Sowerbutt's Aircraft

In the moonlit night sky, the twin-engine Jerry aircraft could be seen circling Barton airfield, its undercarriage down and its lights flickering in the agreed recognition code. 
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Sowerbutt's Revenge

"There has been more trouble with the Russkies in London, all over the popular newspapers. Two men from their embassy discovered in compromising circumstances and a warehouse at the Docks, which we suspect has been smuggling goods to the Bolsheviks, burnt to the ground.”
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Sowerbutt's Warning

"Our intelligence suggests that tonight is going to be a heavy night. London again and perhaps some other cities, judging from what we know of the disposition of the Jerry bombing fleets. Perhaps another warning  from Rollmop Goering, talk or lose London.”

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Sowerbutt's Bar

The dark-haired girl, who liked a bit of fun, watched the young stranger out of the corner of her eye, as she wiped over the bar counter and washed the few glasses. The Bull was rarely busy at lunchtime and she was looking forward to putting her feet up for a while before the evening rush when the village men finished their work.

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Sowerbutt's Shave

He opened his razor-sharp clasp-knife and began shaving stubble from the shaking teacher’s face. “Traitors, are we? Haven’t seen you Reds do much for the war effort. Uncle Joe and Adolf kissing and cuddling together."

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Sowerbutt's Truce

"You’ve broken the truce, Sorbay. We’ll be after you ten-fold, we’ll sweep you Blackshirt bastards from the streets of Poplar like horse dung."
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Sowerbutt's Fist

One-Line's palm connected with the teacher‘s face with a loud smack. His huge fist could kill a man at close range, but Sowerbutt had told his friend to be gentle.
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Sowerbutt's Warning

“You won’t get away with this, Sorbay, you bastard,” the hawk-faced man with a shock of black hair said. His right eye was already starting to close.

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Sowerbutt's Flames

The fire that Tipper lit under the gas pipe in the empty building had done the trick. A column of blue and yellow flames shot into the air.

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Sowerbutt's Forger

Sowerbutt said: “Making money hand over fist. Medical exemptions by the dozen, petrol coupons, ration books, ID cards, even passports for the Jewish lads. You name it, the Scribe is raking it in.”

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Sowerbutt's Friend

Ruth Shakes was the very image of the Whitechapel tailor, small with beautiful black hair and a real character. She gave no sign about her recent ordeal of escaping from Europe.
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Sowerbutt's Generals

Churchill sat at the large table, strewn with maps. “Do they think they outrank me? The generals believe they are a law unto themselves and not subject to the will of His Majesty’s duly-elected Government."

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Sowerbutt's Chairs

“These chairs are so comfortable, Percy,” Maud smiled, snuggling into the leather armchair in the Victorian building built in the 1890s to serve Canning Town as a library.

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Sowerbutt's Supplies

Sowerbutt said: “The East End is on a knife edge. Families won’t stand by and see their children starve. There’s very little food in the shops."

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Sowerbutt's London

Brendan Bracken paused: “The bombing goes on night after night, Sorbay. It is relentless. Our information is that more Jerry bomber squadrons are waiting in the wings. How long can London take it?"
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Sowerbutt's Supplies

Before Sowerbutt left the nightclub, he would check with Martin Poulson, the maitre d’hotel, about how his liquor stocks were faring. He knew of several elegant London residences with fine wine cellars whose occupants had vanished to more remote parts of the country.
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Sowerbutt's Volunteers

Sowerbutt had volunteered most of the Family for ARP service to help local families and protect the larders. Some of the girls were working part-time as volunteers in the overcrowded wards at Mile End and Poplar hospitals.
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Sowerbutt's Bombs

The nightly bombing in London was non-stop. Several families whom Sowerbutt had known for years had disappeared under the rubble and a couple of his larders had gone up in smoke.

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Sowerbutt's Envoy

"The Empire wants some sort of arrangement, we would welcome a Jerry envoy. That is our only hope to save poor London,” Churchill growled.

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Sowerbutt's Title

“We don’t relish receiving correspondence from our brother. Always carping on about a title for his lady wife, if that’s the word," the King said.
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Sowerbutt's Nightclub

The atmosphere in the fashionable Café de Paris in Coventry Street was different to his last visit, Sowerbutt thought. Quieter, more sombre. A lot of the men were in uniform.
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Sowerbutt's Robbery

"One of the bosses at New Scotland Yard has a theory about the Croydon robbery. They got away with a fortune ˗ more than £200,000, not that we’re letting on. He thinks it is an underground Blackshirt group, planning to use the money to finance some sort of pro-Jerry coup."
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Sowerbutt's Break-In

Tipper slipped through the shadows on the manicured lawns of the Italianate mansion in South Kensington. He froze, waiting for a couple of armed guards to pass, then picked his way towards the marble steps leading to the imposing front entrance.

