An Explosive Special Forces Thriller Now teaching at an International school in Ukraine, former SAS trooper Aidan Snow has laid the nightmares of his past to rest. But when after ten years Snow meets again the man who put a gun to his head and ended his military career his past becomes very real. Told by the British Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) that his would be tormenter is dead Snow tries to forget... 'Attacked' by an unknown adversary, 'Framed' for two high profile assassinations and 'Hunted' by the Ukrainian Security Service, Snow is torn from the life he has worked so hard to build and must once again rely on his SAS training in an attempt to clear his name. Discovering a mercenary brigade made up of former Soviet Spetsnaz soldiers Snow trusts only himself to stop them and save those he cares about. Snow is left one step ahead of the authorities with no one to watch his back. In a Firefight, Pray for SNOW... Praise for Alex Shaw ‘He won’t be stopped now. The book will become popular among Kyiv’s expats, some of them will even recognize themselves.’ Kyiv Post ‘A strong aspect of HETMAN is Shaw’s knowledge of Ukraine & Special Forces operations. The character of Bull felt real on the page, you don't get better than that.’ 2010 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award ‘With the world in financial turmoil and the Middle East aflame, fans of this genre will find COLD BLACK timely and entertaining. Thrillers aren't my cup of tea...but I loved this.’ 2011 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award

PROLOGUE September the 20th 1996. SchreinerBank, Poznan, Poland He set his watch, pulled down the black balaclava and stepped out of the van. As one the men stormed the bank. “Na Podloge Natychmiast!” On the floor now – the Polish was precise, clipped and accented. With a swift bark from a Kalashnikov the sole SchreinerBank guard was neutralised. Shocked customers screamed and threw themselves down as two men in black coveralls pointed their automatic weapons; the dead guard was evidence that they were not afraid to use them. Two other assaulters wearing empty back packs vaulted over the counter and headed towards the safe. A fifth and sixth sat across the street in two high powered BMW saloons. Parked facing down cobbled side streets; the cars were poised for a speedy exfiltration. At either end of the main street identical Opel vans stood, packed with Russian made plastic explosives. No more words were exchanged as each member of the assault team took up their prearranged positions. Bull had watched and waited for months for this shipment to arrive, had persuaded an ‘eager’ government employee to give him the building’s schematics and was now ready to collect his four million Deutsche Marks. A stunned silence took hold of the banking hall broken only by the whimpering of a teenage youth. Bull looked down at the boy with disgust. Seven years ago and such a boy would have been his to command in Afghanistan. Police Training Area, Poznan, Poland Aidan Snow sat on the wooden bench and stirred his tea. If it wasn’t for the sound of gunfire and smell of cordite then the training camp would have been idyllic. As part of a four man SAS training team Snow had been in Poland for over two months advising the Polish Police Pododdziay Antyterrorystyczne (counter terrorist unit). Now that the cold war was well and truly over his unit, the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment (SAS) was in demand by the governments of newly independent states in an attempt to help stem the tide of international organised crime and terrorism. He closed his eyes; the last rays of the summer sun had seemed reluctant to leave Poznan. At twenty four Aidan Snow had been deployed to numerous hostile locations, some overt such as Northern Ireland others strictly covert, some domestic some international. His time with ‘the Regiment’ had been eventful alright, not the life his parents would have wished for the son of a teacher and a diplomat. He looked on as the rest of his four man team showed the Polish trainees the correct way to track and hit a moving target. A target had been attached to a pulley which was strung between several trees. Some bright spark had pasted a photograph of Andreas Möller to it in a direct reference to the England soccer team’s defeat at Euro 96. Möller, famously that summer, scoring the sixth round penalty that stopped England getting to the final. The trainees thought this was very funny. The SAS did not. The team had made some real progress, for a Police SWAT unit they were good, ready in fact should a real incident arise. Training was still needed however to turn this SWAT unit into a truly elite CT team. Their next exercise, which Snow would lead, would utilise ‘The Killing House’ and hone Close Quarter Battle (CQB) techniques. The Regiment’s killing house in the UK was a two story building. It was designed the same as an average two up two down, was furnished but had special rubber coated walls to absorb bullets, extractor fans to clear out cordite and video cameras in corners to record and play back the action in the rooms. Each room had at least one metal target and live rounds were used. The SAS team had built a mini and less elaborate version at the camp to train the Polish operatives in how to enter a