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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stretched him out, placed a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket. If anyone happened to look through the side window they would assume John was probably sleeping of a hangover on his way home.
The four figures quickly stripped of their black clothing and threw them into the back of the second Range Rover. Two men got into each car, then turned around and drove back in the direction the wagon had just come from.
A mile and a half down the road a second identical prisoner movement wagon was driving along the same route through the wooded countryside. Inside the cab the crew were talking and enjoying the spectacular scenery. They were approaching a bend in the road when they saw a woman lying in the road. Fifty yards in front of her they could see a car had left the road and crashed, head on into tree, a male was slumped out of the front passenger door, only his seatbelt had stopped him from falling completely out of the car.
The driver pulled up fifty yards back from the woman lying in the road; he got out of the cab and walked towards her. As he got closer to her he could clearly see a pool of blood on the road. Turning back towards the wagon he shouted to his colleague to radio for the emergency services. It was obvious they would need expert assistance. He reached the woman, she was lying face down on her stomach face, and her left hand was underneath her body, her right covered in blood. The driver felt her neck for a pulse, he could feel one. “Can you hear me?” he asked. The victim started to quietly moan. “Can you feel any pain anywhere?” he asked, not knowing if that was the right thing to say or not.
“My arm,” she mumbled, “my arm hurts.”
“Which arm?” he asked.
She faintly replied “underneath me, my arm hurts so much.”
The driver was way out of his depth, “I’ll try and lift you just a little and have a look, is that OK?”
She nodded. He called his colleague to come over and help. Between them they managed to lift her enough to give them the space they needed to free her trapped arm. Before they could move her arm the victim quickly spun around and jumped up. In her trapped hand she was holding a nine mm Browning pistol.
“Number four,” she shouted. The injured man slumped out of the car door got up and ran over to his colleague. He looked at the two men kneeling on the ground, took out his own pistol and pointed it at the wagon driver. Number four pointed towards to wagon,” you, come with me,” he said to the driver.
“What do you want?” asked the driver.
“Shut up and walk,” snapped number four.
As they walked towards the wagon two others emerged from the wood. “Nice work agent three.”
She smiled, “Thanks.”
Agent four and the driver reached the back of the wagon, he pushed the driver against the rear door “Unlock it.” he ordered. The driver fumbled with his keys, “Hurry up,” snapped agent four.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” said the driver, “I’m not used to having a pistol waved in my face.” The driver found the key he was looking for; he put in the lock and turned it. Agent four grabbed him by the arm and pushed him onto the road. “Stay there and don’t move, who knows you might get to walk away from this.” Agent four swung open the rear door and went to jump inside. Instead he just froze on the spot. Standing in the rear of the wagon were two men, dressed from head to toe in black combat clothes. Each had their face covered with a black ski mask. Agent fours eyes were focused on the two nine mm HK MP5 machine pistols pointing straight at him. The driver stood up and took the Browning out of agent fours hand. He did not resist.
“The hunter becomes the hunted,” said the driver.
The first man inside the wagon motioned for agent four to get in. He did. “Have you any idea who you’re dealing with?” asked agent four.
“We know exactly who you are. All of you are members of one of the most highly secret agencies this country has. All of you were placed in positions of ultimate trust by the Her Majesty, and you all took a sworn oath to give your own lives in order to protect the interests of the United Kingdom. What you actually did was sell your souls to the highest bidder. In this case high ranking but ultimately corrupt military officers from both the US and the UK. You are all guilty of treason and were here to carry out sentencing.”
Who are you? At least tell me that.”
“We’re the good guys.”
Agent four was given a piece of paper and told to shout it, word for word to his colleagues. He was also reminded that there was a lot of firepower pointing in his direction just in case he decided to deviate from the script.
Agent four jumped down from the back of the wagon, “It’s empty,” he shouted to agents one, two and three, “it’s empty, there’s no one in it.”
Agent one turned towards the second man, “Where’s the prisoner you were taking to court?”
“What prisoner? There’s no prisoner. We were on our way to the Scrubs to transfer prisoners to Outcross. We weren’t on the court run.”
Agent one pointed his pistol at the second man. “Are you absolutely certain about that?”
