The Samsara Project by David Burgess (romantic books to read .TXT) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
In the late 1880’s Jack the Ripper’s murderous killing frenzy stopped. No one knew why, who he was, where he came from or where he went.
In 2008 journalist and crime historian, John Reynolds, receives a call informing him a body has been found on Whitechapel Common.
For John, the killer’s signature is unmistakable and as he expected the body count quickly grows with each slaying more brutal, gruesome and sadistic than the last.
John knows his eccentric theories are ridiculed but to stop the murderous slaughter he has to prove them to be true.
A deadly trail sees John and his rag-tag group of friends face up to the Russian Mafia, British and US intelligence teams, a top secret military project and worst of all – his own past. All are intertwined in a fast moving plot with more twists and turns than the high adrenalin roller coaster ride that is ‘The Samsara Project.’
In 2008 journalist and crime historian, John Reynolds, receives a call informing him a body has been found on Whitechapel Common.
For John, the killer’s signature is unmistakable and as he expected the body count quickly grows with each slaying more brutal, gruesome and sadistic than the last.
John knows his eccentric theories are ridiculed but to stop the murderous slaughter he has to prove them to be true.
A deadly trail sees John and his rag-tag group of friends face up to the Russian Mafia, British and US intelligence teams, a top secret military project and worst of all – his own past. All are intertwined in a fast moving plot with more twists and turns than the high adrenalin roller coaster ride that is ‘The Samsara Project.’
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- Author: David Burgess
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radio.
Geoffrey walked up to the front door of the house. He pressed the bell half expecting it to play Rule Britannia or some other such tune, he was quite disappointed when he just heard a single faint ding dong in the background. After a few moments the door was opened, Geoffrey immediately recognised the face. Ms Dupree’s skin was a lot fairer than he imagined, her hair was cut short in a modern style and had been coloured auburn with faint blond highlights. She was dressed in a large fitting jumper and a pair of loose slacks. Geoffrey guessed she was a good size ten bordering on a twelve had to admit she had a very distinct Gallic appearance, and one he found very attractive. He had to sharply remind himself that he was looking straight into the eyes of Jack the Ripper. That thought really fazed him. “I’m sorry to trouble you but is this by any chance your car?”
“Yes it is,” she replied, “please don’t worry I get a lot people asking about the car. But don’t ask if it’s for sale because it isn’t. It was my Dad’s last car before he died and it has great sentimental value to me, so you see I couldn’t sell.”
Geoffrey did his best to look disappointed, “I had hoped that it might be it is amazing. Takes me back to my childhood when we lived in France.” That had the desired effect.
“You lived in France my family came from France a few generations back.”
“It’s a small world,” quipped Geoffrey.
“What part of France did you say you lived in?” she asked.
“It was La Rochelle, on the Atlantic coast. Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t believe it. I am from the same area; well a little down the coast in Brest.”
“And we meet because of a car named after an Italian island. Anyway I’m sorry to have bothered you”
“If you’re not in any hurry perhaps you’d like a glass of French wine and talk about the ‘old country’.”
That was the opening Geoffrey had been waiting for, “That sounds perfect, but would Mr ... I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Jacqueline,” she replied, “and don’t worry, there is no Mr Dupree, in fact there never has been.”
“Then the world has gone crazy, my name is Geoffrey, Geoffrey Adamson and there is no Mrs Adamson either, again never has been.”
“Come on through, are you Geoffrey or Geoff?”
“Either is fine with me, so are you Jacqueline or Jack?” asked Geoffrey in a mock French accent.
“I prefer Jacque,” she replied elongating the Ja sound at the start of her name, “red or white?”
“Whatever is my ladies pleasure,” replied Geoffrey.
Jacqueline went out into the kitchen, “make yourself comfortable,” she shouted from the kitchen, “I’ll be in shortly.”
Geoffrey took the opportunity of being alone to have a look around the room. It was decorated in a very contemporary style and there was nothing that gave away the true identity of the woman who lived there. Over the years Geoffrey had read numerous books and papers about sociopaths and how they behaved. He was aware of how friendly they can be in order to lure a victim into their clutches and he knew he would have to be very careful not to let his guard down.
