Page Title

PLOT SYNOPSIS

When an inexplicable rash of suicide-leaps strikes the heart of a community, Detective Inspector Card and D.S. Weekes are in a race against time to find the killer agent.

Matters are aggravated by the unleashing of a megabyte of malicious computer virus upon the Internet, which has the ability to spawn unlimited clones, resulting in untold chaos, threats and systems crashing.

Then a chance encounter with a pot of mind blowing jam is the precursor to a complex tapestry of intrigue and deceit instigated by a malevolent jam maker, who is not all he seems.

Against all odds, Card, with assistance from super sleuths Olive Barford and Maurice Murvey attempt to unravel a subtle plot to depopulate the Earth, by stealth.

And for those with a sweet tooth, doom is just around the corner, until events take an unexpected turn. An apparent victory raises the stakes when the perpetrator vows the ultimate revenge.

Faced with the destruction of a nuclear reactor, Card, Olive and Maurice realise there is only one way to avert total disaster. But the outcome results in a startling revelation, with a barb in the tip of the tale.

EXTRACT~ SAMPLE

Roy Jezzard staggered out of the pub in a blind fury, having lost £300 on a sure-fire winner, Golden Flyer at 50 to one. "Bloomin' jockey," cursed Roy. He made his way to the off licence for a bottle of vodka to drown his sorrows. "Graspin' bookie," he muttered, and stumbled into the corner shop unaware of being watched. A tall dark figure stood in the shadowy recess opposite the off licence.

Roy sauntered up to the counter, and raked around in his coat pocket for some change. "Rats, never find me change bag when I need it," he grumbled. He dived into his other pocket for his wallet.

"Same as usual?" asked Mr.. Khan.

"What else!" replied Roy. Mr. Khan reached for the vodka bottle.

"On second thoughts I'll have the full measure this time," said Roy.

Mr. Khan's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure about that?"

"Course. Have to compensate for the biggest tragedy of modern times," grunted Roy.

"Tragedy?" inquired Mr. Khan.

"Yeah! 50 to blimmin' one and £300 straight down the blinkin' bog," stated Roy.

Mr. Khan smiled. He knew all about Roy's ambition to take the bookie to the cleaners.

"That bad eh, Roy," said Mr. Khan.

"Yeah, but it won't be that bad in 20 minutes or so, when I got that down me," said Roy.

Mr. Khan wrapped the bottle in tissue and slid it in a blue carrier bag. "That'll be £9.57p."

"Money well spent," said Roy digging into his wallet.

"You should have a tonic instead of pouring that stuff down your throat," said Mr. Khan.

"Tonic? What tonic?" asked Roy.

"Ah, perhaps something to restore your esteem," suggested Mr. Khan.

Roy let his jaw drop. "Hold on ya' is losing me here. Ya' mean drugs a some

Mr. Khan looked offended. "No, nothing like that. I mean a different sort of tonic. You ought to eat a bit more."

"Eat, nah! Not hungry," snapped Roy

"Don't take offence, Roy," said Mr. Khan. "Here let me show you." Mr. Khan slid a little jar across the counter. "I only keep this for my regular customers. Very scarce it is, so it costs."

"How much?" grunted Roy.

"For you £3.90," said Mr. Khan.

"What is it?" asked Roy.

"Oh you'll enjoy it. Spread it on a slice of bread," said Mr. Khan. Roy scratched his stubbly chin, gave a beery belch and picked up the little jar. Due to the drink the label looked a bit fuzzy.

"Looks like blinkin' Marmite," said Roy.

"No, Roy it's far better. Make you feel wonderful," implied Mr. Khan.

"Ain't got any blinkin' bread," said Roy.

"That I can help you with also," said Mr. Khan. "Here special offer, just 5Op. End of today's delivery," said Mr. Khan, holding a bagged loaf of Value Bread.

"All right," said Roy. "Nothin' to lose I s'pose."

Mr. Khan placed the loaf and jar into the blue bag. "You won't regret it."

"Hah! But I already do regret it," said Roy. "50 to blinkin' one regret it."

Roy shuffled out of the off licence and made his way down the street, while the darkish figure standing in the shadowy corner rubbed his hands in glee. But as Roy staggered down the street he felt as though he was being watched and shivered while the bleary fuzzy sensation of five pints and numerous chasers had dissipated. Roy didn't like that one jot and decided a top up was needed. He halted at a bus stop, withdrew the vodka bottle and unscrewed the lid with haste. "Ah! Gawd, down the hatch." The vodka slid down and Roy shoved the bottle into the bag. The warming

sensation of the drink made him feel better and self-assured. He ambled along the pavement to his flat in a rundown tower block on Bromyard Road. He entered the foyer and found the lifts were out of order.

"Gawd," cursed Roy, "not my day."

He made for the stairwell but had to climb seven flights. He entered his squalid domain but as usual, left the lights off in order to keep the electricity bill down. In the kitchen, he sloshed a liberal quantity of vodka into a cracked mug and swilled. He went to the lounge area, sank on the sofa while gulping from the mug. "50 to bleedin' one," he cursed. He fell into a semi zombie-like trance.

Two hours later a cold (please get to the toilet) feeling numbed Roy's lower abdomen. Having relieved himself, he sank back on the sofa, but couldn't sleep. He mused over Mr. Khan's philosophy. Then Roy got the night munchies and was glad to have purchased the bread. He stumbled into the kitchen and raked around in the carrier bag for the loaf. Roy always left the curtains undrawn for the light. "Rats, I'm out o' cheese," thought Roy. Then he noticed the little jar and stared at it. "S'pose it'll do." He unscrewed the lid and spread a thin layer of the dark paste over the bread in the semi-gloom. He munched away, and had a vague notion it was blackcurrant jam, though with the drink and cigarettes his taste was somewhat dulled. "Ah, that's better." He sat on the sofa once more and sipped the last of the vodka. "Weren't bad that stuff. Wonder what it was?" He got up and ambled into the kitchen and became aware of a slight hazy tangerine glow about a foot above the floor.

"Now what do ya' know about that?" he thought…