“Yes,” stammered the second man.
“Then it looks like you are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Agent one took aim at the second man. There was a two second burst of automatic weapon fire and agent one’s body disintegrated in a hail of bullets. Agents two and three spun around, pistols raised, to where the gunfire had come from. They were too slow; the second man pulled his own pistol from the back of the trousers and thrust it into the small of the back of agent two.
“Drop the weapon,” said the second man as he stood up. The pistol was quickly moved from the small of his back to the nape of his neck. Agent two’s pistol clattered on the ground.
Two men appeared from the woods, each fully camouflaged. Fully automatic weapons were rained on both HSS agents.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” said the second man to agent two. He looked puzzled, “What do you mean, lied?”
“I said we were on our way to pick up prisoners from the Scrubs, I wasn’t, I was on my way to pick up you.”
“One thing before we go,” said one of the men who came from the woods. He handed large black bags to the two surviving HSS agents. He pointed to the remains of agent one. “Clean up that mess.”
That job done, the three surviving agents were shepherded into the back of the wagon; each was put into a separate cubical. The second man started the engine and drove away.
Chapter 20
John was starting to wake up; he could feel himself coming round. He knew he was lying down although not flat as he felt propped up. For now he thought it would be safer for him to keep his eyes closed. Keep up the pretence that he was still out. He hoped he might be able to hear someone talking about him, or better still them. At least then he might have some idea as to who had taken him and what they intended to do with him. The vision of Tracy’s shooting was still fresh in his memory and as much as he missed Tracy he did not want the same thing to happen to him. John actually wondered for a minute if that defined him as a coward. He decided not, John did everything he could that day. He had been over powered and drugged, just as he had however long ago it had been. Wanting to live to see tomorrow did not make him a coward and maybe tomorrow would be the day he would be able to see justice done on those who had shot Tracy.
John was trying to sense where he was, he knew he was not moving and there was no sound of an engine. In fact there was no sound at all, everything was eerily quiet. He decided there was no one else around him and started to open his eyes, very slowly at first, just enough to tell if he was in the light or dark. He kept his head still and moved his eyes from side to side; he knew he was in a room and that there was a light on. As far as he could tell there was no natural light, and that, the thought, meant the room did not have any windows, one less way out. He moved his eyes downwards; he was trying to make out what it was he was lying on, then he realised, it was a dentist’s chair. Lying as still as he could John tried to move his arms, he was surprised to find he could, they were not bound or restrained in any way. Next he tried to move his legs; again he was free to do so without any restrictions. John opened his eyes. The light seemed intense to him and he quickly closed them again. Then slowly, he opened his eyes for the second time, this time he was far more controlled. Over a period of time he opened them a little more, then a little more until they were fully open.
John was now fully accustomed to the light and he was looking at the most sterile room he had ever seen in his life. The only piece of furniture in the room was the one he was sat in. All the walls were covered in white ceramic tiles; the ceiling was suspended with square white tiles and built in fluorescent lighting. The floor did offer some contrast though as it was covered in a light blue lino. For the first time John moved his head, he lifted it up off the relining chair and looked cautiously around. Satisfied there was no one else in the room he propped himself up on elbows. He was just about to get off the chair when the door opened and a woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform walked in.
“I see you’re awake then,” she said in a far more cheery voice than John had expected. “How are you feeling, I believe you’ve had a bit of a rough time recently?”
John sat up and stretched his arms and legs; he then turned he head around to exercise his neck slightly. “All things considered I don’t feel so bad.” Replied John, “could you tell me where I am?” he asked, more out of hope than any expectation of getting an answer.
“All in good time Mr Reynolds. I just let the Professor know you’re awake. I’m sure he’ll be able to answer your questions.”
“I’m sure he will,” said John under his breath. John was desperate to find out something, “Can I ask your name?” he asked.
“Of course you can, I’m Charge Nurse Rae, Tracy Rae”
John was thrown. Tracy noticed a strange look in his eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“Have you ever worked in Scotland?” asked John.
“What a strange question, I’ve worked in most places during my career and yes I have worked a couple of times in Scotland.”