Jacqueline returned with a bottle of red wine, two glasses and a corkscrew. She leaned over to Geoffrey and handed the bottle and the corkscrew to Geoffrey. “Would you mind?” For the first time he noticed the smell of her perfume, it reminded him of wild flowers growing in a country meadow. The aroma was very subtle and delicate yet the fragrance lingered inside his mind long after she had sat down.
Geoffrey opened the wine and poured a small amount into one of the glasses. He picked up the glass and handed it to Jacqueline, “pour madams.”
“Merci monsieur,” Jacqueline took a sip from the glass, “exquis,”
“I’m glad you like it,” replied Geoffrey
“Tell me everything about La Rochelle, how long you were there, what you thought of the area, everything.”
“Don’t forget I was only a boy at the time but I remember the narrow streets of the town, the amazing views across the water from the harbour, the twin battlements guarding the harbour entrance, one flying a large drapeau tricolour. The patisseries were just heaven to me with delicious pastries and cream cakes. I’ve longed to go back but I don’t know if it would be the same to me now. Sometimes I think that the memories are far better than reality. If I went back and it had changed, especially for the worst then the memories I have would be tainted.”
Jacqueline poured him some more wine, “My family originally came to England from Brest, in Brittany. The landscapes around are amazing as is the landlocked bay. I’ve only ever been over for an occasional holiday and I’ve no family over there that I know of but the place feels like home to me. Far more than here ever has. Does that make any sense to you?”
Geoffrey drank some more wine, “this is a really good wine,” he said “and yes, I do understand what you mean. There are some places that just feel like home, sometimes places you have never even been to before. I suppose its one reason why so many people emigrate every year. They’re looking for a place they can call home because what had been home to them for so long isn’t any more.”
“You always were an amateur philosopher,”
Geoffrey turned his head around. Standing in the doorway was Dimitre and in his hand was a Russian Army issue 9mm Parabellum pistol.
Geoffrey turned and looked back at Jacqueline; she raised her glass in a mock toast.
“Please, finish your wine. I believe it’s very good but as you know I’m a vodka man myself.”
“Dimitre,” said Geoffrey, “so it was you that made the call.”
“No, that was me,” said Jacqueline, “after you started to post that photograph everywhere it would only have been a matter of time before someone realised it was me. We had to get you here on our terms, not the other way round.”
“There was always a chance that would happen,” said Geoffrey, “Dimitre, you must know you’re playing a very dangerous game. The Russian Mafia are already after Jacqueline. When this gets out they’re going to be after you too. You’re one of their own, a trusted one. It doesn’t get worse than that.”
Geoffrey looked over towards Jacqueline, “I can see the attraction though, and I have to admit madam you look absolutely stunning.” There was a very slight pause, “especially for a woman of your age.”
Jacqueline stood up, walked over to Geoffrey and threw her glass of wine in his face, “How dare you,” she hissed, and then stormed out of the room.
“It was meant as a compliment,” Geoffrey shouted after her, “I have never met a hundred and eighty year old woman before,” he said to Dimitre, “and I must admit I am very pleasantly surprised. I don’t know whose face cream she uses but you’d both make a fortune promoting it.”
“You’re a funny man Geoffrey Adamson, but you’re in no position to crack jokes, if you think I’m going to let you ruin our little plan here then you’re wrong. Suzie thought the same after she got a little too greedy, and you know what happened to her.”
“Greed, so her murder was about money?” Jacqueline had regained her composure and walked back into the room. Dimitre started to walk slowly around. “Not just money, but power. Either are a great aphrodisiac but put them together and they become addictive, you can never have too much of either and I,” Dimitre quickly looked at Jacqueline, “we were not about to give any away.”
“You’re right Dimitre and I’m wrong. I thought you were playing a dangerous game before, with Jacqueline here being your girlfriend. What a dilemma, you’d been tasked with tracking down and handing over your girlfriend knowing what they’d do to her, when all along the two of you have been skimming huge sums of money from the mafia’s accounts and using Suzie’s position in the bank to clean it up for you. That’s not greed or power Dimitre, that’s a horrible, slow and very painful death.”
