Vengeance: Alexandra Drummond Thriller Series, #4

By T M Goble

In the gripping fourth instalment of the Alexandra Drummond Thriller series, "Vengeance," Alexandra finds herself teetering on the precipice of a life-altering mistake that could lead to the collapse of everything she holds dear.

As the anniversary of her husband's tragic death approaches, Alex is reminded of the bittersweet memories that once brought her joy, now distant and fading. Haunted by unresolved thoughts and consumed by her own inner turmoil, her world is on the brink of unravelling.

A routine patrol takes an unexpected turn when a call reporting an armed robbery demands her immediate attention. However, distracted by her inner demons, Alexandra makes a critical error that places her on the wrong side of the law. Tension courses through her actions as she grapples with the looming threat of incarceration, a threat that could shatter her life irreparably.

Seeking solace and clarity, Alexandra joins her Egyptian friends for their annual mourning ritual. Little do they anticipate that the spectre of urban violence will descend upon a once-reputable area of London, unleashing chaos and fear in its wake.

With scant evidence to present to the police, Alexandra takes matters into her own hands and embarks on a personal investigation. Her determination knows no bounds as she races against time to unearth enough evidence for a full-scale police operation. The path she treads is fraught with danger, uncertainty, and hidden adversaries.

In "Vengeance," Alexandra Drummond's resilience and resourcefulness are put to the ultimate test as she battles not only the dark forces that threaten her, but also her own inner demons. Can she piece together the puzzle and reveal the truth, or will her world crumble under the weight of her past and the relentless pursuit of justice?

Join Alexandra as she navigates a web of deception, intrigue, and danger, both in the shadowy depths of Cairo and the unforgiving streets of London. "Vengeance" is a pulse-pounding thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat, racing alongside Alexandra Drummond to uncover the secrets that could save her from a fate worse than death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Peak
• Release date: Feb 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224346585

Book preview

02

Asif despised his family apart from his mum who tried her best. His father beat him regularly for no good reason. The uncles in the family expected him to be at their beck and call. Anger bubbled up when his father beat his mother but he could do little to defend her. Sometimes the injuries would be so bad that she could not leave the house for days.

Asif kept his temper under control and did his best to care for his mum, but it was an unhappy and fractured home. His father was physically powerful so he couldn’t tackle him, but as Asif grew in strength each year, he would wait for the opportune moment. Then he would kick the lazy good-for-nothing father out of the house to protect his mother.

The grey misty morning did nothing to lift his spirits as he trudged to his uncle’s shop, who had many sons and daughters, so he didn’t need to employ anyone outside of his immediate family. However, under pressure from Asif’s dad, he had given him a temporary job one day a week. If he didn’t turn up his father beat him. It was a despicable soul destroying situation as he was always allocated the worst jobs, while his cousins grinned at him.

The drubbing and hardship of working would pale into insignificance, as he had a plan. His mates had agreed, but as the leader of their small group he had to perform the most crucial part. This evening they would meet up as usual and finalise their ideas before putting the ambitious scheme into action. Eagerness gripped him. It would provide them with the money they so desperately needed. Glancing at his watch, he pulled the hood tighter. For once, he wasn’t late so would receive no harangue from his uncle, although he would invent something to nag him about. The shop without its lights on in the early mist wouldn’t be open until later. At seven o’clock, before shoppers materialised, was the time for dodgy deals. He had listened and learned although he was often sent on a trivial errand when crucial customers arrived.

The drab and uninspiring frontage to his uncle’s shop with its peeling paint and cracked stonework, was in sharp contrast to the interior which was crammed with stock. A customer only had to ask and it would be fetched from the back store room. On frequent occasions he had been sent outside while a business transaction took place. Over the months of working there he had concluded it to be an illegal business fronted by a legitimate shop. He drifted along the service road behind the shops with his mind preoccupied by the evening ahead with his mates. The ill-lit area gave him no concern, but only his ambitious scheme could lift him from a bullied and persecuted life. Slouching across the yard which was strewn with rubbish he kicked out at an empty cardboard box. While the shop was neat and presentable, it didn’t extend to behind the scenes.

The back door to the premises, swollen with damp, didn’t open. With an irritated gesture, he launched his boot at it. It bounced open and crashed back onto the wall with a resounding thud. With a smirk of self-congratulation, he stepped into the dingy hall way.

