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162 pages

English

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Description

A passenger aircraft heads towards London; it has a bomb on board. In the city, members of Islamic State have placed a dirty bomb at a strategic London location. Their plan is for the aircraft to crash into central London to combine with the detonation of the dirty bomb. It means the destruction of London is about to begin.The Islamic State has secreted thousands of battle-hardened IS soldiers into Europe, hidden amongst the flood of refugees and migrants, so that they can spread their Jihad. They are going to do battle and attack the non-believers with the aim of total domination through their radical form of Islam.Grenville Makepeace runs the MI6 Middle East anti-terrorist section but has to take a cautious line because there are those who ignore the terrorist threat already embedded in the corridors of power. Those responsible for safeguarding the country from attack are being challenged, so he turns to the Excalibur Foundation for help. They in turn look to Dan Pierce, a former French Foreign Legion sniper, and his reporter associate, Katie Jackson, to cut the head off the IS snake...

Sujets

Jihad

Djihad

Thriller

Islam

Informations

Publié par	eBook Versions
Date de parution	20 septembre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781843964841
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Published by Welham Books

Copyright © 2017 Mike Welham

All rights reserved

Author s website
www.welhambooks.com

Mike Welham has asserted
his right under the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988
to be identified as the author
of this work.

ISBN 978-1-84396-484-1

Also available in paperback
ISBN 978-1-97441-963-0

This book is a work of fiction
and all the characters and/or
organisations and events appearing
in this work are the product of
the author s imagination; any
resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.

eBook production
eBook Versions
27 Old Gloucester Street
London WC1N 3AX
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Also by Mike Welham

Crabb and the Grey Rabbit - Britain s 100-year Spy Secret (with Jacqui Welham)
Oliver s War
The Innocents
Fall of the European Empire
Thomas
WTC Building 7
Death of a Scientist
Crime Pays
The Crabb Enigma (with Jacqui Welham)
Frogman Spy (with Jacqui Welham)
Combat Frogmen
Kampfschwimmer - Geschichte Austung Einsatze
Naval Elite Units
Operation Spetsnaz
Exploring the Deep

See Other Books for more current information
Acknowledgements

Special thanks go to Joe Welham
for his cover designs and to Jeannette
Steele for her editing of my books
TARGET:
LONDON

Mike Welham

Welham Books
Contents

Cover
Copyright Credits
Also by Mike Welham
Acknowledgements

Title Page
Author s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One

Authors Biographies
Other books by Mike Jacqui Welham
Author s Note

Quote - In an article, Professor Koopmans, who is the Director of the Research Unit Migration, Integration and Transnationalisation at the Berlin Social Sciences Centre, warned the EU in February 2017 that, Of the 1 billion adult Muslims in the world, half of them are attached to an arch-conservative Islam which places little worth on the rights of women, homosexuals, and people of other faiths. He claims that probably more than 50 million are willing to sanction violence. He stressed that not every one of them was ready to exert violence directly but, they support the radicals, they encourage them and provide them shelter or simply keep their mouths shut when they observe radicalisation. He stated that, There is nothing wrong with foreign cultures, as long as they are looking for the connection to the majority in society and actually enrich our countries. But those who are here to spread their medieval beliefs, which are unfortunately widespread in Islamic countries, must be met with zero tolerance. He stressed that, The EU should be much more careful to let suspected Islamists have uncontrolled travel to and within Europe. ExpressOnline 13 February 2017.
1

