Evolution's Path (eBook)

Omnibus Edition

Peter Hill (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2019 | 1. Auflage
701 Seiten
Peter Hill (Verlag)
978-0-00-013104-1 (ISBN)

Infos

 

Evolution's Path.

 The complete series in one omnibus edition.

  This trilogy takes place in the near future, it isn't science fiction, it's 'faction', and all the more chilling because you won't find zombies here, or people suddenly endowed with super powers, just a cast of realistic characters struggling with the challenging events that overtake their lives.

 Against a background of terrorist plots, political intrigue and espionage, the lives of three powerful women become inextricably entwined.
Fleur Nichols, an investigative journalist, Wenna Cavendish, a senior MI5 officer and Simone Gofre, a brilliant virologist, leave their marks on world events and a stunning revelation will change the course of human history forever.
Evolution's Path is a frightening look at the mechanics of an all-too-possible societal collapse and its aftermath.

It really could happen and this is how.

  Excerpts from customer reviews:

  Killing tomorrow

   'A gripping scenario. Well written and character driven ... a credit to a master story teller.'

  'The multiple themes of this thriller suggest its title: population control, germ warfare, investigative journalism, corporate greed, terrorism. It was a well-paced read with the tension and conspiracy to keep you engaged.'

 'He very deftly links all aspects and the final chapter is chilling in its possibilities.'

  'Compulsive reading. I was gripped by this story from the beginning. Hill is a talented writer who has the ability to create a completely believable and terrifying future scenario.'

 

'...this well-written book with its intriguingly woven plot...It seemed impossible that this cast of fascinating characters and their stories would all tie up neatly at the end, but they did, dramatically, and very satisfactorily.'

 'Author Peter Hill is a visionary storyteller. He does it with razor-sharp prose, and he isn't afraid to tackle ambitious themes here: feminism, globalisation, environmentalism.

...a story so chilling in its realism, you won't soon forget it even after turning the last page. It's a dystopian narrative that sears itself into your mind.'

  The Ladies' Game

 'Epic story telling; intriguing premise drawing the reader in and keeping the pages turning.'

  'It has plenty of intrigue, fast paced action with the plot closely mirroring many of the contemporary issues being faced around the world today. It draws you further into the world of terror and espionage and the potential for dire consequences.'

  'Fleur Nichols, the strong-headed journalist, is on the run, pursued by ruthless enemies even as the world around her falls apart in an escalating viral pandemic...

Once again, themes of feminism, globalisation, environmentalism take centre stage as Fleur fights not only to survive a tumultuous apocalypse, but to separate lies from truth. At stake is the fate of humanity, and Fleur's unborn child may hold the key.'

  Procreation

  'A great conclusion to a fascinating trilogy. Well written, extremely thought provoking, and a thoroughly good read!'

  'The epic conclusion to blistering trilogy.

It's bold. It's scintillating. It's the brilliant culmination of everything that's come before.

Now that a viral pandemic has all but decimated the male gender worldwide, it's the women who have ascended to political supremacy. The social order, as we know it, has been upended.

But all this just sets the stage for another catastrophic confrontation.

This is a techno-thriller completely unlike anything I've ever read. It's controversial. It's provocative. It's uncompromising.

If you're a looking for a post-apocalyptic story written with both emotional sensitivity and propulsive excitement, this is it. It's Tom Clancy meets Margaret Atwood

Read the whole EVOLUTION'S PATH trilogy. I can't recommend this enough. It really is something else.'

 

 

 

 

 

Textauszug

 

1

 

 

Don Costello stormed down the stairs of the apartment block in London’s dockland and out onto the street in a blind rage. For once in his life he had no idea what his next move would be but whatever it was, it was going to impact heavily on Fleur Nichols. What a pity the Brits had to be involved, if this had been contained in the US he’d have long since dealt with Nichols once and for all. He was not a man who took kindly to losing.

He rounded the corner of the block and strode up to where his driver was waiting in the car with the darkened windows. He wrenched open the front passenger door and was half in the car before he realised something was wrong. The driver had not moved. He was leaning back against his seat with his head at an unlikely angle. It took a couple of seconds for Costello to register the neat hole in his neck and the trickle of blood that was staining his shirt collar. His reaction was remarkably quick but his knees were bent and he was half in the car, which slowed him fatally.

On a distant corner a clean-shaven and smartly dressed young man carrying a briefcase had stopped to consult his Cfone. Mohammed Asami pressed a single digit as his target tried to escape the vehicle. The explosion blew the car apart, taking out the front of a ground floor apartment, shattering nearby windows, killing Costello and fatally wounding an elderly passer-by. Asami saw the old man die but felt nothing except cold satisfaction at the success of his mission. This was war and Don Costello, head of a CIA black ops unit was the enemy. As for the old man, well, he was as the Americans would have said, ‘collateral damage’.

Asami was several blocks away, walking at a steady, innocent pace when the first police car passed him.

 

 

2

 

 

Three days later Sassy Estanza arrived in London. She was travelling light, bringing only a couple of changes of clothes in a canvas carry-on bag. She did not expect to be there very long.

The rental agency had only one furnished apartment available in the location Sassy stipulated and she had taken it sight unseen before she left America. Handing over the keys, the agent seemed to think Sassy would be impressed by the fact it belonged to a minor Saudi princeling but not much impressed Sassy at the best of times and these were far from the best of times. The two bedroom apartment was adequately furnished in a rather dated minimalist style and decorated with colourful Islamic motifs. It was clean, smelt of air freshener but was hardly luxurious. It probably represented poor value for the up-market rent but that was of no concern to her. What mattered was that it provided an angled view into her target apartment one floor down.

