Khaleel Datay's Blog - Posts Tagged "thriller"
Chapter extract: Winter Deception
A slightly rejigged extract from the first chapter of The Winter Deception.
Mumbai, India
Finding someone can be infinitely harder than killing him. Look how long they searched for Osama Bin Laden. They say they found him in Northern Pakistan. Ten years after 9/11. They say they killed him and dumped him at sea. Maybe he walked the plank first, justice served pirate style. Then, they killed him. That’s what they say. What if he’s still alive? What if one of his videos pops up on the internet, with our bearded villain feet up at Waikiki Beach? You never know, right?
My target wasn’t quite in Osama’s notorious league, but if taking on one of his kind meant a safer world, I was game for the takedown. Three weeks ago I received an email of a contract in Mumbai. All I had to do was find someone. Easy money, right? I had to think twice though, my last visit to the subcontinent ended in a bruising episode with the local constabulary. No doubt, they weren’t looking forward to my return.
After I almost blew up the Gateway to India, who could blame them
Fact is, my funds were running low and the money they offered was good. India was hot and London was cold. There was international women’s tennis and a cricket test-match on in Mumbai. Short skirts, rackets, bats and balls. All things considered, it was a no-brainer.
One of the first things that struck me about the city was the smell. I know what many would think, but no, it wasn’t all bad. Spices, fried foods and open drains assault your senses at every turn. Then there’s this constant movement of people and cars in a symphony that played itself out ‘till three in the morning. Three hours later it all started up again. Mumbai certainly wasn’t for the faint hearted.
The target’s name was Hafiz Khan. My contact provided a picture of a male, medium height, thin, dark hair, skin and eyes. Based on the visuals, the description matched the entire male population. We also knew he prayed five times a day at a local mosque and dealt in cell phones. The last two bits of information were more useful and ultimately led to a successful search. That was two days ago. He managed to give me the slip but I picked him up again this morning as he made his way to the Friday mid-day prayer.
Faith has always been a big deal to the people of India. Almost as if needing to prove the point, many of them had miniature temples on vehicle dashboards. The way they drive, I completely understand their need for prayers on the go. Some also adorned their trucks with colourful trimmings to ward off the evil eye.
I made sure this time to keep my eye on him as he weaved his way down Sardar Vallabhai Patel Road. We passed stretches of grimy old buildings, many of them at least two storeys high. They housed the more formal traders of books, perfumes and electronics. We battled through throngs of pedestrians in an area known as Chor Bazaar, part of a large and depressing district called Donghri. Years ago the market dealt in stolen merchandise, hence the name ‘Chor’. Nowadays, it was a market for second-hand goods. Wherever you looked, pavements were lined with little stalls selling anything and everything from kitchenware to clothing and toiletries. For those wanting street food, roadside food vendors plied their trade at every corner, frying potato wadas or some other assortment of spicy delicacies.
Khan sported a kurta suit – traditional wear for the Friday congregational prayer. The garment was perfect for blending in the busy market place. We made a right turn into Mohammed Ali Road. His gait was smooth and sure, like one who knew exactly where he was going. He kept his head down much of the time, averting eye contact with those around him.
He must have had a lot on his mind
His determined step was broken when he stopped at a perfume shop, otherwise known as an attarwala. The pure oils of perfume were extracted from flowers and fruit. Based on my case file, Khan would never have applied the Western perfume with its forbidden alcohol content. For believers like him, that which was considered optional became compulsory.
Hard core stuff
Satisfied with his last grooming rite, he was on the move again. There were many mosques in the district, each packed to capacity. From a surveillance point of view, following him was easy with thousands of people about. Unfortunately, the crowds made it difficult to carry out a quick one on one of ‘how’s your mother’. Khan had picked up his pace in the last few minutes, like someone on a mission. Every few moments, he glanced back as if checking for tails. Was it nerves, or a measure of awareness as someone trained would do?
In Mumbai, hot and steamy was par for the course on any given day. Every so often I popped into an air-conditioned store just for a blast of cool air. A white linen shirt and cotton khaki trousers with leather sandals was as much covering as I could manage in the oppressive heat. Not the best footwear for sudden pursuit, but staying in character was critical. I tanned easily and, after a few days in Mumbai, my skin had acquired a healthy olive complexion. Over the last while, I had cultivated a thin beard that wasn’t out of place with the crowd making its way to the mosque.
Khan was probably no amateur, but I was pretty certain he wouldn’t spot me, but you never knew, right? Some guys had a natural feel for this stuff and could smell a tail a mile away. Why was I following this guy again? Information from my contact said he supplied his buddies in Pakistan with intelligence on the ground in Mumbai. His other speciality was engineering cell phones as bomb detonators. As part of his cover, he operated a cell phone shop. Of course, the definition of a shop in Mumbai was a lot different to that in London. Here, it was as small as one square metre on a pavement.
