A Donovan Cross Novel

Donovan Cross is the NIA’s legendary secret agent. He has been sent on dozens of missions in every corner of the globe and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal. Originally from Hawaii, Cross has not returned home in nearly 30 years. The unexpected death of his parents altered the course of his life. Instead of attending a prestigious college on a scholarship, he chose a path of spying and espionage.

When the Agency ordered him to return to his birthplace, he anticipated confronting painful memories of his parents' passing. Unbeknownst to him, his presence on the island is crucial to addressing a sensitive global crisis: China's imminent invasion of Taiwan.

Hawaii is being used, shrouded in secrecy, to facilitate this invasion. The skills Cross has honed over the years and his knowledge of the island's secrets will lead him and his newfound ally, the beautiful Jade Viper, on the thrill ride of a lifetime.

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Excerpt from Return To Hawaii © Copyright 2025 Daniel J. Voelker

Prologue

Cross was pleased to be back in Honolulu. With a blue sky and only a few soft, billowy clouds in the back drop, he saw a parasail in the distance and thought it would be a great way to get a bird’s eye view of the area. After all, top-secret intel pointed to Waikiki as the location of unusual electronic activity.

After his morning coffee and some tropical fruit, he made his way along the boardwalk next to the beach to Duke Kahanamoku’s Parasailing Shack. As he entered, “can I help you sir,” the tan, long-haired, bare-chested young man asked. “Yes, I would like to parasail today, perhaps early this afternoon. Can you help me?” “I sure can, the young man said with an excited tone. It’s $150 for a half hour and $250 for an hour, I recommend a full hour.” Being the big spender that he was, Cross paid for a full hour. After all, he had an unlimited expense account from Uncle Sam.

He had parasailed before–never for pleasure–always on a reconnaissance mission. Once over the Red Sea, once over the Mediterranean and several times over the Black Sea. It had always made him feel a bit uneasy, though. It wasn’t that he felt it was dangerous, indeed he had seen children and seniors alike partake safely, it was just that he did not feel in control. Cross always needed to feel in control.

As his parashoot lifted gently into the sky an hour or so before sunset, the world below shrank, a patchwork of blue, turquoise and white sand beach below and, as the sun began to set, vibrant shades of orange, pink and purple appeared on the horizon. Cross’ pulse quickened, the wind wiping across his face.

He was at least a thousand yards high, soaring over the beautiful turquoise waters of the ocean just a few hundred yards offshore. He scanned the beachfront and there was nothing that looked suspicious. Only an area, perhaps a hundred yards wide, where the reef opened up and appeared to continue unabated to the open sea. The beaches were still full of ardent sun bathers, but no one was in the water as there had been a warning this afternoon and signs placed on the beachfront that a large team of sharks were working the shoreline. This was not normal. The Coast Guard had been sent to neutralize the threat, but was nowhere in sight.

His thoughts immediately turned from Waikiki to Honolulu’s Chinatown where he had spent his days and nights since his return posing as a tourist, partaking of its pungent and greasy foods, strip clubs and casino.

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