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Austin Macauley Publishers - Martin Jones

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58 pages

English

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This is the first book in the George Melville Mystery series and as such sees our eponymous hero investigation officer George Melville, who works for a law firm, get tangled up in the murky world of pre Second World War espionage. He meets an eccentric Scottish laird who in fact is his British Secret Service contact, as he is unsuspectingly thrust into the dangerous life as an ill-prepared secret agent in Hong Kong, Macau, Cairo and eventually Ireland, where he meets again his old friend, Inspector Dodds; along with a policewoman named Yvonne, and together they are faced with the impossible task of saving the international reputation of Great Britain and foiling a desperate Nazi plot to raise money for espionage in England. It puts together a team who will forge a close-knit bond which will see them through six episodes of mysteries as they experience A George Melville Mystery.

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Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers
Date de parution	31 janvier 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781528972307
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0175€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Mask of Perpetuity
A George Melville Mystery – Book 1
Martin Jones
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-01-31
The Mask of Perpetuity About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgment About The Book Chapter One Not So Lucky Cat Chapter Two Mad Dog Ali McAlistair Chapter Three The Poker Game Chapter Four Not Such a Gentlemen’s Club Chapter Five Mad Dog and Mr Chu Chapter Six Dodds and Merriweather Go to Ireland Chapter Seven One Airplane Too Many Chapter Eight Killarney Chapter Nine The Dinner Chapter Ten Don’t Lose Your Head! Chapter Eleven Escape Chapter Twelve Welcome Home Chapter Thirteen Debriefing Chapter Fourteen Wedding Bells
About the Author
Martin Jones has been a professional musician since 1982 and has performed all over the world. A self-confessed foodie, he has developed a taste for the gourmet lifestyle, and his knowledge of both countries and the gastronomic delights to be found there can easily be found in his writing. He is quite new to authoring and only started writing his first book in January 2018. He completed the first one in August 2018, and so far he has written five books while holding down a full-time job as head of music for a college in Hull, England, where he lives. He still performs regularly across the UK.
Dedication
I’d also like to dedicate this book to Sweepea, who has captured my heart and breathed life and creativity into it.
I will love you forever!
Copyright Information ©
Martin Jones (2020)
The right of Martin Jones to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528948548 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528972307 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgment
Thanks to the following for their help and understanding in writing this book:
Steve Brickley, Matt Smith, Mike Bird, Tim Keech and Mal Williamson.
About The Book
This is the first book in the George Melville Mystery series and as such sees our eponymous hero, investigative officer George Melville, who works for a law firm get tangled up in the murky world of pre-second world war espionage. He meets an eccentric Scottish laird who in fact is his British secret service contact, as he is unsuspectingly thrust into the dangerous life as an ill-prepared secret agent in Hong Kong, Macau, Cairo and eventually Ireland, where he meets again his old friend Inspector Dodds; along with a policewoman named Yvonne, and together they are faced with the impossible task of saving the international reputation of Great Britain, and foiling a desperate Nazi plot to raise money for espionage in England. It puts together a team who will forge a close-knit bond which will see them through at least seven episodes of mysteries as they experience ‘A George Melville Mystery’.
Chapter One