His uncle in the semi-darkness snarled, ‘Any damage to the door and I will deduct it from your wages.’ Asif curled his lip at the door as it creaked and groaned on its hinges, as though in pain. The wind blew it shut.

‘What do you want me to do?’

Conversations with his uncle were short or nonexistent. ‘Follow me and be quick about it.’ Without another word he strode through to the second yard behind the building where deliveries were made. Two large pallets had been delivered containing a selection of wooden and cardboard boxes. He pointed and sneered with icy contempt, ‘I want these on the top floor.’ Asif would have a bad day if they were heavy as it would be repetitive trips.

‘Bring one, I will show you.’ Asif grimaced with annoyance that his uncle didn’t take a box. Picking up the nearest one which turned out to be staggeringly heavy, he plodded up the stairs behind his uncle. In all the time he had worked in the shop he had never visited the third floor. As he staggered and puffed up the last step, his uncle entered the code on the key pad and flung open the door. To Asif’s surprise the room was empty. It had bare boards and dingy white emulsioned walls that had seen better days. Light entered through a small grubby window on the far side. Why didn’t it have furniture? Still out of breath from the climb up the steep narrow stairs he waited in the doorway. ‘Stack them over there.’ His uncle pointed to the far side of the room.

‘What is in them, uncle?’ he tried to make his voice soft.

‘Nothing. Do as you are told. Finish the job.’

With no further acknowledgement his uncle stomped back down the stairs. Asif moved to the curtainless window and squinted through the grimy glass. Only rooftops. He pursed his lips as his mind mulled over the purpose of the empty room. What was it used for? His uncle had a dubious reputation even with his father. Rumours were rife in the community and his mother advised him to follow instructions and do nothing else. Having watched his uncle, he now knew the code for the keypad. He’d remember it. Perhaps it might come in useful. With a shrug he clattered down the stairs as his uncle would be listening. Hard work for an hour, but then his uncle would serve in the shop and he could be more leisurely.

Sweating after an hour’s hard work, his uncle nipped into the yard as he picked up another heavy cardboard box. ‘For once, you are doing well.’ His expression darkened as he screwed up his face and gave Asif an angry scowl. ‘I want all of them up by mid-morning. I’ll have no slacking from you.’ He stood glaring with his hands on his hips. ‘These boxes have been delivered early, ready for Diwali, that is how I make my money by buying early. I will now serve in the shop.

Diwali, the festival of light, was over ten months away. Candles and paper lanterns were common items for the celebration which were light in weight. These boxes were heavy. It made little sense. Was his uncle telling the truth? They had the appearance of normal parcels but were weighty and securely sealed. He had no chance of discovering the contents.

Relieved that his uncle was occupied in the shop as Asif wanted a rest as the first hour had tired him. Exhausted, he didn’t step cleanly up the last step, lurched and lost his balance. As his shoulder crashed into the door frame, he loosened his hold and the box bounced onto the floor with a loud thump. The corner of the cardboard tore, revealing a wooden frame inside. Glancing over his shoulder in case his blunder had been noticed he scooped up the damaged carton and hastily carried it into the room. With a great deal of grunting and silent swearing he rearranged the boxes so the broken one was at the back of the pile and out of sight. These were not decorations for the Diwali celebrations. He couldn’t stop otherwise his uncle would accuse him of being lazy.

Glancing out of the window to the road as he puffed up the stairs yet again, a queue had formed outside the shop. His uncle would be pleased that they were busy. His arms and legs ached from lugging such heavy items to the top floor. Even though the boxes were standard on the outside, he could not reseal the damaged one so when his uncle checked them, he would be in trouble again. The torn carpet at the top of the stairs had caused his stagger. This time as he arrived outside the room, he kicked at it, wrenching more of it from the carpet grippers. Creating undetected damage to his uncle’s building gave him a sad source of satisfaction.

The last few boxes were an effort but avoiding the torn carpet he deposited them in the top room. As he dumped the last of the boxes on the pile, he made sure they were neat with the one he had damaged in the middle so it wasn’t visible. Within minutes, his uncle appeared. With no compliment and a stern expression, he nodded at the pile, ‘Go to the shop, customers need help on carrying their purchases to the car. Quick, go down.’

