Now meet Tom’s wife, Alison. Your first guess is that Alison isn’t too happy, is she? Do you wonder why? Two lovely kids. A tall, successful, dashing husband. What on earth could be wrong?
Let me introduce you to Rufus. If cats could tell stories, this one would hold your interest. If cats could talk, maybe Rufus could have prevented all this… maybe.
The rest of the congregation followed them, each carrying a white rose, and they slowly wound their way through the cemetery to the archway that led to the woodland burial site.
Where some ends happen…
Jenny’s engagement ring.
‘Jenny, you’re only eighteen. Can’t you wait a while?’
Jenny as a girl.
Jenny was in the yard with her skipping rope. ‘What you doing?’ she called up to him. ‘None of your bloody business,’ he called back to her.
Jenny threw down her skipping rope and gave him a look of pretend shock. ‘I’m telling Mum you swore at me!’
Meet Daniel. Before everything changes… He ducked down as he passed the house. No way was he going to let Jenny tag along and spoil this for him. Dad would kill him if he knew – and if Jenny knew, Dad would know too. There was nothing surer than that.
descending into darkness…
Alf, the London cabbie.
My word, Vincent Cooper! Ain’t seen you for donkeys. What you been up to, Vincey-boy?’ says the cab driver. ‘Alright, Alf. Long time no see, pal,’ Vince says, smiling.
The prayer mat
… goes into the master bedroom and retrieves his prayer mat from the foot of the bed, averting his eyes from the bloody mess…
Daniel as a man.
And here is Daniel all grown up… Not the version you’ll meet at the beginning of the book.
France was like heaven, almost like being home again. Here, he felt he shared the final steps taken by his love.
Let me introduce you to Tom. Tom McIntyre. One thing I’m sure of… you’re not going to like Tom!
Pakistan was such a long way away. So hard to imagine, especially on this breezy green hillside – a distant sun, baking sand, fierce heat, strange smells and foreign, warbling calls to prayer; how would all this feel?
King’s Cross. A fateful errand.
Daniel walks up the sticky steps to the second floor and sees the door of Flat C is slightly ajar.
Waqar’s mother’s box.
The snake on the box. Waqar’s mother’s pewter box. The box that protects the promise of love.
He wanted a snake tattoo…
A slight hiss fizzled from the front of the car, and he swayed a little as he went to investigate…
A coffin and roses.
He kissed the rose and dropped it on top of the white flowers that completely covered the wicker. ‘Goodbye, my darling,’ he said.
He sat up, admiring the shimmering water of the lake below. Waqar lay on the grass beside him, eyes closed, the faintest of smiles on his lips. This caused Daniel to smile too. What are you dreaming of, my friend?
‘Waqar, idiot! He was my best friend.’
The only lorry in the park…
The sun was bright behind the lorry, and he squinted, trying to see if the driver was still in his cab. He’d be in so much trouble if Dad found out…
A damaged back.
When did the dominoes start to fall for Waqar? You’ll find out in 2019.
The chemo ward.
That’s when she started to cry…
The London Underground.
London. A long hot Friday in August starts in the usual way for Tom McIntyre: drunk, maudlin and full of acrimony. His lifestyle is the envy of many but to achieve it, he has entered into a diabolical deal.
Now he wants his freedom back, but what price must he pay for this?
When his son, Daniel learns of his father’s dark secret, love turns into hatred, and Daniel falls into the waiting arms of evil intent.
By the end of this day, everything will change. For Tom, for Daniel, for the world. All in the name of false freedom. Duplicity will shape their fates.
There were no more words from the man. Just a hot, metallic-smelling silence that seemed to persist until a resounding chorus of…
BREAKING NEWS. OXFORD CIRCUS UNDERGROUND EVACUATED…
Jenny grown up.
Meet Jenny McIntyre. She’s all grown up now since those skipping rope days.
Sand blew up into Daniel’s eyes as he jumped down from the truck. There were several large dunes up ahead, and the sun beat with an unforgiving ferocity above. Waqar pulled two large rolls of canvas from the driver’s cabin and called to Daniel to help him unroll them.
#duplicitynovel will take you from London, to the fells of Cumbria, to Pakistan, to Turkey and back to London. The journey won’t be smooth!
Here is Tom’s favourite song. You’ll come across it a lot in the book.
Pulling it from beneath him, he looks at the thick, semi-congealed smears of dark blood on the wide blade.
Daniel tattoo overlay.
I want to change the way I look. It’s the reason I’m here. This year, I change forever. For good. I have the time and the money. Are you able to do that for me?’
Jeep in desert, Pakistan.
As they drove further away, he saw the camp gates open again and a small jeep appear, which followed them, remaining several thousand metres behind. ‘The infidel is in that vehicle,’ said Waqar.
Deep red scars, white at the edges, corrugated his back..
Tom’s mobile phone.
‘SORRY, SOMETHING’S COME UP.’ Then he deleted all the messages and blocked the number. It was time for change. Time to be a better man.
Jihadi guard in desert.
Another man untied his hands. ‘Please, please, don’t do this. I am here in this country to help your people. I’m a doctor.’
Vincent Cooper (Vince).
‘Morning, Vincent,’ she chirps. ‘Help me down the ramp, will you? There’s a good fellow.’
Embankment security room.
Vince finds himself in a room full of TV monitors, and he can see hordes of people on the screens, making their way up and down escalators and moving around on platforms.
Oxford Circus Underground.
A mosaic of bodies…strangers… Excited chatter, stony faces, daydreamers, smartphone zombies…
The terrorist is born.
Who is this and what on earth could have driven him to be like this?
‘Wow, mate! As cool as that sounds, it will completely change the way you look – for, like, ever. And it won’t be cheap neither. And you’re talking maybe six or seven sessions to do something as major as that.’
His smile dissipates, and his eyes snap open again.
‘Ali… tonight, can we… It’s getting on for eight months now. Can we at least…’ Tom glanced at the expensive looking red bag, its black tissue paper rustling under the fan above his desk…
Ankara, what a nightmare. Three days of being preyed upon by the dirty, hairy, fat Turk who was responsible for his passage.
Here is Buckingham Court and its gardens, where a malevolent final message is left.
At the police station.
Will he ever wake up from this?