The Winter Deception
Mumbai, India
Finding someone can be infinitely harder than killing him. Look how long they searched for Osama Bin Laden. They say they found him in Northern Pakistan. Ten years after 9/11. They say they killed him and dumped him at sea. Maybe he walked the plank first, justice served pirate style. Then, they killed him. That’s what they say. What if he’s still alive? What if one of his videos pops up on the internet, with our bearded villain feet up at Waikiki Beach? You never know, right?
My target wasn’t quite in Osama’s notorious league, but if taking on one of his kind meant a safer world, I was game for the takedown. Three weeks ago I received an email of a contract in Mumbai. All I had to do was find someone. Easy money, right? I had to think twice though, my last visit to the subcontinent ended in a bruising episode with the local constabulary. No doubt, they weren’t looking forward to my return.
After I almost blew up the Gateway to India, who could blame them
Fact is, my funds were running low and the money they offered was good. India was hot and London was cold. There was international women’s tennis and a cricket test-match on in Mumbai. Short skirts, rackets, bats and balls. All things considered, it was a no-brainer.
One of the first things that struck me about the city was the smell. I know what many would think, but no, it wasn’t all bad. Spices, fried foods and open drains assault your senses at every turn. Then there’s this constant movement of people and cars in a symphony that played itself out ‘till three in the morning. Three hours later it all started up again. Mumbai certainly wasn’t for the faint hearted.
The target’s name was Hafiz Khan. My contact provided a picture of a male, medium height, thin, dark hair, skin and eyes. Based on the visuals, the description matched the entire male population. We also knew he prayed five times a day at a local mosque and dealt in cell phones. The last two bits of information were more useful and ultimately led to a successful search. That was two days ago. He managed to give me the slip but I picked him up again this morning as he made his way to the Friday mid-day prayer.
Faith has always been a big deal to the people of India. Almost as if needing to prove the point, many of them had miniature temples on vehicle dashboards. The way they drive, I completely understand their need for prayers on the go. Some also adorned their trucks with colourful trimmings to ward off the evil eye.
I made sure this time to keep my eye on him as he weaved his way down Sardar Vallabhai Patel Road. We passed stretches of grimy old buildings, many of them at least two storeys high. They housed the more formal traders of books, perfumes and electronics. We battled through throngs of pedestrians in an area known as Chor Bazaar, part of a large and depressing district called Donghri. Years ago the market dealt in stolen merchandise, hence the name ‘Chor’. Nowadays, it was a market for second-hand goods. Wherever you looked, pavements were lined with little stalls selling anything and everything from kitchenware to clothing and toiletries. For those wanting street food, roadside food vendors plied their trade at every corner, frying potato wadas or some other assortment of spicy delicacies.
Khan sported a kurta suit – traditional wear for the Friday congregational prayer. The garment was perfect for blending in the busy market place. We made a right turn into Mohammed Ali Road. His gait was smooth and sure, like one who knew exactly where he was going. He kept his head down much of the time, averting eye contact with those around him.
He must have had a lot on his mind
His determined step was broken when he stopped at a perfume shop, otherwise known as an attarwala. The pure oils of perfume were extracted from flowers and fruit. Based on my case file, Khan would never have applied the Western perfume with its forbidden alcohol content. For believers like him, that which was considered optional became compulsory.
Hard core stuff
Satisfied with his last grooming rite, he was on the move again. There were many mosques in the district, each packed to capacity. From a surveillance point of view, following him was easy with thousands of people about. Unfortunately, the crowds made it difficult to carry out a quick one on one of ‘how’s your mother’. Khan had picked up his pace in the last few minutes, like someone on a mission. Every few moments, he glanced back as if checking for tails. Was it nerves, or a measure of awareness as someone trained would do?
In Mumbai, hot and steamy was par for the course on any given day. Every so often I popped into an air-conditioned store just for a blast of cool air. A white linen shirt and cotton khaki trousers with leather sandals was as much covering as I could manage in the oppressive heat. Not the best footwear for sudden pursuit, but staying in character was critical. I tanned easily and, after a few days in Mumbai, my skin had acquired a healthy olive complexion. Over the last while, I had cultivated a thin beard that wasn’t out of place with the crowd making its way to the mosque.
Khan was probably no amateur, but I was pretty certain he wouldn’t spot me, but you never knew, right? Some guys had a natural feel for this stuff and could smell a tail a mile away. Why was I following this guy again? Information from my contact said he supplied his buddies in Pakistan with intelligence on the ground in Mumbai. His other speciality was engineering cell phones as bomb detonators. As part of his cover, he operated a cell phone shop. Of course, the definition of a shop in Mumbai was a lot different to that in London. Here, it was as small as one square metre on a pavement.
