Murder In Surety
London was in the grip of football fever, now that Kariuki had been transferred to their local team, and even Kathleen Doyle—who’d little interest in such things—couldn’t seem to avoid it; there’d been some troubling murders, lately, and the tiny bits of evidence they’d managed to gather seemed to implicate the Kenyan football star—as unlikely as that seemed.
And it didn’t help matters that there were some interesting parallels betwixt Acton, Doyle’s wedded husband, and the famous athlete; both men seemed to be using the public’s goodwill to escape the consequences of their questionable doings. Not that there was truly any link between the two, of course. Or at least, she hoped not. . . .
The Penitent
Jegor Sepp was very content with his life, here in Soviet Moscow. He’d worked his way up as a hitman for the mafia bratvas, and so he had access to anything he wished from the black market—just so long as he did his work, and kept his mouth shut.
He was a valuable torpedo, reliable and ruthless—except for that one error he’d made, the one where the girl had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was surprised by how badly he felt about it—bad enough to discreetly track her down, and see if there was anything he could do. . .
