Seven Days: Alexandra Drummond Thriller Series, #7

By T M Goble

In the heart-pounding seventh instalment of the Alexandra Drummond Thriller Series, "Seven Days," Alexandra is teetering on the brink of psychological collapse as the relentless toll of violence weighs heavily on her conscience. With her world in turmoil, duty becomes her driving force, propelling her forward into the darkest depths of danger.

Haunted by the harrowing memories of too much bloodshed, Alexandra's soul bears the scars of her relentless pursuit of justice. The impact of violence looms large, an ever-present spectre that shadows her every move, threatening to consume her sanity.

Isolated and ostracized, Alexandra's once-loyal supporters have dwindled, leaving her on the precipice of total solitude. The temptation of retreating into the shadows beckons, but she knows that to do so would make her a sitting target, vulnerable to the myriad enemies she's amassed along her tumultuous journey.

Amidst the chaos and despair, crucial information emerges, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness. But does Alexandra possess the strength to chase down the elusive sources? How many enemies lurk in the shadows, and are they multiplying faster than she can keep up with?

In "Seven Days," Alexandra Drummond's resilience is put to the ultimate test as she grapples with her inner demons, navigates treacherous waters, and confronts a chilling realization—her enemies are not only external but also within herself. With duty as her unwavering compass, she must confront the agonizing question: Can she continue to bear the weight of her past and face the relentless pursuit of her adversaries?

Join Alexandra as she races against the clock, haunted by her own past and surrounded by shadows of uncertainty. "Seven Days" is a gripping thriller that delves deep into the psyche of a relentless warrior, battling not only external threats but also the demons within, in a high-stakes game of survival and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Peak
• Release date: Feb 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224507078

Book preview

Day One

01

Alex’s mind raced at the thought of what awaited her but her body did not move. She sat alone in the rear seat of a black vehicle. The seats were black. The ribbons tied to the door handles were black. She was dressed in a black dress which reached her ankles and the black hat with its large brim was also adorned with black ribbons.

No one had come with her. She was alone. Her sister and family had distanced themselves from her and rarely communicated. There would be many there but she had no one next to her. Why hadn’t they killed her? Assassinating Vince was an act of pure evil. They had wanted her to suffer. They had succeeded. She had cried for days, but today there would be no tears.

Grim and determined, she would now face the future alone. She bowed her head as the car travelled slowly along the narrow lanes. The journey would not take long and the countryside through which they travelled held no interest for her today. Her hands were clenched in her lap and with an effort she forced them into a more natural position. If they relaxed perhaps the rest of her body would follow suit. The gold band glittering on the fourth finger of her left hand was a stark reminder of what she had lost.

Next to it was a beautiful eternity ring set with diamonds, which Vince had given her at the Vegan restaurant where they had celebrated the first full day of their married life. It had been engraved. I love you - always and forever. As she stared a single tear dropped onto her lap.

The car drifted to a halt. Outside, silence prevailed, broken only by the slow tolling of the church bell. The scene was expected. She lifted her head and waited. Soon the door would open and she would have to face the day. Breathing slowly and deeply she forced her features into what she hoped was a bland but composed expression. Pulling the black veil down, she sat motionless. Her back was straight, with the pretence of a calmness that was at odds with the sadness and despair that filled her whole body. No tears. Would peace ever prevail in her life? It was not a question that she wanted to analyse today.

Staring at the black emblem embossed into the back of the driver’s seat, she did not move. The morning sunshine filtered through the trees bathing the area in a rosy glow, which was in sharp contrast to her fragile and despondent mood. A flicker of light caught the brass plaque on the casket as it was moved from the hearse to the pallbearers in a slow practiced manner.

The six men in dark suits slowly lifted the coffin onto their shoulders. Then with care they moved the short distance to the timber framed lychgate, which marked the beginning of the path towards the church. They paused. Their instructions were precise to every yard. The low sun spotlighted the harrowing sight, making her gasp. Her hands clenched as she struggled to control the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The grey tower of the church stretched up into the sky which was filled with a scattering of clouds. Why wasn’t the sky dark and gloomy? It would have been more fitting for such a heart-breaking event. She would have preferred to use the chapel attached to the Manor for the service, but it would not accommodate the number of people wishing to attend. The parish church had been the obvious compromise.

