Synopsis

JACK is a thrilling story of conspiracy and murder, celebrating the grime and glory of Britain’s capital city, and the heights and depths of its society.

Jack the Ripper came and went without warning in the second half of 1888, leaving the mutilated corpses of five women in his wake. Despite the best efforts of Scotland Yard, the baffling and gruesome murders remain unsolved to this day.

Over a century later, the discovery of what might be the Ripper’s diary re-awakens the case.

The forces that drove the Ripper to do his grisly work in 1888 are still very much at work today, and just as dangerous. To what lengths will they go to preserve the secret which can destroy the monarchy?

Could a member of the royal family really have been the true culprit of these heinous crimes? With the mysterious case reprised, a renewed investigation falls to the bored, rich and charming, James Kent. James takes on the challenging case, teaming up with the stunning Alice, who has her own reasons to defend the historic doctor’s involvement. Together, with dangerous consequences ahead, they reinvestigate royal links to the notorious serial killer. But, patriotism can be a deadly trait in the wrong hands. And, lurking in the shadows, working to protect the greater good even with murder, is someone who will do absolutely anything in their power to stop the duo from exposing secrets…

With mounting tension and many twists and turns, the book takes readers on an extraordinary scavenger hunt across London and England. Reincarnating the capital’s most intriguing murderer, there are dark forces at play that cast increasing doubt over who is governing the country.

Amazon US * Amazon UK

Excerpt from Chapter 11

James watched the rear lights of the second beautiful car he had ridden in within twenty four hours pull away. Then he pulled his key out and went into his building.

He hung his coat on the hook inside his front door and dropped his key and phone into the bowl on the side table. Then he strolled to the living room, turned on the light – and froze.

A man was sitting in one of his chairs. He could have stepped out of the movie Men in Black. He wore a black suit, a white shirt, and a grey tie. Unlike the Men in Black, he had long, black hair hanging either side of his slender face. And he had a gun pointed at James, with a silencer screwed into the end.

“A wonderful evening, Mr. Kent! Now let’s finally get to know each other.”

His voice was clear and cold, without any excitement, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to wait with a gun, at night, in other people’s apartments.

James’s mind spun. If this man wanted him dead, he would be dead already. He could have been gunned down and never known it. Therefore the man wanted something; therefore the man probably wasn’t actually going to kill him.

Though – and James was no expert here, but still – he was pretty sure a man with a gun could inflict a lot of non-lethal pain. But why?

James had faced down bullies at school who were twice his height and half his intellect. He knew how to keep his face straight and his voice level.

“May I know what you’re looking for in my apartment? And how did you actually get in? Who are you?”

“My name doesn’t matter, and I will ask you a few questions. If I don’t like the answers…” He waggled the gun. “I have ways of showing it. Do we understand each other?”

“I think we do,” James said carefully.

“Now. Why are you looking into Jack the Ripper?”

The question was so unexpected that James’s resolve to take the man seriously couldn’t stand up to his sense of absurdity.

“Well, I like to solve puzzles! I can do the Times crossword in fifteen minutes!”

The gun was aimed a little more firmly at him, but the man waved towards a side table. With his mind taken up by the intruder, James hadn’t noticed Anderson’s file spread out there. He had left the papers neatly stacked. His visitor had gone through them thoroughly.

“These records originally belonged to Sir Robert Anderson. Who gave them to you?”

George Anderson, what the hell have you got me into? James thought. But he wasn’t going to give his employer’s name. The one thing worse than this nutter with a gun being here was the thought of him threatening a helpless old man with it. Minus the gun, James and this guy would be equally matched, he reckoned – if he could just work out how to get past it.

“No one,” James said promptly. “I’m acting on my own behalf.”

The man stood up and aimed the gun directly at James, sighting down a straight arm and over the barrel. The movement looked professional – he had been trained to do this. James could see a gold signet ring on his right hand. He tried to memorize the design so that he could Google it later – if he got out of this in one piece.

“You don’t get hurt if you tell me what I want to know,” the man promised, and James realized he was not supposed to be leaving this room alive, one way or another.

He clicked his tongue, as though he was admitting defeat.

“The folder arrived this morning. I’ve no idea who sent it. You know I’m a journalist? We get sent all kinds of crap anonymously.” He went on, warming to his theme. “I guess you’ve at least looked me up already? I write for Time Out. Why would I want a pile of crap about Jack the Ripper?”

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“That is at least plausible. Next question. Who was the blonde woman at Old Scotland Yard?”

Now James was frightened. So he knew of Alice’s existence. If he learnt her name then she too would be in danger.

“Her? She was a tourist. I showed her the way there…”

The man fired the gun. It gave a small cough and a small crater appeared in the floor just in front of James’s left foot. Every muscle of James’s body froze.

“Every lie from now on, Mr. Kent, and I aim one inch higher than the shot before. I know you were together in the archives looking for the year 1888. So, who is she?”

“Okay.” James’s heart pounded, but he made himself sound cool and collected, and nowhere near as terrified as he felt. “I’ll tell you two things that are true.” He paused, then held up one finger. “One, I’m not going to tell you.” He held up another finger, with his other hand, bringing his hands within inches of each other in front of him. “And two, if you kill me, you’ll never know who she is.”

The man smiled faintly.

“I really don’t think you appreciate how much pain can overcome the strongest man’s resolve, Mr. Kent, but you clearly need to learn, so–…”

“Okay!” James said quickly. He was still holding his hands up. Careful not to make any sudden movements to provoke a shot before he was ready for it, he stood with palms out, the classic gesture of appeasement.

“Okay,” he said again. “You’ve got me. Where should I start?”

The man relaxed, just a fraction.

“Start at–…”

James clapped his hands together, and the apartment went dark.

About the Author

Max McBridge first visited London in 2000 and has been a huge fan of England’s vibrant capital ever since, supporting every aspect of the “London way of life”. Fascinated by the city’s rich history and its evolution over time, Max is inspired by the capital’s incredible mix of the modern and traditional as well as its international culture.

As Chairman and Founder of The McBridge Foundation, Max aims to bridge London’s poverty gap by focusing on prevention and relief. His Foundation supports advances in education, arts, culture, and protecting the environment as well as collaborating with charities and projects to provide solutions. Granted its charitable status last year, the McBridge Foundation donates grants to local projects and initiatives.

Max dedicates his debut book, Jack: “to the people of London who show the world that an open and inclusive city is possible…more needs to be done. Every £1 from a book’s purchase is being redirected to charities that can help close the gap between those who can afford the rich opportunities of London and those who are increasingly left behind.”

Max’s popular Instagram account, MaxMcBridge has a growing fan base of 19,000 followers and includes regular blogs and videos sharing all the best bits of London.

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