HIS OTHER SON

by SIMS, MAYNARD

  PRAISE FOR THE AUTHORS

  “I think Let Death Begin is terrific. I loved it. It's pacy, engaging, mysterious, and full of conflict and good scenes.” Advanced reader review

  “With Dark Of The Sun Maynard Sims successfully ventures into thriller territory. And the fast-paced action builds to a surprising climax.” Publishers Weekly

  “There are several twists and turns in Dark Of The Sun that I did not see coming and that is something I always enjoy.” Amazon

  “Dark Of The Sun is awesome. Full of action, mystery and intrigue, with enough twists and turns to make your head spin. Believe me once you get drawn into this story you will not be able to put it down until you finish it.” Literary Mayhem

  “Nightmare City is a page turner, plenty of supernatural thrills and action.” Horror Review

  “One word describes this novel to a T: wow. A non-stop roller coaster ride of pure horror from beginning to end (Nightmare City)” Night Owl

  “If you're looking for a genre read with a lot of the red stuff, a quick pace and some cinematic action scenes you will definitely enjoy reading "Stronghold",” Open Salon

  “This is one of those rare novels you’ll never forget. (Stronghold)” Barnes & Noble

  “Shelter, I’d recommend this for horror readers.” The British Fantasy Society

  “Maynard and Sims really understand good storytelling. (Shelter)” Maximum Horrors

  “Demon Eyes was very well written and fast paced. I enjoyed this one very much!” Hellnotes

  “L.H. Maynard and M.P.N. Sims are a duo of talent to be reckoned with. I really enjoyed this book (Demon Eyes) and it's one hell of a read.” Horror Bob

  “Black Cathedral” is an exciting adventure in the dark fantastic, a dark and twisted “Mission: Impossible”. With this opening tale, Sims and Maynard have crafted an attention grabber that's exciting and frightening.” Shroud

  “Maynard & Sims -- two of my favorite literary necromancers -- have done it again! Turn down the lights, lock the windows, curl up by the fire, and prepare for a long night...” Steve ‘The Grudge’ Susco

  “Black Cathedral took me back in the day when all I read were the likes Stephen King, Rick Hautala, Peter Straub and John Saul. All of these guys are great masters of horror and Maynard and Sims have officially joined their ranks after finishing Black Cathedral. What makes these authors really appealing to me is that their writing reads so well.” The Novel Blog / Amazon.com

  “In the space of a mere 3 novels, they have proven their ability to effortlessly put horror readers through the ringer time and again. Their novels don’t merely command your attention, they squeeze your nerves with death-grip power. This is real, unapologetic, scary stuff.” Gary Braunbeck, 5-time Bram Stoker Award-Winner.

  “With their slick style and eye for the macabre, Maynard and Sims take their readers on a rollercoaster of sensory delight. If you've been crazy enough to miss them so far then grab their next book and jump on for the ride. Prepare to be thrilled and you won't be disappointed!” Sarah Pinborough

  “Maynard and Sims books just keep getting better and better, and Night Souls might just be their best yet. You are doing yourself a disservice if you do not give their books a try. I can only hope that there are more adventures in store for the intrepid souls of Department 18.” Famous Monsters Of Filmland

  “Maynard and Sims give us a fresh story altogether here, (Night Souls) one that I highly recommend. The only problem I have with the book is that it ended…of all their books, this one is by far my favorite.” Horror Review

  “The Eighth Witch is a consistently entertaining blend of supernatural horror and British drawing room mystery, and well-delineated characters escalate the tension as the story moves toward a surprising whodunit conclusion.” Publishers Weekly

  “For anyone looking to read a good scary book then you should check out The Eighth Witch.” Fallen Angel

  BIOGRAPHY: MAYNARD SIMS www.maynard-sims.com

  Novels, Shelter, Demon Eyes, Nightmare City, Stronghold, Dark Of The Sun, and the three Department 18 books Black Cathedral, Night Souls, and The Eighth Witch, have been published mass market and eBook. Their first four novels have been purchased by Amazon Publishing.

