‘Non-stop action, breakneck pace, deliciously suspenseful . . . When Shadows Fall was my first DS Max Craigie book and won’t be my last – I loved it’ Andrea Mara
‘Neil is the master of the crime mystery’ Jeremy Vine
‘Grabbed me from the first page’ Ian Rankin
‘Utterly compelling, ingeniously plotted and incredibly entertaining, this puts Neil Lancaster up at the forefront of Tartan Noir’ Liz Nugent
‘Fast-paced, compelling and deeply authentic’ Jane Casey
‘Neil Lancaster is a thriller writer set to blow up the bestseller lists’ C. L. Taylor
‘Action-packed and lightning-paced with some of the best dialogue I’ve read . . . Explosive and compelling’ Helen Fields
‘Tight and tense with laugh-out-loud moments. An absolute joy to read’ Marion Todd
‘A masterclass in how to deliver a taut, pacy thriller hot on the page’ Imran Mahmood
‘A wickedly clever and riveting thriller. Lancaster has an innate talent in treating the reader to whip-cracking, deeply authentic stories’ Graham Bartlett
‘Bone-chilling and full of so many twists’ The Sun
‘A good old police procedural . . . I was pleasantly terrified’
The Guardian
‘Deliciously dark’ Daily Mail
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
NEIL LANCASTER is the No. 1 digital bestselling author of both the Tom Novak and Max Craigie series. Writing as Max Connor, Neil is also the author of No Mercy and No Way Out. His first Craigie novel, Dead Man’s Grave, was longlisted for the 2021 McIlvanney Prize for Best Scottish Crime Book of the Year. The second Craigie novel is The Blood Tide, which has topped several e-book and audio charts, and was also longlisted for the McIlvanney Prize and shortlisted for the Dead Good Reader Award. He served as a military policeman and worked for the Metropolitan Police as a detective, investigating serious crimes in the capital and beyond. As a covert policing and surveillance specialist he utilised all manner of techniques to investigate and disrupt major crime and criminals.
He now lives in the Scottish Highlands, writes crime and thriller novels, and works as a broadcaster and commentator on true crime documentaries. He is a key expert on two Sky Crime TV series, Meet, Marry, Murder and Made for Murder, and appeared on a BBC true crime show, Big Little Crimes.
@neillancaster66
@NeilLancasterCrime www.neillancastercrime.co.uk
Also by Neil Lancaster
The Max Craigie Novels
Dead Man’s Grave
The Blood Tide
The Night Watch
Blood Runs Cold
The Devil You Know
When Shadows Fall
The Tom Novak Novels
Going Dark
Going Rogue
Going Back
The Josie Chapman Novels
No Mercy No Way Out
The Dark Heart
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperCollinsPublishers
Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper Dublin 1, D01 C9W8, Ireland
This edition 2026
1
First published in Great Britain by HQ, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2026
Neil Lancaster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 9780008688387 (HB)
ISBN: 9780008769086 (TPB)
Typeset in Sabon Lt Pro by HarperCollinsPublishers India
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
Without limiting the exclusive rights of any author, contributor or the publisher of this publication, any unauthorised use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies is expressly prohibited. HarperCollins also exercise their rights under Article 4(3) of the Digital Single Market Directive 2019/790 and expressly reserve this publication from the text and data mining exception.
Printed and bound in the UK using 100% Renewable Electricity at CPI Group (UK) Ltd
For more information visit: www.harpercollins.co.uk/green
Dedicated with deep respect to all the men and women in law enforcement who operate in the shadows in order that we might be safe.
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
1DR DANIEL SOLOMON stood and waved self-consciously, as he accepted the warm applause in the bookshop in central York. The place was packed to the rafters with readers eager to hear him talk about his inspiration for his new book, An Iman, a Rabbi, a Priest, and an Atheist Go Into a (Juice) Bar: How Religion and Secularism Can Peacefully Coexist.
The book was his life’s work. A polemic forged by his experiences, beginning in Israel, formed in the University of Alberta in Canada and then crystallised while getting his doctorate at Edinburgh. This was his passion. Social cohesion in a polarised world. Unlike many others, he could see a way out of it, and his driving force was to broadcast it to the whole world.
And how he’d succeeded. Against all odds the book had been an instant, massive success, topping the Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller lists for weeks and weeks on end. For once, a narrative had been delivered that was not polarising, quite the opposite. He preached to all faiths, and cultures came together with a shared vision, and it had landed on the public like nobody could have foreseen.
He had read from the first chapter, which he had performed with all the vigour of a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Rose Theatre. His voice was rich and sonorous, and had carried to every inch of the space, and into each and every listener’s heart, as he espoused his vision of unity amongst all faiths.
His final sentence had captivated the audience, his soft voice accented with a curious mix of Israel, Canada and Yorkshire. ‘My friends, this is my message. As communities we must stand tall against the scourge – the pernicious scourge – of the racism and bigotry that we all face. We must do it steadfastly, honestly, with courage, humility and open hearts. How can we succeed? We must unite, as friends and faiths together, whether believers in a higher power or not. We are all the same, friends, and our differences must unite us, not divide us. As one, we can form a world where the overriding agenda is not one of want, of avarice, but is one of service. To serve all by being part of one community of all faiths. We must not fail. We cannot fail.’
