Extract: The House on the Hill by Kevin Sampson

Today is a very exciting day. Not only is there a new Kevin Sampson for us to read – the chillingly titled House on the Hill – but we’re also celebrating by being the first stop on his blog tour!

To mark this auspicious beginning we have an extract from the book for you to enjoy. Why not dip in now – we promise you’ll be immediately hooked!


The House on the Hill


Kevin Sampson

Prologue

June 1990

Hamilton was late. It was unlike him. The Prince stepped back out onto the hull of the yacht, walked to its prow and surveyed the marina, left and right. This was definitely the right boat; but no sign of John-John Hamilton, yet. No sign of the goods. He’d give it until the hour, just in case the infidel was working to British time. Any longer could be dangerous.

Jamal was always warning him to be on full alert, at all times. The Unit had come to the attention of the FBI of late – a nuisance, so close to the fourth of July fireworks they’d been planning. Still, Europe was rich with possibilities. In truth, the Prince was even more excited by the Jabal Tariq initiative than the Independence Day blitz they’d had to scrap. That was another of Jamal’s traits he had come to admire: no matter how well laid a plan – no matter how late in the day – at the first sign of compromise, Jamal would abort the entire operation. Shame about the Boston Tea Party; but this new assault was going to be spectacular. He’d given Hamilton the pills – served him right, the degenerate. All they needed was for JJ to come up with his side of the bargain now. All they needed was the Semtex; and Hamilton, if nothing else, was good for the Semtex.

Footsteps. At last! He glanced at his Rolex Oyster. OK, benefit of the doubt. If he was going by their Greenwich Mean Time, then Hamilton was absolutely punctual to the minute. He picked his way over the ropes and railings to go and greet his guest when a voice from behind startled him.

‘Ali!’

He hadn’t heard it in quite some time, but this was a voice he knew immediately, and knew well. He turned, a smile on his lips, an excited chuckle already halfway out. It was to be the penultimate sound the Prince would utter. His last word was the name of his killer.
 


 

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