A woman is found dead on the island of Gozo. The cops say she
fell from the Azure Window tourist spot, but her father thinks otherwise.
CIA Section Chief Foster needs help to prove it was murder, so
he turns to the only person he knows can get the job done: John Steel.
The Hive, securely seated under the US Embassy on the island of
Malta, is an operation that monitors all passage from North Africa and the
Middle East into Europe and the US. A platform that requires the latest in
technology and facial recognition.
In seven days, that software will be updated. In two days, all
hell will break loose. And the clock is ticking for an attack on American soil.
Together with the beautiful
Sammara Malk of Mossad, can Steel find out who killed Lucy - and stop whoever
is behind the impending attack?
Purchase Links
UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Maltese-Steel-John-Book-ebook/dp/B08X393QRM/
US - https://www.amazon.com/Maltese-Steel-John-Book-ebook/dp/B08X393QRM/
* * * *
Steel
was looking at the people of the night shift. His shift had left hours ago. He
had just stayed over to make sure there were no discrepancies in the report.
The last thing he wanted was the guy's lawyer picking something out and get the
scumbag off with. Steel walked over to Captain Alan Brant's office and knocked.
Steel wasn't surprised he was still there.
Alan
Brant was a bear of a man. He was in his fifties but still had the build of a
quarterback. Steel looked over at the shaven football of a head. The light from
the overhead light gleamed off his dark shin. To Steel, Brant always looked
angry – even when he wasn't. But this time, those cold brown eyes scowled at
Steel as he entered after knocking. Brant sat back in his chair, his massive
form leant back against the PU leather, causing it to creak.
'Take
it you done writin that report?' Brant said. His thick-lipped mouth curled as
though every word had a bitter taste to it. His voice was deep like you might
imagine a grizzly or brown bear to have.
'Yes,
I'm done,' Steel said. His tone was emotionless. Despite being British, he had
no accent to speak of. There was no hint of a regional accent, just British.
Brant gave Steel a curious look. Steel wondered if Brant picked up on what he
had said – or indeed, how he had meant it, 'Yes, I'm done.'
Steel
placed down the file in front of Brant and ran his fingers through his
raven-coloured hair. It felt longer than he would have wanted it to be. It was
possibly time to visit that barbers shop in the morning, Steel thought,
catching his reflection in the long window that separated the Captain's office
from the bullpen. His black suit and shirt did not reflect too well in the
window, making it appear as if he was a floating head without a body. Steel
smiled to himself but did not show it.
'McCall
is pissed at ya after what you did,' Brant said, rocking in his chair. The sound
of the metal joints squeaked with the subtle movement.
'She
will get over it. Besides, it got the job done, didn't it?' Steel said. His
tone was cold and unemotional.
Steel
did not care for their rules anymore. He found them tiresome. Rules that kept
the allowed the bad guys to go free and hurt the innocent. Rules that with the
slightest loop whole could be undone. He preferred his rules, the rules her was
governed by. There is your target; investigate and take whatever action is
necessary. He lived in a black and white world, with the only red been his
enemies' blood.
'You
threw the man outta the window, Steel!' Brant growled. His eyes bulged from
their deep-set sockets. A slither of spit formed in the corner of Brant's mouth
a was held by the hairs of his circular beard.
'And
if I hadn't, you'd have several officers in the morgue or hospital right now –
including McCall,' Steel said with an angry tone.
Brant
sat back and sighed deeply. 'Yeah, I know, but still, these cowboy actions of
yours are getting outta hand.'
'Understood,'
Steel said calmly. 'don't worry, they won't happen again,' Steel said and
turned to leave. Brant looked over at Steel. A look of concern filled his face.
'What
do you mean by that?' Brant asked. He had read Steel's innuendoes and body
language. Brant was the only one in the precinct who knew what Steel was, who
he worked for. Sure, Steel had closed some exceptional cases, but now Brant
felt Steel was just treading water.
'I
mean –.' Steel paused and looked over at the commendations and photographs on
Brant's wall. It was impressive, but Brant was a cop, and Steel wasn't. 'I'm
going home, I'm tired,' Steel said and left the office, closing the door softly
behind him.
Captain Alan Brant watched Steel cross the bullpen floor and wait for the elevator, and wandered. Had Steel just said goodbye or only good night?
Author Bio
Stuart Field is a veteran who now works in
security after serving twenty-two years in the British Army. As well as working
full time he writes in his spare time. Stuart was born and raised in the West
Midlands in the UK. His love for travel has been an inspiration in some of his
work with his John Steel thriller series. As well as future John Steel novels,
Stuart is working on a new series and standalone novels.
https://twitter.com/StuartField14
www.facebook.com/stuart.field.5811
www.goodreads.com/user/show/36446907-stuart-field
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