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Get to Meet ‘The Four Horsemen’

Known as the ‘four horsemen’ of New Atheism, these four big thinkers of the twenty-first century met only once. Their electrifying examination of ideas on this remarkable occasion was intense and wide-ranging. Everything that was said as they agreed and disagreed with one another, interrogated ideas and exchanged insights – about religion and atheism, science and sense – speaks with urgency to our present age.

The dialogue was recorded, and is now transcribed and presented in The Four Horsemen with new introductions from the surviving three horsemen.

Get to know more about these Four Horsemen:

Richard Dawkins (d’Artagnan)

Richard Dawkins is responsible for introducing evolutionary biology and Darwinism to generations. His books The Selfish Gene and The Blind Watchmaker, never out of print, continue to inspire,inform and amaze. As the first holder of Oxford University’s  Simonyi Professorship for the Public Understanding of Science, he acquired a worldwide reputation as a sceptic, ‘passionate rationalist’, ‘proud atheist’, and witty exposer of charlatanism and fakery couched in pseudo-scientific language.

 

Sam Harris (Aramis)

Harris’s influential books The End of Faith and Letter to a Christian Nation were followed by a later book and subsequent highly popular podcast series called Waking Up, which focus on his great interest in exploring how morality and spirituality can flourish outside religious teaching.

 

Daniel Dennett (Athos)

Professor Dennett writes on the mind, evolutionary biology, free will and much else besides. His book Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon caused plenty of fluttering in academic, intellectual, religious and political

 

Christopher Hitchens (Porthos)

His preternaturally fluent articulacy, breadth of learning, extraordinary recall, diablerie, sauciness and panache raised his mastery of debate to a level unmatched in his lifetime. We are fortunate that this child of the 1960s and ‘70s did at least make it into the YouTube era; many of his coruscating flagellations of the dim-witted, malevolent, ill-informed and unprepared live on in cyberspace as well as in the pages of his many articles, essays and books.


With a sparkling introduction from Stephen Fry, The Four Horsemen makes essential reading for all their admirers and for anyone interested in exploring the tensions between faith and reason.

 

The Secrets We Keep – An Excerpt

Rahul, an intelligence officer on a secret mission, is undercover at a major’s house. In the process, he falls in love with the major’s daughter, Akriti, unknowingly putting her in danger. To protect her, Rahul decides to hide her at his parents’ house. However, estranged from his family for years, he must first make amends with them.

Just when he thinks he has found a haven for Akriti, she goes missing…

Here’s an exclusive excerpt from Sudeep Nagarkar’s much-awaited The Secrets We Keep:

—————————————-

If you could forget a relationship that fleetingly existed in the past, would you? If your past could be erased,
would you erase it?

Sadly, you have no choice in this matter because I—your past—am invincible.

Mysterious and unseen, I am the master of the dark and light and everything in between.

I am a force of nature, an unstoppable wave that’ll tame you by taking away every last bit of your strength until you regret ever standing in my path. A king of manipulation at its finest, I will see into the soul of the characters in this story long before they catch a glimpse, and change the way they think. I am the only God and the only devil, and I am here to destroy you because without destruction there’s no creation.

If you think you can escape me, you’re already doomed.


Grab your copy today!

The Fox – an Excerpt

Most weapons do what you tell them. Most weapons you can control. But what if the most dangerous weapon in the world isn’t a smart missile or a stealth submarine or even an AI computer programme? What if it’s a 17-year-old boy with a blisteringly brilliant mind, who can run rings around the most sophisticated security services across the globe, who can manipulate that weaponry and turn it against the superpowers themselves?
Here is an excerpt from Frederick Forsyth’s new book, The Fox, a race-against-time thriller that goes across continents to find and capture, or protect and save, an asset with the means to change the balance of world power. Whatever happens he must not fall into the wrong hands. Because what follows after that is unthinkable…


