Produto disponível no mesmo dia no aplicativo Kobo, após a confirmação  do pagamento!
Você pode ler este livro digital em vários dispositivos:
IOs - Clique para baixar o app gratuitoAndroid - Clique para baixar o app gratuitoPC - Clique para baixar o app gratuitoBlackBerry - Clique para baixar o app gratuitoWindows Phone - Clique para baixar o app gratuitoKobo - Conheça nossa linha de leitores digitais
• The Time Watchers •
They are the keepers of history, the dedicated men and women of the Temporal Corps.
It is their job to protect the timeline from irreparable harm. And in an era when time travel has created a new breed of criminal, they are the only force standing between the past as we know it and a future warped by evil ...
Steven Whitefeather, Master Temporal Warden, is sent to 1940s London, a city caught in the throes of World War II. Under the guise of an agent of British Intelligence, Steven must flush out a Nazi sympathizer from his own century—a master of disguise who is about to cause a major disturbance in the fabric of time ...
The assassination of Winston Churchill.
The Time Rogue!
“Do you know of a German Agent named Free Eagle—Frieadler?” Again Burroughs said nothing. Brian balled the front of Burroughs’s shirt in both fists and yanked the man off his chair.
“I’ve had enough of you. The next stop is in the future.”
Panic at the immediacy of that threat loosened the man’s tongue. “You can’t do that. You don’t even know where I came from.”
Brian’s smile formed in a nasty line. “That’s the trouble with you bootleg Beamer users. You know absolutely nothing about time travel theory. When you are transported with open coordinates, you back exactly to when you should be. Now, get moving.”
In the central room of the basement under the travel agency, Brian stood Burroughs before the Beamer and gave the high sign to Vito. An enormous surge of energy activated the Time Field. It pulsed and hummed and formed a shimmering curtain inside the framework of the Beamer. When the containment field stabilized it, Brian gave Burroughs a rough shove toward it.
“No, I ...” Stumbling toward the iridescent swirl, Burroughs finished his sentence hundreds of years in the future.