“We planned everything very carefully, and Suzie was very well compensated for her work.”
“Then the greed factor kicks in and she wants more. Greed pulling in one direction is a killer, but pulling in two. That’s the end of the line Dimitre.”
“You’d better explain that,” said Dimitre, now standing right in front of Geoffrey, the pistol aimed squarely at his forehead.
“I’ll keep it simple. Firstly, Suzie got greedy and wanted more money. Secondly, you got greedy because you didn’t want to give her any more money. Thirdly, you got your girlfriend here to murder her. Very subtle by the way, but I think this was one kill that was defiantly over kill. Then there was the biggest problem of all.
“And what would that be?” she asked.
“Just more of the same,” replied Geoffrey, “greed. Except this time it’s you two. Neither of you were prepared to give Suzie Reeves a bigger slice of the pie so why should you do it for each other. When Suzie died so did your scheme. Did she threaten to run to the Mafia bosses and tell them how you two had conned them out of millions?”
“We were never going to let that happen.” Jacqueline answered.
“There were never two of you in this scam,” replied Geoffrey, “there were always three. Suzie wasn’t an outsider just helping out; she was a crucial part of it. Without her there was no plan. How could she go to the bosses and tell them anything? She called your bluff and you two over reacted, now what have you got. I’ll tell you what, no plan, no scheme and two massive egos both wanting the money for themselves. Thing is, which of the two of you will be the one left standing at the end of the day.”
Jacqueline and Dimitre looked at each other, “he’s trying to mess up our heads,” said Jacqueline. She started to walk over towards him, “Don’t listen to him, he knows he’s going to die and he’s playing us against each other.”
“Is he?” said Dimitre, “the murders were all your idea; you were the one who didn’t want to give her any more money.”
“We had no choice,” said Jacqueline as she reached Dimitre’s side. Instantly her right arm swung quickly from behind her back. In her hand she had a nine inch kitchen knife. Dimitre gasped as the knife entered his side. She quickly twisted the knife and pulled it out, pushing the pistol away from her direction Jacqueline stabbed Dimitre in the stomach. Dimitre fell to his knees, he looked up at Jacqueline. “I loved you,” he mouthed, “we could have been so good together.” She left the knife in Dimitre as he slumped onto the floor. “You’re just like all men. Weak and pathetic, god, I despise every last one of you.”
Dimitre did not hear her, his bulging lifeless eyes just stared into the distance. Jacqueline picked up the pistol and turned towards Geoffrey. She froze and quickly scanned the room. Geoffrey was nowhere to be seen. In the time it took for Jacqueline to murder Dimitre Geoffrey had taken the opportunity to slip out o the room. He made his way to the front door, only to find that it had been locked and the key removed. He then did what instinct dictates when people find themselves in mortal danger; he went
Geoffrey walked up to the front door of the house. He pressed the bell half expecting it to play Rule Britannia or some other such tune, he was quite disappointed when he just heard a single faint ding dong in the background. After a few moments the door was opened, Geoffrey immediately recognised the face. Ms Dupree’s skin was a lot fairer than he imagined, her hair was cut short in a modern style and had been coloured auburn with faint blond highlights. She was dressed in a large fitting jumper and a pair of loose slacks. Geoffrey guessed she was a good size ten bordering on a twelve had to admit she had a very distinct Gallic appearance, and one he found very attractive. He had to sharply remind himself that he was looking straight into the eyes of Jack the Ripper. That thought really fazed him. “I’m sorry to trouble you but is this by any chance your car?”
“Yes it is,” she replied, “please don’t worry I get a lot people asking about the car. But don’t ask if it’s for sale because it isn’t. It was my Dad’s last car before he died and it has great sentimental value to me, so you see I couldn’t sell.”
Geoffrey did his best to look disappointed, “I had hoped that it might be it is amazing. Takes me back to my childhood when we lived in France.” That had the desired effect.
“You lived in France my family came from France a few generations back.”
“It’s a small world,” quipped Geoffrey.
“What part of France did you say you lived in?” she asked.
“It was La Rochelle, on the Atlantic coast. Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t believe it. I am from the same area; well a little down the coast in Brest.”
