by Zach Abrams
Both Tom and Sally suspect something or someone must be behind it. It couldn't just be coincidence. They think it inconceivable for such rapid decline to result from merely incompetence and a series of blunders. It must be sabotage. Yet the timing and diversity of location make it improbable. Has someone been powerful and ingenious enough to mastermind such demise? If so who, and why?
Tom and Sally become reluctantly twinned in the investigation looking for the ”source' and their trail leads them from London to Glasgow, Manchester, Barcelona and Collioure.
They tread a dangerous path as Tom's life and wellbeing becomes imperilled by strange and cryptic warnings. Through this, Tom struggles to hold everything together. He's hoping to restore his crumbling marriage and uncertain personal finances, yet is distracted by an irresistible attraction to Sally.
They feel daunted by the prospect of an unknown enemy, who seems to have unlimited power and connections. With great fortitude, they tackle the most challenging investigation of their lives, facing threats and hostility countering their every move.
Available at Amazon UK or Amazon US
Released by Zach Abrams together with Elly Grant
Twists and Turns
With fear, horror, death and despair, these stories will surprise you, scare you and occasionally make you smile. Twists and Turns offer the reader thought-provoking tales. Whether you have a minute to spare or an hour or more, open Twists and Turns for a world full of mystery, murder, revenge and intrigue. A unique collaboration from the authors Elly Grant and Zach Abrams
Here's the index of Twists and Turns -
Table of Contents
A selection of stories by Elly Grant and Zach Abrams ranging in length across flash fiction (under 250 words), short (under 1000 words) medium (under 5000 words) and long (approx. 16,000 words)
Trials and Tribulations (medium) by Elly Grant
Runswick Bay (medium) by Elly Grant
Alice (short) by Elly Grant
Hide and Seek (flash) by Zach Abrams
Snip, Snip (medium) by Zach Abrams
Come See what I Dug Up in the Sand, Daddy (short) by Elly Grant
Room Mate (flash) by Zach Abrams
Courting Disaster (medium) by Zach Abrams
Crash (flash) by Zach Abrams
Submarine (medium) by Elly Grant
Dilemma (flash) by Zach Abrams
Grass is Greener (medium) by Zach Abrams
Missing (flash) by Elly Grant
Time to Kill (medium) by Elly Grant
Fight (flash) by Zach Abrams
Just Desserts (medium) by Elly Grant
Interruption (flash) by Zach Abrams
I've Got Your Number (medium) by Elly Grant
Rhetoric (flash) by Zach Abrams
Keep It to Yourself (medium) by Zach Abrams
Lost, Never to be Found] (medium) by Zach Abrams
Man of Principal] (flash) by Zach Abrams
Witness After the Fact] (medium) by Zach Abrams
Overheated] (flash) by Zach Abrams
Wedded Blitz] (medium) by Elly Grant
Taken Care] (flash) by Zach Abrams
The Others] (short) by Elly Grant
Waiting for Martha] (long) by Elly Grant
Available at Amazon UK or Amazon US
An introduction to Source; A Fast-Paced Financial Crime Thriller - the first few pages
Prologue
There was a loud 'pop' and Tom ducked as the cork flew from the bottle, bounced off the ceiling and ricocheted in his direction. He heard Sally giggle and turned to see foamy liquid spewing out of the opening and running down and over her hand. He proffered a glass to enable her to pour and avoid further waste.
“Don't you think it's a bit premature for a celebration? True, we've made a breakthrough, but we still don't know what it means.”
“Don't be such a bore. We've had more than a week of intense work without a break and we deserve a reward. Maybe it's not a major breakthrough, but you can't deny we've made real progress. Besides, I've not gone overboard; it's only Freixenet. It's a decent enough cava but it's not 'Bolly', I'd have gone for real champagne if it was a proper celebration.”
Froth was climbing over the top of the first glass and Tom had a second one ready. Sally's enthusiasm was contagious. Her grey eyes sparkled and tears of joy had moistened her cheeks. Her smile was so broad, argument was not imaginable.
“Not for me,” Ahmed said, when he saw Tom lift a third glass. “I don't drink alcohol, haven't you noticed already? But I'll happily toast our success with a glass of spring water. I'm sure there must be a bottle in the mini bar.”
“The charges this hotel makes, it'll probably cost more than the wine I picked up at the supermarket. Never mind, we can claim it on expenses anyhow,” Sally replied.
“What's with the abstinence? I didn't realise you were religious,” Tom asked.
