Saturday, June 20, 2015

Blog Tour & Giveaway ~ A Game of Assassins by James Quinn

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Title: A Game for Assassins

Series: The Redaction Chronicles, Book 1
Author: James Quinn
Length: novel (528 pages)
Genre: mystery, thriller, spy thriller, espionage

Synopsis

The assassination of a Caribbean dictator….The “hit” on a traitor in Beirut……The brutal murder of a young CIA officer behind the Iron Curtain…..So begins the game……
It is 1964, the height of the Cold War, and British Intelligence is riding high with its top double agent network: Constellation.
But in the secret war fought across Europe the enemy is never far away and soon the agents of Constellation are targeted by an unknown team of assassins. In desperation British Intelligence sends in their best agent to protect the network and hunt down the killers.

A Game for Assassins

Jack “Gorilla” Grant isn’t your typical Cold War secret agent. Short, tough, uncompromising, rough edged. He doesn’t fit in with the elitist spies and debonair intelligence agents. He prefers working at the rough end of British covert operations.

But “Gorilla” is one of the best “Redactors” in the business. He’s an expert at close quarter shooting: quick to the draw and deadly accurate when it comes to the elimination of traitors and extremists on behalf of the British Secret Service (SIS). He is soon drawn into a game of cross and double cross where nothing is as it seems and even the most perfect spy can die in a wilderness of mirrors.
“A Game for Assassins” is an action packed edge of your seat thrill ride played out across the global stage of the Cold War.

Excerpt
A short scene from the new spy thriller – A Game For Assassins – that introduces the anti-hero/spy Jack “Gorilla” Grant. 
*
Gioradze snorted. “Fuck you. Torture me all you want.  You think this is the first time I’ve been tied to a chair and tortured.”
“Probably not,” said Gorilla.  “But this isn’t the first time I’ve tied someone to a chair and interrogated them either, so on that score we are equal.”  He was thinking of his time spent with the forger in Belgium.  But the one thing that Gorilla was positive of was that, unlike the forger, this killer would not be walking away safely and with a suitcase full of cash.
In his role as faux KGB interrogator Gorilla had decided to use that oldest and most dangerous of tactics first; honesty.  Honesty to the subject, honesty about his potential fate, honesty leaves the subject with no place to hide and no manoeuvring room.  It spells it out for him in stark detail.  You are here. I am here. These are the facts.
“I won’t tell you a thing you Russian pig,” said Gioradze, as the anger started to rise in him.
Gorilla frowned.  “Oh, I believe that you believe that.  But there is one thing that I can tell you from experience and that is everyone talks, everyone has a breaking point.  You just have to find the correct leverage.  For some its pain, some people can’t handle pain.  However, in your case I think that you are such a tough man that you could withstand it, of that I have no doubt.”
The Georgian was breathing heavily now, gulping in a huge lungful of air, mentally bracing himself for what was about to come.
“Some people fear the danger that their loved ones might be targeted, but again not applicable in your case,” Gorilla continued.
Gioradze snorted with derision as if the thought of using another human being as leverage over him would have succeeded.
Gorilla knelt down so they were face to face.  “What I think is that in your case it’s simple. It’s Biology.  It’s your own body.  You are wounded, tired, under stress, so you’re already weak, maybe even compliant, although you would never admit that.  No, the one thing that is going to let you down here is your own body.”
Gioradze looked down at his mangled legs.  For the first time the stunning realisation that he was in pain, in a foreign country, isolated and about to be interrogated by a Russian operative, hit him.
“And you really don’t remember me?” asked Gorilla, looking the man in the eye.
Gioradze shook his head violently. “I fucking told you – No!”
Gorilla brought his face closer so that they almost touched, nose to nose, and then whispered through gritted teeth.  “Well, I’m the “hitter” from Marseilles. I’m back to haunt you, and you don’t look pleased to see me at all you miserable son-of-a-bitch!”


