Two men, two civilizations, colliding. A spymaster and an entrepreneur.
The gun barrel of his father’s pistol pokes into his mouth. His finger is on the trigger when the call comes from a drifting yacht in the Malacca Straits north of Singapore. His grandfather has cut the throats of the sultan and his son, and now is calling to help Cash deal with the deaths of his parents over Lockerbie, Scotland.
Cash vows to find the puppeteer behind the Libyans who planted the bomb. Cash builds a successful business. He sells it to save his marriage. Another family tragedy shatters him.
Bill Relf challenges his readers with stories interlaced with intrigue and inspiration. His roots are in the coal mines and steel mills of Western Pennsylvania and the arts of Chautauqua, New York. His early education was more through the novels he read, than the schools he had the misfortune to attend. With his writings he explores the rich interplay of business, politics, culture, and religion on the global stage.
Bill Relf’s life was shaped by novels. When he was twelve years old, his mother told him that he had a responsibility to bring money into the house. Thus, he began a business of lawn care, house painting, and snow shoveling. He drew inspiration from novels about a boy starting a business with a small bulldozer retrieved from a pond, about a berry stand that grew to an amusement park, and many others, while he grew his business until age twenty. From these roots he earned a Master of Business Administration and founded six manufacturing and consulting businesses.
The moon’s rays bounced off the placid Mediterranean Sea, barely exposing a man moving surreptitiously through the shadows along the Malta coastline.
Narimullah’s confidence in the Libyans was wavering. They were careless, casually assuring him that Allah would ensure the mission’s success. He had spent the last two weeks in Egypt teaching the Libyans how to make a bomb—how to look calm and unsuspicious in a public place—how not to attract attention.
Last night, the three Libyans came to his room at The Marina Hotel. He gave them a Toshiba radio and various wires and switches from the linings of his clothes. He also passed along toothpaste tubes and underarm deodorants with substances in them that did not match the labels. The Libyans had purchased chemicals on the Malta markets. One of them brought an electronic timer.