Revenge

By Sam Boyd

Jack Turner has risen from a poor boy to be rich and famous. His world has changed, and he is now a highly respected member of the House of Lords. But change has come at a cost. Tragedy and heartbreak have taken their toll. He wants justice, but on his terms. From the London underworld, and a kidnapping from a castle in Scotland they chase their target. But they are chasing the wrong man. It started with a killing in a farmhouse in Ireland that leads to a cottage on the bleak moors of Somerset.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Boyd
• Release date: Aug 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463781685

Sam Boyd

Writing has always been Sam's ambition. He has spent most of his life in consulting, helping others achieve their dreams. He now lives in Thailand with his beautiful partner, and they spend their time travelling and fulfilling their dreams. Sam, through his work, has been to many countries. He writes about people he has met and the lives they live or would like to live. He has seen firsthand the underworld of some of the major cities of the world and witnessed the hardship and poverty that exists in some countries. Many of the events he writes about have happened in real life. He uses these experiences as background to his stories. Visit Sam on his website; samboyd author.com. He would appreciate knowing how you liked his book so please leave him a review on line.

Book preview

REVENGE

SAM BOYD

A JACK TURNER NOVEL

BOOK THREE

PUBLISHING INFORMATION

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or if real, are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual life actions or events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and specified other non-commercial uses. You can contact the author at [e-mail] or www.samboydauthor.com

Names: Sam Boyd

Title: REVENGE

Description: A Jack Turner Novel

Copyright © 2018 by Sam Boyd.

All rights reserved.

Jack Turner books are best read in order. If you would like to purchase the other two books in the series then go to;

www.samboydauthor.com

I dedicate this book to

The love of my life

Pitsinee Sisont

Her inspiration and support make me

a better man every day.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenrt-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Books by Sam Boyd

CHAPTER

ONE

Doyle returned the call as soon as he could. The message sounded desperate, urgent, frightened and undeniably distressed. The call connected, but no one spoke. Doyle could hear breathing, faintly in the background and waited for a few seconds more for a response,

Who’s there? This is Mel Doyle. He said.

An explosion of breath caused him to pull the phone from his ear sharply. The sound so loud it put extreme pressure on his eardrum.

Thank goodness, it’s you. I’ve been calling you for hours. I’ve been worried, sick. Jack said.

Doyle apologised for the delay.

"Where are you? Jack asked.

Doyle could hear the fear and desperation in Lord Turner’s voice. He needed calming down.

I’m in Hereford. I’ve been at a reunion, a night out with the hooligans. He replied.

Jack didn’t understand until Doyle explained, hooligans was the affectionate name for the serving SAS Special Forces soldiers.

I’m almost ready to leave for home, as soon as my clothes are dry. Quickly adding before Jack could respond, And don’t ask why they need drying, it’s a long story. Anyway, what has got you so anxious you daren’t speak when you answer the phone?

I need to see you now. I have a problem, and so do you. Don’t go to Wootton Bassett come to me at Pennington Hall. Jack ordered,

"You sound petrified; what’s making you feel this way?’

I don’t want to discuss it over an open line, but I’ve had a phone call from someone who is scaring the life out of me.

This is not like you, tell me what was said, that has you feeling this? Doyle asked.

It wasn’t a long conversation, and it wasn’t so much what he said, but the way he said it. He’s threatening to kill me, you and our families, for what he said, we did to him. Then he hung up. It was his voice that sent fear through me. I could feel the hatred coming over the phone. I’m not frightened for you or me, but I am for both our families.

I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Nothing is going to happen immediately. Whoever this is, wants you to live in fear for a little while. When I get to you, we’ll put a plan together. Doyle replied.

Jack put the phone down and went to find his twin godson’s, Sir Sam and Jake Winstanley, and their aunty Rose. Jack was sure the caller was part of the London gang he and Susan, the Baroness of Bedale had helped bring down. He needed to tell them what he and Susan had been doing and make sure they understood the danger they all were in. No longer could he make decisions on his own and in isolation. The family was a target and in danger. They had a right to know what was happening and be extra careful and vigilant.

It was another two nerve-racking hours before Doyle arrived at Pennington. Jack immediately brought him up to speed on the telephone threat and what he had done so far. Doyle agreed with most of what he said, except the conversation Jack had with Commander Jim Edwards of Scotland Yard about police protection.

I don’t want police protection. I want your protection. Jack said, emphatically.

Doyle was shocked, but he was a professional, and training took over. He wanted every detail no matter how small, or insignificant Jack thought it might be. Jack was wrong to refuse Edwards help. What the Commander had proposed was spot on, and Jack should have accepted professional police protection.

