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?

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" An Intriguing Crime Thriller Full Of Action And Suspense From Page 1"

- Amazon Review

"The storyline caught my attention at the very beginning and kept me interested throughout the entire book."

- Amazon Review

"A real winner."

- Amazon Review



Elliot Bridger didn’t think of himself as a bad man, but he was sure that others did. Almost certain of it, in fact. And what he was about to do – no, what he was being forced to do – would do nothing to change that perception.

Through a dense mist that had settled on the cul-de-sac, a single street lamp illuminated the one place he wanted it to: the home of the person whom he would begin to rely upon for so much.

Danika Oblak.

She’d left her house less than half an hour earlier, wearing that large, green River Island jacket she frequently chose when the weather was neither too hot nor too cold – like Goldilocks – clutching her bag close to her body as if she was afraid someone was about to leap from behind the bushes and steal it. On the balance of things, she had a greater chance of being struck by lightning than being robbed.

Bridger knew exactly where she was going and what she would do when she got there. The past few days of surveillance had taught him everything he needed to know about her movements and habits. Now all he needed to do was wait for her return. Impatiently. He had some news he wanted to share.

The wait wasn’t long.

Still clutching her bag, Danika emerged from the fog and scurried across the street, twisting her neck left and right. At the sight of her, Bridger clambered out of the car, closed the door and glided across the road. Pounced on her, using the darkness to his advantage, cutting her off just as she was about to turn into her driveway.

‘E-Elliot,’ she said, letting out a little gasp, her eyes wide. Her pale face was tinged a slight shade of orange, making her look more ill than she probably was. ‘What are – what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to see you.’ He smiled insidiously. Something inside him had switched. Without realising it, he’d turned into the bad man everyone perceived him to be. If he was going to go through with this, he needed to tap into the darker side of his psyche.

‘What do you want?’

‘A chat.’ With his hand wrapped around her arm, he ushered her closer to the door. She offered no resistance.

As they reached the house, Danika plunged her hand into her bag and found her keys. The house was a mess, unlike anything he’d had the pleasure of seeing – and he’d stepped into crack dens and some other ropey establishments.

The first thing Bridger noticed was the rancid stench. As though a dog had lived there, died there, and was now a permanent member of the furniture, left to rot and decay into the floorboards. The smell clung to Bridger’s throat and made him gag. Shoes were strewn across the floor carelessly. Coffee and soft drink stains soiled the wallpaper, which was beginning to peel by the ceiling and skirting. A skyscraper of post, magazines, flyers and leaflets was pushed against the wall, remnants scattered across the floor. As for the carpet, dirty. And as Bridger glanced down at it, he saw a woodlouse crawling amongst the fibres, probably running towards a cleaner hiding place. The sight of it made the skin on the back of his neck crawl.



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Candice Strachan can't breathe. 

The device wrapped around her neck is suffocating her.

The men who put it there have left her to die.

Her life now rests in Jake Tanner’s hands. 

the CONSPIRACY: season ONE