“I'm not,” Ahmed answered. I was born a Moslem but I don't practice religion at all. I'm actually agnostic. If you really want to know, I'm not an immigrant, I'm third generation. My grandfather came from Karachi and arrived in Glasgow in the nineteen-sixties. We were an archetypical Packy family."
Ahmed saw Sally and Tom's stunned looks. “I reckon I'm allowed to use the term. Packy's only a bad word when directed as an insult by outsiders. I suppose I can say it because I'm talking about myself. It's like Jewish comedians talking about the holocaust, they can be poignant and side splittingly funny, but the same words spoken by a gentile would be in bad taste and offensive. Anyway, like I was saying, Grandad worked as a bus conductor. His son, my father, opened a corner shop and ended up owning three, including a post office. Then, when I didn't want any part of the business, I studied English and Media. I'm about as westernised as it's possible to be. True, none of my family drink alcohol because of their religion, but for me it's more of a health thing. I don't take caffeine, I won't drink tea, coffee or fizzy drinks and I work out at the gym four times a week, when I'm not away from home.”
“Sorry Ahmed, we didn't mean to cause any offence, please forgive us. Oh and we've something in common, my father worked for a bus company too, although none of the family ever opened a shop,” Sally said.
“Don't worry. It would take a hell of a lot more than that to offend me. Besides, I've got a thick skin. You wouldn't survive long in Glasgow without one. Ferguson's a Scottish name, is that where your family come from?”
“I think my grandfather came from somewhere near to Stirling,” Sally replied, “But like you, I'm third generation although in my case it's English. I was born in Manchester to be more precise.”
“Well the name Ferguson will make you popular in Manchester at least, with Sir Alex's past achievements.” Ahmed said.
“You might think so, but it's not really the case. Most Mancunians support City. United draws its fans from the rest of the country. And besides I've been away from there for years now.
“Well at least one of us is a pure bred Englishman,” Tom interrupted. “My family can trace its roots back to the seventeenth century.”
His outburst was met with guffaws from the other two, “Pure bred and English shouldn't be stated in the same sentence,” Ahmed claimed, “It's an oxymoron. With the possible exception of Americans, they must be the most bastard race on the planet and you can interpret that any way you like.”
Chapter 1
Tom made his way through the fog. It wasn't real fog, at least it hadn't been in recent years, but the clawing atmosphere in Stephan's office hadn't truly cleared after the smoking ban. Prior to it being prohibited, you literally had to part the colloidally imbued air to see your way to a chair. Now there was greater transparency, but no matter how often or how well the office was cleaned or decorated it still felt the same. The smell of stale nicotine and whisky was immoveable and whether real or imagined the smoke was still there.
A career journalist, Stephan Presley fulfilled every cliché associated with the industry. Now aged fifty,
he frequently drank to excess and he'd been smoking sixty a day for over thirty-five years. More than three quarters of a million cigarettes in aggregate and his complexion and aroma bore testimony to it. Some years back, Stephan had tried to cost how much he'd spent on tobacco and alcohol in an effort to justify cutting his consumption down or out. His shock at the number of figures in front of the decimal point made him reach for a glass and he didn't feel comfortable drinking without a fag in his hand. So the effect was minimal, a temporary, slight decrease in cigarette intake before resuming his normal level.
When company regulations prohibited him from smoking in his office, he took to using the roof garden for breaks, but it was suspected he more often simply closed his door and opened the window to reduce the evidence of succumbing to his addiction. The smell wasn't too much of a giveaway as the air was already contaminated by the noxious fumes diffusing from his skin and clothes.
It was rare, if ever, for anyone to volunteer to visit Stephan's office, any guests he did have arrived as a result of a summons. But there was no doubting he was good at his job, very good, one of the most respected editors in the business. He had first class instincts and an excellent knack of sniffing out a good story, even if his nose was too damaged to detect his own odour.
* * *
Stephan's yellow-stained forefinger pointed to a chair and Tom reluctantly descended to perch on its edge, praying the fabric's smell wouldn't permeate his favourite Hilfiger chinos. Tom's attention had been on Stephan and only at the last moment he spotted the attractive young lady on the adjacent chair. His attention was immediately distracted by her curvaceous shape and his eyes were drawn to her shapely legs. She was wearing open-toed sandals. He saw her nails were brightly and perfectly varnished confirming his suspicion that her legs were bare and the deeply tanned colour was her skin and not tights or stockings.
Tom's eyes lingered a moment too long for propriety before letting his appraisal move northwards to take in her tight waist, shapely bosom and the flowing curls which framed a disarmingly pretty face.
“Yes is the answer to your question,” she said, staring pointedly at him.
