I’ll bet the first question you asked yourself was who the Hell is Nick Burton ? I don’t blame you and it’s not a bad question all things considered.

You see not so very long ago I was nothing more than a shadow in the imagination of an obscure Scottish author called Merlin Fraser, a faint voice in his head that wouldn’t shut up. I had a story to tell and no other way to tell it than to trick him into thinking the whole thing was his idea and getting him to write it down and get it published.

Now thanks to the glorious digital world of the Internet I can at last reach out directly and fill in any of the missing pieces and respond to the many questions my stories raised.

He’s a funny guy this Merlin Fraser, he called his books the INNER SPACE trilogy, you see the irony here? Inner Space… the space between his ears the inner space of his mind with me in it steering him this way and that until I was a spent force, or so he thought, but just like ‘Arnie’ I’m B-a-c-k !

However I am getting way ahead of myself here because it is more than possible you have never heard of Merlin Fraser or his Inner Space trilogy of Murder Mystery stories as dictated by yours truly so I suppose I had better introduce myself properly.

I am Nicholas Burton, Nick to everyone who knows me. I am, or should say was, a serving Detective Inspector in the British Police Force and according to my critics becoming something of a dinosaur because, in their opinion, I was being left behind by all the modern day technology. I am what they call an old fashioned flatfoot bobby, a plodder, someone who uses brain power and traditional police methods of detection rather than sitting at a bloody computer all day and listening to criminologists and criminal profilers and their like.

In hindsight I don’t suppose they were that wrong, after all most of the officers senior to me are also younger than me. University degrees sticking out of every orifice, fast tracked into senior positions with little or no time in the real world of crime, little or no actual common sense but up on all the latest politically correct speak and methodology. I think it’s what used to be referred to in the old days as ‘ass kissers,’ only these days it seems you can get a University Degree in it and it is becoming almost compulsory.

It’s mostly my own fault, I know, I was in a rut and cruising towards an early retirement, as the song goes, a policeman’s lot is not a happy one. My wife divorced me for all the usual reasons I was never at home married to the job….. You’ve heard it all before I’m sure, blessing was there were no children involved and as far as I know no other man, she just wanted out.

OK I admit it, career on the slide, no family and no life outside the job I was in a sinkhole of self pity and if events hadn’t taken a dramatic turn I might well have just faded away into obscurity, just another burned out copper.

In our small town police station I worked for a great guy, not only a good boss but a great friend, he saw how things were going for me but didn’t rub it in. Plus I am fairly sure that like many others around me he was at a loss to know what to do about my situation after all I did my job, kept my misery to myself and tried to keep out of their way as best I could.

That is until ‘That Day!’ There’s always one, a day that when you look back you say ‘that’s when it all changed.’

Only in my case it was actually the day before ‘That Day,’ because it was then that my leader, Chief Superintendant Daniel Davis, decided to send me on a three hundred mile wild goose chase to Wales to check out evidence held by another police force, a job that took me out of town and away for most of the following day.

By the time I got back to my own station all hell had broken loose and the chaos I found as I went through the doors did little to improve my health, temper or the headache that pounded in my temples.

It looked like a riot everyone yelling and as far as could see no one listening but the strange thing about it all was that the yelling was coming from my own colleagues. It looked to me as if both the day and evening shifts were involved. Strange as that was I was in no mood for such behaviour and I tried to restore some order by demanding to know what the hell was going on.

The Sergeant on the desk, who seemed to be the target of the shouting, took the slight lull in the uproar to tell me they had arrested Dapper. To explain, Dapper Dan, was the affection nickname they had for Chief Superintendent Davies because of his dress code, he was always immaculately turned out and always dressed like the perfect gentleman he was.

In the roar of confusion he had to give me the message three times before it sunk in and of course then my head exploded. “WHAT ?” Arrested CS Davies… the boss…my friend… probably my best friend… for what for Christ’s sake ? “ Murder!” Was the reply.

Once I managed to get my head round this piece of information and the serious side of my detective knowledge and experience kicked in and I started to take charge of the situation. “What Utter Bollocks is this…Who said so ?”

OK! Not my finest hour or the best opening statement I have ever made but you have to remember I was in shock.