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Sowerbutt's Letter

“On his return home, he’ll drop off the letter that you gave me with a friend at the German Embassy in Madrid. Its contents will be in Berlin in a matter of hours.”

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Sowerbutt's Blow

With a single blow of the metal bar, One-Line shattered the passenger window. Mr Witherspoon turned white and clutched at the window sill. He looked as though he had suffered a heart attack.

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Sowerbutt's Policy

“You will get used to me, Mr Witherspoon. I treat my friends very fairly, my enemies regret their decision.” Polly smiled.
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Sowerbutt's Photographs

“It’s not the photographs I mind, Mr Sorbay. I’m rather proud of my acrobatics,” Madame Komarovski said. “Rather it is the threat that upsets me."

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Sowerbutt's Security

“Never seen such security - barbed wire, trip wires, electrified wire, broken glass, traps, strips of nails, armed guards. I even spotted a couple of sound detectors. Wonder which of the 20 bedrooms His Gloriousness Ambassador Maisky kips in?"
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Sowerbutt's Letter

A carbon-copy of the letter is contained in an acid-free archival storage box, kept under tight guard in an anonymous facility in the Home Counties, designated under the Official Secrets Act of 1989.

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Sowerbutt's Messages

"We never had any dealings with the Italian Embassy when it was open. Too busy with their wine and women. Messages were passed through Spanish diplomats sympathetic to the cause of peace and who had contacts in Berlin."
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Sowerbutt's Hotel

Peter de Wolkova looked around his new home, a double room in a shabby hotel not far from Kings Cross station. It was a big improvement on the stinking solitary cell in Brixton Prison.

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Sowerbutt's Patience

Churchill snapped impatiently. “Politics is the art of the possible. I want it possible to save London. Do whatever is necessary.”

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Sowerbutt's Body

Brendan Bracken managed to corner Churchill for a few moments. “We’ve heard nothing from the fat fool in Karinhall, Prime Minister, about the body. It has left Lisbon on its way to Berlin."
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Sowerbutt's Service

St Paul’s Cathedral was packed for the Service of Deliverance. King George, the Queen, the two Royal princesses, the King’s younger brothers and their families. Churchill and most of his Cabinet.
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Sowerbutt's Car

The plump man’s eyes bulged. Downstairs in the yard, a giant of a man, holding a metal bar, stood beside a highly-polished Model-T Ford. It was Mr Witherspoon’s pride and joy. 
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Sowerbutt's Lesson

Sowerbutt said: "Nobody threatens the Family. If your visitors don’t know the rules of the streets, they will  learn the hard way.”

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Sowerbutt's Photographs

“When I was a young woman in Moscow, I worked part-time for the Okhrana, the Tsarist secret police. I entertained foreign diplomats, businessmen and so on. Photographs were taken on occasion. With the Revolution, the old files were taken over by the Reds."

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Sowerbutt's Escape

The two men were out of the back window of the terrace and across the garden wall into the adjacent clothing factory site within seconds. Their rubber-soled boots had not made a sound. Dogs across the neighbourhood had started their cacophony after the gunshot.

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Sowerbutt's Gunshot

The crack of the gunshot filled the bedroom, followed by a deathly silence; Sowerbutt watching aghast as a small black hole with blood welling out appeared in the forehead of the man bound in the chair.
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Sowerbutt's Forger

The Scribe, who operated out of a small garage in Peckham, was the best forger in the East End. Since the war started, he had cornered most of the profitable market for forged medical exemptions, petrol coupons, ration books and approvals for the myriad of wartime regulations.

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Sowerbutt's Neck

One-Line, a giant of a man, held the skinny youth by the neck at arm’s length, his legs kicking in the air. “You’re strangling me, mister, I can’t breathe.”
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Sowerbutt's Suggestion

De Wolkova looked at the Brigadefuhrer. “You will want to meet more members of the Peace Party, to hear what they have to say too? We have many important members.”

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Sowerbutt's Progress

The SS Brigadefuhrer stood. “My trip to England has been a success; the Reichsmarschall will be pleased. When I return to the Reich I will report personally to him at Carinhall about our progress.”