  The fourth Department 18 book, A Plague Of Echoes, is for 2014, as are the thrillers, Let Death Begin, a mystery thriller, Falling Apart At The Edges, a crime thriller, and Through The Sad Heart, an action thriller. They have sold a standalone ghost story novel, Stillwater, and Department 18 book 5, Mother Of Demons. They are working on the Dark Of The Sun sequel.

  Their first screenplay, Department 18, won the 2013 British Horror Film Festival Award for Best New Screenplay. They have also written scripts based on The Eighth Witch, and some of their ghost stories. They have completed two original, commissioned screenplays, a horror and a drama, both of which are being read.

  Collections include, Shadows At Midnight, 1979 and 1999 (revised and enlarged), Echoes Of Darkness, 2000, Incantations, 2002, two retrospective collections of their stories, essays and interviews, The Secret Geography Of Nightmare and Selling Dark Miracles, both 2002, Falling Into Heaven in 2004, The Odd Ghosts, 2011, and Flame And Other Enigmatic Tales, and A Haunting Of Ghosts, both 2012.

  Novellas, Moths, The Hidden Language Of Demons, The Seminar, and Double Act, have been published in 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2007 respectively. His Other Son, is published 2013.

  Numerous stories have been published in a variety of anthologies and magazines, including the Mammoth Book of Best New Horror, the anthology, Strange Tales, which won the World Fantasy Award 2004 and the Del Rey anthology, The Children Of Cthulhu.

  They worked as editors on the first seven volumes of Darkness Rising, and the two annual Darkness Rising anthologies. They co-edited and published F20 with The British Fantasy Society. As editors/publishers they ran Enigmatic Press in the UK, which produced Enigmatic Tales, and its sister titles. They wrote essays.

  Email contact can be made at mick@micksims.f9.co.uk or len@lenmaynard.co.uk

  3 Cutlers Close, St Michaels Mead, Bishops Stortford, Herts, CM23 4FW, England

  FaceBook as Maynard Sims.

  LinkedIn under Maynard Sims

  Twitter on @micksims

  Google+ as Maynard Sims

  www.maynard-sims.com

  EXCERPT from LET DEATH BEGIN by MAYNARD SIMS, coming soon to Amazon Kindle

  PROLOGUE

  A YEAR AGO

  He didn’t know today was the day someone was going to kill him.

  From the outside the police station is a mass of glass and concrete. Monument to a modern architectural desire to be individualistic, to be different, rather than an attempt to create a building that will blend in with its surroundings.

  Detective Sergeant James Price often thought the building was a mess rather than a mass. He generally has the thought each time he walks up the short flight of stone steps to the smoked glass front doors that make an irritating swishing noise as they both open and close.

  James wouldn’t voice his thoughts, and certainly not to his Detective Chief Inspector. Joe Royce was a good man, and James considers he has a pretty good personal relationship with the older man, but there are lines that he knows not to cross. Joe is the boss and there is never any mistaking that. Besides, effective detective though he is, there have been enough times when his boss has covered his back with his superiors.

  Inside the station James looks around him and thinks how quiet it is. There has been a ram raid on a cash and carry in Hertford, and that has taken quite a few members of the team out. There are a of couple of DC’s who look bored as they file through computer records looking for profile matches to a recent spate of sexual assaults near a night club. It isn’t James’ case but if it was he’d have looked at the security team first. The bouncers were often a dubious lot who considered drunk and vulnerable young women easy game, perks of the job.

  James is waiting on a call. One of his cases is a major robbery involving a Hatton G
arden diamond company. The theft was huge and James has a lead that he has been told might lead to the man who planned and organised it. Major organised crime was on the increase – when was it any different James and his colleagues moaned. It is usual to use informants but this one is different. This is a new source who claims the name he will give James will open up a whole can of worms that he should think twice about using.