room, assess the situation and neutralise any threats. Inspector Zatwarnitski, head of the Polish CT unit had said that a permanent killing house would be built to UK standards! It hadn’t happened yet. Snow sipped his tea, it wasn’t a bad gig. The Poles were quick learners as most of them, unlike their British Police counterparts, had already served time in the Polish army before joining up. This gave them an understanding, if somewhat rudimentary of military procedure and firearms handling. Several of the men spoke passable English, which was good as none of the SAS did! In cases of further misunderstanding Snow resorted to his Russian, which most of the Poles spoke as their first ‘foreign’ language. “My men impress you Snow?” “They are very promising Inspector.” “Good.” Zatwarnitski sat. “History is a funny thing. A few years ago you being here would have been unthinkable, the west was the enemy. Our hope, our future, our security lay with our Soviet protectors. And then? Like dominos it all fell. To be candid, we never really wanted to be on the Soviet side. That is why we need you here Snow, we are tired with the old methods and we of course want to learn from the best.” Snow smiled politely, he had been present when Zatwarnitski had made the same speech on his visit to Hereford courtesy of HM Government. The Pole nevertheless meant every word, even though he fancied himself as a bit of a public speaker. “Our biggest fear now is our old protector – mother Russia. She is wounded and a wounded bear is the most dangerous. We really do appreciate your team Snow.” The older man reached out to shake the SAS trooper by the hand. “Thank you inspector, but we are just doing our jobs. It is your men that need to be thanked for working so hard.” “Modesty is something that I hope you also teach.” Zatwarnitski raised his mug in mock salute. A shout, from the communications room, both men stood. Moments before the radio had fallen from the operator’s hand. The call was from central despatch. Armed men had entered SchreinerBank on Wroclawska Street. They were the nearest specialist unit, could they assist? Zatwarnitski looked Snow in the eye. “Are my men ready?” “Yes.” Minutes later, on Zatwarnitski’s orders, the Poles and their SAS training team were in a convoy being led by a very nervous recruit. After eight weeks on the job this recruit’s first real ‘action’ was as the lead driver on what the SAS referred to as an ‘immediate’. The young officer concentrated on threading his way through the traffic in his new police Omega. Never mind the fact that his siren was blazing the drivers of Poznan were none too happy to yield. In the passenger seat sat Zatwarnitski with Snow, who trusted only his own driving, sitting behind. Wroclawska Street, Poznan Bull checked his watch. The local militia would be there in five more minutes. A dull thud came from the back room – his men had blown open the safe. Another sound registered in the distance, SIRENS? They were early! The men from the safe detail lumbered into view weighted down their burgen packs now full. Giving the signal he and his 2IC, Oleg, tossed smoke grenades into the centre of the room and out onto the street. It was now time to leave. He felt reassuringly for the remote detonator. The two assaulters took up sentry positions on either side to cover the bagmen as they sprinted across the road, partly concealed by the billowing white smoke... The laden burgen were hauled into the waiting cars. The recruit slued around the tight bend and into Wroclawska Street and saw smoke pouring from the bank and men, men in black with guns…. forgetting his training the young Pole panicked and gunned the accelerator sirens still blazing. Bull looked up. “Blat!” This was not meant to happen, they were not meant to be here so soon. He realised that these were not normal Police vehicles…the lead car had not yet reached the van, but it would any second. Dropping to one knee he pressed the button on the remote detonator as his men opened fire.

ALEX SHAW B.A. (Hons), P.G.C.E. was head of Drama at Pechersk School International, Kyiv, Ukraine, in the late 1990's before leaving to start his own Kyiv based 'consultancy' dealing specifically with the markets of the former USSR. He was subsequently head hunted for a division of Siemens where he was tasked with business development in the former USSR, the Middle East and Africa. Hetman was Alex's first novel and took twelve years to complete. Published in 2009 it gained critical acclaim in the 2010 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award (ABNA) and later became a #1 UK Kindle bestseller. Cold Black was published a year later. It followed the success of Hetman, gaining critical acclaim in ABNA 2011 and rose to #6 in the Kindle UK bestseller list. Both books have also now become top 10 Kindle Bestsellers in the USA and Germany. The third Aidan Snow thriller will be released later this year. When not writing Alex works as a freelance consultant (clients include the UN), dividing his time between his two homes in Kyiv, Ukraine and West Sussex, England. He is married to his beautiful wife Galia and has two fantastic sons, Alexander and Jonathan. Alex welcomes feedback and comments from readers and can be contacted via his website www.alexwshaw.com you can also follow Alex on twitter: @alexshawhetman