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Sowerbutt's Discussions

The SS Brigadefuhrer said: “We must discuss your politics straightaway, Mr de Wolkova. I have to pass on my message to Dublin urgently."
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Sowerbutt's Habit

“May I introduce SS Brigadefuhrer Wilhelm Henschke or Willy to his friends. Don’t put your arm up, Willy, there’s a good chap. You must get out of the habit during your sojourn over here.”

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Sowerbutt's Offer

“Does he prefer boys, darling?” the slim blonde said to her companion at the party in fashionable Cromwell Road. “I’ve offered him absolutely everything, don’t you know, but the ingrate says he is waiting for someone."
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Sowerbutt's Parachute

“It was when we were out searching in the fields, the officer didn’t say for what. A couple of the boys caught a rabbit, but I noticed somebody had been digging down near the river. I went back there later when it was all quiet and found a big bundle of silk. A parachute.”

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Sowerbutt's Beer

With all the VIPs wandering around the village, the landlord had hurriedly locked up the stables at the back of the pub where he did his brewing, fearing Customs and Excise might pay a visit too.
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Sowerbutt's Silk

Sid Sirrett, the genial landlord, leant over the bar of the Leather Bottle in East Hyde. “What’s all this about some silk, Alf? You being an old bachelor and all. I didn’t think you were into ladies’ finery.”

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Sowerbutt's Slap

The slap could be heard outside in the bar. The angry redhead leant over the desk, her finger inches from Sowerbutt’s surprised face. “You bastard. We’re partners, so you said, you discuss things with me first."
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Sowerbutt's Search

The Prime Minister refilled his glass. “Find the Jerry, Brendan, track him to his lair and clear up the mess. Trailing our coat may save the Empire, but the risks are high."
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Sowerbutt's Emissary

“We are sure no Jerry or Eyetie spies remain at large. All in the bag. Must be Blackshirts who whisked the emissary away or one of the Looney Tunes right-wingers."
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Sowerbutt's Wrath

The explosion could be heard well beyond the walls of the Cabinet Room. Officials and servants nearby hurriedly found pressing tasks elsewhere, it did not pay to be a witness to the Prime Minister’s wrath.

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Sowerbutt's Contacts

Churchill said: “I harbour no doubts that my difficult Foreign Secretary has daily contacts with his fat favourite, the pharaoh of Rome, and maybe Jerry too."
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Sowerbutt's Plan

Brendan Bracken said: “Lifting our skirts a little may persuade the Little Corporal that we are interested in a spot of tête-à-tête rather than fisticuffs. In the confusion, he may delay the invasion for a week or two and then it will be too late for this year."
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Sowerbutt's Talks

Churchill growled: “Jerries dropping in all over the place. First, you organise the Swansea Ferry as you have named it. Guns and paratroopers popping in for a chat. Now some high-level emissaries are coming over for afternoon tea."
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Sowerbutt's Cigar

The tubby figure in his red velvet siren suit strode up and down the empty Cabinet Room, leaving swirls of blue cigar smoke in his trail. 
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Sowerbutt's Dance

The Coach said: "I put you down for this week’s ballet session, Jimmy. Don’t be late, Madame Dragon-fire will have your hide.”

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Sowerbutt's Stick

Madame Komarovski, who had barely escaped with her life as a young girl in the disastrous celebrations for Tsar Nicholas’s coronation in 1896, whacked the boy’s rear with what she called her guidance stick.
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Sowerbutt's Air Raid

Luton, famous for its millinery and motor vehicles, suffered its first and its worst air raid on Friday, August 30, 1940. The Luftwaffe dropped 194 bombs, killing 59 people and seriously injuring 60.
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Sowerbutt's Parachutist

A mile or two to the north of the Leather Bottle, an SS Brigadefuhrer, also dressed in Luftwaffe overalls, had landed safely in a small meadow near the River Lea.
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Sowerbutt's Praise

“We appreciate your dedication to duty, lance-corporal, and your bravery. Your life could have been at risk if that Jerry parachutist had been alive."
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Sowerbutt's Surprise

Holding his rifle at the ready, the lance-corporal slowly lifted a corner of the canopy with his boot. His face went white, his jaw dropping. Looking at the partly-charred remains, the parachutist no longer presented any danger.

