“Our lives were now worlds apart, separated by time, circumstance, and the unbridgeable chasm of money.”
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<p>It is Christmas Eve, 1957. Flying home, on leave from Germany, he is alone in the cockpit of the Vampire. Sixty-six minutes of flying time, with the descent and landing - destination Lakenheath. No problem, all routine procedures.</p> <p>Then, out over the North sea, the fog begins to close in. Radio contact ceases and the compass goes haywire. Suddenly, out of the mist appears a World War II bomber. It is flying just below the Vampire, as of trying to make contact...</p> <p>This collection also brings together several other compulsive tales from the international master of intrigue</p>
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Frederick Forsyth
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