Jeremy Duns’ Free Agent now available!
Free Agent U.S. Cover
Well, it was actually available on June 26, but I was lax in letting you know. Jeremy Duns is a freelance journalist, and fellow espionage aficionado, and, with the publication of his debut novel, a critically acclaimed writer of fiction.
Free Agent is the first in a planned series of books starring secret agent Paul Dark, and has so far gotten rave reviews from the likes of Kirkus, Booklist, and David Morrell, creator of Rambo. The novel also scored a starred review at Publisher’s Weekly, which raved:
Set in London and Nigeria during the latter’s 1969 civil war with flashbacks to the months after WWII, Duns’s terrific debut will draw inevitable comparisons to early John le Carré, though the lead character, turncoat British Secret Service agent Paul Dark, is a complete original. In Nigeria, KGB agent Vladimir Slavin has asked the British for asylum, offering in trade the name of a Soviet mole lodged in the upper echelons of the Secret Service. That mole, we soon learn, is Paul, an ideological victim of youth and notions of revenge, who in 1945 assisted his father, a fellow MI6 operative, in a number of secret missions to hunt down and kill Nazi war criminals. Paul flees to Africa, where he expects to find a former Russian nurse he once loved and whom he once believed long dead. Seldom has a thriller plot taken more unseen turns as Paul searches for the truth about his past and the reality of his present. Readers will eagerly await the sequel.
Jeremy has been marketing his book in the best way possible, by going directly to fans and readers, being incredibly accessible, and even helping promote our fandom in return. And here’s a preview trailer that he used in introducing readers to the world of Paul Dark:
Jeremy recently did a promotional interview with the International Thriller Writers website, in which he further discussed the world of the novel:
Dark is really a villain, but because the story is told from his perspective our attitude towards him is perhaps a little different than to, say, the Jackal in Frederick Forsyth’s The Day of The Jackal. I wanted to crawl beneath this character’s skin because I thought it would provide an interesting perspective on the Cold War, and because there *were* British agents who spied for the Soviets in this way, and I wanted to try to explore why and how that might have happened.
I recently received my copy of Free Agent in the mail, and, though I sadly have not yet had a chance to read it from cover to cover, the bits that I have read have me excited at the prospect of a new age of stylish, well-written espionage novels. You’ll be getting a full review from me soon, but in the meantime, Jeremy was kind enough to send along a brief excerpt to tempt you into a purchase. Free Agent is available at Amazon
Free Agent by Jeremy Duns / UK and Canadian cover
London, 1969:
‘I was enveloped in a fog of cigarette smoke as I walked into Ronnie Scott’s. Once I’d made my way through it, I saw that the support band was still on – three earnest young men sweating for their art in matching orange brocade suits – and the place was packed.
I usually savoured the atmosphere, but tonight I had to find Vanessa, and fast. I was close to half an hour late and I wasn’t sure what kind of mood she would be in – our afternoon of lovemaking might have left her feeling the snub even more.
We hadn’t visited the club since the previous summer, and it had expanded in the meantime, but I remembered that she liked to sit as close to the stage as possible, so I by-passed the bar and made for the candlelit tables up front. There was no sign of her. I scanned the crowd desperately: a handsome Indian gent in a pinstripe suit and white turban; a party of young women, all sporting the same outlandish hairdo; an elderly man enraptured by the band, playing along on an imaginary piano – every face in London, it seemed, but one. Perhaps she was in the lavatory, or had left a message with one of the waitresses. I was walking towards the bar, when I felt a tug at my sleeve.
‘So there you are,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘I was about to give up hope!’
Her hair was down and her body poured into the turquoise shantung dress I’d bought her at Dior a few weeks earlier on a spree. She’d embellished it with a cream organza shawl and a necklace of ivory bones that showed off her tan. Her eyes were a little hooded, and one shoulder sloped oddly: she was either drunk, or high, or both.
I felt the tension leave me. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ I said, raising my voice so I could be heard over a saxophone solo. She laughed gaily and offered me her hand. I took it and she led me away from the stage, towards her table.
‘Yes, well, I’m sorry, too. Where on earth have you been? Killing Russians again?’
I forced a smile. ‘Not quite. But something came up.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ve been quite happy, really. I bumped into one of Daddy’s friends and he’s been entertaining me in your absence – such a charming man, and so knowledgeable. I believe he’s also in your game?’
The tall, slender figure was seated at her table between a half-finished bottle of chilled Riesling and a plate of chicken curry, his jacket resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on me.
‘Why, hello, Paul,’ said Pritchard, with a wintry smile. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
To learn more about Jeremy Duns and Free Agent, check out Jeremy’s website, his Facebook page, or his Twitter account.