Alex gulped, forcing back the tears. Her eyes rested on a tall familiar figure who stood motionless, with a ramrod straight back, to the side of the gate. His civilian suit had been soaked in the last rain shower. The line of medals on his chest glistened in the spasmodic sunshine. She had not expected him at the funeral. Wearing his regimental beret, as the casket reached him, he came to attention and saluted. It was Malcolm, Tanya’s husband. His gesture in attending the service today overwhelmed her and she shook with emotion. How she wished her beloved sister was at his side.

The funeral celebrant moved to the door of the limousine. Tall and lean, he was dressed in a black morning suit. As he removed his top hat, the black ribbons attached to the brim, fluttered in the breeze. With careful precision he clicked open the door and held it wide. On shaking legs Alex stepped from the car. He bowed to her, stood upright and replaced his top hat. The monotonous bell tolled. The pall bearers waited. Her heart hammered. The celebrant opened his hand to indicate her position. With a deep steadying breath, she stepped behind the casket. Malcolm, with military steps and precision, joined her to the right. She didn’t acknowledge his presence as her eyes were fixed on the casket where the body of her beloved Vince lay. It was difficult to suppress the sob that rose in her throat. How would she cope without him?

The celebrant moved to the front. The procession waited as the vicar took small, slow steps from the church. A short round man in a white cleric’s gown, his unkempt white hair flicked in a windy gust. With a glance at the heavens, he passed between the guard of honour assembled along the cemetery path formed from Vince’s old regiment and his civilian agents. It had come as a surprise when she had received their request, as he had never mentioned being enlisted in the army.

The church bell continued its rhythmic tolling. The vicar gave a brief nod to the celebrant, then turned to lead the entourage into the church. The double oak doors were opened wide. The organ music boomed. The procession inched forward. The uneven flagstone path forced the pall bearers to move cautiously at a slow pace.

The casket focused her mind and sight. A slight delay to their passage was necessary as the route to the nave was cleared of people. They stopped.

Allowing her eyes to wander. Men stood with their heads down, but their eyes searched the surrounding area. Humphrey’s agents. All others had been cleared from the cemetery. No one would be allowed access. At the corner of the church, on a slight rise in the ground, Weas stood motionless. Dressed in his usual attire of jeans and a tee shirt, he would deal with the death of his friend, Vince, in his own way. The organ music changed. The signal for the entourage to progress through the guard of honour and enter the church.

A slight movement from Weas caught her attention. Why had she noticed?

Two shots rang out. The frightened doves on the church roof flapped away, quickly followed by a raucous flock of jackdaws. Malcolm crumpled with a loud moan to the ground. Blood poured from his body and he became motionless. Alex had no doubt in her mind that he was dead. No one could be alive with a gaping hole in their chest. Pandemonium broke out as everyone searched for a secure place to hide. The agents and the vicar dived to the ground while others crouched behind large gravestones. With speed the pall bearers placed the casket on the ground and dived flat.

The bell stopped tolling and for a brief moment silence descended, as everyone held their breath and waited. The only sound to reach Alex was the mumbling from the vicar who was lying next to the casket in a foetal position, with his hands clasped and his eyes shut. He prayed. The words reached her. ‘Dear God, please help us. Save us from this evil.’ Alex agreed that they needed help but wasn’t particular who provided it.

As her eyes darted around the churchyard, anger and indignation bubbled up within her. How dare someone spoil this important occasion. Her muscles stiffened, but she remained standing, and in an impatient gesture pushed the veil away from her face. Movement on the far side of the churchyard caught her attention as the local armed police rushed to a man who was sprawled on the embankment opposite the church.

Everyone except her and Weas had taken cover. He stood motionless with his gun still in his hand. The first shot had come from the assassin and the second from Weas. For a long moment their eyes locked. Then he lifted his arm and pointed towards the motionless body on the embankment. Keeping eye contact with Alex, he mouthed, ‘He’s dead. No fear.’

A megaphone enhanced voice cut through the air. ‘Take cover.’ Her lips quirked in annoyance and she flicked a dismissive hand to the droning loudspeaker. All the while her eyes remained fixed on Weas. Without doubt he was an amazing man. If it hadn’t been for his quick reaction in shooting the assassin then many more people would have died. Would she have been one of them? Highly likely was the immediate response that sprang into her mind. The bullet which had killed Malcolm had been meant for her. An icy chill swept through her body and she shivered.