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Sowerbutt's Explosions

Away to the north, sirens wailed and fingers of light were stabbing the night sky. Explosion after explosion could be heard with flashes of flames and huge spirals of burning debris from the bombed buildings.
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Sowerbutt's Blackout

“Can’t see my bleeding hand in front of my face in this blackout,” the Home Guard lance-corporal said.
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Sowerbutt's Pouch

By the time the body hit the roadway with a sickening crunch, the letters and other papers secured in a calfskin pouch hanging around the parachutist’s neck had burnt to ash. 
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Sowerbutt's Body

The smoking body swayed in the light wind, the billowing parachute above shielding what had happened from the Heinkel 111 bomb-aimer peering through the Plexiglas several thousand feet above.
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Sowerbutt's Shrapnel

The sudden white and yellow burst in the night sky was the last thing the SS Standartenführer saw; red-hot shrapnel from the 3.7-inch AA shell shredding through his chest.
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Sowerbutt's Holiday

The Brigadier said: "A long holiday abroad is the answer for you, Sorbay. Different opposition now with this Cold War. I hear the Russkies want a bit of a chat with you."
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Sowerbutt's Partnership

“You are offering a partnership, Coronel? Building luxury hotels in an out-of-the-way Costa Blanca fishing village for foreign tourists?”

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Sowerbutt's Knife

Sowerbutt palmed his razor-sharp clasp-knife, he remembered lifting it years earlier from a girl guide during a brief encounter at Poplar Rec.
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Sowerbutt's King-Hit

The Guardia Coronel shook Sowerbutt’s hand. “You always know how to deal with the opposition. King-hit, finish.”

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Sowerbutt's Kiss

Sowerbutt said: "I’ll pass the word on that the Mexicans are involved. El Caudillo’s most hated country since they gave refuge to the Republican exiles. Kiss of death.”

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Sowerbutt's Land

"My cousin has had a good offer for his land, said he was Swiss. Which is what all the Swastika boys claim these days.” The overweight Guardia Coronel smiled at Sowerbutt.

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Sowerbutt's Grave

A curious assortment of eyes watched the coffin being lowered into the open grave at the old cemetery.
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Sowerbutt's War

Despite the fighting ending more than 10 years earlier, the roads were still potholed and rutted, houses ruined and much of the countryside devastated. 
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Smoke-London-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook-x/dp/B00RYR8BWG geoffreyhowe.wix.com/howebook  

Sowerbutt's Memories

Sowerbutt kept memories of his first wife and the pain he had inflicted on her killer locked away. 
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Sowerbutt's Generosity

Franco said: "You were too generous to the scum who murdered our poor girl. I would have crucified him and left him as carrion."

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Smoke-London-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook-x/dp/B00RYR8BWG geoffreyhowe.wix.com/howebook  

Sowerbutt's Kiss

Generalissimo Franco walked heavily across the ornate reception room in the Pazo de Meiras at Sada, put his hands on Sowerbutt’s shoulders and kissed both his cheeks.
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Sowerbutt's Seat

Sowerbutt sat down quickly, well aware of the Spanish leader’s sensitivity about his short stature.
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Sowerbutt's Prison

Four experienced members of the SAS were infiltrated into the security prison several years after it opened; their orders were to break out - using non-lethal force as necessary. 
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Sowerbutt's File

The file’s former occupants were stamped with the classification “Never To Be Released”, placed in an acid-free archival storage box and driven under close escort some miles from Kew to a tightly-guarded anonymous storage facility, designated under the Official Secrets Act of 1989.
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Sowerbutt's Brandy

A hurriedly-brought balloon of Metaxa Private Reserve brandy did little to calm the apoplectic brow.

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Sowerbutt's Conversation

The well-furnished suite was more familiar with conversations about matters of state and the acquisition of KCBs than shrieks of anger over ancient East End road accidents. 
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Sowerbutt's Finger

A chubby pink finger in a Horse Guards office trembled on its way down the list followed by a spectacular explosion.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Smoke-London-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook-x/dp/B00RYR8BWG geoffreyhowe.wix.com/howebook 

Sowerbutt's File

The original burial form, a typed foolscap sheet with the printed heading of Poplar Coroner’s Court and a cutting from the London Evening Standard reporting the fatal road accident, together with several loose foolscap sheets and other material, were contained in a HMSO-issue file, inaccurately marked KV 2/1221C.
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Sowerbutt's Grave

The newcomer swept the bowler off his mop of bottle-yellow hair, held it out in silent salute and bowed low as the gravediggers began shovelling the heavy soil into the grave.
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Sowerbutt's Box

The file’s former occupants were stamped “Never To Be Released”, placed in an acid-free archival storage box and driven under close escort some miles from Kew to a tightly-guarded storage facility, designated under the Official Secrets Act of 1989. 
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