True, after I went for a walk in the fresh air and calmed down a bit I reviewed the facts as I knew them, and arrived at pretty much the same conclusion that it was still Utter Bollocks. It had to be a mistake or even worse something of a frame up. After all, over the years he and I had crossed paths with some right royal villains many of whom had sworn on their Granny’s grave that they would get us back one day.

It had to be something like that, there is no way in hell that Dan would break the laws he had sworn to uphold and as for ‘Murder’ for God’s sake… give me a break !

I stormed into Police Head Quarters and made a complete Prat of myself, demanding to see him, like that was going to happen, but I needed answers and who better to give them to me ? Instead I was shown into the duty officer’s office and when I again settled down she confirmed the fact that not only had he been arrested for murder but had also confessed to the crime.

The following day they did let me see him, albeit very briefly, a meeting made all the more brief when he threw me out of his cell telling me not to get involved.
Then there was the final bombshell of the day after that when Dan was found dead in his police cell apparently having committed suicide.

Now I knew there was something wrong, the whole thing stunk like a barrel load of rotting fish.

I will concede that given the right set of circumstances we are all capable of committing a crime, even have murderous thoughts but this ridiculous suicide suggestion….No way ! Not the Dan Davies I knew, if he had committed murder, which I seriously doubted, he was man enough to face up to it and would take the full consequences of his actions.

Right there, right then, I knew I would not rest until I knew the truth of it and clear my friend’s name.

Of course, when things like this happen within the Police Force we are not allowed to conduct our own investigations. That goes doubly so for friends and close colleagues and I was duly warned to keep myself as far away as it was possible to get and ordered to cooperate fully with any inquiry.

Stay out of it ! I’d resign first ! And they knew it.

The old me was back, no longer in the self dug pit of despair, my friend needed me and I’d be buggered if I was going to let him down or allow the PC driven white wash to trample his good name into the mud.

Have you ever asked yourself the question; ‘how well do I know my best friend?’

Over the many weeks and months that followed I asked myself that question several times and didn’t like the answers I was getting. In truth I came to realise I didn’t know him at all. I knew nothing of his past prior to me being assigned to his division and his Criminal Investigating Department (CID) as a Detective Inspector. Me Watson to his Holmes as it were, he brains me running behind taking notes but he was a damn fine teacher.

Remember right at the beginning of this piece I said I was a plodder, takes me a while but I get there in the end?

I got there and what a tale it was. It challenged everything in life I thought was true, it made me a believer in things I had never previously considered, or thought possible, if I did think of them at all I had dismissed them as rubbish.

Then came my true dilemma, no one was ever going hear my story, not in an open court of law that was for sure. What I had discovered was beyond the comprehension of most people and would raise issues and ideas that many would rather not even think about. I had no hard evidence or proof that would stand up in court so what had it all been for, what exactly had I achieved ?

Conventionally I knew the real story would never see the light of day, not now that it had been covered up and buried in the many ways government bureaucracies have of dealing with things they think it’s best for the general public not to know.

So I came up with a cunning plan, if the story and all the facts of the cases will never see the light in reality how about as a work of fiction ?
All I needed was the right mind to make my plan work.

Was I right to take over the mind of another human being in this way? Only you can judge by reading the stories for yourself, only then will you come to realise what I did and why.

You see there is more….and it hits at the very highest level of what we laughing accept as democracy again the real powers that be will stop at nothing to prevent the real truth from coming out but, of course, I now know a way.

For the time being I am leaving dear Merlin’s mind in peace but if you decide you want more then you have to tell him … You will find him and my stories in Amazon.

I will be watching and will know your feelings.


You Ain’t Famous

January 3, 2016

Sweat Shirt

Who was it that said to me, ‘Just because you’ve written a couple of books and got your face in the Newspapers don’t let Fame go to your head.’
As if !

If there is one thing I have learnt over the years that is ‘Life’ has a great way of bringing you back to Earth should you be dumb enough to be swept away in all the praise of the adoring public.

Take Book signings as an example, these are for Real celebrities not for mere Wannabees. If you are somebody special, or better still if the public think you’re somebody special then you’re IN!

The gullible will flock to the event and happily part with their ‘hard earned pennies’ just to be close enough to smell the sloshed on perfume or aftershave, depending on whether it is a footballer or one of their WAG girlfriends flogging their latest ‘Kiss and Tell’ cookery book.

