“27th April 1865 – What place is this in which I find myself? What manner of circumstance
surrounds me? A wanted fugitive, hunted as though an animal, for that, maybe,
is what I have become. No more than a hunted man, a man without hope. They will
be here soon, my pursers. What have I done, and what have I become? I have
helped to cause murder. I have brought shame on my father, and my beloved
mother. I have brought shame upon the South. It would have been best had I
never been born. Will I ever find peace? Not here and now, but with God’s forgiveness maybe there will be a kind of solace.”
His arm was beginning to pain
once more. An hour or so ago he had hurt it once more, on the doorframe. He had
stumbled and fell against the side of the door, and the wound had started to
bleed once again. The sleeve of his tunic was drenched in scarlet. Red droplets
were steadily falling on to the table, and staining the papers that he was
writing on. The bullet was still deep inside. He could feel it. He could
actually move it from side to side. He had lost a lot of blood, and felt quite
weak. Infection had begun to set in.
He knew that there was a danger
of gangrene setting in. If that happened then he would almost certainly lose
the arm. He needed help badly, but there was none to be had. There was nowhere
to go, no one to turn to. The young boy had tried to put a dressing on shortly
after he had arrived at the house, but he did not know how to stop the
bleeding, or how to treat the infection. He had wrapped gauze around the wound,
tying it tightly to stem the blood flow. For a while it seemed to be effective,
but since hitting the doorframe the bleeding had started once again.
It didn’t matter, not now, Thackery murmured. It was all
too late, far too late. It would all be over quite
soon now anyway.
“Quite soon, and they will be here.” He looked down at the table and
sighed deeply.
He looked up
suddenly, startled by the sound of the approaching riders. He listened for a
few moments. He did not need to see them, but he knew instinctively who they
were. He also knew why they were there. It was hard now to remember how this
had all come about. How had he got involved? He shook his head. Insanity, he muttered. Killing Lincoln
was nothing more than utter madness, futile.
“Did I really think that it was the right thing to do? That it
was just?” Jacob murmured. “That, in some
way, it would make a difference? Did I actually think that we could get away
with it and that the authorities would just stand by and do nothing?” He shook his
head, and hit the table hard with his fist. “What a fool I was.”
Why he couldn’t even remember
the name of the man who had actually pulled the trigger. He could not remember
whether he had actually met him. He shook his head once again. Of course he had
met him. What was he thinking? Had he not been his shadow, his protector? Wasn’t he to be his
replacement if anything had gone wrong?
“If anything had gone wrong,” he murmured, and started to
laugh. Everything had gone wrong. He shook his head once again. And it had
happened so quickly. Why it was only twelve days ago. No. He shook his head,
and thought for a few moments, counting on his fingers. It was thirteen days.
Just thirteen short days ago. It seemed like years ago, another lifetime, and
another place. It was somehow unreal. He could not think straight. His memory
was beginning to play tricks on him.
“But what was his name?” Jacob whispered. He shook his
head once again. He could see him in the room with Jarvis and the others, at
that first meeting. He could see him going into the theatre. He could see him
coming out from the stage door of the theatre. He could see the soldiers
dragging him from the barn. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He could see
him lying on the ground, dead. But what was his name? He could not remember. It
did not matter, not now. Nothing really mattered any more.
He shook his head. “Not so,” he murmured. “I will never
see my mother, or father, again. That matters.” He started to shake. “That matters a
great deal.”
The sound of the approaching
horsemen became louder. He could hear the harnesses jangling. He could hear the
horses breathing, and snorting. He could hear the pounding of the horses’ hooves. He
listened for a few moments more. He could hear a loud thumping sound, the sound
of his own heart beating faster and faster. He took two or three deep breaths
and looked down at the table.
“They are here. They have
come for me. It will soon be over.”
“They are here. They have
come for me. It will soon be over.”
John Holt Biography
I was born in 1943 in Bishops
Stortford, Hertfordshire. I currently live in Essex with my wife, Margaret, and
my daughter Elizabeth. And not forgetting Missy, the cat who adopted us, and
considered that we were worthy enough to live with her. For many years I was a
Chartered Surveyor in local government. I was a Senior Project Manager with the
Greater London Council from 1971 until it was closed down in 1986. I then set
up my own surveying practice, retiring in 2008.
