Jack Probyn · A Deadly Vice - Sample
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Sous la chaleur estivale de Londres, deux frères orchestrent l’attaque terroriste la plus meurtrière que la ville ait jamais vue. Trois trains à destination de l'aéroport sont immobilisés et des milliers de personnes sont retenues en otage. Et lorsque la poussière retombe, la police métropolitaine est à la recherche de solutions.


Les terroristes promettent de laisser partir les otages, mais d’abord le détective Jake Tanner doit jouer son rôle dans leurs jeux tordus. Les règles sont simples: suivez-les et personne ne sera blessé. Brisez-les, et les conséquences seront fatales. Mais quand il découvre l’identité de l’un des passagers, Jake réalise qu’il ne s’agit pas seulement de sauver des otages.


Aux prises avec un personnage sans visage qui s’est désigné Dieu, Jake doit sauver les passagers avant que la ville ne s’abîme.


Mais jusqu'où ira-t-il? Va-t-il sauver tout le monde à temps? Et aimera-t-il la vérité glaçante qu’il apprend en chemin?

Que disent les autres ARRÊT

"Un thriller palpitant qui bouge à un rythme électrisant ... Complètement comploté avec une tension incroyable ... Jack Probyn semble être un maître dans la fabrication d'une histoire avec une fin de match palpitante… Ce livre est un joyau rare." - Readers' Favorite

"C'est le livre le plus fascinant que j'ai lu depuis longtemps. Tout ce que je peux dire, c'est de lire par vous-même, c'est magnifique." - Amazon Reviewer

"Scénario rapide avec des scènes de poursuite fantastiques." - Amazon Reviewer





August 1, 2017, 22:17
Charlie Paxman was going to change the face of humanity. Forever. It was dying, and he was the cure. He had been for a long time. He just needed a little longer. 

The smell of chemicals smacked him in the face as he entered his small, nondescript one-bedroom flat in Greenwich. The stench clung to his nostrils and the inside of his throat and lingered there. He coughed and convulsed. Chucking his bag on the sofa, he removed his hand from his mouth. It felt moist. 


Lined with something else Charlie had never seen before. An internal fluid he didn’t know existed. Strange. 

Creating the virus was beginning to have serious detrimental effects on his health. But soon it would all be over. His work would be complete, and it would be ready for release. 

Charlie wiped the blood from his hand onto his trouser leg. He moved around his flat, taking off his coat and placing it on the back of the chair in his office, before undressing to his boxers. Feeling his bladder press down hard on him, he went into the bathroom. The tension in his body relaxed as he pissed into the toilet, ignoring the splash back on his feet and legs. Leaving small droplets of urine on the seat, and with the stench of chemicals and poison rising through his nostrils, he decided it was time for his second shower of the day. 

The first was in the morning. The second was when he got home from work, to remove the smell of greasy food and salt from his skin and hair. The third was just before bed, to rid himself of the outermost layer of chemicals in his pores.

Charlie stepped into the shower. The steaming water hugged his body and loosened the tense muscles in his back and shoulders. It had been another stressful shift. His manager had been on his case again, chastising him for serving food to the wrong table. It wasn’t his fault he hated his job. It wasn’t his fault he had been kicked out of a dream career he had yearned for since he was a child. It wasn’t his fault the world’s problems were taking immediate effect. 

But it was his responsibility to fix them. 

He switched off the shower, stepped over the lip of the bathtub and dried off, wiping the condensation away from the mirror so he could look at himself.

The man he saw was different to the one he had been a few months ago when this entire process began. The messy, unkempt blond hair receding at the temples. The high, hollow cheekbones that made him look malnourished. The lines on his forehead. The bushy blond eyebrows nestling above deep-set eyes, which held a haunted look that reflected the fluorescent bathroom light overhead. The five-day post-shave stubble that lined the sharp angles of his jawline. The thin frame, small shoulders, skinny waist and legs miraculously supporting the weight of his torso. The sinewy forearms, skeletal fingers and bony wrists.

It hadn’t been long, and his body was already suffering. The coughing. The bleeding. The vomiting. The fatigue. His immense exposure to the virus had weakened his immune system beyond repair. And when the time came for it to be ready, he hoped he would be in a fit enough state to see it through — he hoped he’d be alive.

A lot had changed since he’d begun. And he had sacrificed even more. But it was necessary. The world needed to change. Humanity didn’t know it yet, but it would thank him later. Even after his death, his name would live in infamy, forever written in the history books. Adored by many. Abhorred by more. But he didn’t care; he believed that what he was doing was right, and he had the technological and scientific know-how to succeed. 

Nothing was going to stand in his way. 

Charlie dressed, shoved the towel in the wash bin, and returned to his desk. He started up his computer and played static noise to help him focus. To his right, quietly humming away, was a large metal cabinet with one glass vial inside, rotating. The glass was green, his favourite colour. He moved to the cabinet, pulled aside its small metal hatch, and peered in. The machine’s harsh pool-blue light almost blinded him at first, but his eyes had long since adjusted. 

Charlie inspected a timer at the top of the machine. Two more hours until today’s incubation period was finished. The device had been running all, silently building the world’s most powerful virus. Fifty millilitres of clear, genetically engineered liquid. He felt proud. His life’s mission in one small container.

Satisfied for the time being that everything was in order, Charlie slid across to his desk and opened the BBC News homepage. Breaking news articles about the worst terrorist attack London had ever seen littered the page. He read through them. Shook his head in disgust. What Adil and Moshat Hakim had done was nothing compared to what he could do. What he was going to do. The attack was minor, insignificant – the needle of destruction amongst the haystack of chaos. 

His work was going to change the world.


Entretien avec l'auteur, Jack Probyn


Q: Jake Tanner peut-il être comparé à d'autres héros de thriller policier?
A - Vous savez, je ne dirais pas que Jake Tanner est l'un des héros de thriller policier actuellement. Il n’est pas comme le Jack Reachers ou le Alex Cross de ces mondes. Bien sûr, il a des caractéristiques similaires, mais Jake Tanner est très unique. Jake est un homme très fortement centré sur sa famille. Tout ce qu'il fait est fait pour eux. Mais cela ne signifie nullement qu’il est comme Alex Cross qui, lecteurs familiers avec l’étoile de James Patterson, saura que c’est une machine de combat maigre et méchante. Au lieu de cela, Jake Tanner est simplement un homme ordinaire. Celui que vous voyez tous les jours dans le train. C'est ce qui distingue le détective Jake Tanner.


Q - Qu'est-ce qui rend la série détective Jake Tanner spéciale?
A - Un mélange de choses. Je voulais quelque chose qui ferait "Wow!" Lecteurs, quelque chose qui va les faire penser: "Et si ça m'arrivait jamais?" Et j'ai donc reflété la série Jake Tanner sur quelque chose que j'aimerais lire moi-même. La série de thrillers terroristes Jake Tanner a un peu de tout. Mais toutes comportent la grande question: "Et si…" Et, une fois que vous les aurez lues, vous ne ressentirez plus la même chose à propos de certaines choses.


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