For the rest of us it’s pretty much a day trip to somewhere you’ve never heard of where you will sit on a hard chair behind a wobbly table covered in a pile of books trying to appear interesting to the passing punters desperately trying not to make eye contact with you.

However, for those that really need a lesson in humility please do a book signing in your home town.

Like many writers I write under a pseudonym, now that may sound a bit pretentious coming from someone who is comparatively unknown under either name, real or otherwise. However, I do have a good excuse, someone else is already using my real name, and for all I know he may also be writing under an assumed name…. The fact that it’s my name maybe completely lost on the man however that aside he has made a decent name for himself and his scribbling using my name so I chose another one for me.

But I digress from my tale, being as I live in a quaint rural market town it was suggested that I may wish to join in with the local Christmas Arts and Craft Fair and set up a ‘Meet the Author’ table as a way of maybe shifting some books.

It’s the sort of thing that sounds like a good idea at the time and it’s a decision you usually make when you are a bit too relaxed. Like when in the local pub propositioned by someone else who isn’t quite as relaxed as they seem and… well before you know where you are you’ve agreed to be the Star attraction at the local Meet and Greet!

This one was to be on home ground, I had time to plan and organise, A3 poster sized pictures of the book covers, laptop primed to show YouTube video teasers, (giving them something else to look at other than me).

I even put out a bowl of mixed candy to sweeten the little buggers and charm them into a false sense of security, how could they dare take my offering and not buy my book? Quite easily as it happens, they wait for you to go to the toilet or to fetch a fresh brew of coffee and they sneak in and empty the bowl.
So well organised were we that announcements had been made in the local press, there was even a special insert into the town’s local Free magazine. Come and Meet local author Merlin Fraser, the full drum roll and fanfare had been made, I had never been so organised.

As a small aside I think I should add that around the area where I live we have more than our fair share of celebrities (real ones) artists and a few quite famous authors as well. So you can imagine that for many reading in the local rag that local author Merlin Fraser will be at the next event there may well have been a slight glimmer of interest even if it was only to ask “Who?”

Experience has taught me that at these things you tend to need something to break the ice, this is after all England where nobody actually speaks to anyone without being formally introduced over tea.

Therefore one needs a gimmick, an Ice Breaker….. So I am now the proud owner of the pictured Sweatshirt with the logo : “Who The HELL Is Merlin Fraser”? blazoned across the front.

Yeah, OK I know, it sounded a good idea in the pub, alright ! How is it that when you’re in a pub there is always someone who has a friend who just happens to know someone who can fix you up with these things…. Who knows I might even wear it if things get desperate enough !

Come the day full of confidence, and caffeine I take up station by the table and wait, nobody comes anywhere near me. I head to the coffee pot come back and refill the sweetie bowl. I notice every stall holder in the room, except me, is trying to suck a sweet without moving any part of their mouth.

Then through the front door come three ladies, locals so at least if I can’t sell them a book I can at least have a chat with them, after all I know them and they know me.

Only they don’t… They are here to meet Merlin Fraser, famous writer of Murder Mystery stories and these three are a bit peeved to find that he’s not here and I’m sitting in his chair, presumably and pretentiously swigging his coffee out of his personal mug.
“So where is he ?” One dear old lady asks.

“Who ?” I ask.

“Merlin bloody Fraser, who else ?”
“He’s here…. I am he .”

“He who ?” Her friend asked.

“Me Who… I mean… I am He… I am Merlin Fraser.”

“No you’re not …your that bloke that drives the Dial a Ride Bus!”
“W-e-l- l Yes… but I do this as well.”

“Why,” asked the one in the middle, who up to that point had been silent ?

As this juncture I should have quit, offered them a toffee from my dwindling supply and changed the subject to seasonal things, but we writers are made of sterner stuff. “Why do I write books or why do I drive the bus”?

Little old ladies can be cruel, they turned on me as one, with that look, you know the one, the look that can freeze the blood in your veins. The look that without a spoken word says “listen smart ass” ! They also have that way of sighing and shrugging the shoulders in one move, the one they reserve for the feeble minded who are beyond hope. They declined the proffered sweet and moved away.

Not that the next encounter was any better. A total stranger stood silently in front of my table scanning all the A3 sized book synopsis before picking book three off the table and flicking the pages and asking why all three books had the same title but different covers ?