The Winter Deception
Review: The Hidden Oasis
The Hidden Oasis by Paul SussmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This was my third Paul Sussman novel but the earliest that he'd written. I'm sure many other people do the same when they find a good author, and go back to read all the stuff he's written before. The beginning takes place more than two thousand years BC and was a bit confusing as Sussman lays the groundwork of the legend of the hidden oasis deep in the south of Egypt. In present time we are introduced to ace American mountain climber Freya Hannen who has to rush to Egypt to attend her sister Alex Hannen's funeral. Alex was an adventurer and died from a debilitating disease. Unable to cope with her sister's death in the prime of her life, she doubts the circumstances and does enquiries of her own. When she finds some inconsistencies in the story she becomes convinced there was foul play. She teams up with Egyptologist Flin Brodie who was a very good friend of her sister's. Brodie is a professor at the American University in Cairo whose special interest is the famed Hidden Oasis. Myth and legend has it that the oasis was home to a great round stone with extraordinary powers that would give its owners control over the entire world. The ancient Egyptians feared its power so much that they hid the stone and killed everyone who had any knowledge thereof. For more than two thousand years nobody had managed to find it. Brodie and Freya become embroiled in its search when it becomes known that 50kgs of weapons grade plutonium went down in a plane crash in the vicinity of the oasis. This sets off a race for the location of the oasis and the plutonium by the CIA and a wealthy Egyptian businessman and his pack of thugs. Sussman gives us brilliantly drawn villains, a breathtaking dash across the deserts of Egypt so reminiscent of the Indiana Jones series and twists and turns in the story that keeps you guessing to the end. I'd recommend this to anyone who loves a good adventure story.
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Review: The Lost Army of Cambyses
The Lost Army Of Cambyses by Paul SussmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
An antique dealer is killed in Luxor and an archeology professor is found dead at his dig house in Saqqara. The professor's daughter, Tara Mullray always had a difficult relationship with her father whose love for his work transcended the love for his family. After having received a call from her dad to come to Egypt she looks forward to an unlikely reconciliation. She seeks assistance from the British Embassy but gets an odd feeling about their handling of the matter. Inspector Yusuf Khalifa from Luxor Police Dept is assigned to the case of the murdered antique dealer. When another dealer is killed in a similar fashion in Cairo, he sets off to find a link to his case. When Tara Mullray is pursued by parties unknown she suspects foul play in her father's death. Her pursuers, led by a giant German, were after a missing piece from an ancient tomb wall. When she meets up with a former lover, a long time associate of her father's, she is hopeful of a way out. After a terror incident in Cairo where several people are killed by a lone gunman, it is clear there is a link between the terrorists and the murders. Inspector Khalifa digs deeper and deeper into the investigation and the more he finds the more he dreads the outcome. The missing tomb piece has a relevance to an ancient mystery and lost treasures. The killer German and his black robed terror outfit drop bodies at will, nothing standing in their way to get to the missing piece. There are explosive twists throughout the book right up to the very end. This was Paul Sussman's first Inspector Khalifa novel (he gets a mere mention in a previous book)where he gives us a glimpse into the Egyptian culture, its people and the tough problems they faced. Written prior to 9/11 it is eerily prescient of the happenings in the Middle East. Instead of giving us clichéd bad guys, he deconstructs the terrorist mind and gives those of us from the West something to think about. If you're a fan of the murder/mystery genre, this book is for you. A bit long, as his books normally are, but definitely worth it.
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Review: The Panther
The Panther by Nelson DeMilleMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
Nelson DeMille once again has former New York detective John Corey tracking an international terrorist. This time its Bulus ibn al Darwish, an American born Yemeni whose aim in life is to kill as many Americans as he can before taking over as ruler of a free Yemen. Given an ultimatum to either go to Yemen or get kicked out from the FBI Anti Terrorist Task Force, Corey opts to go hunting the Panther, as al Darwish styles himself. The book sort of follows on from THE LION where Corey killed another Arab terrorist called Asad Khalil. The Lion ends where Corey's wife killed Ted Nash, a CIA operative who seemingly went rogue.
Based at the American embassy in Sana'a, Corey and his wife is part of a team consisting of the FBI, the CIA, State Intelligence and Military Intelligence. There is no love lost between the FBI and the CIA and Corey immediately takes a dislike to the CIA operative appointed to run the operation. Afraid that the CIA were using him and his wife as bait to catch the Panther, Corey was even more concerned that the CIA wanted payback for Nash's death by conveniently arranging for his death 'in action' in faraway Yemen. Corey hates the place, having been posted there previously to investigate the bombing of the USS Cole where 17 Americans were killed by an explosives laden boat.DeMille gives us a fascinating insight into modern day Yemen ruled by a despotic ruler (in the Sadam Hussein vein)still seemingly stuck in 1013 as opposed to 2013. The country is typical of whatever can go wrong, will go wrong when there is no democratic government. Warlords control the south, the government controls the north and Al Qaeda controls everything in between. Armed with not much more than some handguns and a sniper rifle, the team at least has the comfort of knowing that they can take out their target with a Predator drone strike. The only problem was the Predator drones were controlled by the CIA, who Corey knew also wanted him dead. DeMille has a winner with the John Corey character and if you love your thrillers with a bad boy hero, this is the book for you.