  James is used to sailing close to the wind. His last appraisal report spoke of “...gets results and he is honest, but several of his colleagues have called him a maverick.” One or two of his other appraisals have mentioned his tendency to act first and think afterwards. As Joe Royce succinctly put it – ‘Don’t shit ‘til your trousers are down, boy.’

  James is typing out a report when his mobile buzzes. He glances at the screen and sees it is an unknown number. He presses the button and holds the phone to his ear.

  ‘DS Price.’

  ‘Are you on your own?’

  James looks around the all but deserted office. ‘May as well be.’

  ‘The meeting I mentioned. It’s today.’

  ‘Where and when?’

  James scribbles down the address. It’s about twenty minutes away.

  ‘I hope you’ve got that.’ The connection was broken.

  James stands and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. He glances towards Joe Royce’s office but he can see it’s empty. Joe, like the others, is in Hertford or out elsewhere.

  James should report the call. He should co-ordinate back up. He should go in as part of a team.

  He signs out his gun and heads down to the underground car park.

  It’s a bright sunny day. A day for beaches and sitting in the garden, not for chasing villains. James has waited for this lead for days and now it’s come through he can’t deny he is excited. It’s an excitement he only gets from the job. Much of his work is repetitive and even boring, but when the adrenaline kicks in, there is no feeling like it.

  He picks up his mobile phone from the cup holder. For a moment he almost dials Joe Royce’s number but something stops him. He tells himself that he’ll go to the address and take a look. There is plenty of time to call in reinforcements. The lead might not amount to anything and then no one would thank him for the waste of man power and hours. No, better to proceed, with caution, and make sure this is a genuine meeting.

  He has his suspicions about who will be there. It is one of two major criminals that has carried out the robbery, he’s certain of it, one of several recent crimes with a similar modus operandi. Two big time crooks have all but dominated London crime for decades, though foreign gangs are beginning to make their mark.

  James is convinced it is either Frank Dyson or Harry Moss that is behind the recent armed robberies. The crimes were almost a throwback to the glory days of high street crime. These days much of the real money is made behind the scenes, high tech stuff.

  He pulls off the A1 motorway in Hertfordshire and after a couple of wrong turns he finds a narrow service road that leads into an industrial estate on the perimeter of Stevenage. Some of the small factories and warehouses are clearly disused but some look as if they might still be functioning.

  He glances at the piece of paper with the address he’s been given. It’s up ahead on the right. The building is large, several thousand square feet, and tall. A large factory warehouse. The walls are pale green concrete. Every window is boarded with exterior quality plywood, and the name board is barely legible.

  James parks out of direct sight of the warehouse and climbs from the car. The tarmac surrounding the building is in a bad state. The whole estate has a rundown, nearly extinct atmosphere about it, and this large beast is the final dinosaur.

  The main door is covered by the same strong plywood that boards the windows, and there is a steel centre bar, secured to a padlock.

  James pulls out his gun and checks it is ready. He walks cautiously around the side of the building, past the kind of debris that empty and abandoned buildings seem to attract. A chain link fence surrounds the place, but it’s easy for him to vault over, once he’s at the back of the building.

  A ramp leads up to a raised walkway, which leads up to the double doors that would once have been the busy loading bay. There is another door to the side of those, and with some gentle persuasion, James manages to get it open so he can go inside.

  The air is stale, heavy with disuse, old oil, and a ghost stench of failure. There is a short passageway with doors that lead to old offices. At the end of the passage is a door that gives entrance to the factory floor. James pushes it open.

  There is some sunlight in here, pouring like redemption through holes in the roof. The factory area is huge. It is like a vast industrial desert. Standing like forlorn trees are three stainless steel cylindrical vats, and running around them are a series of linked catwalks.

  Overhead is another network of walkways, that lead from the vats to a small gallery.

  James runs to the cover of the central vat. There were no other cars outside, none he has seen anyway. That didn’t mean there is no one else here.

