Spoiler Alert
Welcome to the Blake Langford Short Story Previews page. In this section, you will be able to access the opening pages of each short story in the Blake Langford Adventures series. This will therefore lead to spoilers from each story being shared but it will also give you the opportunity to see if that particular adventure is for you. The full versions of each of these adventures can be purchased through Amazon and most popular bookshops worldwide.
Shield
Whilst working through the first draft of the fifth Blake Langford novel, John kept being asked when the next adventure would arrive and what's happening with Blake, Alison, Samir, Joe and the rest of the characters who have become an integral part of The Blake Langford Adventures. It seemed that readers were looking for more connections with the series than the one novel per year that has been published so far and that spawned the idea of a spin-off short story series. By creating shorter fiction, John has been able to explore the world of The Blake Langford Adventures in more detail, interacting with characters, scenarios and events that formed part of the main series whilst keeping the core interest of the series going. Shield is the first in a collection of short stories that will be released monthly for the rest of 2025 and features Blake working alongside his German Special Branch colleague, Keith Hausenkraft, a character we will get to meet in more detail when the fifth novel, Everything, is released at the end of 2025.
When Special Branch agent Blake Langford discovers that a fellow agent, Sasha Kira is entangled in a dangerous affair with a German politician, his loyalties are tested.
Torn between shielding a colleague and safeguarding national security, Blake delves deeper into the politician’s shadowy agenda.
As the stakes rise and the threat becomes impossible to ignore, Blake must convince Sasha to put duty above desire or risk both of their lives and the fate of British Intelligence.
Shield
The 1st Blake Langford Short Story Preview
Blake Langford stood amongst a crowd of photographers and journalists anxiously awaiting their chance to pounce. Like a lion stalking its prey, every move is calculated, every move deliberate but here, the hunter soon becomes the hunted.
As two men wearing black suits with earpieces in full view enter the terminal, his attention is drawn to the blonde woman wearing a grey two-piece suit hanging onto the arm of the prey the media seek.
As the prey politely answers a couple of questions before continuing on his way, Blake follows the hunters out of the airport terminal, watching nonchalantly as they desperately try to catch the perfect photo for their reports.
His mission was simple, to track and follow Sasha Kira, a fellow Special Branch agent assigned to assist and support Gerhard Klassenheimer, a well established member in German political circles and rumoured to be the next German Chancellor.
A yellow taxi pulls up to the curb and Blake climbs into the back seat.
“Eyes on the prize?” the driver asked.
“Subtlety is key,” Blake replied as they passed through the streets of Berlin in a blur before arriving at a gated house on the outskirts of the city.
“I’ll be in the alley, zero one hundred hours,” the driver said as he handed Blake a black box.
He opened it and removed a gun and a pen from inside it. “What’s this?” Blake asked, waving the pen in the air.
“It can write a very binding contract if you catch my drift.”
Blake smiled. “Totally, thanks Keith,” he said before stepping out of the car and walking down the road towards the front gate, the evening breeze flowing through his short black hair.
He looked up at the camera mounted upon the post at the side of the gate as he approached. The gates opened automatically and he walked through. As he approached the house, he noticed several couples dressed in formal wear were sipping champagne and loitering in the shadows of the front garden. Golden lights decorated the front of the house with glass baubles placed on the lawn that wouldn’t have been out of place at a Christmas fayre.
Blake entered the house and carefully moved past several couples as he approached the kitchen. A suited barman stood behind a work surface creating cocktails for a delighted audience whilst music blared out from speakers strategically placed around the house.
The Last Train
The second Blake Langford short story takes place on the south coast before finishing in the heart of London. Samir Khalifa joins Blake in this adventure as they investigate the disappearance of Blake's brother, Steven Langford, who we met in the third novel, In The Shadow Of My Life. Alongside Blake and Samir is a new Detective Chief Inspector, Heather Fordingbridge, a character with divided loyalties who we meet in the fifth Blake Langford novel, Everything.
Blake Langford waits at Waterloo Station for his brother Steven to arrive on the 10pm train from Bournemouth. But when the train arrives, Steven is nowhere to be seen. His phone is off and no one has heard from him for the past 24 hours.
Meanwhile, Samir Khalifa receives a call from a Police Detective in Eastleigh about a derailed train that plunged into a river, claiming multiple lives.
As Blake and Samir dig deeper into Steven’s disappearance, they uncover a tangled web of mistaken identity and a ruthless criminal organisation laundering money across cities in the UK.
With the truth pointing to Steven being entangled in a deadly conspiracy, Blake must race against time to unravel the mystery before his brother’s involvement costs him his life.
The Last Train
The 2nd Blake Langford Short Story Preview
Blake Langford stood on platform eighteen at Waterloo Station on a rainy Monday evening. Three other people had been waiting patiently with him as he checked his watch. 22:05. The ten o’clock train from Bournemouth had arrived but his brother, Steven, was nowhere to be seen. Passengers rushed past him on the platform, some hurrying towards the exits or towards the network of underground trains that snaked across the capital, others pausing to embrace waiting loved ones.
A family of four passed by, the father balancing a suitcase in one hand whilst holding his sleepy daughter in the other. The scene made Blake think of his own son, Michael, after he arrived in London at eight years old, full of wonder of what this new country had in store for him after spending the first eight years of his childhood in Miami. A group of university students, laughing and jostling each other, headed towards the Underground.
Blake scanned the thinning crowd again, irritation beginning to seep in. Steven was late. That in itself wasn’t unusual, his younger brother had a habit of losing track of time. Whilst his younger days of student parties, sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll were behind him since he found peace in a spiritual retreat in Cambodia a few years ago, some other habits seemed harder to break. Blake tried to remain positive but his phone going straight to voicemail all day, that was unusual.
