Seumas escaped from the world of finance five years ago, after a career spanning three continents and five decades.
As the self-professed ‘oldest computer Jurassic on the planet’ his headlong immersion into the dizzy world of eBook publishing opened his eyes, mind, and pleasure to the joys of self-publishing. As a former businessman, he rapidly understood the concept of a writer’s need to ‘build the platform’, and from a standing start began to develop a social networking outreach, which now tops 18,000 direct contacts.
His first two crime-thrillers, THE VIOLIN MAN’S LEGACY and VENGEANCE WEARS BLACK blew his mind with more than 75,000 e-link downloads to date. The third in what has become the ‘Jack Calder’ series, SAVAGE PAYBACK, was launched late 2013.
He started a humorous, informative, self-publishers blog less than two years ago, never having heard of a ‘blog’ prior to that, was voted ‘Blogger of the Year 2013’ and now has a loyal blog following on his networks. He says the novels contain his ‘Author’s Voice’, while the blog carries his ‘Author’s Brand’. And he’s LUVVIN IT!
BlurbThriller with bloody twists and turns as ruthless killers meet their match in a former SAS hit squad.Jack Calder is an ex-SAS soldier working with former colleagues at ISP, a specialist security firm. He is sent to investigate a murderous diamond heist in Holland, but swiftly learns that there is a very strong Far East connection. He then travels to Hong Kong where he meets the glamorous chief of ISP’s local bureau, May-Ling.Together they begin to unravel a complex web of corruption. The twin spiders at the centre of this web are the Chan brothers, leaders of one of Hong Kong’s most ruthless and powerful triad gangs.The trail of death and mayhem coils across Europe, Hong Kong and South America until all the scores are settled.
- Book Title: The Violin Man’s Legacy
- Author: Seumas Gallacher
- Genre: Crime Thriller
- Length: 208 pages
- Release Date: July 17, 2011
Contact Links For Seumas Gallacher
Website | Twitter: @seumasgallacher
Purchase Links for The Violin Man’s Legacy
When I was ten, my school was near a reading institute funded by IBM, who offered our class a free speed-reading course. The good result is that to this day I am a superfast reader. The bad result is that I’ve never learned how to read a book any way but straight through to the finish. 496 pages before Emma notices Mr. Knightly? Hell, yeah. 784 pages until Harry vanquishes Voldemort? Bring it on! 1300 pages for Pierre to make it through war, peace, and the truly bitchy Helene? Personal hygiene is overrated, and you can always sleep when you’re dead.
I don’t get people who can read a few pages a night and then turn off the light: I’m cranky when I can’t finish a book in one sitting. So I knew it would probably be a mistake to start a new one as I boarded the one-hour train to Edinburgh. But I’d had The Violin Man’s Legacy queued up on my Kindle for a while now, and from reading his blog, I already know how entertaining author Seumas Gallacher is.
And holy capers! Ten minutes in and we’ve had two flawlessly deadly daylight heists plus a Chinese mob execution. Bodies are everywhere, bullets flying, and millions of dollars worth of jewels stolen. Who you gonna call? Jack Calder and the other dishy ex-SAS (British special forces) team that makes up the security company, International Security Partners Limited, of course. ISP is hired by the gem business, Gemtec, victims of the jewel heist. But for Jack and his colleagues, having a former SAS buddy as one of the casualties makes the assignment personal.
I was in the middle of learning about how gem shipments were packaged and couriered when my train pulled into Edinburgh. No problem, because I had to get some paperwork notarized at the US Consulate, and I knew I’d probably have a lot of time to kill while I waited. What I didn’t know was that the polite young man at the consulate door would relieve me of everything I had containing a battery, from phone to keys to [sob!] Kindle. The waiting room had a few wilted children’s books and several glossy magazines extolling the US, but there really wasn’t much on jewel heists or murderous Asian gangs.
Luckily, I was meeting my daughter for lunch, and arrived way too early at the restaurant. Score! I pulled out my Kindle and fired up The Violin Man’s Legacy. Jack Calder was on the elevator with the beautiful May-Ling, with assassins waiting in the shadows. The body count was already enormous, and their mysterious enemies had taken all the tricks so far. “Jack put his finger to his lips to signal silence as they stepped out slowly.”
An airborne Cheerio hit my Kindle screen. Followed by several more in rapid succession.
A few tables over, a young couple had been trying to pacify their cranky toddler and infant with Cheerios. Of course, both started to fuss and then scream, earning the stink-eye from those around. The Cheerio-flinger was pulled down by a red-faced father, while his mother told me she was sorry.
