A novel, inspired by a true story.

A profoundly unsettling read

about lies, espionage, and treason

at the highest levels !

Drawing from an incredible true story, Keith Hoar weaves a startling tale of truly difficult-to-believe treachery and espionage. Mind-boggling treason, reaching to the highest levels of the military, academia, and government.

This book winds its way through a tale of espionage and treason as the war raging across the world draws to a close. One man, a young cipher analyst at

one of Russia's foreign embassies, stumbles across evidence of a shocking conspiracy amongst scientists, government officials, and high-ranking military officers to obtain and pass top-secret military and government information to Russian agents.

 

He was bewildered because he was certain those scientists and officials were fully aware the ultimate aim of the Communists was world-wide revolution. Even during a time of war, the people enjoyed freedom. They were happy. The government served the people rather than using them as pawns. “How could these people sell out their own country,” he asked himself over and over.

 

In the fall of 1945, haunted by the sadistic horrors of war he had witnessed and fearing for his life, he decided never to return to Russia. With over one hundred secret papers stuffed in his pants, he walked out of the embassy determined to expose the espionage, but government officials did not believe him. Terrified and in grave danger, he quickly learned Russian officials had discovered his defection.

 

A profound and gripping story of one man risking his life and the lives of his wife and child for a greater good, protecting the freedoms that many take for granted

 

Would they escape “The Net” of Russian agents pursuing them? Would they be captured to never be heard from again?

 

This is their story!

Prologue

North River Road

Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

 

    Run!

    The voice of fear screamed in Yuri Antonovich Aleksandrov’s mind. Raw, primal fear churned inside him. “Run! Run Now,” the fear shrieked.

    “They’re watching me. They are always watching,” Yuri’s mind protested, as he battled mightily against the urge to take flight and flee headlong into the darkness. “Running would be foolish,” he tried to convince himself. Running would only attract attention and then he would be doomed for certain.

    "I should have kept my mouth shut," he whispered. “Why did I let Pasha talk me into this?”

    Paralyzed by indecision, he drew back into the shadows, leaning against the wall of an abandoned warehouse. For what seemed like an eternity, he stood frozen on North River Road just short of the bridge over the Rideau River. In the darkness, he tilted his head back toward the fog shrouded street. He held his breath, straining, listening for the slightest sound. Nothing. All was quiet.

    Yuri squinted, trying to see through the heavy, mist-laden fog that obscured everything except one lone streetlamp, standing at the beginning of the bridge. A dim halo of light glowed around the streetlamp. Cautiously, he stepped out of the darkness and headed toward the dim light of the streetlamp. He pulled the collar of his heavy, wool overcoat up around his neck and rushed through the meager light streaming from the streetlamp. He stopped, leaning against the damp, concrete balustrade, waiting for his eyes to readjust to the darkness.

    He took one step and froze. Scraping. He whirled around attempting to locate the source of the sound, but saw no one behind him. Scanning the foggy gloom in all directions, he tried to locate the source of the scraping sound, his heart pounding inside his chest, beating wildly against his rib cage. There it was again. Scraping, this time followed by a faint splashing sound. He listened. Again, he heard the scraping sound. The sound grew closer. Glancing over the top of the bridge’s concrete balustrade, he saw a dim light bobbing on the water below.

    He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the scraping sound had come from a fisherman rowing his boat along the edge of the river. Yuri tugged his overcoat tightly around him and turned to continue across the bridge.

Footsteps. He froze momentarily. Unable to suppress the rising fear any longer, he let go of his overcoat and bolted. Dragging his right hand along the concrete balustrade for balance and as a guide in the darkness, he raced full speed across the bridge.

A reckless backward glance over his shoulder to see who was chasing him caused him to lose his balance. Slipping on the wet cobblestones, he fell face first onto the bridge’s walkway. He grabbed for his hat as he slid up against the concrete balustrade, but he was a second too late. The hat flew between the columns and floated down to the river below.

    Yuri leaped to his feet, expecting to be grabbed at any moment. Feeling disgusted and somewhat foolish, he discovered the bridge was completely empty except for himself. He straightened his overcoat, brushed himself off, and hurried across the bridge.

Stopping at the end of the bridge, he spotted the street sign for Fountain Place that ran along the edge of Besserer Park, his destination. As he approached the streetlamp, he heard a muffled pop and the tinkling of glass on the cobblestones. The streetlamp went dark. A hand grabbed his shoulder as something cold and hard jammed forcefully against his neck.

    “Yuri, why are you running?” a gruff voice asked.

    Yuri gulped, instantly recognizing the familiar voice.

    “Come on, Yuri,” the man continued. “If you are running, you must have something to hide. I ask again. Why are you running?”

    “I was frightened,” Yuri stammered. “I thought someone wanted to rob me.”

    “Yuri, do not lie to me. It will go very badly for you.”

    “I… I…,” Yuri stuttered.

    The man spun Yuri around and backhanded him, sending him flying. Yuri grunted as he hit the ground roughly, the wet surface soaking his overcoat. He scrambled to his knees, his bleeding palms pressing against the rough cobblestones.

Another pair of hands jerked Yuri upright and turned him around to face the man that had struck him.

    “My patience is wearing thin, Yuri,” the man growled. “What have you seen and who were you to meet?”

    “I saw nothing,” Yuri whimpered. “I was not going to meet anyone.”

    “Do not take me for a fool?” the man roared, backhanding Yuri even harder, sending him flying again.

    Yuri sucked in his breath as he slammed onto the ground. Yuri moaned and struggled to his knees. Another muffled pop was followed a few seconds later by a large splash.

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© 2020 by Keith Hoar and Zhetosoft Publications

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