Catalyst, a person that precipitates events; that’s Catherine Vibrissae, Orphan, Chemist, Model, Avenging Cat.
Cat seeks revenge against Loup Malefice, the man responsible for the takeover of her father’s company. An accomplished climber, Cat is not averse to breaking and entering to confound her enemies. During her investigations, she crosses the path of Rick Barnes, a company lawyer, who seems to have his own agenda.
Ranging from south of England to the north-east, Wales and Barcelona, Cat’s quest for vengeance is implacable. But with the NCA hot on her tail, can she escape the clutches of sinister Zabala and whip-wielding Profesora Quesada?
Excerpt
Chapter One: Cat among the pigeons
London
Rock climbing was much easier than this, Cat Vibrissae thought. She did that for a hobby – though never at night – and enjoyed it. But climbing the outside of a modern building was something else. How those people could do it for fun was beyond her. What were they called? Stegophilists. Oxford and Cambridge undergraduates started it when they scaled the college buildings in the late 1800s – always at night. She was used to the adrenaline rush of climbing with bare hands and feet on cliffs above rugged rocks and aggressive waves. But this was very different. Tonight the effects seemed more pronounced: she was sure that she could feel the increased heart rate and her gut constricting. And her mouth was very dry. Still, if she was going to fulfil her vow to her father, she had no choice. This was the only way to penetrate the seventeenth floor office of Rick Barnes.
Finding hand-holds on the face of a modern building was not easy at the best of times, but at night it was worse and had to be done by feel alone. Street lighting and advertising signs didn’t help this high up – but at least the darkness ensured she wouldn’t be visible. Here she would find no holes made by burrowing animals or nesting birds. Simply rigid straight edges of concrete and marble. Clean lean lines as envisioned by the architects. God, how she would dearly love to hammer pitons into the stone facade and secure a few karabiners and snap-rings and ropes, but that would make an unacceptable amount of noise and, besides, it would take far too long. But the ropes would have eased the strain on her fingers, wrists, arms and legs. Tough. Just get on with it.
If she hadn’t also done plenty of free climbing, she’d never have contemplated this. Her coach had used the phrase, “Make the geckos jealous.” Unfortunately, she didn’t have suction pad feet. At least her soft Five Ten Anasazi climbing shoes acted like ‘magic fingers’ and enabled her feet to cling to the narrowest of ledges and feel the features she stepped on.
When she started this climb, the air had been quite calm, not too balmy, an ideal June evening, with hardly a breeze disturbing her long auburn ponytail. Refreshing, even. But now, fifteen stories up, the swirling air currents tugged at her slim-line backpack and black cat-suit and threatened to blow her off the side of the building. Specks of dust and leaves flicked against her cheeks; she was really glad she wore wrap-around goggles.
Toe tips only. Using her toes and not her instep allowed her hip a broader moving range to allocate her gravity centre as needed. The technique required her to move her hip over her feet – “follow gravity”, her coach had said. “The hip is the centre of gravity.” Simple, really. Placing her hip over one foot relieved both her other foot and her hands for the next move. And so on.
Keep calm. She passed behind the huge metal sign for CERBERUS WORLDWIDE, which, thankfully, wasn’t illuminated at this time of night.
Here, she decided to rest for a few minutes and looped a leg over a stanchion and suddenly her heart leapt as two disturbed pigeons flapped their wings and flew out and away, leaving behind a stomach-churning stink of bird-shit. At least the bird-flu scare had petered out; and since pigs can’t fly, there was no risk of swine flu either. Ha, ha…
The silly joke didn’t calm her, though. After that shock, her heart was hammering more than ever.
Two days ago it had been pounding for a different reason.
Book 3 continues the Commander and the Chief's adventures in political intrigue, superstition, old feuds, and the search of Nikola Tesla's missing papers in this Close Encounter of the Weird Kind.
In the waning days of World War II, a man lies injured in a London hospital, shrouded in mystery and confusion. He is an American serviceman, stripped of his identity and memories, save for the name John, and plagued by vivid visions of battles that
