Judy? The thought of her energised him, his voice stronger now. ‘She okay then?’
‘Yeah. She took a load of pepper spray in her eyes. Leech hosed her the moment he walked in the door. Whacked her in the chops, almost knocking her cold, and then nigh on throttled her... Well, then you arrived... She’s bearing up. She’ll be thrilled to see you awake.’
‘Leech?’ He could not remember the details but he knew the name tasted vile to his tongue. He decided he would never utter it again.
‘Leech? Oh you pancaked him! After you rugby tackled him, shot him in the leg, and then tried to fly him off the balcony some thirty-odd feet above the ground. You landed on top of him... He died, but saved your life in a funny sort of way. Ironic huh?’
Doc still could not remember. He was not sure he wanted to.
‘Me?’ He could not ask the whole question, his eyelids were desperate to close and his throat was refusing to acknowledge his brain as he tried to speak.
‘You? What? Apart from being one lucky son-of-a-bitch? Broken back, but no permanent spinal damage. Legs were shattered, you’ve got enough metal in your shins and ankles to set off the alarms at Heathrow security next time you hobble through. Both your arms were broken, clean fractures at the wrist and elbow. Not that you’ll be playing tennis for a while with your busted hands. You dislocated both shoulders. Got some internal bruising, so you’ll be pissing blood for a while...’
Doc was asleep.
***
Judy’s voice. ‘Hey hero, it’s me.’
His eyes opened. His pain was gone thanks to the morphine and he was euphoric at the sight of her, the smell of her.
‘Hi... I’m a bit broken.’
‘Yes. The doctors say you’re amazingly strong.’ She was smiling yet tears were dribbling as she said, ‘They nicknamed you Superman. You know, leaps off tall buildings?’
He wanted to laugh, but thought better of it, morphine patch or not.
‘My legs though...’
‘Yes. It’s going to be a long time before you’ll be leaping anywhere.’
She held onto his finger tips – the only part of his arm visible, protruding from the end of the white cast. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.
In that moment he felt fantastic as he inhaled her essence, his body awash with tingling heat.
She whispered to him, her wet eyes dripping tears onto his cheeks. ‘Don’t worry my love. I’ll help you walk again... We’ll start with baby steps.’
###
Author’s Comments
Thank you!
Thank you for taking the time to read this novel. Having got this far I hope you enjoyed reading it - I certainly enjoyed writing it! I really do appreciate that readers have a huge range of choice these days and I am very grateful you spent some time with me, Doc, Judy and Jack. They have more adventures planned so I do hope you will join me in sharing their thrilling escapades in future.
Please help!
If you enjoyed this novel I would really appreciate you posting a review on your favourite online bookstore or readers’ site - such as Goodreads where I also have an author page. If you have any comments or questions please contact me via my websites: I really enjoy getting feedback from readers and have incorporated some of their comments in this edition of Remorseless.
Free stuff!
I am currently working on a novella: a prequel to this novel which will be ready for launch in 2016, along with Mutilated, the follow up to Remorseless. I will also be giving away some audiobooks too, so please let me know via my website contact form if you would like to be included!
On Psychopaths
Having got this far I hope you enjoyed the novel and experienced at least some brief insights into the mind of a psychopath. You may be thinking No-one can be that bad, surely! when considering Leech’s lack of any redeeming features. But while the Clinical Psychopath may be superficially charming, beneath his skin he is devious, manipulative, selfish and egotistical in the extreme. He really cannot understand how you and I feel, though he may have learnt to mimic our emotions.
Still not convinced? Maybe you believe that everyone is, at heart, a good person though some of us have gone off the rails due to circumstances or upbringing. Maybe your faith in the overall good in human nature suggests a shove in the right direction would enable them to redeem themselves, or maybe you think they can be ‘cured’ by religious conversion. If so, I’d urge you to read more on the subject or, maybe, just read some of the quotes from real life criminal psychopaths below, with many more on my specialist true crime/crime fiction website. They make Leech’s escapades seem tame by comparison!
I personally think Voltaire was right when he said:
‘Evil walks the earth.’
So why write this story?
Well, although I have never met a serial killer, at least not knowingly, I have suffered at the hands of a couple of sub-clinical psychopaths – the sort that are all around us, and as Doc says ‘...they have qualities that allow them to succeed in our competitive corporate society. In spades.’
In truth, a lot of leaders in society exhibit traits that could indicate an underlying lack of conscience – the most significant factor in a psychopathic make-up. Absence of guilt and no fear of consequences, together with a lack of empathy, remove any social pressure to conform, but the most successful psychopaths mimic these emotions and manage to convince us they are normal, like Shaun. They are not: they have a major hole in their psyche, and although it is politically incorrect to say it, psychopaths cannot be cured of this deficiency.
The chances are, you’ve met at least one socialised psychopath who has caused you personally some serious heartache, or if not, then certainly someone you know has suffered at the hands of one. It pays to understand these individuals and to be able to identify them – they are most definitely not all axe murderers... If you’d like to know more please head my unique Psychopaths - Fact and Fiction website.
Maybe I’m weird, but I think this is one of the most important issues facing society today.
