The Hanseatic League is a fast-paced thriller that takes the reader from the corners of Africa, to the mountains of Europe, and the power centers of England and the United States. If you pick up this book you won’t be able to put it down until you’ve read every word. If you never believe in anything else, you will believe in the Hansa!
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Alexi jumped when a loud knock rattled the door. Three hard knocks followed by two quieter knocks, and one word was heard; the code had been completed. Alexi walked cautiously toward the door, still waiting for a bullet to pierce his forehead, or a hand to reach from behind with a garrote. Unlocking the door, and turning the knob he saw an expected face.
"Comrade Demetrov," said the reassuring face of Yuri Romanchenko.
Romanchenko had once been the second most feared person in the Soviet Republic. He was the former deputy director of the feared GRU, Glaunoye Rasvedvatelonoye Upravleniye. The most hated and the most overlooked of the Russian intelligence agencies. "Have you finished it?" Romanchenko looked eagerly about the small workshop hoping to catch sight of the device.
"Yes," said Demetrov with a fatherly glow of pride on his face. "At last, it is ready."
Alexi Demetrov suddenly saw flash of his wife’s face. She had been killed eight years ago in a shootout between a CIA agent and a "defecting" member of parliament. The supposed defector was a KGB agent passing himself for the man he had just executed. Every day, every minute, every second since that moment Alexi had dreamed of a way to get even. The device he had in his hand would fulfill that dream.
Romanchenko walked toward Alexi holding a small orb-like device. "Is that it?
"Yes."
"It is so—" Romanchenko looked at Alexi incredulously, "—small!" He reached for the device and was surprised at its weight. "Fantastic!" Alexi smiled and turned slightly, reaching for a thick, hand-written manual.
"The instructions," smiled Alexi. "It is printed in French and English as requested." Russian was unnecessary.
"You have outdone yourself this time—" said Romanchenko as he reached into his left jacket pocket and removed a stubby, silenced gun, "—old friend," he said as he fired the gun into Alexi Demtrov’s left temple. Alexi fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Romanchenko followed up his fatal shot with two more in the heart. "Be with Sascha."
Romanchenko once again looked at the device. This prototype would change things in the world. It had been so many years since the collapse of the Soviet Union, and in the ensuing vacuum the United States had grown even more powerful. They had done something that his beloved Russia was never able to do. They had succeeded in Afghanistan in months where it had taken many years for the Russians to fail. Then they did it again in Iraq.
A plan was in place to reverse all that, a plan that would get rid of the great evil of America. The memories of collapsing towers would soon be erased by the horror of the destruction of entire cities, the fear of who could be next. This small, prototype nuclear device would not let them ever forget what they did to Russia. What they had done to the world.
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