Whoever is doing this is not only threatening you, but me, and our families. It was not your decision to make alone. Doyle growled. Being a target restricts my ability to protect everyone.

I understand that, Jack replied. But these bastards killed the woman I love and denied me and Susan of a future. I want revenge Doyle and the police would not allow me to have that opportunity.

Jack took a deep breath to control the rage building inside him.

I want to make it appear, he continued to whoever is making this threat that they can take you and me out at the same time. To me, that makes sense. Let’s provide them with an opportunity they cannot resist and get this over with quickly. Having police around will only prolong this. All I ask is that we put both our families somewhere safe until it is over.

Doyle was stunned, taken aback at the depth of feeling and anger in Jack’s voice. He had always assumed Jack was one of life’s gentle souls, even after what he had witnessed during the operation to bring down Reginald Davies and his gangland masters.

You do understand what you are saying, don’t you? Doyle asked, Because these boys are playing for keeps. And remember, we don’t know who they are, as we thought Scotland Yard had arrested every known criminal in their dawn raids. There is something else you should consider and give careful thought to. Doyle advised. To get at you, they will use and abuse whatever or whoever is necessary. That means as of now your godsons Sir Sam and Jake Winstanley and their aunt Rosetta Ramirez Winstanley and are already in great danger."

Jack was beginning to believe that where-ever he went whatever he did death and violence were never far away from him.

I’ve thought about that, Jack said softly, But you need to think about this? Every move we have made with Scotland Yard, these people seem to know what we were planning. I believe there is a leak at the Met’s HQ, and we are on our own.

CHAPTER

TWO

No matter how many times Jack showered, the stench surrounded him. It was in his hair, on his skin, even in the freshly laundered clothes he was wearing. Whatever he did, wherever he went, he couldn’t escape it. The smell of death was rotten, spoiled, decomposed and putrid. He also felt death was all around him and that added reality to the aroma. It was only when the mental pain of loss returned he knew he was alive, even if it was only just. His skin, a pasty grey, tired-looking and worn out. Short, shallow breaths caused his chest to rise and fall. These were the only outward signs of life. Inwardly and mentally, Jack had given up. Life drained out of him shortly after Susan lost her fight to live. He’d left her at the hospital; sheet white, cold and alone. She’d died in his arms from bullet wounds. Injuries so severe she could never recover. Susan whispered her last words as he held her close to his chest. Jack returned to Pennington Hall. It was where he felt safe. The house wrapped itself around him like a blanket. He felt relaxed, comfortable, warm and secure there. It was what he needed right now. For over thirty years, Pennington had been a haven of peace and tranquillity. A place where he believed no one could harm him. Even now, after all, that had happened, Jack felt protected and safe. With Susan gone, everyone, he loved, and that loved him was in this house. He lay on the edge of his bed, wallowing in self-pity, trying to make sense of what had happened.

This should have been a time of happiness for him and everyone else at the Pennington Hall. The Grand Ball to celebrate the rebuilding of the house had taken place only three days earlier. It had been held to celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of the Winstanley family. Pennington destroyed by fire, rebuilt and coming back to life again. Jack's twin godsons, the next generation of Winstanley’, Sir Sam and Jake were the owners of the great house. The estate bequeathed to them following the death of their parents and grandmother in the fire that destroyed their home. A welcomed addition to the family was their aunt, Rose Ramirez Winstanley. A DNA analysis proved she was the daughter of their grandfather, Sir Jonathan. She too was celebrating, having found her roots and love in George Percival. They had announced their engagement the night of the Ball.

The Ball wasn’t only a celebration for the Winstanley family; it was a joyous occasion for Jack and his fiancée, Susan, the Baroness of Bedale.  Susan and Jack had found each other, and together tracked down her only son David. It had taken her almost twenty-five years to see him again. David had been taken from her and adopted on the instructions of her father, the Earl of Bedale, as soon as he’d was born. Susan was not allowed to see the child even though he was the true heir to the Bamborough Castle Estate. Had she lived, the Ball was to have been their first official engagement as mother and son. Jack and Susan had planned to announce their wedding date that night also. It should have been a night full of joy and celebration for all of them. A few seconds of unnecessary violence shattered all their dreams. A murderous act carried out by a gang of criminals, whose only motivation was greed? Life meant nothing to them. Power, control and the insatiable desire for riches was all they cared about. As Jack lay on the bed wallowing in the odour of decay, the bitter taste of revenge erupted from his stomach. It came up into the back of his throat and out onto his tongue. The bitter bile of anger and contempt replaced the sweet and fleeting taste of happiness.

