In service to his country, a young KGB agent leaves a global blood trail in the pursuit of Eva Braun, an unknown survivor of Adolph Hitler's bunker in 1945. In the aftermath, he is branded a traitor by Mother Russia and disappears, hoping to find peace and a new life.
In the solitude of his existence in rural Canada, his chance encounter with a young student jolts him back to the reality of his past and he must bring to bear his unique and deadly skills one more time.
It had been almost two years since Markov settled in Old Castle. The
identity of Brian Stevens had served him well in establishing a new life
in the small Canadian community. The photography skills exploited in
his final assignment for Mother Russia were put to good use and he had
built a modest but lonely life in his new home.
The locals gave him plenty of space but the curious looks indicated he
had yet to comfortably fit in. He really had no friends of either
gender but the local high school gave him plenty of willing partners if
he wanted to take the risk…which he never even considered. His
accent had softened and was subdued enough to keep anyone from
questioning his ethnicity. To most he sounded like a French Canadian
and, if asked, he would credit Montreal as his previous residence.
Keeping fit and maintaining some semblance of his old skills was his
only real escape from the banality of his life. Markov often worked out
with the High School wrestling team and would occasionally take his
trusty Kimber .45 into the woods and run through a few clips. His
skills with the weapon had not diminished at all. Being a border city,
Windsor saw a fair share of illegal guns cross over into the country
but, as a rule, few Canadians owned handguns and when ammo was
purchased, many eyebrows were raised.
A typical day for Markov saw him strolling to the local Tim Horton’s
for breakfast where he would read every section of the Detroit Free
Press. The attractive waitress would keep his coffee cup filled and
respected his privacy which he appreciated. The occasional eye contact
between the two spoke volumes and she continued to hope that one day he
would ask her out for dinner. After breakfast he would walk to his
studio and check his voicemail for any new work that might have come in.
If nothing was on the calendar for the day, he would grab his Nikon and
roam the city or countryside taking pictures of anything that interested
him. His studio had a second floor living area and that was home.
Markov’s old F-150 was often seen roaming the streets and country
roads. Two years ago when he crossed the border from Maine, he was on
foot and the stolen pickup remained his sole means of transportation
ever since. To his knowledge, it had never been reported stolen and the
expired plates were ignored by the local constables.
Excerpted from "Markov" by James Frishkey. Copyright © 2016 by James Frishkey. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Jim Frishkey is a Pittsburgh native and remains an avid Pirate and Steeler fan even though his life travels have taken him to Detroit, Phoenix and Dallas. He loves Muscle Cars, 1911's and the Blues. Jim currently lives with his wife Janice and grown daughters Amy and Melissa in Texas
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