Whatever. I turned back to Jack and May-Ling. “Jack took a few seconds to adjust his vision to the difference in the darker area. May-Ling followed several feet behind him. Halfway down from the fifth to the fourth floor Jack saw him, a dark-clothed man, shoulder-length hair, one hand cupping a cigarette, the other inside the fold of his jacket, leaning against the wall. He was hidden in the shadows, captured by a glimmer of light from across the stairwell opening.”
Raised voices with American accents intruded, as nearby diners asked the waitress to reseat them. The baby wailed on. Not my problem.
By now, Jack had efficiently dispatched his assailant, and it was May-Ling’s turn. “May-Ling reached under the outstretched arm and levered in the classic disarm technique. The man squealed as his fingers released the weapon. The knife slid from his hand and May-Ling caught the handle, spinning the man to face her. With her nose almost touching the attacker’s, she drove the steel upward under the left rib cage and turned it hard. He died in seconds as the metal blade ruptured his heart. Like his partner, he slid noiselessly to the landing floor.”
The waitress came over to apologize to me. “No worries,” I assured her. “After four kids, I couldn’t care less about what goes into or emerges from someone else’s child.” Oops. My own child had just arrived, and was giving me a strange look. It was really, really hard, but I managed to step away from the Kindle while we had lunch. (This had nothing to do with the fact that my daughter confiscated it. Really. I’m just that good a mom…)
FINALLY it was just me and the ScotRail train back to Glasgow. The rest of The Violin Man’s Legacy was just as satisfying its beginning. As thrillers go, this one is of the it’s-easier-to-shoot-first-and-apologize-later persuasion. The bad guys are so thoroughly, irretrievably bad, and so impossible to bring down through usual legal channels, that it’s not too difficult to suspend one’s usual belief in details like legal arrest and prosecution. Like all good heroes, Jack and his pals never miss their shots or cause collateral damage. Their silenced weapons make only 007-style pft-pffft sounds that would never alert nearby baddies. I just loved every second of it.
I don’t hesitate to give The Violin Man’s Legacy five out of five stars. The action was fast-paced, the characters (men AND women) suitably kickass, and Jack Calder—while occasionally broadly-sketched—showed growth and development. Jack’s devastating personal history leads to the title of the story. It also provides counterpoint to his deadly professional persona, giving a complex depth and dimension to his character. My only complaint is that the fragile attraction growing between Jack and May-Ling could have used more development.
I can’t wait to read the rest of this series. Maybe not on the train, though…
Excerpt from The Violin Man’s Legacy
The fortune teller showed no reaction. He made a slight humming sound as he found his way to the page he was looking for. He then looked Jack straight in the eye and asked him in English to bring his face a little closer. Jack did as he was asked. The old Chinaman stretched a hand towards Jack’s face and trailed his thin fingers lightly twice across the Scotsman’s forehead. Then with both hands he pressed gently with all the fingertips at the sides of Jack’s head for about fifteen seconds. Everything was quiet. Not even the noise from the street was penetrating to the room. The fortune teller’s eyes were closed. When he opened them, Jack felt that the stare was going right through his own eyes. No words were spoken for a few more moments until finally the husky voice broke the silence.
“Mister Jack,” he addressed him, with a slow sideways movement of his head, still peering intently as if struggling to ensure a pinpoint focus.
He spoke softly now. “You are accustomed to seeing people from the long sleep. Pain comes that you cannot keep away. That pain is needed to clear your heart of another soreness of a loss from a time more long ago.”
Jack suddenly felt an all too familiar chill coldness at the back of his neck.
The old man spoke again. “There are many things that may not be understood Mister Jack. But there is one thing I think you should understand.”
Jack found his own voice, and asked, this time with respect, “What would that be, sir?”
“You should understand this. Your father was you. You are your father. Your father is you. This sleep pain will no longer come to you.”
Jack felt a lump at his throat. He did not reply to the old man.
Any flippancy that he had brought into this divan was now completely gone.
“Will you give me your left hand, please?” he continued, extending a bony hand of his own across the table towards Jack.
Jack did as he was asked and placed his hand in the old man’s. The man’s fingers grasped Jack’s gently. They felt firm without clutching. The fortune teller turned his eyes to the palm in front of him. There was an unmistakable small sharp intake of breath which Jack clearly heard. So did May-Ling and Malky.
“What is it, old man?” he asked, his own instincts now fully alert.
The man’s stare at Jack’s palm was fixed. After what seemed a long time he turned his eyes towards Jack’s face. Where before there was only a passive look, a more serious, questioning shadow flirted.
His voice was even quieter than before. “Why is it, Mister Jack, that you are the only one who hears it?”
“Hears what?” he asked, mystified.
“The music, Mister Jack,” he paused, then continued, “the music of death. Why are you the only one who hears it?”
A shiver went through Jack’s body. He had really no idea what this man was talking about, but somehow, deep down inside him, it was making sense.
How could that be? How could something he didn’t understand make sense?