The Last Eurostar to London

By Sam Power

Glen Oaks must catch the last Paris to London Eurostar as a sudden terrorist bio-agent attack turns ordinary people into brutal killers. Marianne, a brave Dutch school teacher, helps Glen when it all goes crazy. Oaks is going to need all his old military skills to keep them both alive. With deadly mayhem happening throughout the train, could they even get to London or was it far too late anyway?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Power
• Release date: Apr 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310840043

Book preview

The Last Eurostar to London

By

Sam Power

Smashwords Edition

Copyright: Sam Power 2016

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This eBook is based on some true events; however, they have all been fictionalized. Any persons appearing in this work are fictitious and names used are for dramatic purposes only. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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This is the end …beautiful friend

This is the end … my only friend

The end

Of our elaborate plans

The end

No safety or surprise

The end

I’ll never look into your eyes …again.

Can you picture what will be

So limitless set free

Desperately in need …of some stranger’s hand

In a …desperate land

This is the end …beautiful friend

This is the end … my only friend

The end

Though it hurts to set you free

But you’ll never follow me

The end of laughter and soft lies

The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end

Undying thanks to John Ray Robbie and Jim

The Last Eurostar to London

Chapter One

Glen Oaks had been in Paris all day on business. He’d made a very early start to arrive in the French capital around eight o’clock that morning by Eurostar from St. Pancras, London. His wish was he would be returning the same day if things went well with his French clients.

His business day went extremely well, and Glen couldn’t wait to put a call in to his works in England to tell them what a great success it had been as he’d landed a huge sales order. What had also pleased him was he’d actually made good time. This was surprising because his clients had insisted, he join them in something of a celebratory lunch that stretched over the usual two-hour midday feast the French so enjoy.

After being more than adequately wined and dined; he said his goodbyes and became subject to the local over-indulgence of handshaking and cheek-kissing that makes British men generally recoil from, unless it’s celebrating a victory by your favourite sports team but only after consuming large quantities of alcohol.

Knowing he had to learn to accept all this because it was the norm in France, Glen would soon adjust as he was now considered ‘part of the family’ to the Dubois manufacturing company and believed this custom was only a small cross to bear. Although the kissing thing with French business women was something, he could grow to like a lot.

Happy with his success, he now felt dog-tired from this long business day. For him, it had started at two-thirty am this morning and yet thankful it was time to make his way back to the Gare du Nord for the train journey home.

Outside the busy station entrance; Glen was surprised at the huge numbers of armed police patrolling the famous French landmark. He figured that it may be an exercise to practice the heightened security arrangements due to those terrible terrorist attacks last year.

However, it soon became quite apparent that today was quite a different set-up.

Walking onto the concourse; Oaks could instantly see the police were here in full force, but the army had also made its presence known by conspicuously patrolling around in heavily armed groups of four to display its firm stamp of authority on absolutely everything.

Being ex-military himself, Glen recognised the green berets and emblems of the Foreign Legion and already knew they were a real bunch of hard nuts with a tough reputation.

Unable to put a tag on it; he felt something was going on that really didn’t feel right. Logic dictated he should get on the Eurostar as quickly as possible. Maybe the authorities had been warned of a bomb planted somewhere close to the station. Whatever it was; it created an atmosphere of fear and tension. Those that had previously experienced such dangerous situations found it easy to read the apprehension on the faces of those skittish police officers that were reluctant to share any of their Intel with the public.

Oaks checked his phone for the latest news here in Paris before shifting to the BBC, but neither produced anything of value. It seemed like there was something of a media blackout.

A large queue had formed at the gate for the London bound Eurostar and was taking ages to get through. Everyone was being triple-checked before being allowed to board. Once Glen had managed to get through security and onto the train; the first thing he noticed was an armed policeman at either end of his carriage. He suspected it was probably the same throughout the many carriages that made up this elegant locomotive.

As passengers found their seats, the atmosphere became a little more relaxed as they’d accepted the fact that having an armed guard ride with them was probably a good thing. The policemen tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible by standing at either end of the carriage and not swaggering up and down the aisle all macho like. In all probability, the French security services were just making doubly sure everyone was going to be safe on their journey to London.

However, when such tight security measures gave the average traveller a welcome peace of mind, it only brought a great deal of unease for Glen Oaks. He’d served in the Royal Marines for five years before joining the Special Boat Service (like the U.S. Navy SEALS). He was someone whose experience in the forces had taught him self-reliance and to have a good nose for trouble. Unfortunately, he could smell big trouble right now but unsure just how it was about to come his way.

Some of the carriage doors were still open and you could now hear something of a strangely distant roar. Soon it was even louder than the tick-over of the train’s engines.

To