Aftermath: A Crime Thriller (A Jefferson Salt Crime Thriller Series Book 4) by Stephen Shiels

Author:Stephen Shiels [Shiels, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Mind Publishing
Published: 2025-04-04T00:00:00+00:00

Turning left down a darkened alleyway, the cobbles are slippery underfoot and Jefferson almost goes down to one knee. Somehow, he manages to keep himself upright with the help of a metal dumpster. A foul smell comes from within the raised lid, and the gaping mouth is overflowing with black bin bags. To his left, the Cock & Bull continues back from the pavement. To his right, the looming, barbed wire topped walls of HMP Barlinnie loom.

About three quarters of the way along the building, Jefferson comes to a single metal door. Before knocking, he glances at his watch and sees that it is 00:10. He is purposely late because he doesn’t want Fergal to be suspicious about his eagerness. Truth be told, willingness is the furthest emotion from his mind. Instead, he is nervous, but not because of the situation. He is aware of his fragile relationship with alcohol, and he doesn’t want to return to America with his addictions riding on his back. He doesn’t want his daughter to see him as the monster alcohol transforms him into. He doesn’t want scotch to be a gateway drug to much worse things. However, if he wants to get closer to Fergal McDermott then he may have to take these risks.

A single rap on the heavy surface echoes throughout the corridor beyond and reverberates back towards him. Jefferson doesn’t have to wait long to hear a set of scurrying footsteps on the other side. A letterbox, set at about head height, slides open and he is greeted by a set of steely blue eyes accompanied by a voice, heavily inflected with Eastern European tones.

“What is your name?”

“Jefferson Salt.” Without a moment of hesitation, the letter box closes and Jefferson wonders whether he has made a mistake so early in the game. Some of the longest seconds of his life pass and then he hears a set of bolts scream open. The door swings inwards on protesting hinges, and he is greeted by the hulking man he had seen in the pub.

Jefferson had thought the man to be huge on first viewing, but now that he stands in front of him, he sees that he is a veritable behemoth. He must stand a full four inches taller than Jefferson’s six-foot two-inch frame and outweigh him by 30 kilograms. Clearly it isn’t only the front entrance which needs its own private security, and Jefferson rues the day that someone dares to darken this particular door without an invitation.

The big man looks the Englishman up and down for two or three heartbeats, nods silently, and turns away.

“Follow me,” the voice instructs, and Jefferson is led down a narrow corridor. The brick walls are so close on either side that they almost brush the giant’s shoulders.

The corridor slopes gradually downwards and they reach a short, steep staircase. Beyond this Jefferson can see a large doorway and the enclosed space opens into a gigantic room. The exterior walls seem to follow the general footprint of the pub upstairs, but the interior is completely open with no dividing walls.

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