“Yes? What do you mean? I didn't ask anything.”
“Yes, it is an all-over tan and I'm only telling you because there's no other way you're ever likely to find out. And, trust me, you don't need to open your mouth to ask a question.” The girl's eyes were slate grey in colour but were alive with mirth which spread to the rest of her face. The sparkling whiteness of her perfect teeth lit up the otherwise dingy office.
“Www… No, it was only…,” Tom stammered. The room's temperature was rising, the heat radiating from his embarrassment.
“Don't bother trying to deny it, Tom. You've been caught red handed, well red cheeked to be more precise. Just accept it and move on. You're starting this game one nil down.” The craggy, nicotine stained stumps in Stephan's mouth formed into a hideous smile and although nowhere near as appealing as Sally's it betrayed no less amusement.
Tom resignedly sank back into his chair, his eyes focused downwards.
“Okay, what's this about?” he said hesitantly. He needed to change the subject and try to find a way to regain at least some of his normal, natural confidence and exuberance.
“Well first of all I suppose I'd better introduce you two. Tom Bishop this is Sally Ferguson and vice versa. I think a handshake will do. You've probably already heard of each other. I'd be surprised if either of you weren't aware of the other's by line.”
Neither of them followed the suggestion but they both examined each other. This time Tom was careful to keep has gaze above shoulder height and he wasn't disappointed. Sally's face was still aflame with jollity. Her smooth, even complexion was tanned the same shade as her legs and was complemented by the lightest application of cosmetics which showed to their best effect her almond shaped eyes and full mouth.
By contrast, Sally accepted the opportunity to have a long appraising look at Tom, taking in his clean-cut image and powerful form, the cropped, sandy hair topping his slim angular face.
“You scrub up not too bad, a lot better than the photo on your column. You appear younger too. What are you, thirty, thirty-two perhaps?”
Tom was taken aback by her bluntness, but quickly reassessed. After all, what might he expect from a fellow journalist? However, he couldn't remember ever being attracted to one of his profession before.
“You don't look so bad yourself and I'm thirty-four actually, so thanks for the compliment. Maybe I've not worn as badly as I'd thought, but more likely you're needing to see an optician.”
“Isn't that a contradiction of terms? If I couldn't see clearly then I wouldn't be able to see an optician.”
Stephan cut in, “Okay children, enough of the word games. Let's get down to business.” He sank into a chair and lifted and sucked on a pencil, holding it between his fingers as a surrogate cigarette. “I can see I'm going to have my work cut out trying to control you two. As if Tom's not been a big enough pain in the ass for the last five years, now I've got two of you.
“Sally, I'm sure you already know that Tom's been our lead features writer at the London office for some time now. Tom, I know you'll have heard of Sally, but you might not know she took over the lead in Sydney a few months back.”
Tom stared back at Sally, “So the tan's real then and I know you're not meant to ask a lady's age, but as you don't qualify I'll ask anyway.”
About the Author
Having the background of a successful career in commerce and finance, Zach Abrams has spent many years writing reports, letters and presentations and it's only fairly recently he started writing novels. “It's a more honourable type of fiction,” he declares.
His first novel Ring Fenced was published in November 2011. This is a crime story with a difference, following one man's obsession with power and control.
After this he collaborated with Elly Grant to produce Twists and Turns a book of short stories.
Zach's next novel, Made a Killing, is the first book in the Alex Warren series. It follows the investigation after the killing of a much hated criminal where an elephant tusk was used as the murder weapon was. This has been followed by A Measure of Trouble where Alex's team are seeking the murderer of a CEO killed within the cask room of his whisky distillery. The third, Written to Death, deals with a mysterious death during a writers' group meeting. These are fast-moving, gripping novels set in the tough crime-ridden streets of Glasgow.
Zach's quirky thriller, Source; A Fast-Paced Financial Crime Thriller has three investigative journalists travelling across the UK, Spain and France as they research corruption and sabotage in the banking sector while trying to cope with their own fraught personal lives.
Alike his central character in Ring Fenced, (Bemjamin Short), Zach Abrams completed his education in Scotland and went on to a career in accountancy, business and finance. He is married with two children. He plays no instruments but has an eclectic taste in music, although not as obsessive as Benjamin. Unlike Benjamin, he does not maintain mistresses, write pornography and (sadly) he does not have ownership of such a company. He is not a sociopath (at least by his own reckoning) and all versions of his life are aware of and freely communicate with each other.
More in keeping with 'Alex Warren,' Zach was raised in Glasgow and has spent many years working in Central Scotland.
To contact the author mailto:[email protected]