He pulled out his phone and tried again. Still off. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm. There was probably some kind of simple explanation to all of this. Steven might’ve missed the train or maybe his phone had died. Neither scenario was cause for concern, not yet anyway. But a persistent unease settled in Blake’s mind. His instincts, honed by years in Special Branch, told him that something was wrong.
He strode towards the station’s information desk.
“Excuse me,” he said, flashing his ID. “Blake Langford, Special Branch. I need to check if a passenger named Steven Langford was on the Bournemouth train that just arrived.”
The woman behind the counter hesitated. “I’m afraid we don’t keep track of individual passengers, sir.”
Blake leaned in slightly. “I understand, but this is a matter of urgency. I know that facial recognition technology was implemented on your trains eighteen months ago so anything you can tell me, if there were any delays or incidents on the route would be helpful.”
She looked at him cautiously before typing into her computer. “The train arrived on time with no reported issues. If your brother was on board, he should’ve disembarked with everyone else.”
But he hadn’t.
Blake nodded his thanks and stepped away, his mind working through possibilities. He checked his messages one last time but there was nothing from Steven. He called Paula at home to see if Steven had left a message for him there but she had heard nothing from him. Then his phone buzzed.
He answered immediately. “Steven?”
“No, it’s Samir,” came the familiar voice of his colleague from Special Branch. “Blake, we have a situation.”
Blake felt his muscles tense. It was unusual for Samir Khalifa to call when they were not involved in a case together unless it was serious. “What kind of situation?”
“A train derailment in Eastleigh. It went off the tracks and into the river. Multiple fatalities.”
Blake felt a shiver run through him. “The Bournemouth train?”
“It started its journey in Bournemouth, yeah,” Samir said. “But here’s the thing, local police found something in the wreckage. A wallet. It belongs to your brother, Steven Langford.”
Coleslaw And Chips
The third Blake Langford short story takes place in London when Blake is inadvertantly caught up in a conspiracy involving £20 notes which have had their metal counterfeit strips replaced with lethal artificial intelligence.
When a late-night Kebab house is destroyed in a gas explosion, the owner uncovers a mysterious metal strip imbedded in a £20 note taken from the till just minutes before the blast.
Elsewhere, Blake Langford, enjoying a cone of chips outside a local takeaway, observes two men exchanging cash near a dumpster. His curiosity leads him to discover a young woman tied up behind the bin. As Blake works to free her, she warns him that the money will kill them both before fleeing to a nearby hotel.
Drawn into a dangerous conspiracy, Blake must unravel the link between the marked money, the explosion and the enigmatic woman before he becomes the next victim of a deadly secret.
Coleslaw And Chips
The 3rd Blake Langford Short Story Preview
The clock above the counter read 11:57 pm when Mehmet Yilmaz flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” at his kebab house on Harrow Street. The air smelled of sizzling lamb and garlic sauce, a comforting haze after a long shift. He wiped his hands on his apron, the fabric, although regularly cleaned, remained stained with years of grease. As he opened the till to count the night’s takings, a single £20 note caught his attention as it sat on top of a pile of coins. It was a last-minute payment from a twitchy customer who had ordered a doner with extra coleslaw and chips before leaving quickly. Mehmet slid the note into his pocket, planning to grab a coffee from the late-night cafe down the road.
He’d barely locked the door when his world was irreversibly changed. A thunderous boom shook the ground, hurling him into the street as glass and brick scattered like confetti all around him. His ears rang, his vision blurred with smoke. When he staggered to his feet, the kebab house that was once his livelihood, his reason for working the long hours far away from his family back home, was gone, reduced to a smoldering pile of debris. Fire engulfed the wreckage and distant sirens echoed in the frosty night air. Mehmet’s hands trembled as he pulled the £20 note from his pocket, its edges singed but intact. Under the flickering streetlight, he noticed something odd. There was a thin, metallic strip woven into the paper, glinting like a hidden secret just waiting to be discovered. He knew it wasn’t a normal security thread. He’d handled thousands of notes and this was different. It felt warm to the touch, unfamiliar and potentially dangerous.
A fireman shouted at him to move back but Mehmet barely heard. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what had happened. The explosion had been called a gas leak on the crackling radio of a nearby police car, but that £20 note, something about it was unsettling him. He slipped it back into his pocket before sitting down on the curb, wondering who or what he had done to cause this retaliation in a community he regarded as a home away from home.
Firing Line
Alison Pearce reaches out to Blake after discovering the death certificate of her estranged sister hidden amongst classified document in Special Branch Headquarters. As Blake's weekend off is brought to an abrupt end, the two colleagues head to Amsterdam to repair the damage caused by a previously failed mission and hopefully find out what happened to Alison's sister.
When Alison Pearce stumbles across her estranged sister’s death certificate in a classified file at Special Branch Headquarters, her world is turned upside down. Desperate for answers, she contacts her family only to learn from her brother-in-law that her sister is not dead, she’s working undercover, infiltrating the operations of a powerful multi-millionaire trafficking drugs out of Amsterdam. With the stakes continuing to rise, Blake Langford assists Alison to help unravel a treacherous web of lies that stretches from the shadows of Amsterdam’s red light district to the upper echelons of the Dutch Government. But as they uncover secrets that could compromise national security, Alison and Blake must confront a chilling question: when military secrets are on the line, how do you know who to trust?
Firing Line
The 4th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
Blake Langford walked the aisles of the local supermarket with his wife, Paula, as he enjoyed some long overdue time away from Special Branch. As Paula began looking at the beef joints in the fresh meat aisle, he heard a song playing over the tannoy speakers that took him back to his childhood in the 1980’s. After continuing on their way, he overheard one of the shop workers commenting about the song on the store radio.
“You know it’s going to be Sod’s Law that I’m going to die in this place with that bloody song blasting on the radio as I take my last breath,” he said before noticing that Paula and Blake were nearby.