I explained that Inner Space was the banner heading to link a trilogy of three murder mystery stories with a team of central characters. I then made the mistake of asking him if he like murder mysteries… “Not really” was he reply “we only came in so that my wife could use the toilet”.

I’d like to say things improved over the three days of the Fair, but alas… OK I made a few sales and dished out a lot of Free book markers with the web site and links on it under the promise of they will look and buy later…. I wish I had asked for a small refundable deposit, would have helped pay for my pitch,but Alas!

Little Poster


Normally I am not one usually stumped for an answer especially when the question comes from a youngster a fraction of my age that looks upon me as the font of all knowledge and wisdom. OK possibly at bit of an exaggeration but the child does look up to me, more so because he is only 4 foot 6 inches tall rather than the odd nugget of wisdom which I toss his way.

Actually I think most of the adoration comes from the fact that I can produce a mean cheese burger from the contents of my fridge and two bits of tin foil all without any help from Burger King, this apparently according to him is Kinda Neat !

His mum, bless her, is kind of cute and works hard on behalf of them both but to be totally honest she is not the brightest light on the Christmas tree , if you get my drift. Besides her life is tough enough staying ahead of the game without answering the million questions that are conjured within the rapidly expanding mind of a ten year old.

Nor is this just help with school homework, although I am at a loss as to what kids actually do at school all day, learning anything of any real use doesn’t seem to be part of the curriculum these days. One of the questions, “Why do they call it the Second World War ?”

My question was how the hell can you teach about WWII without actually mentioning WWI?

I will however concede that one thing the little sod is good at and that is computers, especially games, not games that actually teach you anything of course, but with his wicked skills he is most definitely destined to become a Marine or Terrorist, depending which side he goes to bat for.

However I digress, as usual, what I hear you ask was the question ?

Well it started with computer games, we were talking in broad general terms about ‘Super Heroes’ and ‘Super Villains’ (Villains are Cool, Heroes are Wimpy Nerds, apparently, hence my prophesy that he may take up arms against us not so cool guys).

Anyway, one thing led to another and we turned our discussion to the old guys, Spiderman, Batman, Superman and the crowd that were around when I was a kid.
First question where did they get their Super powers from ?

Easy enough, I thought, Spiderman… well he was supposedly bitten by a radio-active spider and acquired spider senses and abilities. After some minor enquiry about ‘did it hurt,’ apparently he had been stung by a wasp once, a normal one fortunately, and wasn’t overly impressed by the occurrence. I asked him if it would have made a difference if he had ended up with a black and yellow striped butt and the ability to fly ? I took the big grin and the word ‘Neat’ as a Yes, and spent the next few minutes trying to get the image of him showing his butt to all his school chums out of my head.

We decided Batman didn’t actually have any super powers as such, he was just very, VERY, fit and had a lot of really cool and expensive toys. We concluded that he must have won the lottery or something and got bored sitting at home or playing computer games all day.

Then the bombshell, ‘What about Superman ?’

And sweet as you like I walked into the mini mind trap eyes wide open, ‘What about Superman?’

“Well what makes him go ?”

I tried to explain that Superman wasn’t from Earth he was from another planet a long way away that was destroyed by the sun that it orbited. Their sun was red and our is yellow and somehow that made all the difference to him and made him super !

“Yeah, Yeah… I get that but what makes him go ?”

At this point I should have seen the trap closing and stepped back from the edge, maybe offered a Milkshake or something the net of a childish mind was heading my way and at speed. ‘Go ? Go Where?’

“Anywhere… I know he can fly and all that stuff… but How… I mean he doesn’t flap his arms like a bird, he doesn’t have a jet pack or anything like that so what makes him go ?”

‘Gulp !’

In the movies we see him flying around chasing rockets and then flying so fast around the planet he can make it and time go backwards but let’s face facts here… the kid has a point…Even if he can somehow defy gravity and float what is the source of this tremendous forward momentum and how does he stop ?

I mean if it is not electricity is it natural gas… Super Farts ? If so why hasn’t Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen never mentioned it or why have we never heard one ? Can you imagine, even as mild mannered Clark Kent if he was to let one go in the office wouldn’t he blow the wall out or something ?

