Sky Foil

Gerry Burke

Description

A body falls from the sky, and so begins the race to thwart an international conspiracy embroiling four countries. A thrilling page-turner, involving murder, espionage, and perfidious political power plays.
“In recent times, we’ve received many veiled threats; but this one has legs.”
—Dave Mackrell:MI5
This one, Fatima Khan, manages to retard the efforts of the CIA, and confuse the combined resources of MI5 and MI6. There’s an international conspiracy in play but the secret can’t get out; or can it? The aviation industry is in turmoil, and the U.S. president is off his game. He just shanked his drive into a water hazard on the fourth hole.
How many heroes can you fit into one story? Defined by their individual talents, they serve it up to the villains in this contemporary thriller, involving murder, espionage, and perfidious political power-plays.
Fast-paced, fascinating, and imaginative…Readers’ Favorite
The shameless spy novel you didn’t know you were missing…Indies Today

Sujets

• Australian
• Humorous
• Thrillers
• Australians
• Espionage
• Mystery
• Conspiracy
• Suspense
• Thriller
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 14 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663244819
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

SKY FOIL
An International Conspiracy
GERRY BURKE


SKY FOIL AN INTERNATIONAL CONSPIRACY
 
Copyright © 2022 Gerry Burke.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Edited by: Kylie Moreland
Interior Image Credit: Shutterstock/iStock Libraries
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4480-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4482-6 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4481-9 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916097
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 09/09/2022
Contents
Main Characters
BOOK 1
1.Down to Earth
2.He Picked Up The Bill
3.A Few Days Earlier
4.Putney Control Centre
5.The Foreign Secretary
6.The Mole in Mink
7.The Special Relationship
8.Prue Pimento & Olive Green
9.Langley, Virginia
10.Back in Britain
BOOK 2
11.Splashdown
12.Fatima & Asad Khan
13.The Five Amigos
14.Tittle Tattle in Seattle
15.More Than a Game
16.Spies, Lies and Apple Pies
17.Pillow Talk
18.Cool Dudes
19.Santa Claws
BOOK 3
20.Great Balls of Fire
21.Chin Wag in Moose Jaw
22.What’s Yours is Mine
23.Loose Lips
24.Let’s Get The Bogey Man
25.Justice for All
 
About The Author
Author’s Previous Works
Main Characters
SECURITY SERVICES
MI5

David Mackrell

Prue Pimento

Amir Mohammad

Olive Green

MI6

Sir Arthur Muggins

Stephen Small

Linus Devin

Floriana Keggler

Yuri Berkoff

CIA

Sam Mowerman

Greg Quinlan

FBI

Clarice Starling

Chuck Pentzer

CANADA

Fatima Khan

MEXICO

The Four Amigos

Margarita Burrito


EMBASSIES AND
Richard Lyons (US Ambassador)
GOVERNMENT
William McIntosh (Foreign Secretary)

Jed Smith (Vice President)

Peter Palomino (Canadian Air Force)


CORPORATE
Randy Roberts (Boeing)

Klaus Schmidt (Boeing)

Tijuana Tony Lopez (Boeing)
BOOK 1
1
Down to Earth
The body just fell out of the sky and landed on the roof of Joel Haire’s Porsche Targa, which, only days before, had been spruced-up and detailed. Joel heard the heavy thud from the front bedroom of his semi-detached unit in Chiswick, where he was having it off with Barbie, the recently appointed leasing consultant at Rowland and Rushbrooke Realty, where he worked. They both hurried to the window, with his lady friend verbalising the anguish, foremost in his mind.
“Oh my God! You only had the car detailed a few days ago.”
Fate can really deal you a bum hand. The lady’s clapped-out Fiat was parked directly behind the classic car, and if the body landed there, it could only have improved the vehicle. With a crowd gathering, Joel put on his pants in record time, leaving his lover to reflect on a moment that would be lost forever.
It didn’t take the onlookers long to speculate as to what might have occurred. Suicide seemed out of the question, as there were no high-rise buildings in the vicinity. Being under the flight path from Heathrow Airport, one could easily surmise that one of the carriers might now be a passenger short.
When Mr. Haire hurtled through the front door of his residence, this kind of speculation was far from his mind. He was contemplating the repair costs to his pride and joy, which he knew would be substantial. Nevertheless, on arrival at the scene of the tragedy, he became mesmerized by the crumpled body that had already entranced his neighbours. The broken bundle of bones was cradled in the indented roof of the vehicle, and blood was slowly seeping from the body, looking for an escape route to ground zero. Joel was relieved that none of it was heading for the car’s upholstery of luxurious leather and soft-trim accessories.
It was inevitable that he would be button-holed by the street’s most inquisitive neighbour, who lived across the road.
Geoffrey Godkin had recently survived a prostate scraping at Ealing General Hospital, but otherwise appeared alert and inquisitive. So much so that his chain of thought would relate to a trip to Benidorm, some years earlier, a heavily discounted holiday, memorable for all the wrong reasons.
“The toilets on some cheap-flight planes are not identified well. The poor bugger probably opened the wrong door.”
Although this comment was directed at Joel, it was Mr. Godkin’s tenant, Fanny Abromwich, who blessed them all with her opinion. It was inconceivable that Fanny would not have an opinion.
“Perhaps, Geoffrey, he just wanted a breath of fresh air?”
With no further comment from the eighty-year-old pensioner, the lady chose to commiserate with the car owner. She could see no point in directing her sympathies towards a dead man. For all she knew, he might have tried to get into the gates of heaven and been rejected?
“Do you know if your insurance will cover this?”
“Well,” said Joel, “the premiums are certainly sky high, but I’m not sure whether I’m covered. Perhaps with the roof gone, I can use it as a convertible.”
A new-age person would not jump to the conclusion that the victim was male just because the body was wearing trousers. In point of fact, the clothes kept all the broken bones together. In the long run, recognition protocols would be fast-tracked, as it could be seen that the bundle of bones boasted a beard. When the medical examiner arrived, she provided her assessment, which even surprised the scene-of-crime officer.
“It’s a he alright, who probably fell from the 7.15 flight from Heathrow to Mumbai.”
“Get out of here,” exclaimed Sergeant Plod. “How did you know that?”
“Well,” said the ME. “People in our profession only look at two choices when sexual identification is required and a little dicky bird tells me this person is male. Also, that bundle of cloth on the ground is a turban.”
“You mean he was a Sikh.”
“Assuredly,” replied the medico, “and when we retrieve the contents of his stomach, I am sure we will find his last meal to be curry.”
“You might also find he comes from Slough, not Mumbai.”
This comment came from Geoffrey Godkin, whose state-of-the-art hearing aid picked-up most audible asides inside twenty paces. The medical examiner may also have wondered about the size of his proboscis. Such a nosy neighbour!
Nevertheless, the old codger had a point. Large Sikh communities did live in Slough, Hounslow and other areas close to the airport. With no identification on the body, the corpse would go to the morgue with the moniker “Punjab Pete,” and be identified as either Indian or Pakistani. The Americans preferred the terminology “John Doe,” but they don’t have any imagination, do they?
“You may be right, sir,” said the woman in the white boiler suit. “Please speculate if you think it might help the investigators? Or are you just a tourist?”
There was no need to be so prickly, but most people don’t like having their views trashed, especially by a pensioner. With some grace, the resident from number 96 watered-down the exchange, and then departed to warm-up his television set.