His head felt fuzzy and it ached; perhaps it was best likened to having a blinder of a hangover. That same head rested on what was probably a table whilst his body sat on what he thought was an uncomfortable wooden chair. None of this was helped by the fact that his hands were tied behind his back and his ankles had some sort of restraint around them. He could not see where he was because a bag covered his head, which stank of something he could not identify, but which was obnoxious; his brain and senses were playing mind games. He coughed then drew in breath, which caused the material to cover his mouth. After several attempts he managed to lift his body upright, allowing his head to hang forward down onto his chest. The cloth no longer touched his face but hung away, although when breathing he could feel that he drew the fabric towards his mouth. Sitting passively, the cloudiness that befuddled his head began to clear and he became aware that there were other people in what he anticipated was a room. They did not speak and all movement was done quietly; no attention was paid to him.
Unless you had endured such treatment before, this would make most people freak out – which, of course, would be an opportunity for his kidnappers to intervene and maybe get violent. Having undertaken interrogation training in the French Foreign Legion, he could endure it; but there had to be an endgame: survival. However, he knew that it was one thing to be held in a training environment but quite another actually to a prisoner. The other problem was that he did not know who his kidnappers were. The only option for him at that moment was to go with the flow; he could do that, so passive was good: there was no other choice. Having been kidnapped on the streets of Paris, he knew by the time frame that he was still within the confines of the city or its outskirts. Then, from the number of steps he had climbed at the end of the journey, he calculated that he was probably on the fourth or fifth floor of an apartment in one of the many tower blocks that accommodated a discontented group of the population which included immigrants. From that moment, things could only get worse.
That morning Dan had gone to the Chez Khalid, a caf in an area of Paris known to have a reputation that linked it to Islamic radicalisation. He saw nothing to concern him whilst walking about and the caf looked fine; because of the inclement weather he entered and sat inside. There were a few men sitting in discussion and some he mentally put in a be cautious box, but he ignored them. They looked at him but he did not make eye contact. He ordered a coffee and reached out to get one of the local newspapers to read. Normally he would be in a WiFi zone and using his laptop. Today he was restricted to the newspaper. He was the only Caucasian in the place; his presence was seemingly of some interest to the locals.
One minute he was sipping his coffee; the next thing he knew, he was regaining the minute awareness that a bag had been placed over his head. His hands were tied behind him so he could not steady himself as he lay in a van that was progressing on its journey by weaving in and out of traffic and following an erratic route. He was aware when the van stopped, and that he was helped out the back; then, with a powerful set of arms on either side, he slowly registered that he was being guided up a number of flights of stairs. He was in a building, probably a tower block; he was taken into a room where he could tell from the smell that he was in the Arabic quarter but this could also have been coming from the bag. As a legionnaire, he knew many of the smells that defined a country, an area or an ethnic community; this was Middle Eastern or North African and in France.
He had been drugged and kidnapped; he had not seen it coming. Who had carried out the deed and what they wanted was not clear. If they wanted to attack a white person or kill him specifically, then they could have done that and dumped him in a street, his head removed from his torso. Had they taken him so that they could record some sort of torture to show Parisians and France what they could do? In his current situation there was little option to remedy his situation. He considered that had they wanted to rob him, he would not be sitting on the chair but would be lying beaten up in some back alley. No; lacing his drink was another step up. If they wanted to harm a Westerner then they could do that anywhere in Paris, not waste time with a charade. He sat passively, his head resting on his chest awaiting the unfolding events.
He heard people moving about and speaking softly in a language he did not understand. Then he knew that somebody was standing close to him; the hood was pulled off his head, but the smell lingered. His hands were still tied behind his back and his ankles bound but he could raise his head just enough to be able to see his immediate surroundings. The room was dimly lit; a heavy, dark material covered the window, shielding much of the light. As his eyes adjusted, he noted that the only real illumination actually came from the open door. The table he was sitting behind was in the corner furthest away from that door. He became aware that cleaning was not high on the agenda of the room s usual occupants. A mixture of body odour and exotic spices filled the air. He d been in worse places; but not many.
From what he could make out, two people dressed in black overalls and wearing masks were the only other occupants of the room and they now stood close to the door. Nobody spoke; they just stood guard by the door. Then two spotlights, that were on the table facing him, were switched on; the bright light illuminated him and its intense the glare restricted his ability to see beyond it. Blinking and narrowing his eyes helped him to see, but not enough to really matter. On the table in front of him lay his passport in the name of Peter Davenport, some money, a credit card, a street map of Paris, a British pay-as-you-go mobile phone and a rather creased receipt from the hotel he was staying at.
He thought he could make out the door to the room, which was open to allow people to enter. The door closed, eliminating what light there was and causing them to become like black ghosts moving in the shadows. One had stepped forward and sat down on the other side of the table that separated them. The lights still filling his vision, Dan focused on the individual who, when he leaned forward, enabled him to make out that the central figure was dressed in black with a black cloth wrapped round his head which covered most of his face. Nothing was said. He became aware that two men had move