Here's a fresh extract from my personal favourite 'Moonlight Shadows'.... You'll need a passport for this international chase thriller.... We catch up with the non stop intrigue and action far away from the murder scene....

Kamakura, Kanagawa Prefecture: The Archipelago of Japan.

Once the moonlight shadows slipped away, a new dawn steadily tumbled over the ‘Land of the Rising Sun’.
Maureen McCluskey smiled appreciatively when the first distinct rays of sunshine penetrated the skyscrapers of the thriving bustling city that was her home, Kamakura: a city with a population of about 200,000 situated on the archipelago of Japan, in the Pacific Ocean, and located approximately thirty miles south of Tokyo.
A holidaymaker from England travelled to visit Maureen.
On a scheduled flight, he’d flown into Narita International Airport, Tokyo, stayed overnight in Yokohama, and now made his way to meet her. More importantly, she was making her way to meet him.
Conscious of the sun slowly rising and bearing down on the streets, Maureen heralded the new day as a unique opportunity to celebrate. It was the tenth anniversary of her residence in the town she’d made her home. Gradually, carefully, and as dawn grew into the fullness of day, she strode through the streets to the rendezvous.
Maureen had settled well from the outset and taken residence in a reasonably well appointed apartment close to the town centre. She found useful employment and bought herself a second hand semi-reliable car with which to tour Japan. Over the years, she learned to speak the language despite, generally, keeping herself to herself. In time, she made friends, particularly at work. Now she enjoyed pals who were Japanese, Chinese, American, Spanish, English, Dutch and German. Most of her mates shared one thing in common: they were all whizz kids, computer geeks, and slightly bizarre brainy people. Some of her friends wondered how she had survived financially in the beginning but Maureen reminded them of the inheritance her uncle bequeathed her some years ago. Of course, she hadn’t been stupid, she declared. No, she explained, an annuity had been bought with the inheritance and a comfortable amount deposited into her account every month. Maureen met most of her friends at work. And work was an electronics company specialising in making computer software for a global market. From small beginnings, she gained both respect and knowledge as she progressively climbed the career ladder.
Of course, that’s why he was visiting her from England today. Maureen had found something useful, something she knew the man would be interested in.
Dressed in a dark fur-trimmed blouson, dark trousers and flat heeled knee-length boots, Maureen was single and into her late thirties. Her light brown hair was fairly long but rested easily on her narrow shoulders. Tall, slim, and self assured, Maureen was, in her own quiet way, a self disciplinarian. If she had a weakness, it would be a propensity to be occasionally naive.
There was a faint bluish mist ahead but the phenomenon held no fear for her. Kamakura was located not too far from the coast so a touch of adverse visibility now and again wasn’t unusual.
Approaching the mist-shrouded Kotoku-in Temple, Maureen evoked memories of her real home and the reason she had specifically asked to meet the man who had flown from England to see her. Chuckling to herself, she read the notice at the entrance to the grounds. The words seemed so appropriate to her appointment and read:

‘Stranger, whosoever thou art and whatsoever be thy creed, when thou enterest this sanctuary remember thou treadest upon ground hallowed by the worship of ages. This is the Temple of Buddha and the gate of the eternal, and should be entered with reverence.’

When Maureen approached the ubiquitous outdoor bronze statue of the Great Buddha of Kamakura, she reflected that in Dublin, her birthplace, almost everyone was Catholic. Here in Japan, virtually all and sundry were Buddhist, and she’d decided it was time to leave the sanctuary. She was homesick. Her mother needed her and she wanted to return to the banks of the Liffey and the Emerald Isle. Maureen wanted to go home now.
Early morning tourists were filtering into the area, marvelling at the Great Buddha, touching it, prodding it, photographing it, and just enjoying its presence, its religious significance.
‘According to the handbook, the Great Buddha of Kamakura is over forty feet tall and weighs over ninety three tons,’ said a man’s voice.
Maureen identified his voice, hadn’t heard it for a decade, but recognised it immediately, and assumed he’d shadowed her for a while before approaching her from behind. He’s probably followed me for the last twenty minutes at least, she decided.
Replying unhesitatingly, Maureen said, ‘I didn’t think you’d miss it standing that tall; the statue I mean.’
‘Makes sense to meet in a place full of tourists,’ said the voice.
‘Are we alone, Dickey?’ she asked.
‘Alone as we need to be, Siofra,’ he replied.
‘Is anyone following me, Dickey?’
‘No, should there be?’ he asked.
Siofra glanced casually over her shoulder and caught sight of him standing quite close. It was Dickey: the man she called the Baron. He was dressed in a brown leather three quarter length jacket that was belted but unbuckled. His belt hung loosely from the waist loops and the two ends trailed away below four dark brown buttons that might occasionally fasten his coat. The fourth button was looser than the others and about to become a nuisance. She watched him smooth his dark swept back hair as he fingered the lowest button. It was made of horn, coloured dark brown, and complimented the soft leather he wore. A tan open-necked shirt lay beneath the jacket and his sharply creased coffee coloured slacks looked down on highly polished brown lace up shoes.
‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me,’ she said. ‘Instead, I see you’re browned off, Dickey.’
‘I often dress in brown. It’s one of my favourite colours. Do you like my jacket, Siofra?’
‘No, I don’t. Funny that though, Dickey, I’ve waited ten years for someone to call me Siofra and when they do they can’t even pronounce it correctly. She-Fra, say it.’

But who is the Baron? Why has he travelled from London to see her. And why does Maureen have two names?