Blake chuckled softly at the shop worker’s grim humour, exchanging an amused glance with Paula. The song was some synth-heavy 80s tune he couldn’t quite place but felt lodged deep in his memory as it continued to hum through the supermarket’s speakers.
Paula nudged him with her elbow, holding up two packs of beef joints. “Roast tomorrow?” she asked, her voice pulling him back from the memory.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Blake replied, though his attention drifted again as the worker shuffled past them, muttering something about needing to restock the sausages.
There was a weariness in the man’s demeanour that Blake recognized. It was a kind of quiet resignation he’d seen in too many faces during his years with Special Branch. Too many days, weeks, months, even years, pursuing a line of enquiry that inevitably was never completed and the complacency begins to filter in. You became less focused, less enthusiastic about your work and that was inevitably where things began to go wrong and you ended up unemployed or dead. Blake shook the feeling off. This was supposed to be a break, a respite from the weight of his work but he struggled to shake off a nagging doubt of something feeling not quite right.
They moved towards the fresh vegetable and produce aisle. Paula began debating between carrots or parsnips while Blake absentmindedly scanned the shelves. The song looped into its chorus again and he found himself humming along. He hadn’t thought about the 80s in ages, mix tapes, neon trainers, the crackle of his father’s old radio when they used to go fishing off of Lepe Beach. Simpler times and simpler days that he often longed for at times when things became too heavy. We all tend to look back with rose-tinted glasses about the old days and Blake knew, the hard times and some of the good times were what made him the man he was today.
“Oi, mate, you’re blocking the spuds,” came a gruff voice behind him.
Blake turned to see a stocky man in a faded denim jacket, arms crossed, glaring at him over a trolley piled high with discounted tins of food.
“Sorry,” Blake said, stepping aside with a polite nod.
The man grunted and shoved past, muttering under his breath about “dawdlers.” Paula raised an eyebrow at Blake, suppressing a smirk.
“Charming,” she whispered, tossing a bag of potatoes into their trolley.
“Can’t win them all,” Blake smiled.
Group Think
The fifth Blake Langford Adventures short story was a fun adventure to write as it focuses on the darker side of Samir Khalifa's character that had previously been explored in the third and fourth Blake Langford Adventures novels. After John had recently visited Newcastle with his family, the idea to base the story in the city meant that Blake, Alison and Samir had to rely on their own experience away from their secure Special Branch base in London giving this story a different dynamic to what has gone before. (This title will be released on August 1st 2025.)
Special Branch agent, Samir Khalifa goes undercover at a high-stakes casino to investigate a gambler suspected of using a chain of laundrettes as a front for a tax evasion and money laundering scheme.
When nine other businessmen buy into the scheme however, Samir becomes the lone hold-out, placing him in direct opposition with the gambler and under growing suspicion.
As Blake Langford and Alison Pearce infiltrate the consortium, Samir’s doubts deepen. The operation seems too smooth, the profits too tempting and the gambler was too convincing.
As pressures mount and loyalties blur, Samir must decide whether to hold his ground or will the power of group think push him to cross a line he swore he’d never breach?
Group Think
The 5th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
The neon lights of the Golden Mirage Casino on Newgate Street in Newcastle illuminated the night sky, casting a kaleidoscope of colour across Samir Khalifa’s face. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit as he caught the reflection of his freshly shaven stubble in the window. The weight of his Special Branch ID on this occasion was replaced by a gambler’s chip in his pocket. He had often enjoyed summer evening walks alongside the vast Tyne River down by the Quayside, back when he and his colleague, Alison Pearce, had been briefly dating. Simpler times, happier times but tonight, he was focused on the game in hand. He wasn’t a Special Branch agent. He was Sami Kassem, a high-roller, risk-taker and the newest mark in Vincent Moretti’s dysfunctional regime.
Moretti was a Special Branch target. A slick, silver-haired gambler with a disarming smile and a reputation for turning dirty money clean. Intelligence had identified him as the mastermind behind a laundrette chain that scrubbed more than just stains. Tax evasion, money laundering, a multimillion-pound operation hidden behind spin cycles and detergent fumes. Samir’s job was simple, to get close, gather evidence and dismantle it. But nothing about Vincent Moretti was simple.
The casino was buzzing with animated conversations, the clink of chips, the spinning of the roulette wheels and the murmur of wealth. Samir slid into a seat at Moretti’s private poker table in a room separated off at the side. As he entered, he felt the tension in the room. Moretti’s eyes flicked up, assessing him like a predator sizing up his prey.
“New blood,” Moretti smiled, his voice calm and calculated. “You got a name or should I just call you Lucky?
“Sami Kassem,” Samir replied, matching Moretti’s grin. “And I don’t rely on luck.”
The game began and so did the dance. Over the next few nights, Samir played his role to perfection, winning just enough to impress, losing just enough to stay humble. Moretti began warming to him, dropping hints about potential business opportunities in between hands. It wasn’t long before the pitch came.
“A laundrette empire,” Moretti said one night, as he swirled and drank the remains of a glass of bourbon. “Low overheads and a steady cash flow with minimum effort on your part. The kind of thing a man like you could buy into. Clean money, Sami. Real clean.”
Samir resisted the obvious pun and leaned in, feigning interest. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just a consortium. There are nine other players already in. Smart men. Hungry men. Men who know a good deal when they see one.”
Blue Icons
As Michael Langford's relationship with his father begins to break down in the latest novel, this short story revisits their relationship three years later after Michael has moved out to live with his girlfriend Emma. Despite the hostility between Michael and Blake, when trouble calls, Michael is still reluctantly there when his father needs him. The question is, can Blake let go enough to allow him in? (This title will be released on 1st September 2025)
Whilst passing through Luton Airport, Michael Langford and his girlfriend, Emma West, are unexpectedly intercepted by a security guard and escorted through a labyrinth of corridors to a shadowy interrogation room. There, a mysterious man bearing a neon blue emblem on his shirt reveals that Michael’s father, Special Branch agent, Blake Langford, has been compromised during an undercover mission and urgently needs his help.
