It’s a crazy low Amazon pre-release price of only 0.99 GBP and USD. The price will go up on March 1, the release date, to £3.99 and $4.99. Best to grab it now!
There’s only one thing more dangerous than becoming a confidential informant and that’s being an undercover cop. They have something in common – living on the edge.
The Gripping Fast-paced Series Finale to the Steve Regan Undercover Cop Trilogy.
Original crime fiction from a former undercover cop now a bestselling author.
There’s no ‘Look Inside’ on Amazon yet as it’s still on pre-order so have a sneak preview right here:
Mid-1980s Melbourne, Australia
Standing tall at six-feet-five-inches, the man with the swastika tattoo sweated, his nerves jangling. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he dialled the number, checking the street to see if anyone was watching.
Before the second ring, a man’s voice answered, “Melbourne Help Desk.”
“It’s me, Brad. I’ll do it.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Payphone, like you told me.”
“Good. What made you change your mind?”
“Psycho Pat. He needs taking out. Man, this Aryan Supremacy thing is wrong. It’s nuts.”
“Right, okay. Do nothing. I’ll contact you. Don’t call me until I meet you with you, got it?”
The line went dead. Brad stepped outside the booth on to the street. Reflecting on the day’s events, he was unsure what was worse, calling the Federal Police or the bloody slaughter he had witnessed a short time ago. He puked for the second time that day.
There’s only one thing more dangerous than becoming a confidential informant and that’s being an undercover cop, he thought. They have something in common. They live dangerously.
Few men are all bad, fewer are all good. Bad guys can be good. Brad knew he’d been a bad guy but what he had seen earlier was too much. It was evil.
Hearing the hostage’s screams, witnessing the terrible things Pat was inflicting on the dude, made him throw up. It was the first time he thought someone had to stop Pat.
Pat was the forty-year-old leader of a right-wing racist group known as the Aryan Supremacy. Pat hated many things, but most of all he hated anyone who wasn’t white skinned.
Having white skin didn’t always guarantee immunity from Pat’s hate. He hated all white liberal politicians.
Brad was one of the thirty group members summoned to Pat’s industrial warehouse unit in the outskirts of Melbourne. Pat had ordered their attendance to witness an execution.
Aaron, the victim, was a young man, twenty years old. His crime, besides having brown skin, was to date a white girl. His punishment at Pat’s hands was torture followed by a slow painful death.
Tied down and stripped naked, Aaron screamed every time the hair drier, turned up to full heat, was introduced to his most sensitive parts; his armpits, followed by the soles of his feet, finally his groin. His screams were drowned out by the sound of Pat’s favourite heavy metal band.
Pat’s knife soon got to work too, dismembering body parts until he got bored and finally plunged the blade through Aaron’s heart. The fatal wound ended two hours of torture.
Eyes maniacal, hands bloodied, shirt drenched with Aaron’s blood, Pat paused to gather his breath then yelled, “White is might. White is right!”
Brad shuddered. Pat, now calm as if nothing had happened, said, “Carter will be next. Fucking liberal asshole.” He jabbed the bloody knife towards his gathered group. “The Aryan Supremacy will take over. Not just here but also in the UK and the States.”
One of his group, a loyal supporter, spoke up, “How’s that going to happen?”
“Glad you asked, my friend. It’s already started. London cops are beating up niggers. They killed one. Sooner or later, the blacks and Pakis will retaliate. That’s what we want. It will happen here too.”
That was the moment Brad resolved to stop Pat, and with that, stop the Aryan Supremacy.
Brad knew the risk he was taking by talking to his handler at the Australian Federal Police in Melbourne, the same cop who had been trying to turn him into a CI for the past two years.
He was aware of his fate if Pat discovered he was snitching. Nevertheless, he made that call from the payphone. He had no idea what he had set in motion.