No time for Postcards
On a night out in Europe, American backpacker, John Dixon accidentally photographs a murder and is now a hunted man. With only a photo as evidence, he must identify the villain, and get more evidence of the crime before he’s killed by the murderer’s corrupt network.
This book is set in 2009 and begins in the port-side town of Hamburg Germany.
Genre: Crime/thriller – fiction
$5.99 – $22.99
John stands with a backpack on in the large modern airport terminal, scanning the departure schedule. There are morning flights to Rome, Barcelona, London, and Moscow. John notices a beautiful blonde lady pass. She gives a slight smile, enough to catch his attention.
I love travelling, he thinks to himself, there’s no schedule and no demands.
John, dressed in well-worn jeans and a wrinkled navy shirt, strolls to the British Airways counter and buys a ticket to Heathrow.
John prepares to pass through security. He takes off his belt and places the contents of his pockets into a plastic container for the X-ray machine: phone, American passport, plane ticket, and wallet. After passing through security, John heads towards the departure gate. He stands in line with 15 people, anxiously waiting to hand over his boarding pass. Children laugh in a nearby lounge and families stand in groups saying their goodbyes. John shuffles along the queue, keeping his head down.
I enjoy meeting new people.
A tall, blonde, muscular man in his mid-30s, dressed head to toe in tight
black clothing, crashes through a young family of four as he hastily heads down
the corridor towards the boarding gate. The husband of the family yells out in
But not this guy… He wants to kill me!
John inches nearer to the departure gate, but the line is moving too slowly. He looks around and sees a bathroom behind him. It’s a possible escape route, but he would miss his flight. John wipes perspiration from his top lip. Two airline staff members casually feed boarding passes into a machine. Next to them is a newspaper stand. John walks to the stand, takes a German paper, reenters the line and buries his face in the pages.
I haven’t done anything for him to want to kill me. Well… nothing that was my fault.