Without time to question, Michael and Emma are whisked onto a chartered plane bound for Gibraltar. Upon arrival, they’re taken aboard a fishing boat that slips into a hidden cave beneath The Rock Of Gibraltar. What awaits them is a powerful, unknown energy source capable of triggering nuclear armageddon.
As Special Branch operatives close in, Blake races against time to rescue Michael and Emma whilst confronting a deadly plot to weaponise the energy source and ignite a catastrophic war with Morocco. When every second counts, Blake and his team must trust each other or face losing everything.
Blue Icons
The 6th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
Michael Langford tightened his grip on Emma West’s hand as they shuffled through the bustling crowd at Luton Airport. With this being their first holiday together alone, he wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly. The hum of suitcase wheels and hurried goodbyes filled the air as they headed towards their check-in desk. Emma was mid-sentence, teasing him about his overpacking, when a security guard, broad-shouldered and stern-faced, stepped directly into their path.
“Mr. Langford?” the guard asked.
Michael froze, glancing at Emma, whose playful grin had vanished.
Before he could respond, the guard gestured sharply. “Follow me. Both of you.”
Confusion and a nervous energy built up in Michael’s chest as they were ushered away from the check-in desks, down a narrow corridor that smelled faintly of bleach and metal.
Emma’s fingers dug into his arm. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
Michael shrugged, it wasn’t the first time that the two of them had been whisked away from where they had planned to be. Soon after they had started secondary school together, they met in the local church yard, planning to go to the local activity centre together and ended up in a dingy house in Birmingham with a crazed terrorist looking to build nuclear weapons. If it hadn’t been for Michael’s father, Blake, and his quick thinking when he managed to deactivate a live suicide vest packed with explosives, Emma wouldn’t have been here today.
The guard didn’t speak again. He led them through a maze of turns, left and right, down a flight of stairs until the noise of the airport’s passengers faded into an eerie silence. Finally, they arrived at a steel door. It creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room with bare walls and a single conference table in the middle of it surrounded by metal chairs.
A man stood inside the room. His presence was commanding despite the dullness of his surroundings. He was tall, with a perfectly trimmed moustache and dark eyes that seemed to pierce through whoever he encountered. A neon blue emblem glowed on his black shirt, a jagged, unfamiliar symbol, that made Michael’s stomach twist. Over the years, he had been caught up in many of his father’s exploits as part of Special Branch. In fact, it was because of those exploits that the relationship between Michael and his father had deteriorated so much.
The man didn’t introduce himself. Instead, he slid a grainy photograph across the table of a man in a trench coat, half-hidden by shadows, caught mid-stride on some rain-soaked street.
“Your father, Blake Langford,” the man said, his voice stern and authoritative. “He’s been compromised. Undercover operation has gone south. He needs you, Michael. Now.”
“What’s this all about? We were meant to be heading to Cyprus!” Emma replied.
The man ignored her, keeping his focus intently on Michael.
Michael stared at the photo, his pulse hammering. His gut instinct told him that something was off. His father, who’d always dodged questions about his job within Special Branch and had made sure that Michael and his wife Paula were kept as separated from his job as possible after several close calls, would never call him into an ongoing mission unless there was no other option. He knew he needed to keep his cards close to his chest. Despite the differences he and his father had, one wrong word to the wrong person could lead to horrific consequences. He took a deep breath. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is he?”
“No time,” the man snapped, already moving towards the door. “You’re coming with me. Both of you.”
“Wait, we’re not going anywhere until you explain…” Emma protested.
“There’s a plane waiting,” the man interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He’s in Gibraltar. That’s where you’re needed.”
Death In The First Degree
The 7th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
Morgan, a first year student at Kings Cross University, turns up at Blake’s flat at 2am, bloodied and shaken, claiming her boyfriend, Charlie Swanson, attacked her. Skeptical but concerned, Blake ventures out to the scene of the alleged assault. Instead of signs of a struggle, he stumbles upon the lifeless body of a Special Branch agent.
As Blake begins to dig into Charlie Swanson’s past, he finds himself entangled in a web of secrets that reach far beyond a simple case of domestic violence. Charlie isn’t just a troubled boyfriend, he has ties to a shadowy underworld figure known only as The Lyricist, a ruthless and enigmatic gang leader whose influence runs deep through London’s criminal networks.
With both the police and dangerous criminals closing in, Blake must navigate a treacherous path to uncover the truth. Is Morgan a victim or a pawn? Why was a Special Branch agent at the scene? And who is The Lyricist, really? As the mystery unravels, Blake realises that some stories are deadlier than they appear and some secrets are worth killing for.
Death In The First Degree
The 7th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
The knock came at 2am, sharp and insistent, rattling the door of Blake Langford’s Kensington flat. He stumbled out of bed, the weight of a long day at Special Branch still clinging to him with whiskey on his breath. As he checked the doorbell camera, he saw Morgan Taylor, a first-year student at Kings Cross University, who had completed a work experience placement with Head of Special Branch Eric Gordon’s secretary, Angela Barnes, a couple of years ago, her face streaked with blood, her eyes wide with terror.
“Charlie… he attacked me,” she said when he opened the door. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Blake’s instincts immediately flared, skepticism at first, then concern. Morgan’s story was shaky, her details vague, this was a situation he didn’t want to be a part of but the blood on her cheek was real. He grabbed his coat, a torch and his gun, before following her directions to a deserted alley near to the local shops. There was an eerie stillness in the damp chill of London’s early hours that unnerved him.
The alley was too quiet. No signs of a struggle, no scuffed pavement, no dropped belongings. Just silence, until Blake’s torch beam caught a glint of something metallic. He crouched down, his heart sinking as he found a Special Branch ID lying beside the lifeless body of Agent Robert Bysiewicz. A single gunshot wound to his chest, clean and professional. This wasn’t a domestic spat gone wrong.
