Dark Tide Rising: A William Monk Novel - Softcover

Buch 23 von 23: William Monk

Perry, Anne

 
9780399179938: Dark Tide Rising: A William Monk Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0399179933 ISBN 13: 9780399179938
Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2019

Inhaltsangabe

When a ransom exchange turns deadly in this thrilling mystery from bestselling author Anne Perry, Commander William Monk faces an unthinkable possibility: betrayal by his own men.
 
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST CRIME NOVELS OF THE YEAR BY THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW • “Riveting . . . one of the series’ more powerful recent entries.”—Publishers Weekly

When kidnappers choose a broken-down waterside slum as the site of a ransom exchange for the wife of wealthy real estate developer Harry Exeter, the Thames River Police and Commander William Monk shadow Harry to the spot to ensure that no harm comes to him or his captive wife. But on arrival, Monk and five of his best men are attacked from all sides. Certain that one of his colleagues has betrayed him, Monk delves into each of their pasts, one of which hides a dreadful secret. Soon facing a series of deadly obstructions, Monk must choose between his own safety and the chance to solve the mystery—and to figure out where his men’s loyalty really lies.

Praise for Dark Tide Rising

“Perry makes cunning work of the plot, which raises issues of trust and loyalty while driving home a grim message about the vulnerability of women who entrust their fortunes to unscrupulous men.”—The New York Times Book Review
 
“One of the most successful of prolific Perry’s recent Victorian melodramas. The opening chapters are appropriately portentous, the mystification is authentic, and if the final surprise isn’t exactly a shock, it’s so well-prepared that even readers who don’t gasp will nod in satisfaction.”—Kirkus Reviews

“Another deftly crafted gem of a suspense thriller by a master of the mystery genre . . .  a ‘must read.’ ”—Midwest Book Review

“Superb . . . [a] brilliant piece of historical fiction . . . No one writes Victorian-era stories quite like Perry.”—BookReporter

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Anne Perry was the bestselling author of two acclaimed series set in Victorian England: the William Monk novels and the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt novels. She was also the author of a series featuring Charlotte and Thomas Pitt's son, Daniel, as well as the Elena Standish series; a series of five World War I novels; twenty-one holiday novels; and a historical novel, The Sheen on the Silk, set in the Byzantine Empire. Anne Perry died in 2023.

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chapter

1

Monk sat beside the fire and felt the heat seep through him. Outside was the kind of clinging silence that only fog brings. The river was shrouded, and dusk came early this time of the year. Monk was unusually conscious of being happy. This deep sense of peace was not a casual thing. He looked at Hester in the chair opposite him and found himself smiling.

He was not aware of the first knock on the door. It was only when Hester stood up that he realized what the sound had been. He rose quickly. “No, I’ll go.” Reluctantly, he went into the hall and unlocked the front door.

Sir Oliver Rathbone stood on the step, the porch light glistening on droplets of fog that covered his gray hat and the shoulders of his coat. His lean face was without its usual aura of wit.

There was no wind at all, and yet a breath of chill accompanied him.

“Come in,” Monk said quickly, stepping back to allow him room.

Rathbone obeyed and pulled the door closed behind him. He shivered, as if suddenly aware of how cold he was. He took off his hat and coat and hung them on the hall stand, stuffing his gloves in his pockets.

“It must be bad,” Monk said. They had known each other for years—in fact, for nearly all of the fifteen years since the Crimean War had ended in 1856. There was no need for social niceties.

“It is,” Rathbone replied. He both worked and lived on the north side of the Thames, so for him to have crossed the river to visit Monk at home meant the issue could not wait, even just until morning.

Monk led the way to the sitting room and opened the door into the warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Rathbone said to Hester. They, too, had known each other long and well. Rathbone had met her when she was a nurse, newly home from the Crimea and still believing she could change the world of medical treatment and its attitude toward nursing, and women in medicine in general. That seemed like a long time ago now. But the cause, even now, was hardly begun.

“You look frozen,” she said with understanding. “Tea?” Then she reconsidered. “Whisky?”

Rathbone smiled very slightly. “No, thank you. I need to keep a clear head.” He turned to Monk. “I know I’m intruding, but it can’t wait . . .” He sat down in one of the chairs next to the fire.

Hester said nothing, but she prepared to listen intently.

