Ghost by James Swallow: Exclusive Extract

Title: Ghost (Marc Dane #3)
Author: James Swallow
Publisher: Bonnier Zaffre
Release Date: 31st May 2018

Synopsis: A terrible threat from the depths of the dark net. A devastating betrayal at the heart of a covert strike force. A deadly pursuit across a digital battlefield. A ruthless terrorist fuelled by revenge. As devastating attacks unfold across the globe, Marc Dane must call on all his skills and ingenuity to track down the mysterious figure behind it all - a faceless criminal known only as "Madrigal". Before they plunge the world into war . . .

Extract:

Lex looked down at himself, and for the first time he saw the tiny dots of rust red that speckled the white T-shirt beneath his baggy black hoodie. The vice clamped around his heart tightened a little more. He touched his cheek and it came away smeared with flecks of crimson. Quickly, Lex rubbed his face clean with the hoodie’s sleeve and fumbled at the zipper, pulling all the way up to hide the rest of the spatter.

It was the Greek guy’s blood. Lex didn’t even realise that it had got on him. His mind was so focused on running away.

It all happened so fast. They had set the meet for a wide piazza on the outskirts of the old township of Rabat, toward the southern end of Malta. Lex had been on the Mediterranean island for days and it seemed to be getting smaller with each passing hour. He wanted to be gone. When the message came, he was falling over himself to get to the rendezvous.

The information arrived in chain of digital text, filtered through the encrypted TOR server Lex had set up on the day he started running. Decoded, it was a promise from the Greek smuggler to get him out of Europe and on a plane to Canada. Kyrkos, that was the man’s name. The deal had been agreed. It was going to happen.

It was supposed to play out with them connecting in Rabat and then driving down to Valetta, where Kyrkos had a boat moored. Lex had planned to end this day on the waves, watching the sun set over the ocean. He was going to have a little ritual, where he would have burned the identity documents he was carrying and toss the ashes into the water. Start anew.

Lex Wetherby would be buried at sea and gone forever. That was how it should have happened, because no-one knew where he was. He was safe.

But after he had sat down across a café table from the Greek, the burly bodyguard positioned nearby did a weird double take. He moved like he’d seen something wrong, something dangerous. In the next second, the big man jerked backward as if he’d been kicked by a horse.

Lex had seen people get shot before, but there had always been noise, the thunderous crack of a gun. This time he’d heard nothing, and it made everything strange and unreal.

Kyrkos had bolted from his chair, knocking over a glass of wine. He had enough time to swear at Lex before a second silent round hit him in the face. The Greek tumbled over in a heap and some tourist on a nearby table saw the blood. A child screamed.

Lex fled, an innate sense of self-preservation making him flip the table aside as he dashed away. A third shot had splintered a corner of the wooden tabletop. Unable to help himself, he’d thrown a look over his shoulder as he sprinted toward the mouth of the nearest alleyway, toward the faint promise of safety.


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