Back at the flat, Morgan sat huddled in a blanket, clutching a mug of tea that Blake had made. She swore Charlie Swanson, her boyfriend, had snapped, hit her and chased her into the alley. But her eyes darted too often, her story was too rehearsed. Blake didn’t buy it. He’d interrogated enough suspects over the years to spot a liar when he saw one and Morgan Taylor was not convincing him. Not with Robert Bysiewicz dead.
He ran Charlie’s name through every database he could access. The results were thin but troubling: a few minor arrests, a history of odd jobs and whispers of ties to London’s underworld. One name kept surfacing, a ghost in the system, someone known only as The Lyricist. No face, no real name, just a reputation for ruthlessness and a knack for staying untouchable. Charlie wasn’t just a troubled kid, it seemed he was involved or at least a thread in a much larger web.
By dawn, Blake was on the move, chasing leads across London. A contact in Scotland Yard tipped him off about a rundown dive bar in Whitechapel, a known haunt for The Lyricist’s crew. The place reeked of stale beer, marijuana and body odour. Blake flashed Bysiewicz’s badge at the barman, an African man with a scar across his knuckles and a twitching right eye when he spoke.
“Swanson,” Blake said, keeping his voice low. “Where is he?”
The barman subtly nodded towards a back room before he shrugged. Blake didn’t wait for an invitation. He pushed through a beaded curtain and found Charlie Swanson, all nervous energy and bruised knuckles, hunched over a table with two other men. He could feel the tension in the room.
“Langford, Special Branch,” Blake said, his hand resting against the gun inside his jacket pocket. “We need to talk.”
Charlie ran, shoving past one of the men and out of a side door. Blake gave chase, weaving through narrow streets until he cornered Charlie in a dead-end alley. The kid was panting, wild-eyed, but there was something else in his gaze, fear, not guilt.
“I didn’t touch her!” Charlie shouted. “Morgan’s lying. She’s working for him. That’s why she worked for you.”
“Him?” Blake asked, holding his gun steady.
“The Lyricist. I owed him money. He told me to deliver a package. He said it’d square us. I didn’t know it was a setup.”
Blake’s mind raced. “What package?”
Charlie hesitated, then whispered, “Bysiewicz was the package.”
Before Blake could process what he’d said, tyres screeched nearby. He grabbed Charlie, dragging him behind a metal skip as a black van roared into the alley. Two men in balaclavas leapt out, weapons drawn. Blake fired a warning shot, scattering them, but not before a bullet grazed Charlie’s arm. He screamed out, clutching the wound.
“Stay down,” Blake said, returning fire. The attackers retreated, the van reversed out of the alley before disappearing into the night.
A Taste Of Freedom
The 8th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
After twenty-five years behind bars, William Barnes steps out of HMS Drummond Prison in London, finally a free man. But his freedom lasts mere seconds. As he takes his first breath of free air, a car screeches past, gunfire erupts and Barnes collapses, dead before he hits the ground.
Meanwhile, in Oxford, Special Branch Agent Blake Langford pushes open the doors of All Saints Church, expecting quiet solitude. Instead, he finds a lone figure crouched at the altar, clutching a wine glass filled to the brim with blood. As Blake steps closer, the man offers no explanation, only a cryptic stare and trembling hands.
With no immediate source for the blood and no apparent crime, Blake begins to dig into the man’s connections within Oxford’s academic and religious circles. What he discovers leads him back three decades to William Barnes, his violent past and a hidden secret that someone was willing to silence forever.
As Blake pieces together a conspiracy buried for over thirty years, he finds himself caught between those seeking the truth and those determined to keep it buried no matter what the cost. But the deeper he goes, the clearer it becomes that Barnes wasn’t just killed for his past, he was killed to prevent what comes next.
A Taste Of Freedom
The 8th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
The air outside HMS Drummond Prison was sharp with autumn’s bite, carrying the faint tang of diesel and damp stone. William Barnes, gaunt and grey after twenty-five years inside, took his first free step beyond the iron gates. His eyes, still sharp despite the years, scanned the empty street. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to believe in second chances. Then came the screech of tyres. A black BMW roared past, its window down just long enough for a silenced gun to fire. Barnes crumpled, dead before his body kissed the pavement, a single bullet through his heart.
Three hours later, in Oxford, Special Branch Agent Blake Langford pushed open the heavy oak doors of All Saints Church. The creak of hinges echoed in the cavernous space, where shadows clung to the stained-glass saints. Blake craved silence, a momentary escape from the relentless churn of his work. Instead, he froze. At the altar, a man knelt, his dark coat pooling around him like spilled ink. In his trembling hands, he clutched a wine glass filled to the brim with blood, its surface rippling under the candlelight.
“Excuse me,” Blake called out. “Can you tell me what’s in the glass?”
The man didn’t turn. His head tilted slightly, revealing a pale, unshaven face and eyes that gleamed with something between fear and defiance. The glass shook, a droplet of blood spilling onto the stone floor. Blake stepped closer, his hand hovering near the gun beneath his jacket. No body, no wounds, no obvious source for the blood. Just this stranger and his cryptic stare.
“What’s your name?” Blake asked.
The man’s lips twitched, but no words came out. He set the glass down on the altar with deliberate care, then ran out of a side door. Blake chased him, but the man was gone, swallowed by Oxford’s labyrinth of city centre alleys.
***
At Thames Valley Police’s headquarters in Kidlington, a few miles from the city centre, Blake slumped into a chair, the image of the blood-filled glass playing on his mind. Across the desk, Alison Pearce, his colleague of five years, looked at him quizzically. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and her sharp green eyes dissected him as easily as they did case files.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, tossing a file onto the desk. “Or something weirder.”
“Bloke at All Saints Church,” Blake replied. “Holding a glass of blood. No explanation, no crime scene. Just… blood.”
