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Here is a short excerpt from my latest novel - the sequal to "I Was, I Am, I Will Be".  Written in collaboration with John Coventry.

The Treason of Islam

CHAPTER ONE  

Qur'an 3:56 "As for those disbelieving infidels, I will punish them with a terrible agony in this world and the next. They have no one to help or save them."

            John Coventry folded up the newspaper and set it on the patio table in front of him.  It was a glorious morning in California, and he was relishing sipping his morning coffee on the patio of the world-famous Polo Lounge Restaurant in Beverly Hills.  Just yesterday, John was in England, living a life stilted and weighed down by past transgressions.  His “involuntary” relationship with British Intelligence left him battered, bruised and constantly looking over his shoulder.  He was only supposed to help them find out about the drugs, they never mentioned anything about getting involved with members of the terrorist IRA, Baader Meinhoff Gang and the Action Directe.  Then there was Michelle.  The memory of her love and the lingering pain of her violent death was all he had left, except of course for their child Pierre.  But Pierre lived in Germany with Michelle’s friend Rondell, and probably didn’t even know his father existed.  John often wondered about his son.  Had he made the right decision in letting him go?  He’d never even seen the boy.  Did he have Michelle’s eyes?  His hair?  As curious as he was about his son, John knew in his heart that Pierre was better off with Rondell.  He just couldn’t offer him the life he needed or deserved.  Somehow, someday, John would make amends…  

            Los Angeles was going to be the start of something new, something better.  And while John felt extremely comfortable in the posh surroundings and prestigious company of the Polo Lounge, he was a changed man.  The days of shifting blame and depending on others for his own well-being were over.  Never again would he allow someone else to control his life.  In America, his name meant nothing – and that’s just the way John wanted it.  Anonymity would be a breath of fresh air.

            He took another sip of coffee and gazed around.  With its peachy pink colours, The Polo Lounge had a magnificent “Old Hollywood” type of feeling.  Movie stars since the beginning of movies, have graced its tables, drank at its bar, swam in its pool, and made deals that turned bit actors into superstars.  The Lounge was always busting with beautiful, important people, where someone knew so and so, who knew so and so, who once partied with Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack.  Hollywood history hung in the air like a thick, mysterious mist, encompassing visitors with its grandeur and elegance, capturing the spirit and winning the heart. 

            John finished off the last few drops of coffee remaining in his mug.  Still on London time, his body craved something a little stronger than cocoa beans.  Back home it was already six pm, and pre-dinner cocktails would most certainly be making the rounds.  As he raised his hand to motion to the waiter, a stunningly beautiful woman caught his eye.  She was quite tall and had an exotic look about her, with high-defined cheekbones and long flowing, silky brown hair.  The manager gave her a warm hello, then pointed across the room.  The woman squeezed his arm in thanks, and then turned toward the direction of the pointed finger.  As she turned, she noticed John watching her, and she smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling against the lights of the chandeliers.  Before John had a chance to smile back, the woman was gone.

            “If all the women look like that, I think I might just enjoy my time in America,” laughed John.  He picked up the newspaper from the table and strolled outside to spend some time lazing by the pool.  “It’s not like I have anything better to do at the moment,” he thought.  “I might as well work on my tan.”

            He found a lounge chair, took off his shirt and stretched out.  The warm California sun felt good on his paler English skin.  

            “Excuse me,” he said to the passing waiter.  “I know it’s early but could you please bring me a Bloody Mary, heavy on the vodka?”

            “Right away sir…and don’t worry…this is Beverly Hills...it’s never too early for a Bloody Mary.”

            John laughed and eased back into the chair, his body stiff and sore from the long flight the day before.  The green and white cushions fit perfectly into the nooks and crannies of his back.

            “There you go Mr. Coventry,” said a young, slim man wearing a Beverly Hills Hotel badge.  He set the drink on the table beside the chair.  “I just want to make sure you’re settling in okay.”

            “Yes, yes, thank-you!” answered John.  “And thank-you again for bringing my blazer up to my room last night.  I left the lounge in such a hurry…I totally forgot it was hanging on the back of the chair!”

            “You’re welcome,” the man smiled.

            “I have to say you certainly scared the wits out of me when you knocked on the door.  I’d been reading and hadn’t been expecting any company, especially someone who knew my first name.”