The nearby agents shuffled next to her, drew their guns and faced outwards, searching for a further attack. ‘Get down ma’am, please.’ Ignoring their words, she continued to observe Weas who hadn’t moved from his position at the corner of the church. His eyes continued to examine the area. Was he searching for an accomplice?

Humphrey rushed from the church and drew his gun. Sirens wailed. Megaphones issued instructions and agitated voices filled the air. She closed her ears to the outside world. This was not the day that she had planned. Life was so difficult and unpredictable.

She glanced down. Another death. A friend. Her brother-in-law. Numbness entered her body. No feeling. No visceral reaction. The rift between her and Tanya would never be reconciled. She would blame Alex for the killing of Malcolm, her beloved husband. Death surrounded her.

Weas strode across the churchyard. He nodded to his Director, Humphrey, then faced Alex. ‘Boss, what do you want to do? Your decision.’

For a long moment she stared at the ground as her thoughts twisted and turned. It was a struggle to control the screams of frustration that wanted to escape from her lungs. Humphrey touched her arm jolting her back to reality. ‘Weas is talking to you.’ She blinked at him with a mixture of bewilderment and total disbelief as her mind sped through what had taken place. Clarity of thought seemed to have deserted her.

‘What do you want to do, boss? Do it now or on another day?’

A doctor and paramedic arrived at Malcolm’s side, but with a glance they shook their heads. The armed police escorted them away.

She focused on the casket, then transferred her attention to the body of Malcolm. A police officer covered him with a Union Jack. With a sharp intake of breath, she willed her brain to engage and focus on the problem and the alternatives. It was imperative to make the right decision. Images of the two men filled her mind. Neither Vince nor Malcolm would have delayed. She knew them well. Their psyche. Different to her, but utterly determined. Their colleagues and friends could be killed in operations on the battlefield or in one of Vince’s undercover forays. They had entered those desperate environments with the perception their death might come. Respect and bonding were essentials. From the first time Malcolm and Vince had met, they had an unspoken connection and it was evident any time they were together. Both of their voices resonated in her head saying, no delays, never yield to killers.

Pushing her shoulders back, the muscles along her jaw line clenched. She would not be defeated. She would not allow the assassin to gain the upper hand. Others in the congregation and the church might take a different view, but Weas was a comrade to Vince and Malcolm. The same mental structure and ethos. That is why he had asked the question. The man instinctively understood. He only uttered a few words, but they conveyed meaning and passion. He would always remain a mystery to her, but today he had saved a mass killing. What made him tick? The answer to that might always remain a mystery, but his comment had been pertinent and what she had needed to focus her thoughts.

The impassive faces of Weas and Humphrey gave no clues, but they would support whatever decision she made. Never give in to killers. The words resonated around her head. She could hear Vince and Malcolm uttering those words. She repeated them, ‘Never give in to killers.’ Weas nodded.

Standing at her tallest she turned her attention towards the vicar, who had been assisted to his feet and stood with his hand against the trunk of a large tree as though for support. His face had lost all colour and was chalk white, while his eyes had taken on a haunted expression. ‘Vicar, may we continue?’

There was a moment’s hesitation before he stepped towards her and clutched her hand. ‘My child, do you realise what you are saying,’ his voice was shrill and his expression had stretched into a mask of terror. ‘Another attack may come any minute.’

‘Yes, I understand. But Vince and Malcolm would not wish it any other way, however if you feel in danger, then I will withdraw the request.’

‘God will protect me.’ He made the sign of the cross over Malcolm.

Determination flooded through her and a flicker of mischief quivered on her lips. ‘Vicar, does the organist know the Triumphal March from Aida?’ In her mind it was the perfect music for the occasion, as it signified triumph and victory over those wishing to stop today’s ceremony. Vince would have agreed with a twinkle in his eye. She gulped.

The Vicar flicked his white hair as a small sigh escaped from his lips. ‘It will take a few minutes.’

Weas caught and squeezed her hand.

Whether she had interpreted correctly, she didn’t know, but he had prompted the thought. ‘I am determined the ceremony will proceed as planned, but I am concerned about many in the congregation, who will be distressed by the shooting and enclosure enforced by the police.’ She glanced across at Weas. ‘I will address them to allay their fears.’

Weas leant towards her and lowered his voice. ‘Dead man is Dominic. Where is Katrina?’ Those names made Alex shudder. They were the pair that had broken into the Manor with the intention of beating her and Vince. Friends of the dubious Jane and Russell. Weas touched her arm, as he spoke into his radio, ‘I haven’t spotted Katrina. Is she hidden somewhere nearby? Instructions are to disarm, arrest or kill?’