No one saw them. No one heard them. They were not supposed to. The black-clad Special Forces soldiers slipped unseen through the pitch-dark night towards the target house.
In most town and city centres there is always a glimmer of light, even in deepest night, but this was the outer suburb of an English provincial town and all public lighting had ceased at one in the morning. This was the darkest hour, 2 a.m. A solitary fox watched them pass but instinct bade him not interfere with fellow hunters. No house lights broke the gloom.
They encountered two single humans, both on foot, both drunk after late-night partying with friends. The soldiers melted into gardens and shrubbery, disappearing black on black, until the wanderers had stumbled towards their homes.
They knew exactly where they were, having studied the streets and the target house in intimate detail for many hours. The pictures had been taken by cruising cars and overhead drones. Much enlarged and pinned to the wall of
the briefing room at Stirling Lines, the headquarters of the SAS outside Hereford, the images had been memorized to the last stone and kerb. The soft-booted men did not trip or stumble.
There were a dozen of them, and they included two Americans, inserted at the insistence of the US team that had installed itself in the embassy in London. And there were two from the British SRR, the Special Reconnaissance Regiment, a unit even more clandestine than the SAS and the SBS, the Special Air Service and the Special Boat Service respectively. The authorities had elected to use the SAS, known simply as ‘the Regiment’.
One of the two from the SRR was a woman. The Americans presumed this was to establish gender equality. It was the reverse. Observation had revealed that one of the inhabitants of the target house was female and even the British hard squads try to observe a little gallantry. The point of the presence of the SRR, sometimes referred to in the club as ‘Her Majesty’s burglars’, was to practise one of their many skill sets – covert entry.
The mission was not only to enter and subdue the target house and its denizens but to ensure they were not seen by any watcher inside and that no one escaped. They approached from all angles, appeared simultaneously around the garden fence, front, back and sides, crossed the garden and ringed the house, still unseen and unheard by neighbour or inhabitant.
No one heard the slight squeak of the diamond-tipped glass cutter as it described a neat circle in a kitchen window, nor the low crack as the disc was removed with a suction pad. A gloved hand came through the hole and unlatched the window. A black figure climbed over the sill into the sink, jumped quietly to the floor and opened the back door. The team slipped in.
Though they had all studied the architect’s plan, filed with the registry when the house was built, they still used head- mounted night-vision goggles (NVGs) in case of owner-installed obstructions or even booby- traps. They began with the ground f loor, moving from room to room to confirm there were no sentries or sleeping figures, trip wires or silent alarms.
After ten minutes the team leader was satisfied and with a nod of his head led a single- file column of five up the narrow staircase of what was evidently a very ordinary detached four- bedroom
family home. The two Americans, increasingly bewildered, remained below. This was not the way they would have subdued a thoroughly dangerous nest of terrorists. Such a house invasion back home would have involved several magazines of ammunition by now. Clearly, the Limeys were pretty weird.
Those below heard startled exclamations from above. These quickly ceased. After ten more minutes of muttered instructions the team leader uttered his first report. He did not use internet or cellphone – interceptible – but old-fashioned encrypted radio. ‘Target subdued,’ he said softly. ‘Inhabitants four. Await sunrise.’ Those who listened to him knew what would happen next. It had all been pre-planned and rehearsed.


To find out what happens next, grab a copy of Frederick Forsyth’s The FoxFor more posts like this, follow Penguin India on Facebook!

Exploring 3 Cases solved by one of Mumbai’s Finest Policeman

Me against the Mumbai Underworld is the story of Isaque Bagwan, three-time recipient of the President’s Police Medal for Gallantry and a small-town boy who pursued his big-city dreams and ambitions as an upright police officer. As per Mumbai Police records, he is the first officer from the force to have killed a criminal in an encounter.
His life, which has captured the imagination of many writers and filmmakers, is presented here with all its gut-wrenching details.
Here are 3 cases that validate the fact that Isaque Bagwan is one of Mumbai’s finest policeman till date.
Bahraini Footballer’s Murder Case
 It was December 1977. Somebody has been stabbed in front of the Air India building and was lying on the road in a critical condition. When Isaque Bagwan reached the Air India building, a body of a fair-skinned youth was lying on the footpath in a pool of blood. His body had multiple stab wounds.

The One Officer who arrested four criminals alone
 One night, a woman on Walton road was shouting, “Chor!”. On reaching the building, Bagwan spotted three to four people descending the staircase. One of them seemed to have a parcel in his hand. When Isaque got closer, one of them lunged at him with a kitchen knife but Isaque managed to deflect the blow. This frightened the gang.

Those five critical minutes
 It was around 10:00 AM when Isaque Bagwan heard a message crackling n the police wireless system. A man had attacked a person with a chopper at the INS quarters in Colaba. Bagwan reached the INS quarters in under 5 minutes and saw a man running down the stairs.
‘Open the bag!’ shouted Bagwan. The man knew it was over. The bag contained blood-soaked clothes and a bloodstained chopper. Thirty-four-year old Devi Singh Thakur was a cook, who had quarreled with Priti Singh. In a fit of rage, Devi Singh attacked him with a chopper and killed him.

