Corcoran And The Prince Of Hell: Scary Thriller

By Alfred Bekker and W. A. Hary

"This Maldini is more powerful than you think."

"Anyway, he's richer than I can imagine. And this is America, the land of dollar signs in the eyes, wealth equals power." I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know if it's really different everywhere. Probably not."

"They call Maldini the Prince of Hell," Corcoran said.

I had no idea this was really true....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Dec 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215035009

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

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Corcoran And The Prince Of Hell: Scary Thriller

By Alfred Bekker & W.A.Hary

The guy's name was Corcoran.

A fat pig with a lot of shit in his head. That was my first thought after he opened his mouth and told me some pretty hair-raising things. My God, I had always kept my door firmly shut to Jehovah's Witnesses. And now it seemed that one of these weirdos, whose thoughts were more in the other world than ours, had managed to enter the hallowed halls of my office.

Listen carefully, my time is short, I said.

Mine too.

My fee schedule is on the wall. My meter is running, if you know what I mean, Mr. Corcoran or whatever your name is.

I'm not here to hire you as a private investigator, Mr. Browning.

Then I don't know what you're doing here. I'd say you'd better take a hike.

Corcoran didn't even think about it. He took two steps to the left, looked out the window. He was wearing a long leather coat. Black. Seemed very contrasting with his reddish hair. For a brief moment I saw some kind of dagger flashing out from under the leather garment. I thought: That's all I need, some gang warrior from the Bronx or an occult freak who attended black masses and desecrated cemeteries.

The whacky guy was muttering some shit under his breath.

Something that would have sounded like a magic incantation in a horror movie. Or that Latin drivel that you always hear in The Exorcist. I'm not a fan of this genre. I rather like the tangible. The subtle Bruce Lee films, for example. I can't do anything with this esoteric horror nonsense any more than I can with zombies, vampires and all that crap. The only thing worse are the relationship comedies my girlfriend Mona always drags me into. At least, when I can't help it. Most of the time I can. Well, most of the time. You have to make compromises, especially when you have a hard job and little time and your girlfriend is nagging you.

. But now I had another problem.

A problem with the redheaded guy in front of me who started talking about some really weird things. Things that I didn't believe really existed.

I want to get right to the point, Corcoran said.

Come on!

You have incurred the anger of a man named Maldini.

Correct.

How and why you clashed with Maldini should not be of interest at the moment. The only fact is that you are in great danger.

I have a good remedy for that!

I briefly pushed my jacket aside so that he could see my gun.

Corcoran made a throwaway motion with his hand.

This Maldini is more powerful than you think.

Anyway, he's richer than I can imagine. And this being America, the land of dollar signs in the eyes, wealth equals power. I shrugged. I don't know if it really follows any other pattern anywhere. Probably not.

They call Maldini the Prince of Hell! said Corcoran.

Hell, you know that too? You're quite the mob expert, Mr. Corcoran. I don't know what outfit sent you. The FBI doesn't employ suckers like you, but maybe the Salvation Army does. You're probably about to tell me you're trying to save my life.

Corcoran raised his hand.

There was something piercing in his