Book Description

Heinous murders haunt the poorer streets of Sydney. Dr. Marcus Learnaby is a loving, caring, highly skilled surgeon to his patients and those who work under him. To his wife and young son, he is a dictator, a martinet of the worst kind. Could there be an even darker side to the doctor, a side which seeks death and darkness as it hides the truth? Will one detective be able to bring him face to face with his true self and end a long killing spree? Chapter One Excerpt May 18, 1834 - She walked down the narrow sloping road from Upper North Street headed for the flight of stone steps. After a long, hard night, there was hardly anybody around as the hands on the distant church-tower clock pointed at 3:14 a.m. She longed for her bed - the comfort of a lumpy, horsehair mattress. In her pocket jingled the few pennies she earned this night. Only the patrolling troopers shared the streets with her now; the patrolling troopers, stray dogs snuffling bins for leftover food-scraps, and howling tomcats on backyard fences. She moved down the long, twisting flight of steps. She would keep her nightly appointment with the dark man in the blacked-out hansom cab, hand over her earnings and receive in exchange a few pennies, enough to purchase a meal at the 'greasy-spoon' stall. She longed for something more substantial, but knew her dreams of a solid meal, a steak in a fancy restaurant were no more than dreams. As she negotiated the last step and moved onto Lower North Street, a uniformed trooper passed her by, slowed in his regular, military pace, and looked her over, then decided she was not worth the effort and moved on into the shadows of the buildings lining the narrow lane. She walked westward, gazing with half-interest at the shopfronts and stores on her left, one after the other, wondering what it would be like to stand, clad in raiment more suited to a lady than a street-walker, and fondle the merchandise before buying. From behind her, the sound of hoof-beats echoed, slow and measured, and a blacked-out hansom appeared, its driver hunched over the reins, his face hidden by the felt hat pulled low down over the hooked nose. As he passed close to her, the nearside door opened, and a harsh, guttural voice said, "Get in." She reached a hand to the door frame and did as she was bid. She sank with relief onto the padded thickness of the leather-bound seat opposite the dark figure staring across at her, the eyes glittering in the half-light from the street outside. A hand appeared, palm upwards, and she dug into her pocket, pulled out the few coins resting there, and placed them in the palm, watching as it closed over the contents and withdrew. He stared down at the coins for a moment, moving one or two aside with a long, thick forefinger, then slowly returned his gaze to her face. "Didna do so well tonight, my lovely," he said in his curious accent, the words rolling from his tongue as if he begrudged the world so much as one. "Sorry..." she began, but stopped as the hand rose before her, palm outwards, bidding her to silence. "This ain't tha first time ye've let me down...gittin' ta be a habit lately," the voice said, and she felt a hand of fear tiptoe up her spine and hover at the back of her neck, making the hairs stand erect. The hand rose a little higher, the knuckles facing her now, and a finger bent and straightened, bent and straightened. "Come here," the voice said, and she rose and leaned forward, her hand going to the roof-strut over her head to maintain her balance in the rocking cab. She bent her face close to the man's, not wanting to miss a word of what was said next, and suddenly a sharp, twisting pain filled her abdomen, temporarily blinding her and bringing a bright white light into focus before her startled eyes. She looked down, at the long, thin-bladed stiletto protruding from her midriff, and as she stared at it, the fist holding it seemed to float from left to right, across her midriff, and the pain intensi