Does he suck himself forward ? In which case where does all the air go… we’re back to his rear end again and we know that can’t be the answer because in the movies the streak across the sky is always reddish blue and not brownish yellow !

Trust me this issue is not going to go away, a logical answer must be forthcoming or my reputation as a ‘know it all’ will disappear and I will go down in this young man’s esteem and that must be prevented at all costs.

Even if it means me going with the ‘ Super Fart’ theory of propulsion.

Little Poster

Boy o Boy o Boy ! Have I stirred up a hornet’s nest or what ? How dare I drop the price of my E Book to $0.99 cents.

How Very Dare You? Who do You Think You are you little Oik ?

According to some I am a disgrace to the authors of the World and I am giving in to the Dark forces out there in Internet Land. I am pandering to people who do not appreciate the value of a product nor the months and years of effort, not to mention all the blood, sweat and tears that went into producing their fictional masterpiece.

Sorry Kids ! But from where I’m sitting I must be doing something right.

I wrote my first story ten years ago, then came the Inner Space trilogy and I slogged round the conventional route for four years, I’ve had so many literary agent and publisher doors slammed in my face I started to get a liking for the taste of paint. I was a Nobody, a Newbie, not worth the time of day so I went my own way and was branded ‘Vain and Presumptuous’ for my trouble.

Now in just a couple of weeks people have started to notice I exist ! True I’m pissing them off but anything is an improvement on total obscurity, isn’t it ?

Am I going to give in to my critics, confess my sinful ways and whack my prices back up to somewhere they consider reasonable?
HELL NO! “GO Free Market Enterprise !”

When I joined Linkedin I found a few kindred spirits and we swapped ideas and supported one another as best we could while collectively we continued our hopeless efforts to push water uphill. We were too dumb to realise that times they were a changing, the time of the Dinosaurs was at hand and we are the small furry critters that will take over.

Who do I think I am ? I’ll tell them who I am… I am an Independent author in a world of other Independents. We don’t need to be tied by contract to a Big Publishing house everything they offer their tied authors is now readily available out here in the marketplace. As authors we need Proof-readers and editors, they’re out here, it’s a service. Book cover artists, Critique writers, reviewers, everybody we need is out here, Independents like us take as much or as little as you need.

We can bring our books to print through a host of different suppliers none of whom require a contract or a share of our souls. They make their money printing and the more successful we are as writers the more money they make as printers. True we have little control over the cover price of our book but there are still many readers out there that want a book rather than a download, that’s their privilege and we owe it them to provide for them.

However the real control comes in the digital world which is where we came in, Yep I could set the price of E Book up there with JK Rowling, Dan Brown and the others… but that would be unfair…. OK Not unfair to the army of Klingon’s they has to take care of and pay…but unfair on my potential readers. People who don’t know me or what I write I NEED to give them a reason to try me. I suppose I could do a “TWOFER” or a “BOGOF” but then I’d sound like a supermarket.

I belief there is a market out there for every writer, this is a point that the big mainline publishers have forgotten, or never thought about, I know I write stories people enjoy… Why because many of them come back and tell me so. They don’t have to do that, there’s no discount off my next book for those that are super nice to me, (sorry Mum), so I know there is a readership out there with my name on it. All I have to do is go find them.

I’m starting to get the hang of this Digital World, bit slow off the mark but what the hell For a long time I was out there ‘Twittering’ like an idiot, although I wasn’t as sad as telling you what I had for breakfast and I tried to keep it interesting although I did change the names to protect the innocent.

Also I’ had a Facebook page but gave it up to protect my sanity. Try as I did I couldn’t convince people that I didn’t do ‘Farmville’ and was not a source of bricks or whatever else they needed such as a Cow or Pig Poo real or virtual!

Now I am quite convinced that neither FaceBook or Twitter offer any real advantage as places to attract potential fans or to generate interest in books. Of course I know there are one or two exceptions who will want to give me an argument but trust me life is way too short for me to return to that path.

Although I think I’ve conquered YouTube as a means of Book Promotion…. Take a look at the Video. True I’m no Spielberg or George Lucas but it ain’t bad for a first effort.

The bottom line is this, I know there are quite a few writers on here, all at different stages of work and progress, what I’m saying is don’t give up we are entering new and exciting times for us. I know I would not have got this far without a great deal of help and support from many, many friends here at Linkedin, they helped me and I know they can and will help you and for what it’s worth I will throw in my help and support as well.