The rapturous applause of the fifty listeners could have been a hundred-strong, such was the enthusiasm with which it was delivered.
Daniel was a scholar of philosophy, an academic, and a former soldier, in that order. He had seen evil up close, and knew that there was only one solution to overcome it. Acceptance, cooperation and understanding.
The line of readers, all clutching copies of the book, snaked towards the back of the shop, and Daniel spent time with everyone, shaking hands, posing for selfies, and signing and dedicating copies.
He felt giddy with excitement as the queue began to dwindle and the last customer arrived at the table, book in hand, a wide smile across his face. He was a short and stocky man, with huge eyebrows and thick spectacles, and he wore a heavy raincoat, despite the hot, sultry day. ‘Hello, Dr Solomon, I loved your talk. Please would you sign my book?’ he said, grinning inanely.
Daniel smiled. ‘Sure, what’s your name, my friend?’ he asked.
‘Lionel,’ he said, showing stained and uneven teeth that were framed by a wispy moustache and beard. His pale, spotty face was covered with a light sheen of sweat. Daniel enjoyed book signings,
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
but you did attract the occasional odd-bod, and it seemed Lionel was one of those.
A quick squiggle in his book, and a pause for a photograph, and he was done.
‘Thank you very much, Dr Solomon. I very much loved your descriptions of life in Israel in the Eighties, very interesting.’ His voice was high-pitched, monotone and flat.
‘You’re welcome, my friend, now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get going.’
‘Of course, shalom, doctor,’ said Lionel, studying the dedication and signature rapturously.
There was a brief pause while Daniel thanked the staff at the shop, and very soon he was emerging into the bright, early evening sun, the rays warming his face after the air-conditioned interior of the shop. He sighed, satisfied about a great talk and a good number of hardbacks sold, which would all add to his chances of staying in the Sunday Times top ten.
He was excited to get back to his home in Leeds, where his wife, Abigail, would be waiting, eager to hear all about his first big event. Hopefully there would be something nice cooking in the oven. A story with the kids, and then he had a book he was wanting to finish, perhaps with a nice glass of something chilled.
It was as he was leaving the shop and walking along the narrow, twisty York streets that things changed forever.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out and looking at the screen, he saw it wasn’t his wife, as he’d expected, but a private number.
‘Hello?’
‘Dr Solomon?’ A well-educated voice, with shades of public school, tinged with a hint of Scotland.
‘Yes, who is this, please?’
‘It doesn’t matter who I am, Dr Solomon, but you are in danger. You need to hide; you must get away and hide.’
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
He felt his insides chill as he slowed his pace. ‘I’m sorry, but who are you?’
‘Never mind who I am. Listen, there are people out there who hate you. They hate you and they want you dead. Your book is the final straw to them, and if you want to live, you must get away.’
Despite the absurdity of the words, he felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. Who could wish him harm? He was just a lapsed Jew who preached social integration and peace. ‘I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person, I’m just a writer.’
‘No. Look, listen to me, Dr Solomon. You cannot go home, they’ll be wait—’
Daniel hung up and quickened his pace, looking behind him. The streets were busy, bustling with early evening revellers.
‘Nutters,’ he whispered to himself, trying not to break into a jog as he crossed from Parliament Street onto Piccadilly towards the Coppergate Car Park, feeling the colour draining from his face. ‘Ridiculous,’ he muttered, as he risked a glance behind.
And then he saw him.
It was Lionel, from the shop, his hands buried beneath his thick coat. He was matching the pace of Daniel’s stride, about thirty metres behind, head down, his slightly knock-kneed gait giving him a curious rhythm. A cold hand seemed to grip him.
Feeling his stomach clench at the sight, he quickened his pace, pushing the doors to the car park open. He quickly validated his ticket at the machine in the stairwell, hands shaking as he poked the piece of card into the slot, and then tapped his payment card against the reader.
Within a minute, he was blipping the lock on his Jaguar, and sighing with relief as he settled into the cosseting leather. He just sat there, breathing easily, as he regained his composure. He reached down and grabbed his insulated metal water bottle, and took a swig.
Property of HarperCollins Publishers
It was as he was screwing the lid back on that he saw him again.
Lionel was walking slowly towards Daniel’s car, his hands buried in his pockets, head down, a half-smile on his face.
‘Oh, shit, no, please,’ he said, as he fumbled for the start button, his finger trembling.
Lionel reached the car, his hands moving from his pockets, almost seeming to be in slow motion, a copy of the book in his hand. ‘Dr Solomon, you forgot . . .’
As Daniel pressed the car’s starter, the world seemed to shift on its axis, and his only conscious sensation was of massive, overwhelming pressure, just for a microsecond before the explosion from the device under the car threw it up in the air, smashing the roof into the low, concrete ceiling, before ripping both Daniel and Lionel into pieces with its devastating force.
