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Part Two of the Farsi Trilogy. The story continues as Aydin and Parveen try to make their way home but get side-tracked by a surface-to-air missile. Meanwhile, Iran is forever changed by cyber-war... and is forced to face the dawn of a new world. An Alternate History...

REVIEWS

5 stars, Gripping Story!
The plot is creative, credible, and contemporary. The escape from Baghdad is absolutely thrilling and will make great viewing on the big screen when it gets picked up by Hollywood!! Can't wait for the next installment!
—Born to Run, amazon.com


4 stars, Timely and Suspenseful
The topic is very current, as Iran continues to challenge the West with threats and nuclear capabilities. The plot is imaginative and the writing kept me turning the pages to the very end. An exciting book with a plausible ending.
—Thano P. Cotsis, amazon.com

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from CHAPTER ONE

It was a warm night when I stepped out into it. There was a funny smell to the air, something I couldn’t recognize, something that told me I was in a very foreign place. I heard traffic passing a long way off, and what sounded like gun fire. I lit a cigarette and leaned against the nearest concrete wall.

“You! Don’t move... Raise your arms slowly.”
A soldier, a marine by the look of him, jogged over to me warily, automatic weapon drawn. He grabbed my lanyard and checked my ID in the dim light. He checked it again with a flashlight. “What do you think you’re doing out here, sir?” he asked with a slightly less gruff tone.
“Having a cigarette, sorry.”
“This is a smoke-free zone, sir.”
“I couldn’t smoke in the room.”
“OK, I’ll let you slide this time. But a word to the wise, don’t come out here in your PJ’s. I’ve been highly trained to kill people wearing pajama-like clothes.” The marine lowered his weapon. “If you were wearing a suit, or even jeans, I wouldn’t have given you a second look.”
The soldier leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette of his own.
“Isn’t that kind of racist?”
“Absolutely, it is. Just a matter of survival here.” He exhaled sharply. “Lucky you don’t have a beard.”
We both laughed rather grimly.
The soldier offered his hand. “I’m Lance Corporal Johnson, Joe Johnson. Call me Joey.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Oh, I know who you are, you’re freaking legend. You’re the guy who shut down Iran.”
“Actually, I did the opposite of—”
“Yeah well, thanks for whatever it was...” Jackson took a deep drag from his cigarette and glanced around the dark compound. There was a long silence.

click for an excerpt!