By nature, Jack was a kind and considerate man. Duty, honour, and doing the right thing were essential to him. It was the way he had been brought up. But what happened that night changed him. Now, in his mind, happiness was a short and fleeting experience. One minute everyone is laughing, enjoying the party atmosphere. He was waiting for Susan to arrive. She’d flown down from Yorkshire in her private aeroplane. Lionel, the family chauffeur, had gone to the airfield not fifteen miles away, to collect her. Sir Sam and Jake had made speeches to welcome their guests. Over one hundred guests are enjoying and appreciating Winstanley hospitality. It was the perfect night. The next minute, the call from Jack’s old bodyguard

Mel Doyle and everything changed.

Susan is being held hostage, He said. And it could get messy.

It did, six people dead Jack injured and in a troubled, depressive state. He was feeling like shit. Happiness, without a doubt in Jack’s mind, was a joke. A hoax played on poor suckers like him. Mugs, who think it’s a natural emotion and everyone’s birth-right. Happiness, a state of endless pleasure that once found, lasts a lifetime. Anyone who grasps and embraces it will hold on to its warmth forever. He knew for sure this was an absolute lie. Like the rest of the believers, he’d been misled.

Happiness is fleeting. To believe otherwise is pure folly. It’s like a ray of warm sunshine on a spring morning. It can turn to showers or even a thunderstorm later in the day. It lures you into a false sense of security and enjoyment before revealing its real and devastating intent. If you miss the moment, you’re doomed to live in a tunnel of misery forever, searching to find a way out.

Going over and over in Jack’s mind was, what could he have done to maintain the status quo and peaceful state they'd all been enjoying? He hadn’t any idea. In his angry and depressed state of mind, he was searching for something or someone to blame. He didn’t have any answers. Only more questions. What had gone wrong? Who was responsible? The only thought repeating over and over again in his mind was if it wasn’t him, then it had to be someone else.

He was lost and far away when his mobile phone rang out and vibrated, snapping him out of his reverie and back to reality. The caller’s number withheld, but he took the call. It could be to do with Susan’s killing. A voice he didn’t recognise said, "You are next, you bastard. You are suffering now, but this is nothing compared to what is going to happen to you.

The people you love most will all suffer too. You can tell that bastard, Doyle that he, his wife and daughter also have it coming. He will find out what it feels like to have someone he loves die. Enjoy what little time you have left."

The man disconnected before Jack could reply. He sat rigid with fear from the cold, threatening and terrifying tone of the voice. He was in a state of shock, unable to move or grasp what he had heard. If the caller’s intention, had been to frighten and intimidate him, he’d succeeded.

All the criminals who had kidnapped Susan were supposed to be dead. All four of them, Doyle, had confirmed this at the hospital. So, who the hell was making the threatening call? They had taken Susan’s life, wasn’t that enough? He was confused; he couldn’t think straight. Fear and anger were gripping him so tightly he was in danger of making all the wrong decisions. It took a great effort for him to slow his breathing and clear his mind.

Jack sat quietly for a few minutes before returning to the questions he needed answered. Who was this, and what did he want? Why did he want him and the people close to him dead? Why Doyle and his family too? It made little sense. The ‘Refigo’ operation that Susan, he, Doyle and the Metropolitan police had just completed had to be the cause. The police thought they had captured the entire ‘London Syndicate,’ but it was not over. The kidnapping and killing of Susan and Lionel confirmed that.

The celebrations and high profile self-congratulatory announcements by the police now seemed more than a little premature. What Jack couldn’t understand was why they were still coming after him. The kidnap attempt to get Reggie Davies back had ended disastrously for everyone. It had not only taken the lives of Susan and Lionel but four of their team. Six people needlessly gunned down. Threatening to kill him and Doyle and members of their families weren’t going to deliver Davies to them. So, what was the point?

As Jack sat on the bed, hatred brewed up from deep within him. Driven by rage and revenge, it pushed all his rational peaceful and gentle thoughts out of the way. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had total retribution. Jack wanted those responsible for the death of Susan and Lionel dead. Hatred overcame him so quickly that he no longer felt sorry for himself or sad at the loss of Susan. It was much more than that. He was also angry at his friend Rupert for taking away his godsons’ heritage. Years of memories, rare books and valuable paintings reduced to ashes in the fire that destroyed Pennington Hall. The deaths of Anne, Susan, and Lionel burned deep inside him. It was like a hunger that wouldn’t be satisfied until it had feasted on the bones of those responsible. Every part of him ached with hatred and revenge.

They say revenge is best served cold, but his body was burning with a fire so hot it was in danger of destroying him. The effort needed to calm himself down caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead. He had to think carefully about what to do next. His thirst for retribution could endanger the lives of everyone and everything dear to him. Slowly, as his pulse and heart rate returned to near normal, he began to relax. He made a mental note of what he needed to do. Whether in a dream or an apparition, Jack couldn’t say, but he knew for sure, Susan spoke to him that night. Her words soothed him, but more than that, they were a beacon of light that gave him hope and purpose. She showed him how to use his power, position, and influence to fight injustice to make the world a safer place.

