Sins of the People

D Malloy Andrew

Description

Secret Service man Ryan Taylor can't abide bullies. He doesn't much care for blackmailers either. Or corrupt officials for that matter. So when he finds himself up to his neck in them, he has no choice but to revert to type. Unfortunately, in his line of work reverting to type can only mean one thing - people end up dying. And Taylor has a clear message for anyone brave enough to poke the hornets' nest ...

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Pneuma Springs Publishing
• Date de parution: 25 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782284864
• Langue: English

Extrait

Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Quote
Acknowledgements
THE CATALYST
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
CHAPTER NINETY
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
EPILOGUE
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Sins of the People



Andrew D Malloy
Copyright

First Published in 2022 by:
Pneuma Springs Publishing Sins of the People
Copyright © 2022 Andrew D Malloy Andrew D Malloy has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this Work Mobi eISBN: 9781782284840 PDF eBook eISBN: 9781782284857 ePub eISBN: 9781782284864 Paperback ISBN: 9781782284833 Pneuma Springs Publishing
A Subsidiary of Pneuma Springs Ltd.
7 Groveherst Road, Dartford Kent, DA1 5JD.
E: [e-mail]
W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, save those clearly in the public domain, is purely coincidental.
Quote
'Success depends almost entirely on how effectively you learn to manage the game's two ultimate adversaries: the course and yourself.'
Jack Nicklaus
Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to my amazing family – Sue, Dani, Stephen and Ollie the Collie.
Apologies to the good people of Tel Aviv, Zurich, Washington DC. and Las Vegas for mixing the fake with the facts as regards street names, buildings and landmarks. And please don’t worry, Washington DC., the iconic Joan of Arc statue is still there in the middle of Meridian Hill Park!
And finally, my heartfelt thanks to Vivian and her team at Pneuma Springs for their sterling work in transforming my ramblings into something special and dear to my heart.
THE CATALYST
CHICAGO, USA
‘Third and last call, it’s over to you! Breakfast’s on the table!’ The father stands at the bottom of the stairs. Hands on hips. Exasperated. Shakes his head. ‘I swear to God-‘
A muffled cry. Her bedroom door creaks open. In a state of semi-consciousness, the daughter shuffles into the bathroom. Twirls the shower knob. Checks the time. ‘Sonovab-! Dad, I have to be out in fifteen minutes, why didn’t you call me?’
‘Don’t even go there, Maddie. And please, mind your language!’
‘ Sorry .’
Ten minutes later she is sitting at the kitchen table, pulling a brush through her wet hair with one hand and spooning cereal into her mouth with the other.
Troy Williams leans back against the stove, folds his arms and shakes his head, again. ‘Why don’t you run the after-school arrangements past me one more time, just so I have it clear in my mind,’ he says, his eyes narrowing.
She stuffs the brush in her bag and grabs a mouthful of milk as she stands. ‘Dad, I told you already. I really do not have time for this. Look, I’ll send you a text.’
‘No, no texts. Tell me again. I’ll walk you to the door.’
‘Whatever.’ Sighing heavily, she throws the bag over her shoulder, heads along the hall to freedom. Pausing at the front door, she sighs again, says, ‘Okay, Alison, Suzy, Georgia and me are all going back to Dani’s to do some study work ahead of the test on Friday. You know the one I told you about the other day, the English test?’
‘Okay, and how’re you getting home?’ he asks.
‘I told you this as well. Dani’s mom is going to drop me off around seven-thirty.’ Her voice cuts a frustrated tone as she huffily pulls open the door.
‘I hope this is an all-girl arrangement, Maddie,’ he calls after her. ‘I wouldn’t like to hear later that that punk kid, Declan, is it, is going to be tagging along as well?’
‘It’s Damien, and no, he isn’t going to be there.’ She turns to face him, still walking, but backwards. ‘And even if he was, what are you gonna do, shoot him?’ She turns around again when the school bus arrives. Good timing.
‘Yeah, I just might at that.’

The bus ride to school consists of twenty minutes of chatting with a friend about boys, the latest fashions, make-up, reality tv shows, everything bar school work. And exchanging daggers with arch-enemy, Megan Dance, the source of their angst, some cute boy that both she and Maddie liked.
A creature of habit, Maddie disembarks at the little corner shop close to the school to pick up her daily fix of carbonated water and twiglets. As she hurries out of the shop preparing to run the two minutes to the school gate, she is unaware of the dirty white van pulling up behind her.
The whole thing takes barely thirty seconds: the side door of the van slides open; two hooded men jump out; one of the men grabs the startled girl from behind, clamps his hand over her mouth; the second man catches her legs before she falls into unconsciousness; seconds later, the door slides back into position before the van rolls inconspicuously past the entrance to the school.
Thirty seconds.
No witnesses.
It was as if Maddie Williams had never existed.
PROLOGUE
Faceless mourners huddle near a black marble coffin. There is no sunshine at this funeral. No consoling hugs, sweet smelling flowers, or lovingly prepared eulogy. Instead, black clouds, angry clouds. And low, barely audible murmurings from hooded phantoms, their bony hands folded in prayer.
Giant ravens darken the barren branches of a dead tree. And indistinguishable shapes close in. Animal shapes, dog-like, but with cloven hooves. Not of this Earth.
He is standing beside the coffin. It is open, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot see inside. Although shrouded in mist, he senses she is there. Cold hands pull at his arms, his shoulders, trying to tug him away. Long, gnarled nails spear into his skin.
And he is always naked in the dreams; vulnerable, helpless, ashamed.
A silent scream.
Fighting back gathering nausea, he again tries to scream. As before, no sound.
Then, he is released. He reaches for her. The tips of his fingers freeze at the mere touch of the cold marble. The sensation takes his breath away. Indescribable pain seeps through his bones, threatening to overwhelm him.
The mist begins to clear. He sees her face for the first time, pale and serene, as if she were asleep. He reaches in, strokes her cheek with the back of a hand. Her skin is always glacier cold at first, then warm...hot...burning.
She opens her eyes, smiles at him. His heart lifting, again he reaches for her, recoils when he feels the bubbling liquid sear his fingers.
Blood...Rising...Rising.
The red sea cascades over her shoulders, neck, face. She screams. Again, he can hear no sound.
Quickly, she is engulfed.
The dream always ends the same; heart slamming, head pounding, lungs gasping for air.
I am a dutiful follower of Lord Voldemort, the chosen one. Only the other day he’d overheard his daughter tell a friend on the phone. Before this, nightmare. I must have the only Harry Potter-hating-child living on the planet, he’d joked with the guys at the golf club. Not only that, she had gone and dyed her gorgeous white-blonde hair the blackest colour imaginable. Her eyelashes were now heavy with mascara. Lips glossed blood-red. Skin powdered white as Alaskan wastes. Wholesome candy kid, Hannah Montana, had left the building, in her place an extra from The Evil Dead.
She’s twelve, it’s a phase . It was the general consensus.
Troy Williams had made light of the change. And with good reason. He knew his daughter better than anyone. He knew his Maddie was a good kid with a good heart. He and his wife had done an excellent job. Everyone said so.
The trouble was, Williams didn’t exactly feel much like parent of the year, especially under the circumstances. What he did feel was culpable for the breakdown of his marriage to Corinne. And in a perverse way it felt worse to him that none of the usual suspects could be blamed;