Written by R J Dark
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This morning I welcome R J Dark to my blog. His recently published novel, A Numbers Game is currently on a blog tour with Zooloos Book Tours, and today I have a short extract for you to enjoy.
The blurb:
A Numbers GameOne dead man and a missing lottery ticket.
Two family members who need that money to get away from the rundown Blades Edge estate.
Three local gangsters who want that money for themselves.
Meet Malachite Jones – the foremost (and only) psychic medium on the gritty Blades Edge estate. All he wants are two things: a name that isn’t ‘Malachite’, and a quiet life. And maybe some real psychic powers, but he’s making a living without them.
Janine Stanbeck wants to find her dead husband Larry’s winning ticket and escape Blades Edge with her son. And she thinks Mal can help her.
But Larry’s dad is the crime lord of the estate, and he wants that ticket for himself, and worse for Mal, he’s not the only criminal with his eyes on it. Add in two coppers desperate to nick Mal’s best, only, and admittedly quite dangerous, friend, Jackie Singh Kattar, and Blades Edge is getting pretty crowded.
Malachite Jones might not really be able to talk to the dead, but if he and his friend Jackie Singh Kattar can’t find that money and a solution that pleases everyone they’re likely to be in need of a psychic medium themselves.
The first Mal Jones and Jackie Singh Kattar adventure: a chaotic rollercoaster ride through a Yorkshire landscape full of double crossing friends, dogged police, psychotic gangster and voices from the other side.
Thriller
Mystery
Two men were waiting for me. One was small and wide – muscular wide, like someone who worked out a lot, and he stood at the back of the office. He had a head the shape of a bullet, and his hair was shaved into a silvery sheen across his scalp. When he looked at me, his eyes were such a pale blue as to seem almost blank. On his back he had a knapsack and it pulled the cheap blue suit he wore out of shape. Sat in my chair was another man; older, his suit was expensive, and he had thick dark hair, slicked back like Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, but where Ray’s face was sharp his was soft, like he lived too well. He stood up, a big – genuine – smile on his face that revealed a golden incisor.
‘Mr Jones,’ he said. He had the voice and outrageous accent of a Russian bond villain. I stood where I was, unsure what to do. ‘Did Beryl let you in?’
‘Oh no.’ He waved his hands in the air, laughing. ‘We let ourselves in. But do not worry, we did not do any damage – we are very much the professionals.’
‘Well …’ I sat in the client’s chair opposite the man. ‘Thanks, I guess. Look, I’ve had a really busy day and—’
‘I am Frank,’ said the man. ‘And my compatriot’ – he spelled out each syllable like it was a word he had only just learned – ‘is Harry. Harry, see, he is like your prince, yes?’
‘He doesn’t really look like P—’
‘Shh!’ said Frank, holding his fingers to his lips. ‘Harry is very fond of your royals – it would not do to upset him.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You’re Frank, and he’s Harry, like the prince.’
‘Exactly. Now, Mr Malachite Jones, I doubt you can tell from my speaking, but I am Russian.’
I didn’t know whether he was joking or not, so didn’t say anything.
‘Harry is Russian also,’ Frank continued, ‘but he has a very strong accent and has not truly mastered your language, so I do the speaking. We like to stay incognito,’ he grinned. ‘You know this word?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good! Good! We are getting on very well.’
I looked for the right way to explain how I felt about us getting on well. I wanted to use ‘uneasy’ but I wasn’t sure Frank would like that. I finally opted for. ‘I’m glad?’
‘Yes!’ he beamed. ‘So am I.’ He leaned across my desk, steepling his fingers. ‘Now, Mr Jones, I have a problem. It is not a good problem, but it may be one you can help me with. I have a number of business interests around the city – clubs, bars, shops, etc. Many interesting things, and sometimes I come into contact with Mr Mick Stanbeck – you have heard of him, yes?’ He didn’t give me time to reply. ‘Well, it has come to my attention that Mr Stanbeck may be about to come into a large amount of money and I am afraid that may tip the delicate balance of capitalism in this part of the world too far in his favour. Something I do not want.’
Again, searching for the right reaction. I don’t think Frank wanted to hear my immediate thought of, ‘Oh shit.’
‘Of course not,’ I said.
‘So, should you come across a certain missing lottery ticket when you are speaking to the spirits, I would like you to give it to me.’
‘Won’t that tip the balance in your favour?’
‘You are a clever man, Mr Jones.’ He leaned forward, still grinning. ‘It will, yes. But that is not something I find as objectionable.’
‘Mr Jones,’ he said. He had the voice and outrageous accent of a Russian bond villain. I stood where I was, unsure what to do. ‘Did Beryl let you in?’
‘Oh no.’ He waved his hands in the air, laughing. ‘We let ourselves in. But do not worry, we did not do any damage – we are very much the professionals.’
‘Well …’ I sat in the client’s chair opposite the man. ‘Thanks, I guess. Look, I’ve had a really busy day and—’
‘I am Frank,’ said the man. ‘And my compatriot’ – he spelled out each syllable like it was a word he had only just learned – ‘is Harry. Harry, see, he is like your prince, yes?’
‘He doesn’t really look like P—’
‘Shh!’ said Frank, holding his fingers to his lips. ‘Harry is very fond of your royals – it would not do to upset him.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You’re Frank, and he’s Harry, like the prince.’
‘Exactly. Now, Mr Malachite Jones, I doubt you can tell from my speaking, but I am Russian.’
I didn’t know whether he was joking or not, so didn’t say anything.
‘Harry is Russian also,’ Frank continued, ‘but he has a very strong accent and has not truly mastered your language, so I do the speaking. We like to stay incognito,’ he grinned. ‘You know this word?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good! Good! We are getting on very well.’
I looked for the right way to explain how I felt about us getting on well. I wanted to use ‘uneasy’ but I wasn’t sure Frank would like that. I finally opted for. ‘I’m glad?’
‘Yes!’ he beamed. ‘So am I.’ He leaned across my desk, steepling his fingers. ‘Now, Mr Jones, I have a problem. It is not a good problem, but it may be one you can help me with. I have a number of business interests around the city – clubs, bars, shops, etc. Many interesting things, and sometimes I come into contact with Mr Mick Stanbeck – you have heard of him, yes?’ He didn’t give me time to reply. ‘Well, it has come to my attention that Mr Stanbeck may be about to come into a large amount of money and I am afraid that may tip the delicate balance of capitalism in this part of the world too far in his favour. Something I do not want.’
Again, searching for the right reaction. I don’t think Frank wanted to hear my immediate thought of, ‘Oh shit.’
‘Of course not,’ I said.
‘So, should you come across a certain missing lottery ticket when you are speaking to the spirits, I would like you to give it to me.’
‘Won’t that tip the balance in your favour?’
‘You are a clever man, Mr Jones.’ He leaned forward, still grinning. ‘It will, yes. But that is not something I find as objectionable.’
| Author Bio – R J Dark |
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 Spending his youth as an underground musician and occasional club promoter, he then moved on to stints as an advertising copywriter, trainer, playwright, music reviewer, amateur historian, TV cameraman, anarchist, contrarian, engineer and fraud investigator. After a long battle with chronic illness, RJ finally settled on a career in writing. He lives in a crumbling ancient mansion somewhere in Yorkshire and is surrounded by books, music, animals and his family. You can connect with RJ on Twitter |
| Social Media Links – | |
| @RJDarker | |
Thank you so much for taking part in the tour today and sharing this extract
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