I suppose like many others I had
always thought how good it would be to write a novel, but I could never think
of a good enough plot. My first novel, “The Kammersee Affair”, published in
2006, was inspired by a holiday in the Austrian lake district. We were staying
in Grundlsee. The next lake, Toplitzsee, was used by the German Navy during the
war to test rockets, and torpedoes. As the war came to an end many items were
hidden in the lake – millions of UK pounds, and US dollars, in counterfeit
currency; jewellery stolen from the holocaust victims; and weapons. There were
also rumours of gold bullion being hidden in that lake. Despite extensive
searches the gold was never found. In my book, however, it is found, only in
the next lake, Kammersee.
The books that followed, The
Mackenzie File, The Marinski Affair, and Epidemic, all feature Tom Kendall, a
down to earth private detective, and were originally published by Raider
Publishing in New York. My fifth book, A Killing In The City, another featuring
Tom Kendall, was originally published by Night Publishing. In August 2012 I
decided to go down the self published route, and formed my own publishing brand
PHOENIX. All five novels have now been published on PHOENIX. A sixth novel “The
Thackery Journal” was published on 8 August 2013.
I am currently working on two other
novels featuring Tom Kendall, and I have made a tentative start on an Adventure
novel.
More books by John Holt:
The Marinski Affair began as a dull mundane case involving a missing husband. Okay, so he was a rich missing husband, but he was nonetheless, still only a missing husband. The case soon developed into one involving robbery, kidnapping, blackmail and murder. But was there really a kidnapping? And exactly who is blackmailing who? Who actually carried out the robbery? Who committed the murders? Who can you trust? Who can you believe? Is anyone actually telling the truth? What have they got to hide? And what connection was there with a jewel theft that occurred four years previously? All is not as it seems. Tom Kendall, private detective, had the task of solving the mystery. He was usually pretty good at solving puzzles, but this one was different, somehow. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any of the pieces. Oh no, he wasn’t short of clues. It was just that none of the pieces seemed to fit together.
http://www.amazon.com/The-Marinski-Affair-ebook/dp/B00AFW98D8
‘To make a killing in the City’ is a phrase often used within the
financial world, to indicate making a large profit on investments, or through
dealings on the stock market - the bigger
the profit, the bigger the killing. However, Tom Kendall, a private
detective, on holiday in London, has a different kind of killing in mind when
he hears about the death of one of his fellow passengers who travelled with him
on the plane from Miami. It was suicide apparently, a simple overdose of
prescribed tablets. Kendall immediately offers his help to Scotland Yard. He is
shocked when he is told his services will not be required. They can manage perfectly well without him, thank you.
The lake was flat and calm, with barely a
ripple. Its dark waters glistening, reflecting the moonlight, as though it were
a mirror. Fritz Marschall knew that neither he, nor his friend, should really
have been there. They, like many others before them, had been attracted to the
lake by the many rumors that had been circulating. He thought of the endless
stories there had been, of treasures sunken in, or buried around the lake. He
recalled the stories of the lake being used to develop torpedoes and rockets
during the war. Looking out across the dark water, he wondered what secrets
were hidden beneath the surface.
http://www.amazon.com/The-Kammersee-Affair-ebook/dp/B009LHE1E4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1349541867&sr=1-1&keywords=the+kammersee+affair
� � m s 0#n
��� n";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi'>http://www.amazon.co.uk/Killing-In-The-City-ebook/dp/B0093N363S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1346663588&sr=1-1
Tom Kendall, a down to earth private detective,
is asked to investigate the death of a young newspaper reporter. The evidence
shows quite clearly that it was an accident: a simple, dreadful accident. That
is the finding of the coroner and the local police. Furthermore, there were two
witnesses. They saw the whole thing. But was it an accident, or was it
something more sinister? Against a backdrop of a viral epidemic slowly
spreading from Central America, a simple case soon places Kendall up against
one of the largest drug companies in the country.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Epidemic-ebook/dp/B00BS9AIH2/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1363207975&sr=1-4
i;co� � b u 0#n
��� i-language:#00FF;mso-fareast-language:
#00FF'>http://www.amazon.co.uk/Killing-In-The-City-ebook/dp/B0093N363S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1346663588&sr=1-1