Gioradze snorted. “Fuck you. Torture me all you want. You think this is the first time I’ve been tied to a chair and tortured.”
“Probably not,” said Gorilla. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve tied someone to a chair and interrogated them either, so on that score we are equal.” He was thinking of his time spent with the forger in Belgium. But the one thing that Gorilla was positive of was that, unlike the forger, this killer would not be walking away safely and with a suitcase full of cash.
In his role as faux KGB interrogator Gorilla had decided to use that oldest and most dangerous of tactics first; honesty. Honesty to the subject, honesty about his potential fate, honesty leaves the subject with no place to hide and no manoeuvring room. It spells it out for him in stark detail. You are here. I am here. These are the facts.
“I won’t tell you a thing you Russian pig,” said Gioradze, as the anger started to rise in him.
Gorilla frowned. “Oh, I believe that you believe that. But there is one thing that I can tell you from experience and that is everyone talks, everyone has a breaking point. You just have to find the correct leverage. For some its pain, some people can’t handle pain. However, in your case I think that you are such a tough man that you could withstand it, of that I have no doubt.”
The Georgian was breathing heavily now, gulping in a huge lungful of air, mentally bracing himself for what was about to come.
“Some people fear the danger that their loved ones might be targeted, but again not applicable in your case,” Gorilla continued.
Gioradze snorted with derision as if the thought of using another human being as leverage over him would have succeeded.
Gorilla knelt down so they were face to face. “What I think is that in your case it’s simple. It’s Biology. It’s your own body. You are wounded, tired, under stress, so you’re already weak, maybe even compliant, although you would never admit that. No, the one thing that is going to let you down here is your own body.”
Gioradze looked down at his mangled legs. For the first time the stunning realisation that he was in pain, in a foreign country, isolated and about to be interrogated by a Russian operative, hit him.
“And you really don’t remember me?” asked Gorilla, looking the man in the eye.
Gioradze shook his head violently. “I fucking told you – No!”
Gorilla brought his face closer so that they almost touched, nose to nose, and then whispered through gritted teeth. “Well, I’m the “hitter” from Marseilles. I’m back to haunt you, and you don’t look pleased to see me at all you miserable son-of-a-bitch!”
Gioradze snorted. “Fuck you. Torture me all you want. You think this is the first time I’ve been tied to a chair and tortured.”
“Probably not,” said Gorilla. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve tied someone to a chair and interrogated them either, so on that score we are equal.” He was thinking of his time spent with the forger in Belgium. But the one thing that Gorilla was positive of was that, unlike the forger, this killer would not be walking away safely and with a suitcase full of cash.
In his role as faux KGB interrogator Gorilla had decided to use that oldest and most dangerous of tactics first; honesty. Honesty to the subject, honesty about his potential fate, honesty leaves the subject with no place to hide and no manoeuvring room. It spells it out for him in stark detail. You are here. I am here. These are the facts.
“I won’t tell you a thing you Russian pig,” said Gioradze, as the anger started to rise in him.
Gorilla frowned. “Oh, I believe that you believe that. But there is one thing that I can tell you from experience and that is everyone talks, everyone has a breaking point. You just have to find the correct leverage. For some its pain, some people can’t handle pain. However, in your case I think that you are such a tough man that you could withstand it, of that I have no doubt.”
The Georgian was breathing heavily now, gulping in a huge lungful of air, mentally bracing himself for what was about to come.
“Some people fear the danger that their loved ones might be targeted, but again not applicable in your case,” Gorilla continued.
Gioradze snorted with derision as if the thought of using another human being as leverage over him would have succeeded.
Gorilla knelt down so they were face to face. “What I think is that in your case it’s simple. It’s Biology. It’s your own body. You are wounded, tired, under stress, so you’re already weak, maybe even compliant, although you would never admit that. No, the one thing that is going to let you down here is your own body.”
Gioradze looked down at his mangled legs. For the first time the stunning realisation that he was in pain, in a foreign country, isolated and about to be interrogated by a Russian operative, hit him.
“And you really don’t remember me?” asked Gorilla, looking the man in the eye.
Gioradze shook his head violently. “I fucking told you – No!”
Gorilla brought his face closer so that they almost touched, nose to nose, and then whispered through gritted teeth. “Well, I’m the “hitter” from Marseilles. I’m back to haunt you, and you don’t look pleased to see me at all you miserable son-of-a-bitch!”



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About the Author

James Quinn spent 15 years in the secret world of covert operations, undercover investigations and international security before turning his hand to writing.
He is trained in hand to hand combat and in the use of a variety of weaponry including small edged weapons, Japanese Swords and Hunting Bows. He is also a crack pistol shot for CQB (Close Quarter Battle) and many of his experiences he has incorporated into his works of fiction.
He lives in the United Kingdom and travels extensively around the globe.

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