Jason Hill
speaker
612 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Jul 2026
last heard 5 Jul
Jason Hill’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Jul 2026 with 1.
Appearances
I smiled a small, grim smile.
Bozic had for sure.
But once I'd greased the rails, so to speak, it positively oozed cooperation.
Apparently, Director von Braun had been on annual leave for quite some time.
So long, in fact, that his return was no longer expected.
Naturally, this meant that his mailbox was positively overflowing with important correspondence.
And was there, perchance, a forwarding address for any of these epic-making compositions?
Out came the roll of bills.
I peeled off a generous amount, and no less than ten minutes later found myself slipping a letter addressed to Air Director's Private Estate into my blazer pocket.
An ivy-lashed Queen Anne Victorian restored, if not completely renewed, to a measure of its former splendor.
Oak trees loomed against the grey belly of the sky.
Water glistened far back beyond their trunks.
The house had turrets and towers, dormers, wraparound balconies and probably a few less windows than Buckingham Palace.
I parked fifty feet away on a wooded shoulder where the road ended.
I climbed from the Mercedes and leaned against the frame while the engine ticked until the pain in my lower back dulled from a fireworks display to a fistful of sparklers.
I checked the action on the 357, holstered it against my left ribs and buttoned my coat over it.
The estate was hemmed in by a 12-foot wrought iron fence with spear-like finials and towering stone gateposts shaped like rearing horses.
The horse's manes had crumbled, their chiseled flanks crept by green moss and dead vines.
The gates were closed and padlocked, but I went in through an iron door set into one of the massive stone uprights, and by went in, I mean I wrenched the door back and forth until the rusted chain securing it snapped.
A winding flagstone driveway climbed several hundred feet to the house between tall, sculpted hedges, all of which had gone to seed, an old weather-worn caryatids that stood like ghosts on their stone blocks.
Showing 441–460 of 612 · page 23 of 31
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