By Duncan Kyle
Dr John Edwards, a British health care provider residing and dealing in big apple is drawn into the area of energy politics and espionage while he by accident gets a plea for support from a defecting Russian scientist. firstly handled with suspicion by means of the CIA, Edwards is reluctantly recruited right into a multi-national workforce tasked with the rescue of Professor Komarov and the secrets and techniques he holds on a weather engineering venture which can devastate the Western powers.
The purely challenge is that to rescue the Professor, the crew has first to traverse 200 miles of the frozen Polar sea after which holiday right into a mystery Soviet deploy – and previous nuclear proving flooring - at the island of Novaya Zemlya contained in the Arctic Circle.
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Extra resources for A Cage of Ice
By this time, my leg was aching and throbbing and I suspected that all Buick would have to do was to follow a trail of blood. Then I saw it and urged myself forward: a Yellow cab had just put a fare down and was about to move away. I opened the door and fell in. ’ He just sat looking at me. ’ I glanced at the identity card by the glove compartment. ‘Five bucks a mile, Mr Kronsky,’ I said. ’ He moved. The cab pulled away from the sidewalk and out into the traffic, and I swung round and stared out of the rear window.
Wondering. And waiting. She called back in half an hour. ’ There was triumph in her voice. ’ I said. ’ ‘Rochester, New York, sir. ’ My heart sank. ’ ‘In New York or New Jersey, sir. ’ I couldn’t say no. I made the note, thanked her, and dumped the note only after I rang off. I paced up and down for a while pretending I was thinking, but what I was really doing was delaying walking out of that door. I didn’t feel particularly safe where I was, but I felt a hell of a lot safer than I would anywhere else.
Furthermore, arboriculture isn’t my territory. Ahead of me a car pulled away from the kerb and drove away sedately. It was a sedate street. But finally I saw it and turned into the driveway, stopped the car and got out. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked towards the four steps that led up to the front porch. It was one of those big, old, white-painted, wooden houses with louvred shutters on the windows and plenty of both space and charm. Businessmen’s homes are painted oftener, but I’d settle for one 43 like this.
A Cage of Ice by Duncan Kyle