Hello, my name is James Lingard. I was educated at Dulwich College and University College London - and was a leading City of London solicitor who specialized in banking law and insolvency. I am the original author of Lingard’s Bank Security Documents (LexisNexis Butterworths) now in its 5th edition and wrote a number of other legal books and articles. A former Council Member of the Association of Business Recovery Professionals and of the European Association of Insolvency Practitioners, I became a Judicial Chairman of the Insolvency Practitioners Tribunal. I was the founding President of the Insolvency Lawyers Association and became Chairman of the Joint Insolvency Examination Board and of the Banking Law and Insolvency Law Sub Committees of the City of London Law Society. On retirement from legal practice, I wrote BRITAIN AT WAR 1939 to 1945 what was life like during the war? (ISBN 9781434359339) and as an e-book (ISBN 9781434359346), followed by a number of other books currently available on Amazon/Kindle including:- The Dead Man Strikes Back (ASIN: B00D1W030G): An action packed spy thriller set in the war between Russia, Georgia and Chechen Separatists. Escape from Iran Israeli Style (ASIN: B00D1VPZXM) A fact based short story about the escape of Israeli contractors from Iran during the revolution. In Defiance of Danger (ASIN: B00D1VW5V2) Fact based short stories relating to war, action packed adventure, insolvency or drama in the City of London.
I'd like to share with you my book's blurb and an excerpt from my book, The Dead Man Strikes Back:
This powerful fast moving blend of recent history with the fictional adventures of a British spy was inspired by Russia’s problems with Chechnya and the war between Russia and Georgia over semi-independent Abkhazia. The result is an action packed thriller full of danger and drama. Much of the action takes place against a background of the Caucasus Mountains. But can our hero trust the Russian FSB (formerly KGB) officer who befriends him and how will she react to Anna, a Separatist?
A pistol shot echoed around the snow-capped peaks. Startled jackdaws rose from their nests. Night had begun to fall, and with it came the all-pervading cold made all the more merciless by a gusting north wind. Down amongst the twenty or so dwellings huddled together on a narrow ledge high in the Caucasus Mountains, a group of women redoubled their ululating as they prepared a funereal supper. The men began to chant salaams, which carried to the tiny group of mourners clustered around the freshly dug graves. Sergei, in his long grey overcoat and wide-topped sheepskin hat, gazed down at the two bodies lying at his feet in open rough pine coffins. Each had a bullet hole in the centre of its forehead, and another through the heart; both men would have been dead before they hit the ground. He bowed his head in respectful silence. ‘So young, so very young,’ he sighed, staring thoughtfully at the lights of two distant villages, the one where he was born perched high above the other, under a massive rock peak which protected it from the worst rigors of the winter blizzards. These were his people, his mountains – range after range stretching into the mists. Somehow, they seemed to give him the courage to glance across at Alexei, the local partisan leader, a giant of a man with an ugly scar on his right cheek which his black beard could not conceal. Their eyes did not meet and neither spoke. ‘They died for the cause. They are heroes of the Confederation of Mountain Peoples and must be honoured as such,’ a voice growled. ‘Good men, comrades. This is Captain Yusuf’s work – not many can shoot like that.’ Sergei nodded. One of the bodies could so easily have been his own. Rumour had it that both he and Alexei were on the Captain’s death list. The partisan’s grip tightened on the strap of the Kalashnikov slung across his back, his face ravaged by exhaustion and sorrow; but he looked away, as if seeking comfort from the old sepulchres in the small cemetery and from the square stone towers of the mountain village – a relic of the past. Crack. Two bodies; two shots - the proprieties had been observed. Sergei mouthed a silent prayer Then the fire seemed to come into Alexei’s eyes as he pledged a blood feud with the Georgians – a feud to end all feuds. Sergei walked over and stood beside him – a gesture of solidarity.
Here are some places you can find me, if you'd like to connect, or have a discussion:
Twitter : @jamesbat
You can add me on Goodreads