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Review: The Secret Soldier
Thoroughly enjoyed this book featuring Alex Berenson's John Wells character. Wells, former CIA and US Ranger, is approached by the ailing Saudi King to help him secure a succession battle with his brother Prince Saeed. King Abdullah wishes to cede power to his son while his brother feels its his birthright to be king. The book starts with a terrorist attack in Bahrain on a nightclub frequented by Westerners. We are introduced to Jihadis who feel aggrieved with the Saudi monarchy repressive rule. Wells is offered millions to take the assignment and at first refuses the desperate monarch. After some cajoling by the king's brother, Prince Miteb, Wells agrees and starts following up a lead from the king that leads him to a Jihadi camp in Lebanon. All the while Wells stays in contact with his former boss at CIA headquarters who provides technical assistance like tracing cell phone numbers and using the US satellites to pinpoint the Jihadi camp. What starts out as a personal favour to the king soon escalates into a much bigger problem when the king's favourite grand-daughter is assassinated by a suicide bomber. The world gave scant attention, but when the US ambassador to the kingdom is brutally kidnapped the world is on a knife's edge. Oil prices soar, markets plummet and the US prepares for full blown war with its old ally in the Middle East. As a former journalist, Berenson has researched the situation in the Middle East meticulously and provides incisive descriptions of life in modern day Saudi Arabia. When Wells connects the Lebanese camp to former Saudi soldiers the plot really stirs as the reality dawns that the terrorist attacks could have been ordered from within the kingdom, possibly even by someone within government. Wells, a self professed Muslim, pulls out all the stops to stop a war in the centre of the Islamic world that could result in its ultimate destruction. A desperate search for the ambassador sets up a thrilling end that could come straight off the pages of tomorrow's news.
Review: The 39 Steps by John Buchan
The 39 Steps by John BuchanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I discovered John Buchan rather late but was delighted to come across The 39 Steps. Written in that wonderful genteel style when roses were red and violets were blue, Buchan was a forerunner in the great thriller novel. Richard Hannay returns from South Africa to England just before the first World War. Bored out of his mind, his life quickly changes when a dead body turns up in his apartment with a long knife stuck in it. Just before his death Scudder had revealed a conspiracy to Hannay which convinced him to shelter the man. Forced to flee the scene lest he was brought up on murder charges, he makes for Scotland. Pursued by the police and the real killers, he meets some wonderful characters along the way who help him to evade his pursuers. Introducing genuine intrigue with a deadline for the death of a European minister that could result in the outbreak of war, Hannay has to chase the clock to unravel the mystery of who was behind the death of Scudder and ultimately, conspirators against the British in the coming war. As a reader with a love for Ludlum, De Mille, Alex Berenson et al, it was wonderfully refreshing to read a thriller where the highest technology employed was the humble telephone. A fairly short novel, it was nevertheless a great read.
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Review: Inferno by Dan Brown
Inferno by Dan BrownMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Found the bits of history intriguing. Learnt about Dante Alighiri last in high school. Only now understood what he was really all about. Dan Brown masterfully weaves the story of the Divine Comedy into what was a typical Robert Langdon thriller. Some unexpected twists at the end and an interesting debate on the consequences on overpopulation is dealt with. Ultimately dont think this was as great as the Da Vinci Code which for me still by far his best book.
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New Publication
Publication of my latest e-book, TO KILL A SPY, went live on 24 April 2015 on Amazon.
Its been an incredible journey. What started out in 2012 as a short story to resolve outstanding issues from THE WINTER DECEPTION, snowballed into a full length novel of over 100K words. The characters of Winter, Chandrasekhar and Vusi just didn't want to let up. Set almost entirely in South Africa, we follow Nick Winter's quest for revenge of the brutal assault on Jasminder Singh. Spies, political intrigue, gangsters and vengeance at the tip of Africa.Khaleel Datay
Its been an incredible journey. What started out in 2012 as a short story to resolve outstanding issues from THE WINTER DECEPTION, snowballed into a full length novel of over 100K words. The characters of Winter, Chandrasekhar and Vusi just didn't want to let up. Set almost entirely in South Africa, we follow Nick Winter's quest for revenge of the brutal assault on Jasminder Singh. Spies, political intrigue, gangsters and vengeance at the tip of Africa.Khaleel Datay
