In the rural peace of modern England a war game recreates the slaughter of the Civil War. But when the battle ends, a real corpse is left it the Swine Brook; and an aristocratic but impoverished revolutionary claims to have found a cache of 'Cromwell's Gold'.When David Audley is called in, sevent...
Paul Mitchell spends his days researching WWI; his quiet life in the library can hardly be in greater contrast to the carnage he studies. Until, that is, the present catches up with him in the shape of Dr Audley of the MOD. Why does Audley want to know what really happened during the battle for H...
In this, the author's 14th David Audley novel, Oliver St John Latimer - the Deputy-Director of the Research and Development Section of British Intelligence - is sent to deepest Georgia. Here he follows in the footsteps of General Sherman's troops to the Sion Crossing ruins, with fearful results.
The Assassin — He was right at home in Alamut. It was there, in Northern Persia in the eleventh century, that the sect of the Assassins began at Hashashin Castle. And it is from there today that a new killer comes to spread murder throughout the Middle East. From the moment the classic car belong...
The death of a former member of the elite U.S. Army ranger fighting force is the opening salvo in a new battle between Dr. David Audley of British Intelligence and the KGB. Twelfth in a series of novels about this intellectual spy, including the most recent Sion Crossing. Newspaper advertising in...
This book, the first in the series, is set 25 years after WWII. David Audley is a desk man in British intelligence, who is suddenly asked to go into the field. During the war, a pilot was smuggling from war torn Berlin to Britain. He intended to do one last haul, of something so valuable that Rus...
An innocent advertisement placed by a retired war hero and British countryside squire leads to explosive results when the IRA becomes involved. Spymaster David Audley of British Intelligence is assigned the case and quickly finds evidence of involvement by the CIA and KGB!
General Zarubin, the Soviet mastermind, confronts his Number Two, the infinitely wily Professor Nikolai Andrievich Panin, on a point overlooking the British Channel. Meanwhile, Henry Jaggard of British Intelligence, has two pressing problems. He knows the Soviets are mounting a defensive program...
When David Audley, that most subtle of Intelligence chiefs, sends his insubordinate protege Paul Mitchell off to investigate a KGB operation by researching a long-forgotten naval engagement off France in 1812, it doesn't look to Mitchell as if it will lead anywhere. But the fate of the crew of th...
‘Als die Romer frech geworden, Zogen sie nach Deutschlands Norden, Vorne beim Trompetenschwall Ritt der Generalfeldmarschall, Herr Quinctilius Varus—’ For a moment the very sweetness of the sound, rendered crystal-clear in the morning air by some acoustic accident even within his bedroom, deceive...
It was an amazing feeling to be finally considered an adult. Not that my parents were strict, or anything. Far from it. But being seen as an adult in the eyes of the law gave me a strong sense of freedom; I felt like I could do anything I wanted without consequence. We all did. I remember it was ...
But then, to be fair, Captain Grafenberg was probably thinking much the same thing. And whenever the captain had last washed, he knew for a fact that he himself hadn’t had anything like a decent wash for a week, so he must be ripening up a treat on his own account. In addition to which, since the...
‘I have informed Colonel Butler, madam,’ said Ballard. Except for the two civilians on the desk, Dickson and Collins, the foyer was still empty. The three Special Branch officers were still in position outside the glass doors, but through the expanse of glass wall on the o...
Most obviously, he wasn’t deceased because the newly-dead had no need of large theatrical beards. Or, if they did, they had no need to pull such beards down to reveal their faces as they came to haunt the living. Or, if such a revelation was part of the haunting, they had no call to grin quite so...
Against all the odds of alcohol and exhaustion, and the too-few hours the night’s events had left him, he became fully aware of all the co-ordinates of his mind and body long before the tiny bell mechanism had exhausted itself beneath the folds of his shirt, with which he had deliberately muted i...
And, having more-or-less satisfied himself about the near side, he walked slightly sideways with a curious crab-like bias, so that he could also take in the back as well, to make sure that it—Que culo d’angelo!—was also undamaged. ‘Huh!’ And even now Mitchell wasn’t altoge...
BENBOW—SUPERINTENDENT—?” Sir Frederick acknowledged the unlikely deputation neutrally. “Sir!” Cox halted two yards from the desk, noted the presence of Macready and Richardson with two photographic blinks of the eye, and stood at ease with the calm resignation of a veteran...
Harry Bastable didn’t see them in that first photographic flash of shock, when the scene imprinted itself on his memory: what one concentrated, uninterrupted aerial bombardment could do to one small unprotected town on one summer’s afternoon — His first unendurable thought, the stuff of nightmare...
A stone barn, Butler noted through the gap in the grill— everything in this countryside was in stone, and judging by the recurrent shape of the stones most of them had first seen the light of day under a Roman legionary’s chisel: the Wall, away on the skyline at his back, had been this land’s qua...
This time there was no trace of humour in it. “So he really was on to Badon Hill.” “I told you so, Doc.” Harry Finsterwald had lost a little of his stuffing, but his voice still had an edge to it. “I thought that was just par...