Bihar Diaries – An Excerpt

Bihar Diaries narrates the thrilling account of how Amit Lodha arrested Vijay Samrat, one of Bihar’s most feared ganglords, notorious for extortion, kidnapping and the massacre of scores of people.
The book follows the adrenaline-fuelled chase that took place across three states during Amit’s tenure as superintendent of police of Shekhpura, a sleepy mofussil town in Bihar.
Here is an excerpt from the book:
———————————————————————
My back and hip started hurting all of a sudden. ‘Shit,’ I grumbled before getting into the blue Gypsy.
I asked my driver to take me to the Kasar police station.
An unshaven man, his skin darkened by constant exposure to the sun, was waiting for me just outside the police station. Ranjan Kumar, the former SHO of Kasar police station, had been put under suspension by the Police HQ. It seemed as if he had aged a decade in the last week. The second massacre had taken place in his jurisdiction. I hobbled out of the Gypsy and somehow managed to stand straight. Ranjan was in civil clothes, because a policeman is not allowed to wear the uniform when suspended. He was in the police station to hand over charge of the maalkhana, the police depository, and all the cases.
Ranjan saluted me by whipping to attention, impressing mewith his sense of discipline even in adversity. I feebly managedto return the salute.
I signalled to my bodyguard and my driver to leave–Ineeded to talk privately to Ranjan. Barely able to control mypain, I stood by the bonnet of the Gypsy. Ranjan was a little tense. Why would the SP come to see a disgraced, suspended SI?
‘Ranjan, I want to know the exact reason for the massacre ofRam Dular and his family, every single detail.’
‘Sir, I don’t know much about it. It happened out of theblue.’
‘I know that Krishna and Raju had beaten up Lakha a fewdays ago. The murder of five of Vijay’s men was the tippingpoint. That angered Vijay enough for him to commit the cold-blooded murder of Ram Dular’s family. Look, the governmenthas posted me and the DIG here only to arrest Vijay Samrat. Itis our top priority. You have to help me in this mission.’
‘But, sir, what can I do? I am just an ordinary SI, that too,suspended,’ a resigned Ranjan muttered.
‘Ranjan, I know your competence. You’re a very capableofficer with an excellent network of spies. And I know that youare on good terms with Raju and Krishna.’
‘No, no, sir. Why would I know shady characters like Rajuand Krishna?’ Ranjan denied vehemently.
‘I have been in the service long enough to know thatcertain people have to be developed as sources. If not a criminalbackground, these people will at least have dubious antecedents. I, too, have engaged such people to get information aboutcriminals in my previous postings. Come on, do you think anormal, decent person would become a police informer?’
Ranjan kept staring at the ground, unwilling to speakfurther.
It was time for me to come up with an ace.
‘Ranjan, you are under suspension. Strict disciplinary actionwill be taken against you. Your career is at stake. If you help menab Vijay Samrat, I promise you that I will get your suspensionrevoked and you will get your job back. With full honours.’
Ranjan’s eyes lit up for the first time. I knew that he wasshort of money and his wife was suffering from depression.People around him had changed after his fall from grace. Who could know that better than me? I had gone through almost thesame experience just a while ago.
‘Okay, sir, I am with you. I hate Vijay Samrat anyway andI know your reputation of standing by your subordinates. Tellme, what can I do for you?’
I just smiled and made a call to M.A. Hussain, the IG of theBhagalpur zone. A strict, no-nonsense but idiosyncratic officer,he was known for taking tough stands.
‘Sir, this is AmitLodha, calling from Shekhpura. Yes, sir,I’m on the job. I assure you that Vijay Samrat will be behindbars soon. Sir, I would be very grateful if you would accede to one request. I’m going to use the service of one officer to catchVijay. In the times to come, I might require a favour for him.’
M.A. Hussain listened to me intently. There was a longpause.
‘Okay, Amit. I hope the favour you are seeking won’t bebigger than the arrest of Vijay.’
‘Certainly not, sir. Quite a trivial matter.’ I smiled asHussain disconnected the line. Both Ranjan and I knew thatM.A. Hussain was a man of his word. Reputation travels fast inpolice circles.
‘I want to meet Raju and Krishna. Get them to my house ina day or two,’ I told Ranjan.
‘Sir, are you sure? I mean, they have dubious reputationsand your meeting them might sully your image.’
‘I know it’s a risk. But I have no choice. Loha hi lohe ko kaat sakta hai (Only iron can cut iron)!’

James Bond: How It All Began!