Monk merely nodded and took the seat opposite Rathbone.

“A man came to me an hour or two ago in a state of extreme distress.” Rathbone’s expression reflected his own understanding of pain. “His wife has been kidnapped. Her life is forfeit if he does not pay a ransom, which is a fortune. He is a wealthy man, and has succeeded in raising the amount—”

“When was she taken?” Monk interrupted.

“I know what you must be thinking,” Rathbone replied with a bleak smile. “How did he raise the money so quickly? Unless he had it in a safe somewhere, this would not have been possible. She was taken yesterday, which, if you remember, was actually a beautiful day for this time of year. He was given until tomorrow, at about this time. The exchange is to take place—”

“Why the devil didn’t he report it immediately?” Monk interrupted him.

“He intends to pay. What he wants of us is—”

“Us?” Monk cut across him again. “If he wants the police, he should have gone to the regular London police, and yesterday, for heaven’s sake, when the trail was hot!”

Rathbone shook his head. “He doesn’t. She was taken from the riverbank, which makes it your area. And the ransom is to be paid on Jacob’s Island, which—”

“I know what it is!” Even though several years had passed since that bleak case, Monk shivered involuntarily at the memories the name “Jacob’s Island” conjured in his imagination. He could still see the fat man sinking slowly into the tidal ooze, his mouth open, screaming, until the mud cut him off, and inch by inch he disappeared from sight. His body had never been found.

Monk came back to the moment: to the firelight, to Hester, now sitting and leaning toward him, concern in her face; to the lamplight on Rathbone’s hair, which had more silver in it than before. Jacob’s Island was one of the worst slums in London. On the river’s edge, it was not literally an island, but a region of interconnecting waterways with old offices and wharfs. The warehouses built upon them were sinking slowly into their foundations as they rotted away and collapsed one on top of another. Jacob’s Island could be reached by land across one bridge, and by water through several landing piers.

“He wants the River Police to go with him to the exchange, the payment for his wife’s—Kate Exeter’s—life,” Rathbone said quietly. “That’s all he came about. He doesn’t expect you to catch the kidnappers, or to save the money, just to see that the exchange is made, and he and Kate leave there safely.”

“Kate Exeter?” Monk turned the name over in his mind. There was something familiar about it, but he could not place it.

“Harry Exeter,” Rathbone said. “His first wife died. Kate is his second. About twenty years younger than he. He’s devoted to her.” Compassion showed in Rathbone’s face. He himself had married a second time, only recently. He had a happiness he had never believed possible, after the disappointment of his first marriage, followed by bitter loneliness. Rathbone knew how exquisitely precious happiness was, and how fragile. He tried not to think of the possibility of losing it again, but it was clear in his eyes, in the strain of his position, that his empathy with Harry Exeter was based in his own emotions, not imagination.

Monk did not need explanations. “So, he spent yesterday and today getting the money,” he concluded.

“Yes. He has nearly all of it, and his assurance of the rest tomorrow. It’s the price of five good-sized London family houses, in a decent area,” Rathbone replied. “I came to you tonight because Exeter’s in my chambers now. I want you to meet him. Get all the information you can. You’ll need tomorrow to plan. He has to hand over the money himself. It’s part of the bargain.”

“And bringing the police into it?” The consequences of even one slip were appalling.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rathbone said gravely. “He’s allowed to have at least one man go with him. He insisted on that. He doesn’t know the place, and he pointed out that alone in an area like that, carrying a bag full of money, he’d be lucky if he made it as far as the agreed rendezvous spot.”

“Why wouldn’t they pick some reasonable place?” Monk asked, but already he knew the answer. Jacob’s Island was a warren that the ordinary Londoner would be utterly lost in, frightened, disoriented, always afraid of the rising tide. “I’ll come and meet him,” he said before Rathbone could answer him. He stood up. “Get all the information I can. Tomorrow I’ll choose my men and speak to them. Some of them know Jacob’s Island fairly well. Although the damn place is changing all the time.”

Rathbone stood as well. “Thank you.” He turned to Hester. “I apologize,” he said, “but it should all be over after tomorrow night. Exeter will be considerably poorer, but his wife will be safe, even if...

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Verlag
Random House Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2019
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0399179933
ISBN 13 
9780399179938
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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