Fall of the House of Hades begins when a young woman’s body is found, sprawled on the floor of her apartment with a hole smashed in her skull. Detective Inspector Kelly Ross and Detective Constable Jordan Sparrow are called to the scene where they discover that there’s no obvious motive and that the victim’s true identity is unknown.
Their investigation leads them to the home of an aristocrat whose self-indulgent son has a secret to hide. But the young man’s mobile phone records give them their first clue and lead the detectives to a hedonistic cult just five miles outside of town. Persephone, the cult’s voluptuous leader is also hiding secrets that Kelly and Jordan can’t decipher.
Their search becomes more and more frustrating as they hit dead-end after dead-end. But then, they come across a former cult member who’s willing to expose the deep secrets of the group and tell them about the threat that it poses to the whole world. Though she has much information to give, she’s unable to offer details of how, where, and when the cataclysmic event will happen. Now, it’s more than a murder enquiry. Much more. But the burden of proof lies with the two detectives.
Enter Oddball, Harry, and Saxon, the team from N2K – a highly secret government agency. With their resources, can they stop what seems to be the inevitable outcome? Only one way to find out and that’s to read ‘Fall of the House of Hades’.
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DEFYING THE ODDS
“Right, with me then.” Oddball turned to his left in the direction of Sandringham House sitting in isolated splendour, three hundred metres away in its manicured grounds. “This is where they come from Kelly? Yes?”
“They’re already on the way,” Kelly said, pointing along the path on the other side of a metal gate. “These so-called spontaneous events are actually planned and run with military precision. I know because, as a uniformed sergeant, I was part of the ‘Sandringham Duty Team’ on more than one occasion. At eleven o’clock – give or take a few seconds – the royals will walk through that gate and onwards into the church.” Oddball screwed up his eyes against the winter sun and peered to where she was pointing. The royal family was still a little way away, strolling and chatting without a care in the world. King Charles was looking dapper, as always, with a long, dark cashmere overcoat. Queen Camilla strode alongside him, her grey hair sticking out from under a big, furry, Cossack-style winter hat. Behind, the rest of the royals, all done up in their Sunday best. “Bugger,” Oddball said. His jaw clenched. “We need to keep them away from the church, but with the minimum of fuss or panic.” He strode towards the metal gate. A tall, solid man blocked his path. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, staring at Oddball’s black balaclava. “You if you don’t bloody move.” The man reached into his overcoat. “No chance. I’m Royal Protection Squad, you’re not—” but he never finished his sentence as Oddball landed a haymaker on his jaw. The man went down and Oddball reached into his coat and removed the pistol the man had been intent on using. “Sorry, chum. But you won’t be needing this.” He gave Harry the pistol. “Here, Annie Oakley I want you and Kelly to turn that royal party round and get them back into the house. I don’t give a fuck how you do it as long as you don’t actually shoot them. Saxon, you’re with me. We look for anything suspicious either side of the path they’re on.”