Asif stepped over the broken carpet as his uncle slammed the door shut. Being younger and more agile than the round man, he bounded down three flights of stairs and hovered at the back entrance to the shop. A resounding scream echoed from the stairwell followed by several thumps and a loud crash. Asif bit his lip to stop the smile that threatened to break across his face. Asif shouted to his family, ‘Did you hear the scream? Uncle must have tripped and fallen. The noise came from upstairs.’ In the commotion that followed his announcement his eyes glanced at the shelves in the shop and spotted the same parcel tape as on the packages. With luck his uncle would have to go to hospital. As he had memorised the code for the keypad he could re-tape the parcel without suspicion. It would also give him the chance to discover the contents of the boxes.

03

Jane Craddock, having changed from her Inspector’s uniform into a stylish sky blue jacket and matching skirt strode from Scotland yard and hailed a cab. While Vincent could be enjoyable company for lunch, it depended on his mood. After a heavy workload for several days in a row and with no weekend off, she preferred no mention of work and no reference to Alex.

The Oxo Tower Bar was an excellent choice for a light meal in plush surroundings. It was an iconic landmark in London and the views from the eighth floor across the city skyline were spectacular. Added to that the menu was varied and interesting. The time had come to make Vincent pay both literally and metaphorically. Would the lunch be pleasure or business? Despite him being her on-off lover for months, she did not understand how his thought processes worked. Recently, he had dumped her, but he had made no progress in securing a relationship with Alex, so perhaps he wanted to wheedle his way back into her affections. A warm glow of anticipation spread through her at the thought. Although allowing him back, would be on her terms.

After the brief journey across the Thames, she strode with purpose across the smart foyer and took the lift to the bar. Vincent’s dress style made her hesitate in the entrance. What a surprise. Hair combed, clean shaven and she guessed an Armani suit. Had he smartened himself up for her benefit? Perhaps he was trying to make a favourable impression as he wanted to renew their relationship. Her breath quickened and her brain fizzled in anticipation. He gave a small wave and his whole face spread into a smile. It could be a wonderful lunch if he decided that she was the woman for him. In the past he had refused to make any commitments and had dismissed her view of a long-term relationship. Had he changed his mind? Today, he didn’t seem to be in his flippant mood. With a wide smile and flushed cheeks, she strode across to join him.

‘Darling, Jane.’ He jumped to his feet from the bar stool and nodded to the barman. The pink gin and soda appeared as he skimmed his lips along the sweep of her cheek. In anticipation she had already applied for a half day’s leave, although it was a formality. The barman raised his eyes towards a table away from the bar. Jane shook her head and slipped onto the bar stool. As a group moved across the bar, the elegant women showed off the latest fashions. Some of the styles appealed to her while others were too flamboyant for her taste. Jane never willing to compromise to conventions in her private life had chosen a short skirt with skin coloured tights although had opted for a voluminous blouse and unusually for her had no cleavage showing.

Vincent appeared relaxed and his eyes glinted with pleasure. The perfect host. The waiter discreetly placed leather clad menus on the bar next to them. Everything seemed perfect and she exhaled a long sigh of contentment as she savoured the moment. Picking up her gin, ice clinked gently in the glass as she rolled it between her fingers, ‘Is there a special reason for eating at this delightful location?’

His face glowed and in a relaxed manner he rested his elbow on the bar. The silence between them stretched. Why didn’t he answer? Was he in a frivolous and teasing mood? Pressing her lips together she resisted the urge to repeat her words. In his usual manner he would respond eventually or change the topic of the conversation thus avoiding the question.

‘Excellent food with a beautiful woman.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched her. Then he nodded towards the barman for the gin and tonic to be topped up.

In the past she had been lulled by his approach, so she had to choose her words carefully. ‘Are we in this plush location for business or pleasure?’

Sipping his drink, his eyes lingered on her legs. ‘I propose a miniscule amount of business first then we can put it on one side and enjoy the rest of lunch. Business is nothing heavy.’

Taking a large gulp of gin and tonic, she would accept the business before lunch but would take control of the agenda for the afternoon. It could be her best chance to ease Vincent away from Alex, whose leave of absence would be a formality. As she would be out of the country for three months it would give her a chance to facilitate her plans for Vincent.

Vincent rolled his eyes, ‘I know that expression. The narrowing of the eyes means you are scheming. However, I’m happy to go along with your wishes for this afternoon. Are we agreed to business over pre-lunch drinks and then social chat?’

In his usual style he was in control and had planned the timescale for their meeting. She would concede at the beginning as she was intrigued about the business matters. With a gracious smile she tilted her head to one side, ‘Business?’

‘Tomorrow you will be officially appointed as the liaison between the Secret Services and the Met Police which is in addition to your current role.’