Alison frowned. “Human blood?”
“Lab’s testing it now. But that’s not all of it. He ran before I could get a name, but I recognised him. Dr. Thomas Hughes, theology professor at Magdalen College. Reclusive type, spends his days buried in medieval manuscripts according to local students.”
Alison leaned forward. “So, what’s a scholar doing playing vampire at an altar?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ve got a bad feeling it’s tied to something bigger.”
Blake’s phone buzzed. A text from the lab:
Blood is human.
Type O-positive.
No DNA match in the system.
He showed it to Alison, whose expression changed.
“All right,” she said, grabbing her coat. “Let’s pay Dr. Hughes a visit.”
As they moved to leave the police station, the local Police Detective, DCI Tony Froggatt approached them. “Langford, your friends from London came up with that file on William Barnes that you requested. Seems that he had a connection with Oxford University, his ex-sister-in-law, Denise Thorne, was a lecturer alongside your vampire from the church, a Doctor Thomas Michael Hughes.”
“Was Barnes still in contact with his ex-wife?” Blake asked.
“We’re still trying to trace her. After he went down, she filed for a divorce and emigrated to Spain. Last known address was in Valencia. I’ve got interpol looking into it but it could take a while.”
“Did she remarry?”
“Not as far as we know, although she returned to her maiden name and was registered as Lynne Amber Thorne when she left the country according to immigration records.”
“She could be a person of interest with Barnes’s death,” Alison replied.
“It’s a possible route of inquiry. Especially as now he’s dead, his will states that everything is left to her.”
“Despite the divorce?”
“He never got round to changing his will.”
“Was there enough of an incentive in the will to kill for?” Blake asked.
“He had money in some investment funds which were frozen when he went inside but people have been killed for less. My sergeant is digging into the paperwork now.”
“So if it’s not the ex-wife then who else would want him dead?”
“There’s a whole list of people who would’ve wanted Barnes dead. He was sent down for a multitude of crimes, rape, murder, extortion, GBH, money laundering, the list goes on. He also knew a lot of people and took a lot of secrets inside with him. The Met have got their work cut out for them if they’re looking for the culprit. There was likely a queue of them.”
“Thanks Tony, we’ll be in touch,” Blake replied as he followed Alison out of the station.
Nothing To Declare
The 9th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
After a grueling Special Branch mission in Morocco, Blake Langford lands in Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport expecting a routine customs check. Instead, he’s detained when officers discover a locked briefcase amongst his luggage, one that Blake insists isn’t his.
Before he can explain, a team of armed guards storm the checkpoint shattering any hope of a simple misunderstanding. In the chaos, Blake escapes with the briefcase but is now branded as an international fugitive, pursued by relentless mercenaries and police.
Blake teams up with Isabelle Moreau, a Special Branch agent in their French division who helps him uncover a conspiracy tied to stolen intelligence, a vanished diplomat and a shadowy criminal known as The Silent Hand.
As Blake and Isabelle travel across Europe, each clue pulls them deeper into a web of black market espionage. The briefcase holds encrypted files exposing a government betrayal so explosive, it could destabilise nations. But someone powerful wants to keep those secrets buried and they will kill to keep them hidden.
As time runs out, Blake decrypts the files and discovers that the briefcase was meant for him, sent by a colleague who believed he alone could dismantle The Silent Hand. Will Blake expose the conspiracy and become the world’s most wanted man or disappear into the shadows, carrying the weight of a truth too dangerous to reveal?
Nothing To Declare
The 9th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris was crowded with travelers rushing to get to wherever they needed to be, but Blake Langford felt only the ache of exhaustion. Fresh off of a grueling Special Branch mission in Morocco, his body only craved rest. He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, expecting a routine customs check before a hot shower and a bed. The customs officer, a large set man with a reddened freshly shaven face, waved him forwards.
“Passport,” the officer said, barely glancing up.
Blake handed it over.
The officer scanned his luggage, then froze. “Monsieur, open this.”
He pointed to a sleek, black briefcase tucked beside Blake’s bag, a case that Blake had never seen before.
“That’s not mine,” Blake replied.
The officer glared at him. “Open it. Now.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not…”
Before Blake could finish, the officer signaled to armed guards and the checkpoint erupted into chaos. Shouts in French, the clatter of boots and the unmistakable click of guns being raised. Blake’s instincts kicked in. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a setup.
A side door burst open and four masked men in tactical gear stormed in, machine guns blazing. Travelers screamed, diving for cover. Blake didn’t think, he acted. He grabbed the briefcase, ducked behind a counter and sprinted for the nearest exit as bullets ricocheted off of walls around him. The guards weren’t customs. They were mercenaries.
He slipped into the chaos of the terminal, his heart pounding. Whoever planted that briefcase wanted him dead or wanted whatever was inside it. Either way, he was now a fugitive and he needed a plan of action and fast. He made his way to the exit and climbed into the first available taxi.
***
As the rain fell heavily, Blake, wrapped in a trench coat he’d hastily purchased from a local shop, arrived at a safe house in Montmartre to meet Isabelle Moreau, a Special Branch agent from the French division.
Over a burner phone, she’d agreed to help, but her first words were a warning: “You’re on every watchlist in Europe, Langford. What’s in that case?”
“I don’t know,” Blake admitted, placing the briefcase on the table. “It was locked, no key, no combination. But someone’s willing to kill for it.”
Isabelle’s tech kit cracked the lock in under an hour. Inside was a single USB drive, encrypted with military-grade security.
As she worked to decrypt it, she filled Blake in on what the French team had uncovered. “A British diplomat, Edward Collins, vanished two weeks ago after meeting a contact known only as The Silent Hand. Collins’s last report mentioned stolen intelligence including files that could expose a network of black-market espionage. Now this has turned up, it could well be the key that unlocks the secrets we’ve been searching for.”