Having made peace with himself, Jack called Doyle’s number, but there was no answer. During the next few hours, Jack tried several times more. Every time his call went through to his voice mail. Jack began to fear something had already happened to Doyle. Had the caller already gotten to him? He needed to make other plans. As he put down the phone, another thought raced through his mind. How had the caller reached his mobile number? The police needed to know what was happening. If Doyle couldn’t help him and protect everyone at Pennington, then Chief Superintendent Edwards had to make the security arrangements. He called him on his mobile. Edwards picked up immediately. He hadn’t left his office for over forty-eight hours. He had been answering calls from the Worcestershire police most of that time and wasn’t surprised when it was Lord Turner’s voice he heard. What surprised him was what Jack said and the sound of hatred in his voice.

"I’ve been trying to get hold of Doyle for over three

hours since the call. There has been no response from him. I’m worried they may have got to him already."

CHAPTER

THREE

Mel Doyle had been out of military service for over two years. Like many ex-SAS soldiers, he suffered from PTSD post-traumatic stress disorder. He had severe bouts of anxiety, nightmares, and depression. Small incidents like a car backfiring could trigger off a reaction. It could put him into a condition so intense he would become not only anxious and depressed but violent. To those who didn’t know him, this would appear for no apparent reason.

Almost every night, he suffered from nightmares that had him screaming in his sleep. He saw the faces of people he had killed. What affected him most was the atrocities he had seen inflicted on young children. Whenever they appeared in his nightmares, their faces were always the same. They were those of his daughters.

Doyle had been an elite soldier in the Special Forces of the British army. A unit of the SAS based in Herefordshire. Their motto and ‘raison d’etre’ is ‘who dares wins.’ He was the second child in a family of ten children. Both his parents were also from large families. He had grown up hard in the docklands of Liverpool. The truth was Doyle enjoyed fighting. From as far back as he could remember, his fists had been his vocabulary. Although his mother had told him of other scuffles, the earliest recollection he had was of a fight in the playground on his first morning at school. The older boys, as was the custom at Liverpool’s inner-city school, wanted to show him the pecking order and where he fitted in as a newcomer. They quickly learned that they were the ones on the receiving end of who fits where. At the age of five, Doyle didn’t know the word fear. Over thirty years later, he knew the word, but not what it meant.

At five years old, Doyle was a natural fighter. He was so strong he could fight boys over twice his age and beat them. Doyle didn’t need to be taught which part of his body to use, arms, hands, fists, elbows, shoulders, knees, feet, head, it didn’t matter to him. They were all weapons at his disposal, and he instinctively knew when and how to use them. He was born that way. Winning was all that mattered, which he regularly did whenever he was challenged. His reputation at the age of ten around the dockland area was such that the gang leaders had marked him out as someone to keep an eye on. They monitored and trained him to be useful to them when he was older. He could quickly have become a hardened criminal in one of the local gangs. Doyle’s father recognised what was happening to him and the direction in which his son was heading. He had resisted the gang culture many years before. He had been a bare-knuckle fighter of some ability and reputation around the docklands which had brought him to the attention of the criminal community.

On Doyle’s sixteenth birthday, his father encouraged him to join the British Army as a boy entrant. Two years later at eighteen, he was selected by the SAS and badged in D unit of 22 Squadron. Special Forces taught him discipline, how to harness his natural skills and if needed, to be a killer in the service of his country. Doyle had been on covert operations in many locations, Ireland, Iraq, Bosnia, and several African countries. He had seen action in most of them.

When he left the SAS, he worked as a bodyguard and private investigator and struggled to make a living. It took a long time to come to terms with life as a civilian. Lord Jack Turner became one of his few clients. Jack had met Doyle years earlier when he was assigned as his security officer shortly after he was made Minister for Trade and Industry in Her Majesty’s Government.

The investigation which Turner had given him a couple of weeks earlier was to discover who the Baroness was seeing was easy for Doyle, who quickly found his identity. He was David Thurlow, Susan’s illegitimate son. Her father, the late Earl of Bedale, had paid and instructed a Swiss clinic to have the child adopted immediately after his birth. David was the result of a relationship with a local boy, from the village where Susan went to a private school in the South of England. Susan was sixteen years old at the time. Her father had looked after Susan, his only child from the age of seven, following his wife’s death from cancer. To protect her and probably from what he thought at that time, shame on the family, he arranged for Susan to enter a Swiss Sanatorium and