into a fist so fierce his forearms vibrated. Years of planning, of careful manipulation, of evidence gathering, of assuring no one could trace the puppeteer pulling the strings of mayhem, had been nullified without trace by the whim of a capricious mountain.
Even when luck had remained stubbornly by his side, helping him recuperate many of his records and videotapes, he’d only gathered a pittance of the arsenal he’d had. If Nature had been a real woman standing before him, he thought, he would have relished killing her.
He skimmed the area once again, his eyes methodically covering more ground, his features darkened by the approaching twilight. His job here was almost over. After this final sweep, he could finally disappear and begin to plot again. “Oh, danke Gott.” The strange voice caught him by surprise. He whirled around to face the intruder, his body rigid.
A wiry young man, looking tired and terribly frustrated, now stood a few paces into the clearing. The man watched as the hiker shrugged off his bulky backpack, grabbed his knees for support, and gulped down several cool breaths of mountain air, grateful for the respite and his luck. “Please forgive me,” the hiker said, his French atrocious.
“I’ve been roaming this godforsaken mountain for hours and can’t seem to get back on the trail.” His gaze turned hopeful. “Can you help me?” The man nodded, but his eyes narrowed, intent on this intruder, this new threat to his carefully plotted safety net. He began to close in slowly. The hiker visibly relaxed.
“Thank God. I thought I’d be forced to camp out tonight.” The mouth and eyes that smiled back at the hiker chilled the surrounding air. The man loved fools such as this hiker, blind idiots who never suspected a normal façade could harbor the blackest of souls. Such naïveté always delighted him, made his hands itch with the anticipation of the kill.
But for now, he gestured to his left, toward a dirt path barely visible through the trees. As expected, the hiker turned, eager for directions. The man’s smile widened. He lifted the metal detector. The calculated blow to the head was swift, but not lethal. The hiker stumbled, caught off guard.
The man waited patiently for his victim to recognize the danger, for the eyes to widen with dawning horror, and for the futile attempt to flee. Staggering, disoriented, the hiker backed away from what he now realized was a man gone mad. Smiling, the man lifted and struck again, this time on the upper arm.
The Coin Description:
France, 1993.
Who ever thought a coin could get you killed? When Gabriela finds a mysterious coin in the French Riviera, she is thrust into a struggle between governments, terrorists, and madmen, all seeking vital information she doesn’t know she has.
Richard, the intelligence officer assigned to protect her, has all he can do to keep her safe. But, too soon, the psychological games to terrorize Gabriela escalate beyond his control.
If Richard doesn’t find a solution quickly, it may be too late for them both. Set in the exotic French Riviera, The Coin is a story of hatred, betrayal, love and duty—of terrible and painful choices that, nonetheless, bring about personal triumph.
