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WRATH OF THE LION was first published in the UK by John Lang in 1964 and later by Signet in 1996, but has been out of print for some years.

In 2008, it seemed to the author and his publishers that it was a pity to leave such a good story languishing on his shelves. So we are delighted to be able to bring back WRATH OF THE LION for the pleasure of the vast majority of us who never had a chance to read the earlier editions.

For Joe Cooper – good friend

This was the first book I wrote that expressed my enduring love for the Channel Islands. St Pierre is a fictional island – at the time of writing it was not fashionable to use real locations – but is heavily based on Alderney. The themes introduced here – boats at sea in bad weather, action at night and diving – have appeared in many of my books since then, and reflect my own abiding passion for scuba-diving.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

William Blake

The graticules misted over, momentarily obscured by a curtain of green water, but as the tip of the periscope broke through to the surface the small untidy freighter jumped into focus with astonishing clarity. Lieutenant Fenelon gripped the handles of the eyepiece and his breath escaped in a long sigh.

Beside him, Jacaud said, ‘The Kontoro?’

Fenelon nodded. ‘Not more than five hundred yards away. ’

Jacaud dropped his cigarette and ground it into the deck with his heel. ‘Let me see.

Fenelon stood back, conscious of the hollowness at the base of his stomach. He was twenty-six years of age and had never seen action, never known what war was like except through the eyes of other men. But this – this was a new sensation. He felt strangely dizzy and passed a hand across his eyes as he waited.

Jacaud grunted and turned. He was a big, dangerous-looking man badly in need of a shave, a jagged scar bisecting his right cheek.

‘Nice of them to be on time. ’

Fenelon took another look. The Kontoro moved slowly to the right across the little black lines etched on the glass of the periscope and his throat went dry. He was already beginning to taste a little of that special excitement that takes possession of the hunter when his quarry is in plain sight.