M laid down his pipe and stared at it tetchily. ‘We have no choice. We’re just going to bring forward this other chap you’ve been preparing. But you didn’t tell me his name.’ 
‘It’s Bond, sir,’ the Chief of Staff replied. ‘James Bond.’
The sea keeps its secrets. But not this time.
One body. Three bullets. 007 floats in the waters of Marseille, killed by an unknown hand.
It’s time for a new agent to step up. Time for a new weapon in the war against organised crime.
This is the story of the birth of a legend, in the brutal underworld of the French Riviera.
Let’s read an excerpt from the book here-
——————————————————————————————————————————————–
‘In the last transmission he made, a week before his death, 007 said he had concrete evidence.’
‘What sort of evidence?’
‘Unfortunately, he didn’t say. If 007 had one fault, it was that he liked to keep his cards close to his chest. In that same transmission, he mentioned that he had arranged to meet someone who could tell him exactly what she was up to – but once again, he didn’t tell us who it was.’ Tanner sighed. ‘The meeting took place at the basin of La Joliette and that was where he was killed.’
‘He must have left notes – or something. Have we been to his house?’
‘He had an apartment in the Rue Foncet and the French police searched it from top to bottom. They found nothing.’
‘Perhaps the opposition got there first.’
‘It’s possible, sir.’
M tamped down his pipe with a thumb that had, over the years, become immune to the heat of the smouldering tobacco. ‘You know what surprises me in all this, Chief of Staff? How could 007 allow himself to be shot at close range in the middle of a crowded city? Seven o’clock in the evening, in the summer months . . . it wouldn’t even have been dark! And why wasn’t he carrying his weapon?’
‘I was puzzled by that,’ Tanner agreed. ‘I can only assume he must have been meeting someone he knew, a friend.’
‘Could he have actually met with Madame 16 herself? Or could she have found out about the meeting and intercepted it?’
‘Both those thoughts had occurred to me, sir. The CIA have people out there and we’ve been trying to talk to them. In fact the whole area is crawling with security services of one sort or another. But so far . . . nothing.’
The heavy, sweet smell of Capstan Navy Flake hung in the air. M used the pipe to punctuate his thoughts. The age-old ritual, the lighting and the relighting, gave him time to consider the decisions that had to be made.
‘We need someone to look into what happened,’ he went on. ‘This business with the Corsicans doesn’t sound particularly pressing. If there are fewer drugs coming out of France, that’s something to be grateful for. But I’m not having one of my best agents put down like a dog. I want to know who did this and why and I want that person removed from the field. And if it turns out that this woman, Sixtine, was responsible, that goes for her too.’
Tanner understood exactly what M was saying. He wanted an eye for an eye. Somebody had to be killed.
‘Who do you want me to send? I’m afraid 008 is still out of action.’
‘You’ve spoken to Sir James?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Sir James Molony was the senior neurologist at St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington and one of the few men who knew M both socially and professionally. Over the years he had treated a number of agents for injuries, including stab wounds and bullet wounds, always with complete insouciance and discretion. ‘It’s going to be another few weeks.’
‘And 0011?’
‘In Miami.’
M laid down the pipe and stared at it tetchily. ‘Well, then we have no choice. We’re just going to bring forward this other chap you’ve been preparing. It’s been on my mind to expand the Double- O Section anyway. Their work is too important and right now we’ve got one injured, another one dead . . . we need to be prepared. How is he doing?’
‘Well, sir, he managed his first kill without any difficulty. It was that Kishida business. The Japanese cipher man.’
‘Yes, yes. I read the report. He’s certainly a good shot and he kept his nerve. At the same time, though, firing a bullet into the thirty-sixth floor of a New York skyscraper doesn’t necessarily prove anything. I’d like to see how he works at closer quarters.’
‘We may very well find out,’ Tanner replied. ‘He’s in Stockholm now. If all goes well, he’ll be reporting back in the next twenty-four hours. I already have his fitness report, his medical and psychological evaluations. He’s come through with flying colours and, for what it’s worth, I like him personally.’
‘If he gets your recommendation, that’s good enough for me, Chief of Staff.’ M frowned. ‘You didn’t tell me his name.’
‘It’s Bond, sir,’ the chief of staff replied. ‘James Bond.’