On guilt
The underlying theme of ‘Remorseless’ is guilt. The story explores how we react to it – from the extreme remorse causing Doc’s hallucinations, through Judy’s concerns over motherhood and career, to John’s wayward lifestyle and his suppression of conscience: these characters describe how a normal person might be affected.
I created Leech to demonstrate how a total absence of guilt affects behaviour in direct contrast to the ‘normal’ cast of characters. That subtext makes the tale – for me at least – intriguing and I hope you found it so too.
On UK Prisons
I was asked by my original print publisher if I had been to prison as the scenes seemed to him to suggest I had. I have not, but I got the impression that he may not have believed me. I am after all, a consummate liar...
Perhaps he thinks I have something in common with our murderous anti-hero, but Leech is very definitely not based on my personality or experience. He’s a composite of characteristics from people whose paths I have had the misfortune to cross, embellished with traits found in real life criminal psychopaths.
As for Listeners, they really do a fantastic job helping struggling inmates and I have no doubt most would be horrified to read of Leech’s escapades: those scenes, like Leech himself, are all pure figments of my over-active imagination. Apologies go to the Listeners and the Samaritans if I have caused offence, but please remember this is a novel – and all fiction, as my brother once told me, is just a pack of lies!
Acknowledgements
Thanks for the inspiration for this novel go to world renowned expert on psychopaths, Dr Robert Hare, creator of the Psychopathy Checklist, generally acknowledged as the definitive tool for assessing these anti-social creatures. I highly recommend his book Snakes in Suits, written in conjunction with Dr Paul Babiak, for a highly readable exposition of the devious psychopaths that operate in plain sight, generally to the detriment of
those they meet.
Quotes From Real Life Psychopaths
John Wayne Gacy’s comment, after 28 corpses were dug up from under his home:
I should never have been convicted of anything more serious than running a cemetery without a license.
He actually killed 33 victims and had this to say about them:
They were just a bunch of worthless little queers and punks.
Gacy also felt he deserved some sympathy:
I see myself more as a victim rather than a perpetrator... I was cheated out of my childhood.
His final words to his guards immediately prior to execution:
You can kiss my ass.
*
Ed Gein murdered women and wore their body parts. Speaking about prison:
I like this place, everybody treats me nice, some of them are a little crazy though.
*
Carl Panzram confessed to 22 murders, claiming he was ‘rage personified:
I'll kill the first man that bothers me.
He also admitted to sodomizing over a thousand men. He said he would rape men because it was his method of dominating and humiliating people. On reform he had this to say:
I have no desire whatsoever to reform myself. My only desire is to reform people who try to reform me, and I believe the only way to reform people is to kill them. My motto is: Rob ’em all, rape ’em all, and kill ’em all.
*
Ted Bundy murdered at least 30 female victims and committed necrophilia with some:
I haven't blocked out the past. I wouldn't trade the person I am, or what I've done – or the people I've known – for anything. So I do think about it. And at times it's a rather mellow trip to lay back and remember.
I’ll leave you with these final ‘Remorseless’ words from Bundy:
I don't feel guilty for anything. I feel sorry for people who feel guilt.
Coming soon
A new Doc Powers/DI Carver thriller...
Mutilated
by
Will Patching
Doc and Jack are already midway through their next adventure, and should be ready to share their exploits by Xmas 2016.
If you’d like notification of launch then let Will know:
www.remorselessthriller.com
*
Out now!
A fast paced international crime thriller
set in the US, the UK and Thailand
The Hack
Also by
Will Patching
George Simm, friend of the US President and well-respected international business guru, leads a double life... until he is viciously murdered in Thailand.
For Kate O’Sullivan, a freelance journalist, his death provides the scoop of her dreams when her brother discovers Simm’s dark secret – by hacking into the CIA’s confidential report on the killing.
Kate sells the story to a UK tabloid newspaper, setting in motion a bloody chain of events that destroys many lives, and threatens her own.
With an CIA serial killer on the rampage in Thailand, the US authorities on the hunt for Kate’s brother, and a ruthless VIP ring in London determined to do anything to prevent Simm’s death exposing their paedophile activities, Kate’s world will never be the same again...
www.thehacknovel.com
Available in eBook and Paperback...
Join Will’s Readers Group to guarantee your free copy of The Hack in 2016!
You can read the first chapter below right now!
Chapter One
George Simm’s shirt was damp and rank with body odour. He could smell his own rancid musk as he mopped some drips from his multiple chins with his sleeve. He registered a flicker of disgust in the brown face of the man sitting opposite, and decided to screw the cheeky bastard.
‘I’ll give you one hundred US – final offer.’ He sipped his iced beer and grinned at the slim oriental. ‘Take it or leave it Fan. I’m bringing a lot of business to Thailand and there are plenty of other suppliers just waiting to take your place.’ Simm took another gulp of Singha.
‘We have agreement Khun Simm. Two hundred.’ Fan’s eyes narrowed as he spoke and Simm decided he was trying to look menacing. It was not working.