John knew he was pushing his luck, “main land or off shore?” he asked.
“Now why
The four figures quickly stripped of their black clothing and threw them into the back of the second Range Rover. Two men got into each car, then turned around and drove back in the direction the wagon had just come from.
A mile and a half down the road a second identical prisoner movement wagon was driving along the same route through the wooded countryside. Inside the cab the crew were talking and enjoying the spectacular scenery. They were approaching a bend in the road when they saw a woman lying in the road. Fifty yards in front of her they could see a car had left the road and crashed, head on into tree, a male was slumped out of the front passenger door, only his seatbelt had stopped him from falling completely out of the car.
The driver pulled up fifty yards back from the woman lying in the road; he got out of the cab and walked towards her. As he got closer to her he could clearly see a pool of blood on the road. Turning back towards the wagon he shouted to his colleague to radio for the emergency services. It was obvious they would need expert assistance. He reached the woman, she was lying face down on her stomach face, and her left hand was underneath her body, her right covered in blood. The driver felt her neck for a pulse, he could feel one. “Can you hear me?” he asked. The victim started to quietly moan. “Can you feel any pain anywhere?” he asked, not knowing if that was the right thing to say or not.
“My arm,” she mumbled, “my arm hurts.”
“Which arm?” he asked.
She faintly replied “underneath me, my arm hurts so much.”
The driver was way out of his depth, “I’ll try and lift you just a little and have a look, is that OK?”
She nodded. He called his colleague to come over and help. Between them they managed to lift her enough to give them the space they needed to free her trapped arm. Before they could move her arm the victim quickly spun around and jumped up. In her trapped hand she was holding a nine mm Browning pistol.
“Number four,” she shouted. The injured man slumped out of the car door got up and ran over to his colleague. He looked at the two men kneeling on the ground, took out his own pistol and pointed it at the wagon driver. Number four pointed towards to wagon,” you, come with me,” he said to the driver.
“What do you want?” asked the driver.
“Shut up and walk,” snapped number four.
As they walked towards the wagon two others emerged from the wood. “Nice work agent three.”
She smiled, “Thanks.”
Agent four and the driver reached the back of the wagon, he pushed the driver against the rear door “Unlock it.” he ordered. The driver fumbled with his keys, “Hurry up,” snapped agent four.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” said the driver, “I’m not used to having a pistol waved in my face.” The driver found the key he was looking for; he put in the lock and turned it. Agent four grabbed him by the arm and pushed him onto the road. “Stay there and don’t move, who knows you might get to walk away from this.” Agent four swung open the rear door and went to jump inside. Instead he just froze on the spot. Standing in the rear of the wagon were two men, dressed from head to toe in black combat clothes. Each had their face covered with a black ski mask. Agent fours eyes were focused on the two nine mm HK MP5 machine pistols pointing straight at him. The driver stood up and took the Browning out of agent fours hand. He did not resist.
“The hunter becomes the hunted,” said the driver.
The first man inside the wagon motioned for agent four to get in. He did. “Have you any idea who you’re dealing with?” asked agent four.
“We know exactly who you are. All of you are members of one of the most highly secret agencies this country has. All of you were placed in positions of ultimate trust by the Her Majesty, and you all took a sworn oath to give your own lives in order to protect the interests of the United Kingdom. What you actually did was sell your souls to the highest bidder. In this case high ranking but ultimately corrupt military officers from both the US and the UK. You are all guilty of treason and were here to carry out sentencing.”
Who are you? At least tell me that.”
“We’re the good guys.”
Agent four was given a piece of paper and told to shout it, word for word to his colleagues. He was also reminded that there was a lot of firepower pointing in his direction just in case he decided to deviate from the script.
Agent four jumped down from the back of the wagon, “It’s empty,” he shouted to agents one, two and three, “it’s empty, there’s no one in it.”
Agent one turned towards the second man, “Where’s the prisoner you were taking to court?”
“What prisoner? There’s no prisoner. We were on our way to the Scrubs to transfer prisoners to Outcross. We weren’t on the court run.”
Agent one pointed his pistol at the second man. “Are you absolutely certain about that?”
“Yes,” stammered the second man.