“But why me?” Blake asked. “Surely they would know that I wouldn’t take it at face value?”
“You were either picked at random, unlikely. Or someone wanted you dead. Either way, your ass is on the line until we figure out what this is.”
The decryption revealed fragments: names of double agents, bank accounts and a coded reference to “Project Echelon.” But before they could dig deeper, the safe house door exploded inwards.
The explosion blasted the door off its hinges, fire and smoke quickly filled the safe house. Blake tackled Isabelle to the floor as shrapnel shredded the air above them. Wood splinters and brick dust rained down. His ears rang, the only sound a high-pitched whine until the stomping of boots and the cocking of weapons brought clarity back.
Isabelle rolled to her feet, grabbing the encrypted USB and stuffing it into her jacket pocket. Blake was already moving, he kicked over the table, flipping it into a crude barrier as bullets tore through the walls.
“Two at the front!” Isabelle shouted, slipping her Glock from a thigh holster.
She dropped to one knee and fired through the smoke, two precise shots. One attacker screamed and fell. The other dived behind a sofa, returning fire in wild bursts that lit up the room. Blake pulled a knife from his boot and hurled it. It spun end-over-end and embedded itself in the gunman’s shoulder. He screamed and crumpled. No time to finish him as more shadows appeared in the doorway.
“They’re flanking,” Blake shouted.
He sprinted towards the window at the back of the apartment as Isabelle fired at the door. He shouldered into the frame but it didn’t budge. Another burst of bullets peppered the wall beside him.
“Move!” Isabelle shouted as she passed him a stun grenade.
He yanked the pin and threw it towards the hallway. The explosion was blinding, even from behind the table. Screams followed. They vaulted out of the back window, shards of glass slicing at their clothes as they dropped into a narrow alley. A black van screeched to a stop at the far end of the alley, their reinforcements. Blake grabbed a metal rubbish bin and shoved it into the van’s path. It bought them seconds.
He and Isabelle sprinted in opposite directions before Blake shouted, “Metro entrance, Rue de Clignancourt!”
As they arrived at the station, Isabelle dived through the turnstile, flipping a stolen metro card at Blake. He caught it mid-stride and vaulted over the barrier. Shouts echoed behind them. Gunfire cracked and commuters screamed as they dropped to the floor. Blake and Isabelle disappeared down the stairs as a train pulled in. Their timing was perfect. They jumped aboard just as the doors began to close. The last thing they saw before the train pulled away was a masked mercenary slamming a fist into the glass and a look that promised this wasn’t over.
As the tunnel swallowed them into darkness, Blake turned to Isabelle. “We need to find out what Project Echelon is.”
She nodded. “And stay alive long enough to stop it.”
Suspicious Mind
The 10th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
CIA agent, Jason Price and his wife, Kellie, arrive in London for a long overdue break. After having lunch at the top of The Shard, an explosion near Buckingham Palace sends the capital into chaos.
Special Branch agent Blake Langford is on an assignment in France and watches the explosion happen on TV. Local detectives discover that it was a terrorist attack by an American journalist targeting The Royal Family.
As the smoke rises over Buckingham Palace, Jason Price’s vacation is over before it even begins. Rushing to the scene, he uses his CIA credentials to gain access to the investigation where he quickly learns that British Intelligence is scrambling to contain the crisis. The Royal Family has been moved to a secure location but the attack has left the country on high alert.
Meanwhile, in France, Blake abandons his undercover assignment and returns to London. As he digs deeper into the investigation, he discovers the journalist, Daniel Carter, had been working on an expose about a covert MI6 operation before disappearing several months ago. Now he has resurfaced as a terrorist leaving cryptic messages across London’s shadowy underworld. When Kellie Price becomes a target, Jason’s mission turns personal.
With London on the brink of another attack, Jason and Blake must work together to stop a conspiracy that could shatter the fragile alliance between the USA and the UK before it’s too late.
Suspicious Mind
The 10th Blake Langford Short Story Exclusive Preview
The view from The Shard’s thirty-second floor was a love letter to London, sprawling, historic, alive. Jason Price sipped his gin and tonic, the ice clinking softly as he leaned back in his chair. Across the table, Kellie’s eyes sparkled, her laugh cutting through the hum of the restaurant. For the first time in years, they felt like a normal couple. No covert ops, no encrypted briefings. Just lunch. Just them.
“Do you think we can stretch this vacation to a month?” Kellie teased, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Her smile was a rare gift, one that Jason had missed during his last stint in Langley.
“I’d have to bribe the director. Or fake my death,” he smiled.
She raised her glass. “To faking it.”
Their glasses met with a delicate clink, but the moment shattered with a low, guttural boom that vibrated through the glass walls. Jason’s instincts kicked in before his brain caught up. He was on his feet, scanning the horizon. A plume of black smoke curled into the sky, clawing upwards from the direction of Buckingham Palace. The restaurant went silent, then erupted into gasps and murmurs.
“Jason?” Kellie’s voice was steady but her hand was already on his arm.
“Stay here,” he said.
He was already moving towards the window, his phone out, thumbing through contacts. The CIA’s London station chief was his first call. No answer. He tried again, his eyes locked on the smoke. Sirens wailed in the distance, faint but growing louder.
Kellie was beside him now, ignoring his order. “What is it?”
“An explosion. Near the palace.”
He didn’t look at her, his mind racing through scenarios, a gas leak, an accident, an attack. The last one stuck. His gut told him this wasn’t random, this was a targeted attack on The Royal Family.
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
Palace hit. Terrorist attack. Stay clear.
No signature, but Jason knew the sender. MI5. He cursed under his breath. So much for a vacation.
“We need to go,” he said, grabbing Kellie’s hand.
She didn’t argue, her own training of years as a field analyst before she left the agency kicking in. They wove through the panicked crowd, past waiters frozen in shock and into the lift heading back down to the streets below. Jason’s mind was already at the scene, calculating angles, access points, casualties. He needed to be there.
