Tears then for Babes

Were not revenge sufficient for me;
No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.

Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me.

Henry VI

Tears then for Babes is a gritty and fast paced thriller charting the pilgrimage of retribution a grieving husband makes to the shrine of vengeful requital. His world in tatters and driven to the brink of the abyss, the surviving victim of an inept and negligent physician confronts the painful truth of what he has become and what he has inevitably been condemned to do, if he is ever again to feel the comforting embrace of peace in his life or to liberate his aching soul from hell.

Annie and James Stirling have everything to live for and look forward to. A deep and burgeoning love for each other, uncomplicated lives, a new home, good jobs, and the precious gift of new life seeded in Annie’s womb, conceived in love and nurtured on devotion. Their dreams and James’ world are shattered when Annie and their unborn child die, the victims of ignorance, arrogance and negligence at the hands of a callous and egotistical consultant surgeon.

Over a two year period, James first plots then embarks upon a journey of revenge against his nemesis, aided by a young runaway, herself a victim of the same incompetent and remorseless doctor. Together they methodically put in place the pieces of a jigsaw which slowly reveals a picture of uncompromising retaliation and comprehensive reprisal, a grotesque malediction which in their former lives both would have railed against. James is driven. An ordinary and uncomplicated man but intelligent and resourceful, he finds himself capable of complex and extraordinary actions fuelled by the pain of loss and the enduring love he carries in his heart. His accomplice is young, brave, beautiful and determined. Whilst not graced with the same gifts of innovation and invention she none the less contributes her own blend of streetwise savvy with an unswerving loyalty and dedication which on occasion threatens to blossom into something more.

Together they finally confront the prey they have tracked and trapped. Everything has been meticulously planned, nothing left to chance and yet at the moment of victory, when salvation is in sight a final cruel and terrible price is exacted for attainment of their shared goal. Instead of liberation comes once more the chiding disharmony of loss. The price tag on redemption for a soul rescued from hell is measured in anguish and counted only in misery.

This book is a distinct genre, a brand of thriller where the reader is not tracking the clever and courageous acts of a hero narrowly averting disaster and delivering a safe and comforting reassurance that good must triumph over evil. In Tears then for Babes, the reader is projected into a world where life’s value set has been re-calibrated for a single machiavellian imperative. Here, when the hammer falls there is a round in the chamber, no white knights ride to the rescue, the timer does tick to zero, a slip is a fall and the Jackal always makes his shot. Unravelling the consequences and reconciling them, like picking a hero or a victim, is a challenge left open for the reader.