Cinétique Part 1

By Stephen Shypitka

A young French economist whose brilliance et complicated love life gives rise to revolution taking France off the petrol economy to one based one humain énergie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Shypitka
• Release date: Apr 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005624897

Stephen Shypitka

Stephen's eBooks have sold across 4 continents in Australia, Canada, Denmark, France, Germany, Jamaica, Netherlands, New Zealand, Poland, Romania, Switzerland the UK and the US. His online success has allowed his work to be noticed, read and savoured with his fiction for our times that turns heads, crosses genres and connects us all. Stephen was born in British Columbia, Canada an alumnus of USC film school in Los Angeles, he has taught the craft and loves to travel.

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Cinétique

By Stephen Shypitka

Smashwords Serialized Edition

© 2021 Stephen Shypitka

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgement of Cinétique

This is not a translation of language but much like Napoleon’s stone bridge it is meant to bridge two worlds together, the future and past, the French and English; it is meant for today’s generation much like young Val himself who first comes to London to find himself, his place and test his courage his luck and skill, this is in the manner it is written and therefore should be consumed.

Dedication

Pour Val,

Loin des yeux, prês du cœur.

CONTENTS PART I

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About The Author

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Cinétique

Prologue

The weather had turned decidedly English and he had found himself against a gust of ole blighty clipping himself well hard on the narrow rod iron fence of a pedestrian walk with a yelp in Clare Market. Such was his haste in Holborn. He imagined he would have a bruise by morning. In truth, against his flesh now, blue split spider-like blood vessels were already forming, taking shape against the dark brown flesh of his torso. Crossing the final street to LSE he was greeted by a great red London bus about to do him in, lost in a blast of its horn.

He jumped the curb with a craning of his neck to check to see if he had the right address as the bus moored its way forward set on another's revenge. Indeed it was the London School of Economics. Despite the fall chill, he had just landed in London City Airport, baffled by unavailable black cabs and battling a TFL transit strike he had finally managed to emerge from the tube in a desperate lather. His monogrammed handkerchief laced with hormones, he wiped but was unable to capture all the droplets with no time left to worry about his sweat.

He was late. Overdue. Clearly worried, that he would arrive after the terrible news had reached him.

Heavy laden was his island accent that further held him up in a security checkpoint, despite a buttoned-down appearance,