“It is necessary to establish a universal regime over the whole world.”
(Writings of the Illuminati, 1780.)


Information is Power: For thousands of years men have created secret societies, brotherhoods and used religion in their never ending quest for the most addictive of drugs POWER. The main tool of control had always has been…FEAR! That was until he invented MONEY!

Today there are many who ask; Who really wields the power behind the world throne?

Rumours and conspiracy theories have haunted the secret world of Freemasonry for decades. This has prompted questions as to the existence of an Inner Circle, a group so powerful that they have an unnatural influence over Governments and World affairs.

Could it be that there is a New Illuminati ? Or has the old order just resurfaced as the invisible prophets of Capitalism. An elite group so powerful they control the financial resources of the world and would seek to recruit their disciples from within the organised and highly disciplined ranks of Freemasonry itself?

To Detective Chief Inspector Nick Burton such things as wild conspiracy theories belong in the world of goulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night. Or at least they used to, unfortunately some of his more recent investigations have led him to challenge everything he thought he knew.

Doctor Jill Tindell, his fiancée, and her boss professor Harman-Jones of Cambridge University have been studying and experimenting with the powers of the human mind; Para psychological phenomenon such as telekinesis, and projection of the mind beyond the confines of the body.

At first Nick was enthralled but his jaundiced policeman’s eye quickly saw a frightening downside to their experiments. His biggest fear was that if he could see it then so could others… people who would not hesitate to use such power to their advantage.

The problem is has his dire warnings come too late and is his worst nightmare about to become reality? And if so….what the Hell can he do about it?

Mankind is a creature of the sun. It is against the natural order of things for him to be alert during the long dark hours of the night. At such times his senses are dull, his eyesight poor and his reflexes slow.

Conditioned over a long period of time by the five day working week the weekend is for fun, relaxation and a time to regenerate for the trials of the coming week.

Therefore two a.m. Sunday morning is when man is at the lowest peak of his mental efficiency.

The perfect time for an attack!

Chapter 1.

In the warm stuffy atmosphere of the reception area the night security guard stretched, rubbed his tired eyes and laid the book he was reading back onto the desk. He looked up at the big clock on the wall; it was nearly time for his external rounds. He quite looked forward to it, it gave him a chance to stretch his legs, have a smoke and above all relieve the terminal boredom.

In the area beyond the back of the desk a bank of CCTV monitors glowed eerily in the dimmed light. Had he been watching them at that very moment it is just possible that he may have notice the image on one screen flicker and change very slightly.

One minute, nothing except an empty car park clear all the way to the shrubbery border. The next the most subtle of movements behind the bushes as a dark vehicle inched into view and stopped.

From outside the van the grey tinted glass made it virtually impossible for normal vision to penetrate the internal gloom. But to the people sitting inside things were just as they should be. They all sat quietly patient and still.

Of the two figures sitting in the front of the van there was a strange almost alien look about them. Clothed entirely in black even their heads and hands were covered but most sinister of all was the one single green eye just above where the nose on a normal face would be.

“Time?” The question came from the figure sitting in the front passenger seat.

“Zero Two Twelve, Sir.” The reply came from somewhere in the black interior.

“Insertion on my mark, check external scanners for movement.”

“External scanners clear, no visual or heat readings, Sir.”

“Insertion team ONE, you have a GO!”

Eerily silent an opening appeared in the side of the van and three black shapes slid out keeping low as they disappeared into the bushes beside the van. The van door closed just as quietly as it had opened.

Once under cover the figures moved with stealth through the shrubbery until they reached the wide open space of the empty car park with the low lying buildings beyond. For the most part the buildings were in darkness except for a few external lights and an area that was clearly the front entrance and reception area. Within that lit area they could see movement. One of the crouching figures raised his right hand and made a quick signal that sent a team member off in that direction. To the other he held up a fist and pointed to the ground… the pair settled and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long before a tallish man wearing a security uniform came out of the building and stood off to one side. The flare of a match and a telltale puff of smoke told them that he had just lit a cigarette. A couple of puffs later and he wandered off around the far side of the reception building and out of sight.

