Run by Adam Hamdy

Author:Adam Hamdy [Hamdy, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9781472244758
Google: e0fjDAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B01KT7YUNQ
Goodreads: 32440216
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2016-09-21T23:00:00+00:00

Read on for a preview of Adam Hamdy’s brilliant new thriller

Available from Headline November 2016

PART ONE

London

1

Burning sour acid caught in the back of John Wallace’s throat, and he knew instantly that he had been sick. He opened his eyes, but the world remained dark. Wallace felt his eyelids twist and his lashes turn inward as they moved against the blindfold. His heart raced, pounding in his chest with the jackhammer pace of a full-blown panic. He was familiar with the vicissitudes of an anxiety attack, but this was different, no trick of the introspective mind; this was all too real. Trying his arms, Wallace felt the strong grasp of surprisingly soft bonds around his wrists; it felt like silk. His ankles were similarly bound. Wallace could no longer feel his clothes, just his underpants; someone had all but stripped him. He heard movement nearby; soft footsteps against his thick rug. Stay still. Stay silent.

Wallace listened to the movement around him and tried not to give the slightest indication that he was awake. A sudden rush of air and a blow to his stomach made him cry out in pain.

‘Please don’t,’ Wallace tried, hearing the crackling weakness of fear in his own voice.

Movement across the room, and then noise – the familiar sound of the opening chords of Rogue, Air. Powerful speakers blasted the deep bass at full volume, and Wallace doubly regretted his inability to conceal his consciousness, knowing that the loud music would drown out any cries for help. And help was what he desperately needed. He imagined Leona, the sultry fire breather who lived above him. He fantasised about her knocking on his door to ask him to turn the music down, realising something was awry and urgently calling the police. The fantasy instantly died away; Leona had never once complained about noise. Neither had the Levines, who lived below. The solid brickwork of the converted church provided effective soundproofing, which, when combined with the residents’ laissez-faire approach to life, meant complaints were rare.

Wallace didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but, until the knock at the door that started this nightmare, he’d been confident that his solitary existence was the safest way to go through life. Real connections brought nothing but suffering, so Wallace limited his relationships to the smilingly superficial. Until Wallace had risen from his desk and walked away from his computer, he’d been certain that very little good could ever come from other people. All they offered was disappointment, betrayal and pain. Now, lying vulnerable and afraid, Wallace realised that one person, just one person, might bring salvation.

Noise. Activity somewhere above him. Something hit one of the wooden beams that the slick estate agent had pointed out when showing this feature-rich desacralised church. Second-floor views of one of London’s most expensive streets through original arched stone windows. A landscaped communal garden. A wet room. A dressing room. A bright studio space. A large kitchen diner. A list of things that had seemed so essential, so important at the time, but which now wouldn’t even figure as footnotes in his life.

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