The Shard’s reception area was chaos, guests shouting, security guards barking orders. Outside, London was unraveling. Police cars screamed past, their lights painting the streets red and blue. Jason flashed his CIA credentials to a harried constable, who barely glanced at them before waving him through a cordon. Kellie stayed close to him.
They reached St. James’s Park, around half a mile from the palace, where the air was thick with smoke and the stench of burning metal. The blast site was a jagged wound in the city’s heart, a delivery van, gutted and smoldering, surrounded by debris. Armed police swarmed the area, their radios crackling with urgent chatter.
Jason caught fragments of what was being said: “Royal Family evacuated… American suspect… high alert.”
He flashed his badge again, this time to a grim-faced MI5 officer. “Jason Price, CIA. What’s the situation?”
The officer looked at him warily, assessing him. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, mate.”
“Not today.” Jason snapped. “Talk.”
The officer hesitated, then relented. “The bomb went off twenty minutes ago. Van packed with C-4. The target was the palace, but the royals were already at Balmoral. We’ve got a name, Daniel Carter. American journalist. Left a manifesto claiming he’s exposing MI6 corruption. He called it his judgment day.”
Jason paused for a moment. A journalist turned terrorist? It didn’t add up. He glanced at Kellie, who was listening intently, her analyst’s brain no doubt picking apart the same inconsistencies. “Where’s Carter now?”
“Gone to ground. We’re sweeping the city.”
The officer’s radio crackled and he turned away, barking orders.
Jason pulled Kellie aside, lowering his voice. “This is bigger than one guy. Carter’s a patsy or a pawn. We need to…”
His phone buzzed again. Another text, this time with a photo attachment. His blood ran cold. It was Kellie, taken moments ago, standing right where they were now. The message read:
She’s next. Walk away, Price.
He grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a parked ambulance. “We’re being watched.”
Kellie’s eyes flicked to his phone, then to the crowd. “Carter?”
“Or whoever’s pulling his strings.” Jason’s mind raced. He needed intel, access, allies and he needed to keep Kellie alive. “We’re not walking away.”
Dead Men Don't Cry
The 11th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
When a cryptic message surfaces in London’s underworld claiming a long-dead traitor has returned, Special Branch Agent, Blake Langford, is drawn into a case that defies logic.
The trail leads to a series of brutal murders, each victim marked with a single tear tattoo, a signature tied to a notorious espionage scandal from a decade ago, one that ended with a public execution.
Blake’s investigation takes a personal turn when his sister, Jenny, a freelance journalist for the London Times newspaper, stumbles upon the same mystery.
As a treacherous web of encrypted files, double agents and a secretive society operating from the heart of Westminster come together, a devastating family secret emerges linking their late father, John Langford, to the conspiracy when a cold case from his time as a Police Detective is revisited with new evidence pointing to an error in his original investigation.
With help from fellow agents, Alison Pearce, Samir Khalifa and Joe Knight, Blake and Jenny need to decide how far they’re willing to go for justice and whether they can trust each other to survive the fallout.
A Matter Of Convenience
The 12th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
Special Branch agent Blake Langford arrives in the picturesque Burley Village nestled deep within The New Forest, tasked with unravelling a cryptic tip-off. The intelligence points to a member of parliament, a charismatic figure with deep roots in the tight-knit community, who may be linked to a conspiracy with far-reaching consequences for national security. What seemed like a straightforward investigation quickly reveals a darker undercurrent.
Blake teams up with his colleague Joe Knight as they uncover hints of a shadowy transaction tied to Burley’s ancient woodlands where old smuggling paths conceal modern secrets. The stakes escalate when Blake’s wife, Paula, unwittingly shares a post on the local social media page which shines a spotlight on the embattled MP.
In Burley Village where folklore, witchcraft and reality blur, the trio face a cunning MP whose public persona hides a ruthless edge. With tensions rising and the clock ticking, Blake must navigate the tangled loyalties of the village, safeguard Paula from the peril she’s uncovered and thwart a plan that threatens to ripple beyond the confines of The New Forest.
I Said I Loved You
The 13th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
When Paula Langford, wife of Special Branch agent, Blake Langford, receives an unexpected letter from her ex-boyfriend, Daniel Collins, someone she hasn’t seen since her days at Kings Cross University, two decades ago, her quiet life is thrown into intrigue.
As Blake and Paula head to Santander in Northern Spain to uncover the truth behind Daniel’s plea, they discover that Daniel is no ordinary ex-flame, he’s entangled in a shadowy world that threatens to draw them in.
With secrets unravelling and stakes rising, the Langfords must navigate a treacherous landscape of hidden motives, old promise and unexpected betrayals.
When love, loyalty and trust are tested to the limit as Blake and Paula confront the enigma of Daniel Collins, they face the startling reality that some pasts refuse to stay buried.
Guest List
The 14th short story of the series is available on Kindle Unlimited and a preview will be available on the Blake Langford Tier of the Patreon page soon.
Special Branch agent Blake Langford is drawn into a bizarre case when an Elvis Presley tribute artist is accused of murdering his promoter.
Alongside his colleagues, Alison Pearce, Samir Khalifa and Joe Knight, Blake uncovers a tangled web of deception that stretches far beyond the glitz of the stage.
The investigation leads Blake and his team to the USA and reveals a sinister connection to an entertainment manager based in Branson, Missouri, orchestrating chaos in the world of tribute artists.
As the team digs deeper, they discover rogue showbiz agents are manipulating the success of these performers, turning them into unwitting pawns in a deadly game which is set to come to a climax at the anniversary concert in Memphis Tennessee.
Blake must navigate a treacherous landscape of greed, betrayal and impersonation to dismantle the operation before the tribute artists become the next targets on the corrupt management’s hit list.