“And we meet because of a car named after an Italian island. Anyway I’m sorry to have bothered you”
“If you’re not in any hurry perhaps you’d like a glass of French wine and talk about the ‘old country’.”
That was the opening Geoffrey had been waiting for, “That sounds perfect, but would Mr ... I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Jacqueline,” she replied, “and don’t worry, there is no Mr Dupree, in fact there never has been.”
“Then the world has gone crazy, my name is Geoffrey, Geoffrey Adamson and there is no Mrs Adamson either, again never has been.”
“Come on through, are you Geoffrey or Geoff?”
“Either is fine with me, so are you Jacqueline or Jack?” asked Geoffrey in a mock French accent.
“I prefer Jacque,” she replied elongating the Ja sound at the start of her name, “red or white?”
“Whatever is my ladies pleasure,” replied Geoffrey.
Jacqueline went out into the kitchen, “make yourself comfortable,” she shouted from the kitchen, “I’ll be in shortly.”
Geoffrey took the opportunity of being alone to have a look around the room. It was decorated in a very contemporary style and there was nothing that gave away the true identity of the woman who lived there. Over the years Geoffrey had read numerous books and papers about sociopaths and how they behaved. He was aware of how friendly they can be in order to lure a victim into their clutches and he knew he would have to be very careful not to let his guard down.
Jacqueline returned with a bottle of red wine, two glasses and a corkscrew. She leaned over to Geoffrey and handed the bottle and the corkscrew to Geoffrey. “Would you mind?” For the first time he noticed the smell of her perfume, it reminded him of wild flowers growing in a country meadow. The aroma was very subtle and delicate yet the fragrance lingered inside his mind long after she had sat down.
Geoffrey opened the wine and poured a small amount into one of the glasses. He picked up the glass and handed it to Jacqueline, “pour madams.”
“Merci monsieur,” Jacqueline took a sip from the glass, “exquis,”
“I’m glad you like it,” replied Geoffrey
“Tell me everything about La Rochelle, how long you were there, what you thought of the area, everything.”
“Don’t forget I was only a boy at the time but I remember the narrow streets of the town, the amazing views across the water from the harbour, the twin battlements guarding the harbour entrance, one flying a large drapeau tricolour. The patisseries were just heaven to me with delicious pastries and cream cakes. I’ve longed to go back but I don’t know if it would be the same to me now. Sometimes I think that the memories are far better than reality. If I went back and it had changed, especially for the worst then the memories I have would be tainted.”
Jacqueline poured him some more wine, “My family originally came to England from Brest, in Brittany. The landscapes around are amazing as is the landlocked bay. I’ve only ever been over for an occasional holiday and I’ve no family over there that I know of but the place feels like home to me. Far more than here ever has. Does that make any sense to you?”
Geoffrey drank some more wine, “this is a really good wine,” he said “and yes, I do understand what you mean. There are some places that just feel like home, sometimes places you have never even been to before. I suppose its one reason why so many people emigrate every year. They’re looking for a place they can call home because what had been home to them for so long isn’t any more.”
“You always were an amateur philosopher,”
Geoffrey turned his head around. Standing in the doorway was Dimitre and in his hand was a Russian Army issue 9mm Parabellum pistol.
Geoffrey turned and looked back at Jacqueline; she raised her glass in a mock toast.
“Please, finish your wine. I believe it’s very good but as you know I’m a vodka man myself.”
“Dimitre,” said Geoffrey, “so it was you that made the call.”
“No, that was me,” said Jacqueline, “after you started to post that photograph everywhere it would only have been a matter of time before someone realised it was me. We had to get you here on our terms, not the other way round.”
“There was always a chance that would happen,” said Geoffrey, “Dimitre, you must know you’re playing a very dangerous game. The Russian Mafia are already after Jacqueline. When this gets out they’re going to be after you too. You’re one of their own, a trusted one. It doesn’t get worse than that.”
Geoffrey looked over towards Jacqueline, “I can see the attraction though, and I have to admit madam you look absolutely stunning.” There was a very slight pause, “especially for a woman of your age.”