Was this good or bad news? she frowned in confusion and her mind raced searching for answers. ‘Whatever your department wants to do nothing stops them. Then the police have to tidy up the resulting mess.’ Pausing she glared in a condescending manner, ‘In such a role I would receive the blame from both sides.’

‘A cynical view, but close to the truth. Everyone knows on both sides that it’s a lousy job. I’ll help with inside information. The usual security investigation has been completed and you have passed into the highest level.’ A subtle look of amusement creased his lips, ‘How that ever happened I do not know, but you are in.’

‘What happens if I don’t want the job?’

Leaning forward, as though to whisper. ‘You do, as it affects your career.’

For the last few months, she had been thinking about her lack of progress up the career ladder. It had come to a grinding halt which troubled her. Even after persuading her Superintendent into a brief affair, he would not offer her assistance. Why had Vincent suddenly become helpful? He had dumped her, so it didn’t make sense. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘How does it affect my career?’

‘When you receive the opportunity tomorrow, you will access the career route of those who went before you.’ Taking a slow sip of gin his eyes remained focused on her. ‘You will deal with anyone who obstructs your career path and will tread on them without regret.’

Although she didn’t appreciate him expressing her actions in such a forthright manner, she conceded he had a point.

‘While you might consider it a hopeless job where you receive the blame, it is different to your previous roles.’

A gloomy cloud descended and her expression stalled. This was not the conversation she wanted when expecting a lavish lunch.

Vincent flicked his hand again and two more gins arrived. His eyes widened with amusement as he studied her with an intensity that made her squirm. ‘It’s obvious you prefer to sit behind your desk and spend the time planning elaborate rotas for your staff.’ Jane didn’t react as it would fuel Vincent’s humour. ‘Your new role will clear the mess left by the security services and some of your violent police enforcers.’ She pressed her lips together in a firm hard line to resist responding. ‘When the mess hits the fan, you clean it up, but there is a good side provided you make a reasonable attempt.’

Jane took a large slug of gin to quell her rising uncertainty at the less than ideal situation which confronted her. For a long moment she stared idly around the bar. Then looking him straight in the eye, her lips curved downwards into a stubborn pout, ‘The job description does not sound inviting.’

‘Several knights and two dames have littered the career path. It means hard work but within the inner security circle it’s the fastest step up the career ladder. Unless you muddy the waters, you will receive a gong at the end.’

‘What happened to the last incumbent?’

Amusement flickered in Vincent’s eyes. ‘He was your Superintendent, but he has resigned from heavy duties because of his divorce following an affair within the service.’

Jane looked at her drink and took a sip to hide her confusion. The expression on Vincent’s face worried her. How could he know she was the guilty party? Perhaps he guessed. He knew too much about what happened. In recent times she’d vowed to be wary of him, so she needed to be on her guard. To deflect the conversation away from her, she raised her chin and keeping her emotions in check asked, ‘Does Alex figure in your business plans?’

He gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. ‘It takes time to investigate a potential double agent. Her links with Egypt and Algeria are unclear and her friends from all nationalities formed her personal guard abroad. My guess is she will be recruited as an agent, possibly a double one.’ Jane narrowed her eyes and attempted to read his expression without success. ‘There is no other option. She has the mentality as we know to take on combat situations without blinking an eye.’

‘Yes, while she might be a pain, there is no doubting her capabilities. Will the Secret Services recruit her, or will she stay in the police?’

‘There is one other department that no one mentions, who are interested in her.’

Jane’s eyes opened wide. ‘You mean those who quietly deal with the enemies of the state.’

Vincent sipped his drink and imperceptibly nodded.

Jane focused on his face, ‘To recruit or dispose?’

‘Now that is an interesting question. Shall we go to lunch? The beef roulade looks superb.’

04

The idea had come to Asif many months ago, but he had not mentioned it, even to his closest friends. But gradually, as the thoughts firmed in his mind, he shared the idea speculatively with them over a few beers. Nothing more. As his life became harder, his father expected jobs to be completed but never paid him. Lack of money coupled with no hope and oppression coming from every side, required desperate measures, so he had shared his serious thoughts with his mates. Their prospects were as bleak. With no skills or qualifications, they were at the bottom of the list for jobs.

For once in his life, he energised himself to serious study, but only because the result would benefit him and his mates substantially. Constant observations coupled with planning had been drawn together. His mates were