BLURB -
An inhuman agenda…
In 1982, Annette Pretorius lives a life of privilege afforded to those of European descent in South Africa, but when her husband is murdered, she discovers a shattering secret: he’d been commissioned by the whites-only South African government to develop a lethal virus aimed at controlling the growth of the black population–already oppressed under the cruel system of apartheid.
A clandestine organization…
The murder came with a warning to Annette from a secretive organization: keep our secrets or you too will die. Captain Trevor Watson, Annette’s former boyfriend, is appointed to lead the investigation. Watson’s loyalty is tested as the evidence stacks against his high school sweetheart.
And the killing isn’t over yet…
When the investigation points in a terrifying direction, Annette and Watson face a wrenching choice: protect those they love or sacrifice all to save innocents from racial extermination.
Praise for Operation: Genocide
Diabolical motives and charismatic characters populate Yvonne Walus’ breath-stealing adventure, Operation: Genocide. — Dr. Allen Wyler
Diabolical motives and charismatic characters populate Yvonne Walus’ breath-stealing adventure, Operation: Genocide. — Dr. Allen Wyler
EXCERPT -
Professor Adelbrecht of the Biotech Research Agency for Vital Operations felt bile rise to his mouth as he watched one of the government’s highest officials wipe red stickiness off his fingers and extract cotton balls from his large, protruding ears. The whop-whop of the ceiling fan added a bizarre sense of ordinariness to the scene.
“I’m listening,” the minister said. The cotton balls fell into the waste paper basket with an ominous absence of sound.
Adelbrecht talked fast.
“Brilliant. You sure it’ll work?” The minister’s question hung heavy in the sizzling African air.
The professor’s mouth went dry. “Yes.” If genocide is really what you want.
“This office has full confidence in you and your team. We understand the Ebola virus was both an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident.”
Spoken like a true politician, yet the professor felt the atmosphere in the room turn as thin as the ground under his feet. “That’s correct, Minister.”
“Right. What guarantee do we have this new virus won’t go ape-crazy?”
“With all due respect, Minister, Ebola was transmitted through any personal contact. The new virus we’re proposing will be contagious only via sexual relations. Nothing else.”
“So an infected maid will still be able to cook for you, but won’t pass the virus on?”
“Hundred percent correct, Minister.” Assuming you don’t sleep with her. But that was illegal, forbidden by the Immorality Act.
“Goes without saying that this discussion never took place.”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Even the prime minister doesn’t know about this project.”
Like hell he didn’t.
“The limousine is at your service, Professor. The driver will take you wherever you desire.”
Relief washed over him. He started rising from the sofa, ever the obedient puppet.
“Oh, and Professor?”
“Yes?”
The Minister Without An Official Portfolio rose, his shoulders blocking out the sunlight of the summer day outside. “This is your final warning.” Suddenly, he didn’t sound like a politician anymore. “Mess this up, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
Pretoria, South Africa, One year earlier
PROLOGUE
Professor Adelbrecht of the Biotech Research Agency for Vital Operations felt bile rise to his mouth as he watched one of the government’s highest officials wipe red stickiness off his fingers and extract cotton balls from his large, protruding ears. The whop-whop of the ceiling fan added a bizarre sense of ordinariness to the scene.
“I’m listening,” the minister said. The cotton balls fell into the waste paper basket with an ominous absence of sound.
Adelbrecht talked fast.
“Brilliant. You sure it’ll work?” The minister’s question hung heavy in the sizzling African air.
The professor’s mouth went dry. “Yes.” If genocide is really what you want.
“This office has full confidence in you and your team. We understand the Ebola virus was both an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident.”
Spoken like a true politician, yet the professor felt the atmosphere in the room turn as thin as the ground under his feet. “That’s correct, Minister.”
“Right. What guarantee do we have this new virus won’t go ape-crazy?”
“With all due respect, Minister, Ebola was transmitted through any personal contact. The new virus we’re proposing will be contagious only via sexual relations. Nothing else.”
“So an infected maid will still be able to cook for you, but won’t pass the virus on?”
“Hundred percent correct, Minister.” Assuming you don’t sleep with her. But that was illegal, forbidden by the Immorality Act.
“Goes without saying that this discussion never took place.”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Even the prime minister doesn’t know about this project.”
Like hell he didn’t.
“The limousine is at your service, Professor. The driver will take you wherever you desire.”
Relief washed over him. He started rising from the sofa, ever the obedient puppet.
“Oh, and Professor?”
“Yes?”
The Minister Without An Official Portfolio rose, his shoulders blocking out the sunlight of the summer day outside. “This is your final warning.” Suddenly, he didn’t sound like a politician anymore. “Mess this up, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
BIO -
By trying to portray what South Africa was like at the height of its apartheid era, by inspecting both sides of the coin, I’m sure I’ve managed to offend all parties. Still, I’m not sorry.
South Africa means a lot of things to a lot of people: lions in long yellow grass, diamond mines, apartheid, Nelson Mandela, rugby. All of those images are right, yet none of them – in my opinion – are representative of the misunderstood country or its people. None of them describe what it’s like to live in South Africa, both in the 1980s and today. I’d like my readers to smell the red dust of the continent and to fall in love with Africa the way I did when I first set foot there as an impressionable teenager, a refugee from communism and the bitter cold of Poland. I left my heart in Africa, and I invite you to do the same.
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South Africa means a lot of things to a lot of people: lions in long yellow grass, diamond mines, apartheid, Nelson Mandela, rugby. All of those images are right, yet none of them – in my opinion – are representative of the misunderstood country or its people. None of them describe what it’s like to live in South Africa, both in the 1980s and today. I’d like my readers to smell the red dust of the continent and to fall in love with Africa the way I did when I first set foot there as an impressionable teenager, a refugee from communism and the bitter cold of Poland. I left my heart in Africa, and I invite you to do the same.
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GIVEAWAY -
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1 comment:
Welcome, Yvonne! I'm glad you could join us today. I love the premise of this book and the excerpt draws us right in to the tension and suspense.
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