BLOG TOUR
Author: Chris Parker
Genre: Crime Thriller
Format: Paperback 360 pages
Release Date: 20 September 2018
Publisher: Urbane Publications
Synopsis
WHAT IF THOUGHTS COULD KILL?
The time has come for Ethan Hall, serial killer and master hypnotist, to be tried in Crown Court. And the result is far from certain. The unanswered question remains: How do you prevent a destructive master hypnotist from wreaking havoc in a Crown Court trial?
For Marcus Kline, the world’s leading authority on communication and influence, and his wife Anne-Marie Wells, the devastation Ethan Hall has brought into their lives is about to reach terrifying and unimaginable heights. Memories, secrets and fear will threaten to tear them apart and destroy their very lives.
Meanwhile, a new wave of murders is being recorded and shared on social media, inciting ever-more extreme behaviour. Support for the violence grows and the very fabric of society seems threatened. Is Ethan Hall in any way responsible? And, if so, how can he possibly be stopped?
Marcus Kline must face his nemesis in a final battle of wills…does he have the faith to succeed?
Faith is Chris Parker’s thrilling final book in the Marcus Kline trilogy. Can Marcus Kline ultimately triumph over his deadly nemesis?
You can pre-order your copy of ‘Faith’ on Amazon at:
Chapter 8
Trial Day 1-
10.14am
Detective Chief Inspector Peter Jones was feeling as calm as was humanly possible.
Considering.
Sitting alone in the Crown Court building in a room he had requisitioned to serve as both police waiting room and a store for exhibits, he let his mind review it all one last time.
He had read and reread all of the relevant files. He had cleared his diary, provisionally at least, to give himself the best chance of being available every day until a verdict was reached. He had tried every way he knew to share with Mike Coopland his insights into the threat posed by Ethan Hall. He had spent dozens of hours quietly reviewing every aspect of the investigation and eventual arrest.
Every detail was clear and recorded.
At least, every detail they had.
It was the missing details that were fraying the edges of his
calmness. The missing details from the missing hours. The unaccounted time between Ethan Hall’s escape from hospital and his subsequent arrest. There were just too many hours when, according to their records, Ethan Hall did absolutely nothing at all. And to Peter Jones’s way of thinking that didn’t make any sense. Ethan Hall was a class A predator. A shark. And sharks didn’t stop moving just because they were out of sight. So the questions were simple.
Where did he go?
What did he do?
Simple questions his team had still not been able to answer,
despite their ongoing investigation.
Now, even though it felt as if there was still unfinished business,
it was time to step back and let Mike take the lead. Now his role was to support the barrister as best he could. From past experience he knew that meant providing answers, ideas and reminders only when asked. When a trial began Mike demanded the spotlight. Which was ideal as far as Peter was concerned, even though he did torment his friend about it relentlessly.
‘You are the world’s biggest Diva!’ He had once proclaimed. ‘God forbid, if you could sing like Mariah Carey you’d have an entourage twice the size and make more demands than a terrorist group who’d kidnapped the American President.’
‘And I’d ban you from all my shows,’ Mike replied.
‘Wouldn’t need to. It’s all I can do to cope with the courtroom performances.’
Which was an absolute lie. Peter had long been an admirer of Mike’s creative and charismatic delivery. He had seen it be the deciding factor in more than one trial.
‘We can’t guarantee justice,’ Peter mused, ‘ but we do go after it with everything in our power.’
His words triggered a memory of Calvin Brent; of a conversation they had shared several months before.
‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ the drug baron had said in his loud, mocking voice, ‘I am a law-abiding businessman who contributes to society by meeting the needs of my local community. So why don’t you stop wasting time and money and leave me alone?’
Brent, known on the streets as The Numbers Man, had leaned forward across his heavy mahogany desk. ‘Besides, you can’t ever
catch a big fish with a small fishing rod.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean exactly?’ Peter kept his face
expressionless.
He had tried for many years to end this man’s criminal reign,
but no one had ever been brave enough to testify against him and Brent had always ensured he was far removed from the action.
‘It means you’re not equipped to fish in the deepest waters. You should stay in the shallows, picking up what you can, convincing all the good tax payers of Nottingham that you are in control and keeping them safe.’
‘I catch everything I go after,’ Peter said grimly. ‘Besides, sometimes the biggest fish are so sure of their invulnerability they swim where they shouldn’t and find themselves beached. We all know what happens to a fish out of water.’