The Vicar made the sign of the cross and studied Weas with a troubled expression. Refocusing his attention towards Alex, his hand rested on the clerical collar around his neck, ‘My child, there is so much distress, anger and talk of violence which is not appropriate for God’s church.’

Alex gripped his arm. ‘Your Reverend, you will have preached many sermons about resisting evil and temptation. Well, evil is amongst us.’

He bowed his head but remained silent.

‘Vince my dead husband, Malcolm, who lies on the ground next to me, and Weas standing at my side, will not allow evil to kill innocent citizens. I am their target. If they could enter the church, they will kill me and everyone else. The men and women surrounding me would never bow to threats, the same as Vince and Malcolm. I will never yield to the killers, but if you wish to postpone, I will concede.

He gasped, his brow wrinkled and his eyes widened in alarm. ‘While such activities are distressing in the church’s proximity, I can see you have many protectors. I will not step back from my duties and have no fear for my person.’

‘May I address the congregation before the service commences? The police will escort anyone from the church who require safety.’

She glanced at Humphrey, who stood nearby but had holstered his gun. He made no comment but drifted away, talking into his hidden mike.

‘Are you in agreement, Weas?’

The vicar studied him with an intense focus.

‘Yes, boss. The right decision.’

The Vicar licked his lips, scanned the churchyard and hill overlooking the area, which swarmed with armed police. ‘My child, you are brave beyond comprehension. I will lead you to the pulpit to address the congregation.’

‘Will you be on your own and…’

Alex touched his arm. ‘There will be no overt arms in God’s house.’

He dipped his head.

Weas stepped next to her. ‘No. She is not alone, I am here.’

Day Two

02

Alex screamed as she awoke with a start and snapped her eyes open. Her heart pounded and she was covered in a hot, clammy sweat. The nightmares, a round of never-ending chilling scenes from her killings, ravaged her sleep as they launched from one desperate scenario to another. Tonight, the images had been in glorious technicolour and at their most vicious. How long before she could expect a trauma free sleep? It might never happen. Flicking on the bedside lamp, she sat on the edge of the bed and focused her eyes on the normality of her surroundings in an attempt to drive the demons away. Relaxed and dream free nights had vanished. Her greatest fear was the mental collapse that could come if the nightmares took over the daytime reality.

Her sleep pattern might never return to normal. Why should it? Death and the destruction of people had ruled her life for the past few years. The consequences would continue to invade her mind. Had bravery and determination been the answer as she searched for the killer of her first husband, Matthew? Everyone would blame her for her self-induced mental state, not that she knew many who would now associate with her. Loneliness and horrendous mental images beckoned for the rest of her life. Seek help? The unanswered question she had toyed with for years. In the past she had scoffed at the thought, but now the answer could be in the affirmative. She might have to ask for mental help soon.

Stepping from the bed naked, as in the turmoil of the night she had discarded her nightclothes and the duvet, she stood with fists clenched. Her actions had all been in vain, as no respite had come from the fires of hell that burned inside during the nightmares. Her whole body was hot. Staggering to the bathroom she confronted her reflection in the mirror. A troubled and scared face stared back. The haunted expression in her eyes made her gasp. With a groan she stumbled away and headed for the shower.

Drying herself, the cascading water had not dissipated that internal heat, but her skin had cooled. The tracksuit, she did not want, but nakedness would make her feel vulnerable.

Her mind would not leave yesterday’s funeral. Another death associated with her. Malcolm had been a good man and didn’t deserve to die because of his support. He had not contacted her before the funeral, so his appearance was a surprise. Her thoughts twisted in circles as Tanya sprang into her mind. What had she done to her wonderful sister? There had been numerous occasions in the past, some dangerous, when she had come to assist Alex. Competing in the modern pentathlon in the US had seemed a simple and straightforward event. Unfortunately, those pursuing Alex had targetted Tanya, resulting in a serious fall from her horse as she competed in the show jumping. Her injuries, although not life threatening, had been severe with many broken bones. It had been the last straw for Tanya and she had severed all communication with her little sister. Now that her husband Malcolm had been killed as he stood next to Alex, it would further complicate their battered and non-existent relationship.

If she stayed in the bedroom contemplating all the wrongs she had done to her friends and