Working with mechanical deliberation she reset her personal electronics to the new Wi-Fi source and her new time zone, then took a bottle of duty-free bourbon from her backpack and headed out in the chilly spring sunshine to pay her last respects.

The bombing and Don’s death had been big news in Britain and it had not been difficult to download media coverage which identified the exact location of the dockland high rise apartments where he had been before he died. And where she had now taken up residence.

The police cordons which must have been in place had already been removed, the damaged buildings boarded up and protected with chain link fencing. A feisty breeze, faintly scented with bio-diesel, played in the gutters amongst discarded fast food, drink packaging and other city detritus whilst an argument of scruffy sparrows disputed ownership rights to these valuable by-products of modern living.

There was little foot traffic and no sign of official activity. Sassy stood for a moment staring blank-eyed at the blast marks on the road and footpath which identified with painful precision the exact place where Don had been assassinated. You could have lobbed a stone from the foyer of the apartment block to the scene of his death. She quickly poured a libation into the gutter and pushed the bottle behind the fencing.

No doubt some deadbeat would find it but good luck to them. Don would have approved. Only two months ago they had been relaxing at his beach house on St Lucia Del Mare Cay, offshore from the Belize coast. Don had grinned at her reluctance to waste good whiskey on the powdery bronze sand. ‘Always give the gods their due, Sass,’ he had teased her. ‘What you give you get back threefold.’

‘I don’t want threefold of anything,’ she had said. ‘I just want one of you.’ At the time it hadn’t seemed like too much to ask.

 

 

3

 

 

Doctor Simone Gofre arrived at Heathrow Airport some ten hours after Sassy had left. She paid off the private hire car at Terminal 3 then walked and took the travelators to Terminal 2, finally arriving back at Terminal 3 close to exhaustion.

It was everywhere busy but Simone was not at all displeased by the crush of people. No one wants to die alone. She did not and never had feared death itself, only the manner of her going and now that problem was resolved. She was in pain but it was dull and distant and she was feeling quietly pleased with herself as she made her slow way through the concourse towards the International Departure lounge. She had no ticket and no luggage and had no need of either. She was already infectious and this was her final destination.

Most people simply exist, then pass on, leaving no trace of their being. Not her. She had already made a dramatic mark in her own academic circles and in future people worldwide would know of her, know what she had achieved, what she had done and at what personal cost. She trusted that some, the more intelligent and insightful, the ones she was trying to protect and preserve, would one day understand and approve.

The constant cacophony of loud conversation in many different tongues and the chatter of information announcements was unceasing and it jarred her nerves. When she could stand it no longer she made her uncertain way to the female toilets, passing two patrolling policewomen armed with assault rifles, looking bulky and uncomfortable in enveloping bulletproof jackets. They glanced at her, assessed her as nil risk, and moved on.

Secure in a cubicle Simone took the syringe case from her jacket pocket. She had no second thoughts, indeed no thoughts at all as she removed the syringe and bared her arm. The vein came up at last and she made the injection with a hand shaking from incapacity, not fear. She hoped the morphine would allow her to survive just a little longer. Before she left the cubicle she abandoned the syringe in a waste bin.

Out in the concourse a flight to Hong Kong was being called. Simone knew that, painkiller or no, she had only a short while left to live as she mingled with the travellers. She certainly would not survive long enough to see out the normal six-hour incubation period. The unknowing world was about to lose yet another brilliant mind.

She had infected herself with the virus before the private hire car had collected her that morning. G7 was a thing of her own creation, hers to do with as she willed. She had also rubbed some of the odourless, innocent-seeming liquid into her hands and on her clothing. It was highly infectious and lethal, capable of rapid, ongoing, person-to-person transmission which was why it was normally kept under super-frozen conditions. It did not have a name and was known simply by its batch number.

Now, out in the concourse, she mingled unsteadily with the milling crowds of travellers heading for destinations all over the world. She was following a vague plan of covering as many different ethnic groups as she could but instinctively concentrated on people she thought might be from the most populous countries. She moved slowly, frequently touching handrails and drifting fingers across stationary luggage. To those around her who bothered to cast a glance in her direction, she seemed to be an innocent, frail older woman determinedly making her way through the crowds, clinging to anything in her path for support.

In the densest parts of the throng she took in breaths as deep as she could manage and breathed out, moving her head from side to side. She survived for almost twenty minutes before a final mental and physical paralysis overtook her and she slumped to the ground. As her world shrank to the area of concerned strangers around her, her last thoughts were of a job well done.

A young Indian woman bent over her, enquiring courteously if she could help. Simone gripped her hand, pulling her closer, as if she wanted to share a confidence. But she could not speak and with a final slight huff of deadly breath she gave up the struggle to survive.

She died convinced she had saved humanity from itself and that from this day on human evolution would take a new path.

 

 

4

 

 

Sassy was emotionally drained, running on auto pilot, focussing exclusively on the mechanics of what she had to do, not allowing herself to be distracted by lack of sleep or the deadening, debilitating pain of loss.

On her second day in London she hired a small, nondescript electric saloon and headed north on the A12 to a pre-arranged meeting in the small town of Brandon, in Suffolk, conveniently near to the Royal Air Force base at Lakenheath, home to a prestigious US Strategic Air Command fighter wing and other less conspicuous USAFE specialist units.

Here, in a quiet corner of a small motel car park off the London Road, with not a word spoken, a complete stranger handed over two heavily secured plain cardboard boxes.

They contained a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 14.2.2019
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-10: 0-00-013104-0 / 0000131040
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-013104-1 / 9780000131041