Shadow Pass: A Novel of Suspense

Shadow Pass: A Novel of Suspense

Sam Eastland

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0553593242

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Deep in the Russian countryside, a thirty-ton killing machine known officially as T-34 is being developed in total secrecy. Its inventor is a rogue genius whose macabre death is considered an accident only by the innocent. Suspecting assassins everywhere, Stalin brings in his best—if least obedient—detective to solve a murder that’s tantamount to treason. Answerable to no one, Inspector Pekkala has the dictator’s permission to go anywhere and interrogate anyone. But the closer Pekkala gets to answers, the more questions he uncovers—first and foremost, why is the state’s most dreaded female operative, Commissar Major Lysenkova, investigating the case when she’s only assigned to internal affairs?
 
In the shadows of one of history’s most notorious regimes, Pekkala is on a collision course with not only the Soviet secret police but the USSR’s deadliest military secrets. For what he’s about to unearth could put Stalin and his Communist state under for good—and bury Pekkala with them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

his coat. Stalin’s anger dissipated as abruptly as it had appeared. Now a smile crept over his face, narrowing his eyes. “Pekkala!” he said, growling out the name. “I have a job for you.” As the two men disappeared into Stalin’s office and the door closed quietly behind them, the residue of fear in Poskrebyshev’s brain was still too powerful to let him feel relief. STALIN, SITTING AT HIS DESK in a leather-backed chair, carefully stuffed his pipe with honey-colored shreds of Balkan tobacco.

its engine, fading into the distance. IN A DARK, NARROW SIDE STREET TWO BLOCKS FROM THE KREMLIN, Pekkala inserted a long brass key into the lock of a battered door. The door was plated with iron which had once been painted a cheerful yellow, as if to lure in more sunlight than the few minutes a day when the sun shone directly overhead. Now most of the paint was gone and what remained had faded to the color of old varnish. As Pekkala made his way up to the third floor, treading heavily upon the

its engine, fading into the distance. IN A DARK, NARROW SIDE STREET TWO BLOCKS FROM THE KREMLIN, Pekkala inserted a long brass key into the lock of a battered door. The door was plated with iron which had once been painted a cheerful yellow, as if to lure in more sunlight than the few minutes a day when the sun shone directly overhead. Now most of the paint was gone and what remained had faded to the color of old varnish. As Pekkala made his way up to the third floor, treading heavily upon the

place”—he waved his hand across the sea of mud—“is what we call the proving ground. This is where the machines are tested.” The rain was falling harder now, pattering on the dead leaves in the nearby woods so that the air filled with a hissing sound. The smell of the damp earth hung heavy, and the solid mass of clouds, like a blind man’s eye rolled around to white, encased the dome of sky above them. “Where is Nagorski?” asked Pekkala. Samarin pointed at the men beside the tank. The huddled

killing Nagorski, and the fact that he would have known his way around the facility would explain why Samarin thought someone on the inside was responsible for the murder.” While Kirov drove to the public records office, Pekkala went up to the office and called Lysenkova. Worried that NKVD might be listening in, he told her they needed to meet in person. As soon as she arrived, Pekkala explained about the White Guild agents. “Did you have any luck deciphering the formula, Inspector?” asked

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