Today's feature is Nemesis by Roger A. Price
A REVIEW by J.D. Jones Amazon UK ...
‘This is the first book by Roger A Price that I have read and it certainly will not be the last. I was gripped from the first few pages and read more at every opportunity with the result that I had completed the book within a couple of days. Having lived and worked in Preston, Lancashire for 60+ years and over the past 8 years been a frequent visitor to Gretna, Dumfriesshire, I enjoyed the way the author describes both places in this novel - he has clearly done his research. There are so many thrillers/action novels about that there are bound to be similarities in the plots, and the twists and turns, and having become an avid reader since my retirement, I fully expected that this would be the case with 'Nemesis'. However, I found the 'story-line' to be very different to the dozens of others I have read and it kept me guessing until the very end - not as to who the guilty person was (we know that from the start) but rather who will be the next victim and how (and IF) this ruthless villain will be caught. Will he or won't he? You will have to read this book to find out.
‘With regards the 'stars' awarded I use a standard approach based on awarding one star for a 'yes' to each of the following questions: 1. Did I enjoy the story? 2. Did it hold my attention throughout? 3. Did I get to know the characters and care what happened to them? 4. Was I sorry that the story finished - did I want to read more? and 5. Would I buy another book from this author? The answer to each of those is 'yes', consequently this book gets my 5 stars.’
Roger A. Price
Main Genre – Thriller, Crime, Mystery
Print Length: 271 pages
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Publication Date: August 11, 2016
The body count is rising…
When psychopath Daniel Moxley makes his escape while being escorted to Broadmoor high security prison, he sets off on a trail of bloody revenge, leaving police forces throughout the north of England floundering in his wake.
Moxley’s paranoia has him seemingly selecting victims at random.
The only thing they have in common is the gruesome nature of their killings.
Police, prison warders and even old ladies have been the target of Moxley’s cold-blooded murder spree.
When Detective Inspector Vinnie Palmer is assigned to the case, Moxley decides that he too must die, but not before he has led him from one blood-soaked scene to another.
Among his victims is Vinnie’s offsider, Detective Constable Rob Hill, who he discovers has his own dark and destructive secret that rips Vinnie’s life apart.
With the help of Moxley’s psychiatrist, Vinnie delves deep into the man’s criminal past and uncovers a history of corrupt police, sexual coercion and gaol brutality.
But when Vinnie closes in on Moxley and takes the law into his own hands, he ends up suspended and stripped of his police powers.
Determined not to let Moxley escape justice, Vinnie continues his pursuit of the maniac as a private citizen.
He teams up with determined television reporter Christine Jones and together they pursue Moxley north to Scotland and back again.
But the killer always seems to be one step ahead, leaving a trail mutilated bodies in his wake.
Lured on by Moxley’s taunts, Vinnie discovers that it is his own wife – a fellow police worker – who has been an unwitting aid in Moxley’s deadly deeds.
As a result, his suspension is lifted in time for him and Christine to gain full police support and finally confront Moxley in a terrifying final encounter. But is it too late?
Drip, drip, drip. The rhythmic beat of blood trickling on to the ground from the torso’s right hip mesmerised Daniel Moxley. He counted the seconds it took each drop to travel from the man’s waist to the concrete floor. Then he looked up and followed the blood-flow across the naked back to the left shoulder where the meat hook suspended the man at an unnatural angle. Curious, he watched each pulsated blood run. Some travelled around the man’s scapula, and some across it, as each line strived to follow gravity’s path.
As the pool on the floor grew larger, it never ceased to amaze Moxley how far a little blood could go. Though in this case, the amount of blood was more than a little. The man let out a semi-conscious moan, which broke his reverie. This angered Moxley, it interrupted his enjoyment. He rose from his chair and walked around the man to face him.
“Not long now, I should think,” said Moxley, as he noticed the man’s pallor was much greyer than the last time he’d looked. He glanced at his watch, 2 pm, that had been half an hour ago, though it had seemed only like minutes. “Has the pain eased? You’re quieter now.”
“Numb,” the man said, spitting the word out in a pant that appeared laboured.
“I told you it would. Now, say the word again.”
“Sorry,” the man mumbled.
Moxley liked to think of his guest as ‘The Man’. It dehumanised him in his mind. Referring to him by name or, worse, by his title would give him back his standing. ‘My Man’ was even better for it denoted some kind of ownership by Moxley and further empowered him. The thought aroused him slightly. He ignored it, no time for such pleasantries.
Taking his mind off himself, he looked around the disused building, long since stripped of anything of value. Even though it was warm outside, all the windows were broken and a cool draught whistled through. It reminded him of railway station platforms; always cold. He considered spinning The Man around again. He knew any screams couldn’t be heard. Half would be silenced by the wind and the remainder would have too far to travel to find anyone. He decided to wait and ask The Man again.
“Have you worked out what you’re sorry for now?” he asked in a singsong way.
“Look,” His Man said, speaking in short bursts, “I’ve been good to you over the years … always looked out for you ... got to know your other side.”
“I know all that, which is why you’ve only been here a few hours. If you was that other screw, then I’d be keeping you here for days.”
“Danny, look … Bill and I were only doing our jobs.”
“You forget I got to see your report. It’s amazing what money can buy. I was happy at Strangeways; you of all people knew that.”
“I know,” His Man said. He paused before he continued.
Moxley sensed he was getting weaker.
“But you have to believe me; we had no option but to agree … after all, it was the doctors who approved your move.”
Moxley knew this was true, he’d been shown the final report. But he still felt hugely let down by His Man, Tim Knowles. He shook the name from his mind. “Being moved was bad enough; but declared insane, I mean there’re having a laugh. Do you think I’m mad?”
“No, no of course not,” His Man answered. “Please, let me go, I can’t take much more … I’ve told you I’m sorry … and I truly am.”
At that very moment, Moxley was sure His Man was telling him the truth, which was why he decided to end his suffering. He’d made His Man pay his ‘fine’, time to go. “Okay,” he said, before going for his chair, an old office one he’d found lying in the rubble, which had proved very handy. He pulled it to the back of the man and looked up at the rafter exposed through the broken ceiling, from where the meat hook was tethered. He’d fastened the hook to the beam with rope, but it would be easy to cut through. His Man would drop about two feet to the concrete floor, which wasn’t far he thought.
About the Author:
Roger A. Price was born in Bury, raised in Whitley Bay, and has lived in Lancashire since he was thirteen. Currently living in Preston, Roger served for over thirty-one years with the Lancashire Constabulary, the Regional Crime Squad and the National Crime Squad.
He retired in the rank of detective inspector in charge of a covert unit in Lancashire, which received local and national acclaim for its successes in engaging those who openly sold Class A drugs, such as heroin and crack cocaine.
Prior to this he led the C.I.D. in Preston for a short while and before that was in charge of a dedicated informant unit. Previous experiences include work on many murder investigations and other serious crimes, as well as time spent on drug squads.
He has served around the region, country, and overseas. His work on the National Crime Squad took him across Europe and to the Far East. He has been commended on four occasions.
He now writes fiction based in-part on his experiences, and in-part from his fevered imagination. He now writes full time.
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