As they watched him go they saw the dark shape of their colleague leave the protection of the shrubs as he moved fast and low towards the main door. One of the watchers smiled under his mask as he saw the door open almost immediately. Obviously the guard had not bothered to lock the door behind him, careless but useful.

Two static clicks in his earpiece confirmed what he already knew, his man was inside.

Thirty seconds later two more clicks told him that the computer recording device linked to the CCTV cameras had been deactivated but the cameras remained on. You would still see everything but only if you were right in front of the monitors.

Another minute passed before the next two clicks, this confirmed, “in position and concealed.”

Outside they watched as the guard came back into view, he wasn’t hard to spot he was whistling loudly and waving his large torch around all over the place. It was one of those big brash yellow contraptions with a beam so big and powerful you could practically climb up it. Nevertheless, even accidentally, it was a major threat to anyone on night operations; getting caught in the beam of that thing would seriously bugger up your night vision for a goodly while. The two concealed figures flattened themselves to the ground listening rather than watching. Neither moved until they heard two clicks announcing that the guard was now safely back in the building.

Security officer Jim Stephens having completed his external walk round inspection of the buildings under his care went back through the front door locking it behind him. He walked back behind the front desk and put the heavy torch back in its cupboard. He tossed the keys in the drawer scanning the bank of CCTV screens as he did so. These screens showed certain key areas of the building complex both inside and out and as usual for this time of day they showed no activity whatsoever.

He crossed over to a small fridge that stood concealed in the far corner of the reception area. On top of the fridge sat a microwave oven and an electric kettle, in fact he had all the necessary paraphernalia to make his rather boring job just that little more comfortable. He flicked the kettle on and started to make himself some tea.

Over on the desk area there were a few more comforts of home. He and the other regular night guards had clubbed together to make their fairly monotonous lives more tolerable. There were books, a good quality radio, a decent TV set with built in DVD player and if there was nothing worth watching he had brought along his lap top computer stuffed with enough games to last a lifetime.

Mug of tea and a large packet of McVitie’s chocolate digestives in hand he gave the CCTV monitors a quick look as he settled down behind the desk sipping tea and casually flicked through the TV channels.

That would be the last thing he would remember doing that night.

Outside in the bushes a further ten minutes elapsed before they heard an open language message, “he’s out.”

By the time they returned to the van the side door was already open and they were joined by four others similarly dressed figures but without the night vision goggles. Between them they carried two heavy canvas bags across the car park and quickly disappeared inside safe in the knowledge that there would be no record of their visit.

Inner Space Book Two

July 2, 2010

Inner Space Book Two
The Reluctant Nemesis


Sleep depravation is considered by many Governments to be a legitimate tool of interrogation, applied scientifically it will ultimately overcome the strongest of mental ability. Taken to extreme or in an uncaring hand the mind can be damaged beyond repair.   Self inflicted… the destruction of the mind can be equally assured.


Quick Synopsis

Imagine how you would feel waking up in a strange bed in a strange place and finding blood on your hands. Even worse, you have no idea of where you are, how you got there, or why!

 Deborah Patterson doesn’t have to imagine such a nightmare… she’s living it. Something or somebody is taking over her mind and her body. With dreams so frightening she has to stay awake to avoid them.

 Follow another case for newly promoted Detective Chief Inspector Nick Burton.  Called back from leave to cover staff shortages due to a flu epidemic Nick soon discovers that there is no such thing as a routine murder.

 As the bodies pile up he struggles to find a decent motive; could it be, as some suggest, just family rivalry…Or perhaps a hostile business takeover by the Russian Mafia.  Or is it something completely different?

 His investigations lead him into inter departmental conflict and he crosses swords with Special Branch and falls foul of his own superior officers. The fact that he suspects corruption at the highest level of the police force doesn’t endear him to anyone.

 Trouble mounts with every new step in his investigation leaving him with his finger pointing at the most unlikely suspect ever, much to the annoyance of the woman he loves and may lose if he is not extremely careful.

My Books :

February 24, 2010

I thought just in case there is anybody out there who might be interested; I put up a little about my books;  As I said before what I have written is a trilogy of inter linked stories, complete stories in their own right but following a common theme and written in series.   You could, of course, read them out of sequence but you might be missing some of facts as to where the characters came from and how they ended up where they did.

So starting at the begining;  Inner Space Book One:   

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