‘The trick is to always be clear which way the current is flowing.’ Brent sat back. ‘Anyway, to return to your original reason for being here, let me say again I have never met or, indeed, communicated in any way with Ethan Hall. The fact that one of my occasional employees, Matthew Lawson, had dealings with him has nothing to do with me. The fact that he was then taken prisoner by Hall suggests they had problems of their own. I, obviously, know nothing about that. As an upstanding member of the community, I assure you I would tell you if I did.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t find that at all reassuring.’
‘Of course. I’m famous for my forgiveness. You know that.’ The Numbers Man bared his teeth.
Peter left without saying another word. Two days later a package had been delivered to his home address. It contained a copy of Moby Dick. He gave it pride of place on his bookshelf.
Now Peter looked round the small room he was sitting in. ‘Ahab, you should have killed that fucking whale for sure,’ he muttered.
And you should never have let it drag you down.’
Peter stood up and stretched, forcing Calvin Brent from his
consciousness. Here and now, in the real world, the trial was all that mattered.
His mobile phone began ringing at precisely the same moment Detective Sergeant Kevin McNeill knocked on the door and entered the room.
‘No need to answer that Boss!’ McNeill raised his right hand as if stopping traffic. ‘Whatever it is, it’s not as important as this!’
Peter hesitated briefly and let his anger show. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ For all sorts of very good reasons his DS had never before come close to giving him an instruction. Which was reason enough to ignore the phone. ‘You’d better hope you’re right.’
‘Yes Boss.’ It was McNeill’s turn to hesitate.
Peter watched him realise the risk he was taking. The ringing stopped. ‘It’s too late to turn back now, Kevin. You’ve placed your bet so roll the dice.’
‘Yeah. Of course.’ McNeill wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. ‘There’s been a murder. Body found at 5.56am this morning. The entrance to Mount Street car park. Multiple stab wounds to the lower abdomen. And a sheet of A4 pinned to his chest with the word Paedo written on it.’
‘What have we got, someone who doesn’t know how to spell long words or someone who’s just saving ink?’
‘Might be a frugal, illiterate butcher.’
‘A butcher?’
‘Yeah. The victim’s bollocks were cut off and left on the paper.’ ‘Dear God! Do we know who the dead man is?
‘A local businessman – ex-businessman I should say. He lost
everything fairly recently. His name’s Naseem Akhtar. He was investigated as part of Operation Sandcastle.’
‘I remember. He had a family member who was the ringleader of the gang. Akhtar, though, was freed without charge. He disappeared off the grid sometime after that.’
‘The thing is the killer posted a photo of the body on all the usual social media.’
‘Fucking technology! I keep telling you we’d be better off without it!’
‘That’s as might be Boss, but the really bad news is - ’
‘- You don’t think what you’ve just shared is bad news?’
‘Yeah, it’s bad. It’s just that this is worse.’
‘Excellent. Go on.’
‘He gave the picture a headline – a call to arms – and a hashtag.
He wrote, Reclaim our streets. Hashtag Pass it on. It’s gone viral. Thousands of responses already, most of them cheering their support.’
‘Bollocks!’
‘Anyway you look at it Boss.’ McNeill raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah, fair point,’ Peter chuckled. ‘Who’s the lucky sod who’s
drawn this one?’
‘DCI Anderson.’
‘Let’s hope he can sort it quickly. As it stands the press are going
to have a field day, what with Ethan Hall in here and a lunatic paedophile killer out there.’
‘You never know, it might distract from the trial; ease our pressure a bit.’
‘Doubt it. To be honest with you, even though it seems clearly disconnected, I can’t help but wonder about the timing of it all.’
‘It can’t be anything to do with Hall.’
‘That would be the logical conclusion.’
‘But?’
‘But sometimes gut instinct trumps logical conclusion, and this just feels wrong in my gut.’
‘I keep telling you, you’re eating too many curries.’
‘Let’s hope that’s what it is. Anyway, it’s not our case so let’s
focus on what we’re here to do.’ Peter looked at his watch. ‘Because if all is going to schedule our main attraction should be making his way into Court Number 1 right now.’
‘Here we go then,’ Kevin sighed and shook his head. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, a murderous hypnosis weirdo meets men in wigs. All fucking rise.’
About the Author
Based in Nottingham, Chris Parker is a specialist in Communication and Influence. A Licensed Master Practitioner of Neuro Linguistic Programming (NLP), Chris is a highly experienced management trainer, business consultant, lecturer and writer. Books include Influence, Belief, Campaign It, Brain Always Wins, Diego Masciaga Way, The City Fox and Debris.
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