Not So Lucky Cat
The date was 21 st April, 1935. Steam emanated from the hot wet pavement, reflecting the flashing neon sign which featured a glowing bright red cat, yellow bags of gold coins and letters either side of it which read ‘Fan Tan’ in Mandarin and which announced the presence of the infamous Lucky Cat Fantan House Casino in downtown Macau.
Chinese gamblers entered the oppressive heat of the casino, still pulsing from the day’s barrage of intense heat. They largely wore western style dress; with the men sporting modern white dinner suits with red cummerbunds, and the women dressed in high heels and sophisticated gowns. There were excited yells from people playing on the newly imported Operator Bell slot machines near the entrance as they struggled to capture their winnings bouncing out of sight and rolling into the milling crowds entering the casino.
The two plain clothed Chinese security guards looked hard and muscly, with sweat shining off their bald heads. Their white tuxedos failed to conceal guns they were carrying under their armpits. I walked in unimpeded by the strange duo, but was aware of their looks as the only white face in the crowd and the only one wearing a black tuxedo.
I walked down the stairs to the strains of the Hoagy Carmichael classic ‘Georgia on My Mind’, performed by a Hong Kong sextet and an attractive and talented Chinese girl singer. The gaming tables were spread out across the large casino, surrounded by eager gamblers and a halo of cigarette smoke. It was 11.15 pm and there was already a nervous energy in the room and the background noise was palpable in its sense of excitement and shared expectations.
I moved through the people and walked up to the nearest crowded fantan table and observed the betting. A square was marked in the centre of a gambling table, with the sides being marked 1, 2, 3 and 4 on the dark-red baize. There were excited comments made as the banker put on the table a large handful of small white shiny beads, which he then covered with a metal bowl. Frenzied action began then with players betting on the numbers, setting their stakes on the side of the square which bore the number selected. I noticed some players were betting on the corners, for example between No. 2 and No. 3 at higher stakes. When all bets were placed, the bowl was removed to the obvious excitement and chatter of the crowd and the ‘Tan Kun’, or croupier, then used a small bamboo stick to remove the beads from the heap four at a time until the final batch was reached with the potential for the winning amount to be anything from one to four beads. There were four left behind this time to a mixture of shouts of joy and excitement from the winners, and moans from the losers; meaning all those who had bet on 4 were getting paid similar stacks to their bets, minus 10% which was the house commission.
A Chinese cigarette girl approached me and shouted, “Your name Melville?”
Her very red lipstick was slightly smudged by perspiration. She was slim, and her breasts jutted out over the cigarette box and continually threatened to escape from the confines of her brassiere and red satin dress.
“Yes, who wants to know?”
“Mad Dog McAlistair,” she replied, leading me away from the crowded table.
“He’s in the Dragon Room on the first floor. He wants you to meet him there at midnight,” she whispered close to my ear, a smell of Vol de Nuit, mixed with her animal smell of musky sweat, cloying in the hot night.
“But why didn’t he meet me in Hong Kong as arranged, and isn’t that the time of the auction?” I whispered back, feeling already tired by all this cloak and dagger stuff, and painfully aware of the money clip tied to my belt with $82,000 in it in brand new Hong Kong dollars.
“He couldn’t; it’ll take too long to explain. Make sure the safety is off your gun and arrive precisely at midnight,” she whispered, and then she disappeared into the crowd.
“What gun?” I mouthed, feeling very much out of my depth.
I moved to the bar which had the added benefit of being situated underneath a huge wooden polished fan, which struggled to take the edge off the suffocating heat, and I ordered a Singapore Sling. I found a table amongst the bamboo and lacquered screens where I could sit down and wonder how I’d got into this mess.
My mind wandered back to nine days ago. As ever, it had started with a rushed and urgent invitation to the oak panelled boardroom of Sugarman and Hartnell, famed law firm and my employers for some seven years as an investigative officer. My last big job with them had seen me team up with Inspector Sean Dodds of Scotland Yard; and as I entered the long room towards a fireplace, this time adorned with a display of Irises and Columbine, I looked for Dodds but instead found Sugarman and Hartnell, and a very well dressed man in his ’30s wearing a cream summer suit, green and cream Paisley tie, and Panama hat. He doffed his hat and I doffed mine as Sugarman introduced him.
“Ah Melville, please let me introduce you to Professor Malcolm Harrison from Oxford University,” he said, and then added, “This is the fellow I was talking about, Harrison.”
They both looked at me and I offered my hand to the professor and said, “Nice to meet you. How can I be of assistance?”
As I shook his hand, I was suddenly aware of someone else in the room sitting in a chair where there was natural shadow. Sugarman and Hartnell did not introduce him so I just nodded, to be civil, and then looked back at Sugarman, Hartnell and the professor to hear the story which was no doubt going to take over my life again.
“Our other guest, Melville, we won’t introduce, and it will become increasingly clear why this is necessary as we divulge the case,” Sugarman said, looking at the stranger in the room.
He followed with, “Before we can continue, we must ask you to sign this document. It’s the official secrets act, and you must be aware that what we are about to tell you must go no further than this room. If you tell anyone else, you will be breaching the contract you will have just signed and could be prosecuted with a potential prison sentence being likely,” he stated, all the while looking into the shadowy corner for approval.
I became aware of a nod and was then given the lengthy document and a pen to sign, in triplicate. Trusting my employers implicitly, I signed and returned the documents and waited to be told what this was all about. Sugarman sat back in his chair, drank from a small schooner of sherry and then began the extraordinary story.
“There i