            “I’m so sorry about that,” the man said with a chuckle.  “You did look a little pale when you opened the door!”

            John chuckled.  “No worries.  Thanks again for the blazer and for the drink.”

            “My pleasure.  And if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask any of the staff here.  They’ll all be more than happy to help!”

            John took a large gulp of the Bloody Mary, feeling the vodka kick the back of his throat.

            “Mmm…God I needed that.”

            He took a cigarette from his pack of Dunhill’s and lit up, inhaling slowly and deliberately.  It was turning out to be a perfect morning.  Not used to the blazing intensity of the West Coast sunshine, John found himself needing to cool off in the shimmering aqua blue waters of the over-sized pool.  He carefully stamped out his second cigarette, took off his glasses and set them on the table beside his empty drink.  A few steps took him the pool’s edge, and with a quick retightening of his swimming trunks, John was in the pool, his arching dive rippling the tranquility of the still water. 

            His strong, athletic body guided him the length of the pool and back, powerful swimming strokes honed from yearly family vacations in the south of France and other seaside resorts.  John ran his fingers through his dark hair, shaking out the wetness as he stepped out of the pool.

            “Need one of these?” said the pretty woman with the high-cheek bones.  She held out a towel.

            “Why yes…thank-you.”  John smiled as he rubbed the towel on his head, then let it drape around his shoulders.  He couldn’t help but notice her eyes roaming up and down his body.  “Just had to cool off in the pool there.  I’m not used to it being so hot!”

            The woman laughed and held out her hand.  “I’m Cassandra.”

            “John…John Coventry,” he answered taking her hand in his.  “Can I buy you a drink?”

            “I’d like that.”

            John pulled up a neighboring chair and cozied it up beside his.  “Please, have a seat.  What can I get you to drink?  I’m having a Bloody Mary.”

            “A lime margarita would be great.  Thank you.”

            “It’s my pleasure.”

            “So where are you from?  Your accent sounds British but I just can’t figure out where in Britain.”

            “I’m from the Liverpool area.

            “Really?  You sound so much more refined than others I’ve met from Liverpool.”  John just smiled.  “In any case, I find your accent so intriguing.  Trust me, American woman love a man with an accent!” 

            “Well I suppose I should be flattered.”

            “I’m just giving you fair warning.  Once Beverly Hills hears there’s a new Englishman in town, you’re going to be swamped with offers.”

            They both laughed and John felt comfortable in her presence.  It had been a long time since he was able to laugh and flirt with an attractive woman – not since Michelle.

            “So tell me about this place…the world famous Polo Lounge,” said John making conversation.  He felt himself wanting Cassandra to keep him company, at least for the afternoon.  He didn’t know where the conversation would lead, but he also wasn’t afraid to find out.

            “Ah…the Polo Lounge,” said Cassandra.  “I love coming here myself.  There’s always someone you know and at least five people you’re dying to meet.  Are you a big movie fan John?”

            “I can’t say that I am, no.  Not that I dislike them, it’s just not something I was ever that interested in.”

            “That’s a shame.  The Polo Lounge is such a great place to come and people watch, especially in the old days.  All the big Hollywood heavyweights hung out here…from Charlie Chaplin to Clark Gable to Marlene Dietrich to Bogart and Katharine Hepburn.  You name it…they’ve probably swam in that pool, had drinks at the bar and slept in the hotel.  I’m pretty certain even British royalty has stayed here.”

            “Well it wouldn’t surprise me,” John grinned.  “They have a tendency to stay in the most posh of places.  All on the taxpayers coin of course.”

            “In this town, it’s all about who you know John.”

            “I suppose I’m shit out of luck then aren’t I?”

            “Why’s that?” asked Cassandra.

            “Well I only arrived yesterday and besides the manager and a few other staff here, I haven’t met a soul!”

            “You’ve met me haven’t you?” smiled Cassandra. 

            “Yes I have.”

            “And I can assure you that I was a good person to meet.  I know lots of people John…people that would just love to meet you and your wonderful British accent.  Let me show you the sites and introduce you to a few friends.”

            “You’d do that for me Cassandra?  I’d really appreciate it.”

            “Of course I would.  I like you and think you’re a fun guy to be around.  In fact, I’m going out to a party tomorrow night in the Pacific Palisades.  Would you like to come with me?”