Clinic

Ray Carole

Description

Would you support an illegal programme to destroy terrorism from within?Three years ago, Harry Decker ran a covert spy cell in Baghdad for the British SAS. A mental breakdown cost Decker his career and almost his sanity. All the other members of Decker's cell are dead; victims of suicides, random accidents and multiple murders.In a bid to rebuild his shattered mind, Harry undertakes a record-breaking crossing of Antarctica. However, as he fights for his life on the lethal glaciers, his brain concocts a vast conspiracy theory that might just be trueWhen Decker broadcasts his wild theory online, it's intercepted by a group of men who will go to the ends of the earth to silence him. On the brink of madness can Harry Decker save his sanity and his life, while being hunted by former colleagues who will not hesitate to put a bullet in his head.Decker hunted people on the kill list, now he's number one on it.

Sujets

• Baghdad
• Antarctica
• Bagdad

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 novembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800468429
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Ray Carole
R ay left school with a black eye, someone else’s coat and his virginity intact to join the Royal Marines in 1996. Four years later, he was the youngest then serving member in 22 SAS. For over a decade he toured the world helping everyone to like each other again, with the odd bomb and bullet accelerating the process of reconciliation, before leaving as a Sgt at age 31.
Filling the void of elitism, he raced 500 miles to the Magnetic North Pole, then set off to be the first person to walk 1430 miles solo to the South Pole and back, with no support, or any tangible reason as to why he was doing it. In between, he’s been a billionaire’s bag carrier, an ultra-athlete, mentor and a social liability.
In the last few years, Ray has written The Clinic , and its screenplay adaptation; the first in a new trilogy. He is currently writing book two, The Trace and a TV series called Cell Zero about a disillusioned SAS operator who conspires to defraud the CIA and land a $25 million bounty on the world’s most wanted terrorist.
Ray is fascinated with how random thoughts, self-doubt and catastrophic thinking prevent people daring to reach full potential. Turning this on its head, Ray has also created his Project 8: Who Thinks Wins pocket journal series. It’s a simple and concise 15-minutes-a-day action guide to empower anyone to develop a healthy and fulfilling mindset


For more information about Ray, and Project 8, visit
www.raycarole.com


Copyright © 2020 Ray Carole

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.


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ISBN 9781 800468 429


British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

In loving memory of Mum
My family
For never doubting me
Contents
Acknowledgements
The Clinic Inception
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Acknowledgements
To all my dearest friends and family who have never grasped the concept of fiction, like I have never grasped the concept of reality, but have spent five years hounding me to publish my novel as that’s what writers do apparently!
As I have mentioned before, you are not in this book as it’s made up; just like my name Ray Carole, it’s fiction. But if you come across characters who are twice as smart, twice as hard, half the size of you, making love to hot girls, then tell your friends, that it’s you.
With great thanks to Cherry Martin, my editor who has patiently honed my writing skills over the past few years. Your own record-breaking shortest marriage in history, coupled with my natural ability to lose myself in alcohol-fuelled weekends on occasions, delayed this book’s release. To Billy Allinson who created the cover design and branding from a weak, back of a beer mat brief from myself.
For some reason the odd mad character asks me if I had a ghost writer. The answer is in the history of past achievements. Never a fraud, or one to take short cuts, I wrote it myself, inspired by 41 days of solitude in Antarctica where questioning my motives triggered this trilogy. It’s another new journey to personal literacy excellence that demands hard work, commitment, with no fear of the consequences of exploration in life.
The Clinic Inception
This novel’s inception is inspired by my 1430-mile solo expedition to the South Pole and Back when a psychological concept was borne in my mind that would scare women away, and even hardened killers.
At the time I wanted to create history, search for the elitism I craved, and refine my mental masterclass during 85 days of hell. To my despair, I only had a 64-day window instead of a planned 85 due to the weather. This iconic trip was doomed, and I was advised to abort and attempt to beat the one-way world record of 39 days instead.
The founding father of the British SAS, Sir David Stirling, said that ‘Nothing is impossible to a few determined men’. I was one of these SAS men years ago, and I have seen first hand how feats of huge daring, through extreme planning and elite skill can bring about seemingly impossible results. In my mind I had to prove the South Pole expedition impossible, not predict it like everyone else. So, I set off as planned powering the first 715 miles in 41 days to the Pole, pulling over 150kg with no support or assistance.
Ironically this monumental effort convinced everyone it was now possible, for me to turn around and ski back in 23 days. I knew it was impossible, I needed 30 days plus, so abandoned my efforts and focused on paying back 50K of debt, drowning my sorrows for a few weeks, and crying about getting a normal job again. My expedition went unnoticed by the public, but certainly let the experts know that with the right window, and the right amount of suffering, this feat was now possible. My new mission was to pen the novel that had become burnt into my mind during those days on the ice.
This isn’t a true story of former SAS men’s daring. I have ultimate respect for the privacy of the organisation that once gave me the privilege to serve with them. My decision to remain as discreet as possible and to write under the pseudonym Ray Carole is based on principles that still honour the spirit and legacy of the SAS, that is to leave and live life as quietly as you joined and served.
Some character’s names are true from the Polar Expedition world. All the other names who inflict serious pain with pleasure, or deliver calculated misfortune effortlessly are fictional in every sense.
All events that are military in nature, are scripted by my imagination and not based on real events.
Chapter 1
H e watched the dejected man make his journey to the doorway which once closed will never be reopened. Keeping his eyes on the man’s painfully slow footsteps he almost had the minor urge to jump up and shout ‘stop’. However, his intuition borne from years of experience, told him that people like the figure reaching for the handle would never look back for sympathy or one last chance. He knew the door would be closed weakly by the man who was shutting out a past that had tortured his mind, and destroyed the resolve to carry on the fight he had been so used to winning, once upon a time, now that fight had dissolved in to nothing.
He remained seated, completing his report that pretty much amounted to yet another tragic case of a killer going full circle.
The footsteps stopped and he paused to look up. He was still met with the man’s wilted frame. ‘Jesus,’ he mused. Ten years previously, that man had crashed through the door, almost forgetting to use the handle, knowing that he was surrendering his life to a cause he would never question, that the cause would be brutal on the body, terrorising on his mind, and maybe the man even predicted that this day would come. He, like so many others before him, probably realised they wouldn’t recognise themselves one day.
He stopped punching at his keyboard. It hadn’t just been hatred he’d seen staring at him moments earlier. It was humiliation, even embarrassment as the man’s stale alcoholic breath floated across his desk like an invisible fog, almost making him choke on the fumes. Bloodshot eyes that could barely meet his former Commander’s.
Silently, the man had simply placed his ID card down on the desk and spun around to head to the door that he was now pausing at.
A turn of the handle and the man disappeared.
Still seated and not getting the look back that he had half expected, he pushed back hard into his seat, rocking backwards, his hands interlocked behind his head he surveyed the empty room. He could almost see the vapour trail of alcohol the man had left behind him. He watched the door, Would it swing open again he thought? He held his breath for ten seconds.
The door stayed closed.
He sighed, knowing full well that that was the last time he would ever see him again.
‘And I couldn’t give a shit.’ Just another super star operator that had become weak, and finally broken under the immense pressure of deniable operations. The world could ill afford mentally unstable operators cutting about with lethal hardware on their person.
Knowing the man would end up in the gutter within months he began typing away on his keyboard again, formally sealing the man’s existence in cyber space. Normal out-processing stuff - security and threa