  He listens. Nothing. No sounds, no echoes. Time to wait.

  The first shot takes him across the top of his thigh. The pain is immediate and he hears himself cry out.

  He stumbles, falls backwards onto the damp concrete floor. Water drips from a fractured pipe around the huge vats and it soaks into his trousers, and meets the blood that is beginning to pump out from his leg.

  He can’t see who has fired the shot but when he struggles to his knees he fires off a couple of shots in the general direction. Then he hears a man’s voice, laughing.

  James gets to his feet and peers round at the walkways above his head. Then he sees him. The shooter. He can’t tell if it’s a large man or not because he is distracted by just one thing. The man wears a clown’s mask on his face. Then the man disappears.

  When the clown’s face appears again he fires at it but misses.

  He fumbles for his mobile phone. It’s got a weak signal and he presses buttons, tries to summon help.

  The second time he is hit the bullet enters his shoulder, spins him round,

  ‘Behind you.’

  He hears footsteps on the metal catwalk, but the pain in his leg and shoulder is intense. He can’t operate the hand that holds his gun. He transfers it to his left hand and fires off a couple of shots at random.

  He must have blacked out. The next thing he can see is the clown, only a few feet away, gun in hand.

  ‘Bye bye, James.’

  The voice sounds familiar. If only he had more time he knows he can work out who it is, who it is that wants him dead. He doesn’t have the chance. The clown fires a final shot.

  The pain in his head is so fierce he can’t breathe. It feels like an eternity as the bullet ricochets inside his skull.

  Then it all goes black and he falls.

  EXCERPT ENDS

  www.maynard-sims.com

  EXCERPT FROM STRONGHOLD by MAYNARD SIMS available now on Amazon from Samhain

  79

  “My God, we’ve killed him,” Lynda said.

  “I doubt it.” Jack tried to reassure her. “He’ll be shaken up all right, but I don’t think it’s far enough to kill anyone.”

  “We’d better get down there in any case and find out.” Lynda moved along the platform to the ladder.

  “Careful…”

  She found her footing and started down. Jack played the light just ahead of her so she could see the rungs for her handholds. She smiled her thanks. How a scumbag like Franklin got a gutsy lady like her was a mystery for Jack. Like how it was you saw gorgeous women walking along the street with short, bald, overweight excuses for men. He shook his head and followed Lynda.

  When he dropped back into the corridor he found Debra comforting Sybella, who seemed to have become hysterical.

  ‘she heard the elevator crash…we can’t convince her Leo will be okay.”

  Jack patt
ed Debra’s arm. “Listen, Sybella. Lynda and I were up there, we both agree Leo will be fine. Maybe a little bruised, but nothing serious. Trust me.”

  Sybella turned a mascara smeared face to him. “Sure?”

  I hope, he thought. “Sure.”

  “So what do we do now?” Tony Franklin asked no-one in particular. That was exactly who answered him.

  “Lynda,” Jack said, “Would you say those stairs will lead us to the basement area we want?”

  Lynda was smoothing her dress back over her legs. “The elevator went down there, that must be north, so yes I’d say you’re right. Down there somewhere should be the door for the basement.”

  Sybella freed herself from Debra’s arms. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  “Lynda, you and Sybella keep together. Use this flashlight. Debra and I will use this one…”

  “And we’ll keep together too.” She kissed Jack quickly on the lips in a welcome back gesture.

  “And what about me?” Tony asked, though he was starting to sound less and less sure.

  “You’d better follow close behind, buddy.”

  They all kept close together out of mutual respect for the dark. The stairs in fact led down to a side entrance to the building. Signs at the entrance told them where the basements were and they moved in that direction.

  This way led them round by the indoor swimming pool. Covered by a dome of glass, reflections from the blue water painted the glass roof with a shifting pattern of shapes, light and shadow. The flashlights were almost unnecessary under the moonlight, but they still kept a firm hold on them.