Jacqueline stood up, walked over to Geoffrey and threw her glass of wine in his face, “How dare you,” she hissed, and then stormed out of the room.
“It was meant as a compliment,” Geoffrey shouted after her, “I have never met a hundred and eighty year old woman before,” he said to Dimitre, “and I must admit I am very pleasantly surprised. I don’t know whose face cream she uses but you’d both make a fortune promoting it.”
“You’re a funny man Geoffrey Adamson, but you’re in no position to crack jokes, if you think I’m going to let you ruin our little plan here then you’re wrong. Suzie thought the same after she got a little too greedy, and you know what happened to her.”
“Greed, so her murder was about money?” Jacqueline had regained her composure and walked back into the room. Dimitre started to walk slowly around. “Not just money, but power. Either are a great aphrodisiac but put them together and they become addictive, you can never have too much of either and I,” Dimitre quickly looked at Jacqueline, “we were not about to give any away.”
“You’re right Dimitre and I’m wrong. I thought you were playing a dangerous game before, with Jacqueline here being your girlfriend. What a dilemma, you’d been tasked with tracking down and handing over your girlfriend knowing what they’d do to her, when all along the two of you have been skimming huge sums of money from the mafia’s accounts and using Suzie’s position in the bank to clean it up for you. That’s not greed or power Dimitre, that’s a horrible, slow and very painful death.”
“We planned everything very carefully, and Suzie was very well compensated for her work.”
“Then the greed factor kicks in and she wants more. Greed pulling in one direction is a killer, but pulling in two. That’s the end of the line Dimitre.”
“You’d better explain that,” said Dimitre, now standing right in front of Geoffrey, the pistol aimed squarely at his forehead.
“I’ll keep it simple. Firstly, Suzie got greedy and wanted more money. Secondly, you got greedy because you didn’t want to give her any more money. Thirdly, you got your girlfriend here to murder her. Very subtle by the way, but I think this was one kill that was defiantly over kill. Then there was the biggest problem of all.
“And what would that be?” she asked.
“Just more of the same,” replied Geoffrey, “greed. Except this time it’s you two. Neither of you were prepared to give Suzie Reeves a bigger slice of the pie so why should you do it for each other. When Suzie died so did your scheme. Did she threaten to run to the Mafia bosses and tell them how you two had conned them out of millions?”
“We were never going to let that happen.” Jacqueline answered.
“There were never two of you in this scam,” replied Geoffrey, “there were always three. Suzie wasn’t an outsider just helping out; she was a crucial part of it. Without her there was no plan. How could she go to the bosses and tell them anything? She called your bluff and you two over reacted, now what have you got. I’ll tell you what, no plan, no scheme and two massive egos both wanting the money for themselves. Thing is, which of the two of you will be the one left standing at the end of the day.”
Jacqueline and Dimitre looked at each other, “he’s trying to mess up our heads,” said Jacqueline. She started to walk over towards him, “Don’t listen to him, he knows he’s going to die and he’s playing us against each other.”
“Is he?” said Dimitre, “the murders were all your idea; you were the one who didn’t want to give her any more money.”
“We had no choice,” said Jacqueline as she reached Dimitre’s side. Instantly her right arm swung quickly from behind her back. In her hand she had a nine inch kitchen knife. Dimitre gasped as the knife entered his side. She quickly twisted the knife and pulled it out, pushing the pistol away from her direction Jacqueline stabbed Dimitre in the stomach. Dimitre fell to his knees, he looked up at Jacqueline. “I loved you,” he mouthed, “we could have been so good together.” She left the knife in Dimitre as he slumped onto the floor. “You’re just like all men. Weak and pathetic, god, I despise every last one of you.”
Dimitre did not hear her, his bulging lifeless eyes just stared into the distance. Jacqueline picked up the pistol and turned towards Geoffrey. She froze and quickly scanned the room. Geoffrey was nowhere to be seen. In the time it took for Jacqueline to murder Dimitre Geoffrey had taken the opportunity to slip out o the room. He made his way to the front door, only to find that it had been locked and the key removed. He then did what instinct dictates when people find themselves in mortal danger; he went
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