PROLOGUE
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
(Ernest Dowson)
An Excerpt from The Patmos Enigma: Quest of The Wandering Jew
The Patmos Enigma
Quest of the Wandering Jew
Religious Mystery Thriller / Christian Fiction
Judea, A.D.100
DEATH DESCENDED UPON him fast. Its blood lust grasped out to seize his lifeforce.
His heart hammered in his chest as he forced his exhausted body across an unforgiving terrain. He prayed for the courage to accept the kiss of his nemesis, and that its embrace would be short, sharp, and quick.
They were right behind him, gaining fast. He could hear their steel swords clashing.
Pushing himself forward, he gasped in pain. But … he must keep running. To stop would surely seal his fate. One swift blow and his head would be a gift to the sand beneath his feet. His sandals slipped and turned with every agonising stride across rocks and spiky shrubs. There was nowhere to go but upwards, and there could be no return.
His obedience to his mentors, the Guardians, had transformed him from law-abiding husband and father, into a man condemned. But he must obey his vows … must fulfill his purpose.
Behind, an elite troop of armed Roman legionnaires were in pursuit. One mounted soldier astride a white Arab stallion urged his panting steed to a faster gallop, and began closing in on him like a cheetah pursuing a deer. From the way he pointed his javelin at Koury’s sweat-stained back, his intent was clear. “Ya! Ya!” The soldier spurred his excited mount onwards.
An Excerpt from RED GROUND: The Forgotten Conflict
RED GROUND: The Forgotten Conflict
Massacres in Sierra Leone
A Military Thriller based on True Events
1
Sierra LeoneFebruary 1995
I was too slow… unprepared. I had heard nothing through the crashing of a tropical rainstorm.
For that error, there would be a price to pay.
I would become a man haunted by my mistakes. I should have died … I didn’t.
We had been surrounded. Neither my men nor I had heard them approach. The hut door flew open with a savage bang followed by a stream of shells from AK-47s slicing and cutting through the flimsy mud walls. The small space filled with the raw smell of cordite and an overwhelming noise of gunfire, and African voices shouting, screaming and yelling.
This was it. It was all over for us.
But I was wrong.
It had only just begun.
From the first day we arrived, I had been the over eager white man with the superior technology, regarding the Sierra Leone conflict as a Marx Brothers comedy. How fucking wrong I was!
An Excerpt from THE LAZARUS SUCCESSION
A LEGEND to SLAUGHTER FOR
A TRUTH to DIE FOR
PROLOGUE
Bethany, Nr. Jerusalem
The Tomb of Lazarus
The crowd pressed in tight behind me, so much so that I could not turn around. The pressure of the people pushing and jostling, trying to see, caused consternation and anger amongst those caught hard in the middle of the pack. I was fortunate to be in the front rank.
They had come to see the man called Jesus. It was said he was a magician, a holy man, a prophet. I’ve heard stories, but whatever he was, it was known that he had performed astounding acts; like curing lepers and causing the blind to see.
His followers had linked arms and formed a ring, preventing the crowd from overwhelming him.
Rumour had it that a friend of his, named Lazarus, had died four days ago, and was now entombed behind the large stone in front of the cave. His friends and relatives were sobbing and talking to Jesus; some looked sad, others sounded angry. The man, this Jesus, asked for the stone to be rolled away. It was, and he walked to the entrance.