The local word for ‘mister’ bugged him too as it sounded like ‘coon,’ and he did not like that one bit. He had been quite prepared to pay the full amount but this Thai spiv was getting on his nerves, with his bad English, his foul breath and stained teeth. This was a dangerous business and Simm felt highly exposed out here in this third world country.
Time to wrap things up.
‘Take it or leave it. I didn’t get rich by throwing money away.’ He finished his beer and motioned the waiter for the bill. ‘If that’s not enough, well, see ya around pal.’ He started to rise but Fan grabbed his arm.
‘You do business? Like this?’ His face flashed anger then melted back to a big Thai smile as he saw the look in Simm’s eyes.
‘Just keep your filthy paws off me.’ Simm shrugged the hand off. ‘Deal or no deal?’
‘Sit... Please. Talk more.’ Fan nodded at the chair. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll sit, if we agree the price. One hundred. Or I’m out of here.’ He let his eyes follow a speedboat carving through the bay, a tourist dangling from a parachute towed behind, a gaudy flash of colours against the cobalt sky. ‘There’re other things I could be doing right now. I’m supposed to be on vacation.’
Fan lashed out in frustration, the back of his hand cuffing the pretty young boy sitting at the table with them. The emaciated lad rocked on his seat as knuckles landed on his high cheekbones, the loud crack piercing the air, but he made no sound. Tears crept from the corners of his russet eyes, but he kept his head down, inspecting his bare toes.
As the waiter brushed by to serve the only other customer – a lone tourist at a corner table, well out of earshot – Fan called to him in Thai. ‘Another two beers. The fat white pig will pay.’ He jerked his scraggy goatee in the American’s direction, then continued in English to Simm, spitting words in anger but his voice low. ‘Okay. We do business. This first one I give big discount. Fifty percent.’
Simm grinned, and dropped back in his chair. ‘That’s more like it. If you can supply my guests with the right quality merchandise in the numbers I need, then we’ll have a long and lucrative relationship.’ He opened his wallet and slid a note across the table.
The bill disappeared into Fan´s pocket before the American had finished speaking. ‘No damage. No blood. Or you pay more.’ His hand slid to his belt buckle and Simm heard a faint click as a two inch blade appeared to sprout from Fan’s fist. ‘Much more.’ He made a slicing gesture at his throat with the stubby dagger and added, ‘Remember, this Thailand. You just farang here.’ The weapon disappeared back into its secret home.
Simm disliked the Thai word for foreigner too. It sounded like an insult. He sat back and took stock of the man. He could hardly believe this runt was threatening him, but he had already paid so had to let it ride. It was probably bluster and bullshit anyway. ‘No problem.’
‘Nine o’clock, here, in morning. Bring back in perfect condition. Enjoy. Sawadee Khap Khun Simm.’ Fan’s greasy ponytail bobbed as he mock bowed before strolling onto the white sand beach.
The American shook his head as he realised they even used the same words for hello and goodbye. Fucking simpletons! And they call it The Land of Smiles – what bullshit. The land of the crooked grin more like.
He chugged his beer, thinking how stupid the locals were. How easy it was to fuck them over. Like taking candy from a baby.
Or a baby from a candyman.
The thought twitched a wry smile on his lips.
He ordered another beer and forced himself to relax, to let his tension bleed away. As the red sun shimmered and started to melt into the turquoise sea he decided that life could not get much better. It was a beautiful spot, he had seven days to enjoy, and he planned to indulge himself to the full.
He rose,
dropped a thousand baht note on the table, and smiled at the waiter. He was cooler now, his shirt dry.
A happy man.
Here he was, just one day in paradise and the first deal was done. So simple.
And so cheap.
He stood, touched the little boy’s shoulder, and led him away.
***
The only other customer in the beach bar was also American, lounging at a nearby table apparently engrossed in a Lonely Planet guide. His attention was not on the book – his exceptional hearing had allowed him to eavesdrop on enough of the conversation between his compatriot and the skinny Thai to clench his guts and set his teeth grinding.
He also knew his extended vacation was at an end.
He rose, his face a rigid mask, his attention focused on the fat middle aged man and his ‘purchase’ as they made their way down the beach.
The waiter appeared at his elbow, apparently worried that he might leave without paying his bill. The man was not surprised as his carefully cultivated appearance was that of an ageing hippy, a scruffy backpacker in desperate need of a shower. As he left he shoved a wad of notes into the waiter’s hand and got a wide grin as thanks for the unexpected tip.
He trailed the odd couple, blending in with the other tourists and travellers strolling along the palm fringed beachfront, keeping some hundred metres behind his target, his attention never wavering.
***
Later that night in Simm’s hotel room the local Chief of Police, Major General Lee, struck the concierge with an open palm and left angry finger marks across the man’s chubby cheek. A feeble arm was raised in defence way too late, ensuring the blow had the desired effect, loosening the reluctant tongue.
‘I remember now. There was a boy... I think he was with him sir. A street child. Just a beggar. I thought nothing of it.’ He nursed his cheek and flinched as the policeman drew back his arm, ready to strike again. The concierge hunched and jabbered. ‘The boy waited by the lift while the big American came to the desk for his key.’
Remorseless: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate #1) Page 39