Snippets from the New Murder Mystery in Town

In Bulbul Sharma’s new book, Murder at the Happy Home for the Aged, the tranquillity at the Happy Home is shattered when a body is found hanging in the garden. The inhabitants of the home are first perplexed, then decide to come together to solve the murder that has suddenly brought the violence of the world into their Goan arcadia.
Set in the lush landscape of Goa, where tourists flock from all over the world, where the rich set come to play, bringing in their wake fortune-hunters and other predators, the cast of possible murderers is infinite. But patiently, and with flashes of inspiration, the unlikely detectives follow the clues and in doing so emerge from the isolated and separate worlds they had inhabited for so long.
Here are some snippets from the book that you’re bound to enjoy!

5 Quotes From Harlan Coben’s New Book That Make it a Must-Read

Harlan Coben is one of the most famous names in the world of thrillers. He is the bestselling author of novels like The Stranger, Home, Fool me once, etc. With over 70 million books in print worldwide, his novels have been published in 43 languages worldwide.
He is back with another spine-chilling gem, Don’t Let Go which revolves around mistaken identities, dark family secrets, and mysterious conspiracies.
Here are five quotes from the book which make it unputdownable.





Don’t wait anymore and pick up this gem now!

5 Dan Brown Book Quotes Which Will Compel You To Pick Up The Books Again

One of the most acknowledged authors of thriller fiction, Dan Brown wrote some of the best-selling novels of all time. Best known for the The Da Vinci Code, Angels and Demons, and Inferno, Dan Brown’s novels have been the subject of intellectual debate among readers and scholars.
His novel Origin is the new installment in Brown’s oeuvre.
Here are 5 quotes from his book.




Do you have a favourite?
Get your copy of Dan Brown’s latest book Origin here.

Read an Excerpt from John Green’s book ‘Turtles All the Way Down’.

John Green is no stranger to us. The author has never ceased to awe and amaze the hearts of young readers and fiction lovers. From ‘Looking for Alaska’ to his recent novel, ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ the readers are kept on a loop,  asking for more from Green.  His new book ‘Turtles All the Way Down’ explores the story of Aza and her friends.

Who is Aza Holmes and what is her story?
Here’s an excerpt from his new book.
I WAS WATCHING VIDEOS ON MY PHONE the next morning when the call came in. “Hello?” I said.
“Aza Holmes?”
“This is she.”
“This is Simon Morris. I believe you’re acquainted with Davis Pickett.”
Hold on.” I slipped on some shoes, snuck past Mom, who was watching TV in the living room while grading tests, and went outside. I walked down to the edge of our yard and sat down facing the house.
“Okay, hi,” I said.
“I understand that you’ve received a gift from Davis.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I split it with my friend; is that okay?”
“How you handle your  financial affairs is unimportant to me. Ms. Holmes, you may find that if a teenager walks into a bank with a vast array of hundred-dollar bills, the bank will generally be suspicious, so I’ve spoken to one of our bankers at Second Indianapolis, and they’ll accept your deposit. I’ve set an appointment for you at three  fifteen p.m. on Monday at the branch at Eighty-Sixth Street and College Avenue. I believe your school day ends at two fifty- five, so you should have adequate time to get there.”
“How do you know—”
“I’m thorough.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just have,” he noted dryly.
“So you’re taking care of Pickett’s affairs while he is gone?”
“That’s correct.”
“And if Pickett shows up somewhere . . .”
“Then the pleasures and sorrows of his life will belong to him again. Until then, some of them fall to me. May I request that you come to your point?”
“I’m sorta worried about Noah.”
“Worried?”
“He just seems really sad, and there’s kind of no one there to look after him. I mean, isn’t there any other family?”
“None with whom the Picketts have a good relationship. Davis has been declared an emancipated minor by the state and is his brother’s legal guardian.”
“I don’t mean a legal guardian. I mean someone who actually, you know, looks after him. Like, Davis isn’t a parent. I mean, they’re not just gonna be alone forever, are they? What if their dad is dead or something?”
“Ms. Holmes, legal death is different from biological death. I trust that Russell is both legally and biologically living, but I know he is legally alive because Indiana law considers an individual alive until either biological evidence of their death emerges or seven years pass from the last evidence of life. So, the legal question—”
“I don’t mean legally,” I said. “I just mean, who’s going to take care of him?”
“But I can only answer that question legally. And the legal answer is that I administer the  nancial affairs, the house manager administers the home affairs, and Davis is the guardian. Your concern is admirable, Ms. Holmes, but I assure you that everything is cared for, legally. Three fifteen tomorrow. Your banker’s name is Josephine Jackson. Do you have any other questions of pertinence to your situation?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you have my number. Be well, Ms. Holmes.”
Prepare yourself for another of Green’s masterpiece!

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