“Then it looks like you are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Agent one took aim at the second man. There was a two second burst of automatic weapon fire and agent one’s body disintegrated in a hail of bullets. Agents two and three spun around, pistols raised, to where the gunfire had come from. They were too slow; the second man pulled his own pistol from the back of the trousers and thrust it into the small of the back of agent two.
“Drop the weapon,” said the second man as he stood up. The pistol was quickly moved from the small of his back to the nape of his neck. Agent two’s pistol clattered on the ground.
Two men appeared from the woods, each fully camouflaged. Fully automatic weapons were rained on both HSS agents.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” said the second man to agent two. He looked puzzled, “What do you mean, lied?”
“I said we were on our way to pick up prisoners from the Scrubs, I wasn’t, I was on my way to pick up you.”
“One thing before we go,” said one of the men who came from the woods. He handed large black bags to the two surviving HSS agents. He pointed to the remains of agent one. “Clean up that mess.”
That job done, the three surviving agents were shepherded into the back of the wagon; each was put into a separate cubical. The second man started the engine and drove away.
Chapter 20
John was starting to wake up; he could feel himself coming round. He knew he was lying down although not flat as he felt propped up. For now he thought it would be safer for him to keep his eyes closed. Keep up the pretence that he was still out. He hoped he might be able to hear someone talking about him, or better still them. At least then he might have some idea as to who had taken him and what they intended to do with him. The vision of Tracy’s shooting was still fresh in his memory and as much as he missed Tracy he did not want the same thing to happen to him. John actually wondered for a minute if that defined him as a coward. He decided not, John did everything he could that day. He had been over powered and drugged, just as he had however long ago it had been. Wanting to live to see tomorrow did not make him a coward and maybe tomorrow would be the day he would be able to see justice done on those who had shot Tracy.
John was trying to sense where he was, he knew he was not moving and there was no sound of an engine. In fact there was no sound at all, everything was eerily quiet. He decided there was no one else around him and started to open his eyes, very slowly at first, just enough to tell if he was in the light or dark. He kept his head still and moved his eyes from side to side; he knew he was in a room and that there was a light on. As far as he could tell there was no natural light, and that, the thought, meant the room did not have any windows, one less way out. He moved his eyes downwards; he was trying to make out what it was he was lying on, then he realised, it was a dentist’s chair. Lying as still as he could John tried to move his arms, he was surprised to find he could, they were not bound or restrained in any way. Next he tried to move his legs; again he was free to do so without any restrictions. John opened his eyes. The light seemed intense to him and he quickly closed them again. Then slowly, he opened his eyes for the second time, this time he was far more controlled. Over a period of time he opened them a little more, then a little more until they were fully open.
John was now fully accustomed to the light and he was looking at the most sterile room he had ever seen in his life. The only piece of furniture in the room was the one he was sat in. All the walls were covered in white ceramic tiles; the ceiling was suspended with square white tiles and built in fluorescent lighting. The floor did offer some contrast though as it was covered in a light blue lino. For the first time John moved his head, he lifted it up off the relining chair and looked cautiously around. Satisfied there was no one else in the room he propped himself up on elbows. He was just about to get off the chair when the door opened and a woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform walked in.
“I see you’re awake then,” she said in a far more cheery voice than John had expected. “How are you feeling, I believe you’ve had a bit of a rough time recently?”
John sat up and stretched his arms and legs; he then turned he head around to exercise his neck slightly. “All things considered I don’t feel so bad.” Replied John, “could you tell me where I am?” he asked, more out of hope than any expectation of getting an answer.
“All in good time Mr Reynolds. I just let the Professor know you’re awake. I’m sure he’ll be able to answer your questions.”
“I’m sure he will,” said John under his breath. John was desperate to find out something, “Can I ask your name?” he asked.
“Of course you can, I’m Charge Nurse Rae, Tracy Rae”
John was thrown. Tracy noticed a strange look in his eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“Have you ever worked in Scotland?” asked John.
“What a strange question, I’ve worked in most places during my career and yes I have worked a couple of times in Scotland.”
John knew he was pushing his luck, “main land or off shore?” he asked.
“Now why
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