In this new installment of Ken Bruen’s beloved Jack Taylor series, the whiskey-swigging Irish detective investigates a series of violent attacks on the local convent’s nuns. Jack Taylor wakes up from a coma to discover that much of the world has changed since he last walked the streets of Galway. The pandemic had hit while he was under, devastating the lives of many in his beloved city and beyond. Now, as Jack tries to recover from the attack that put him in the hospital and absorb the incredible changes in the world around him, a woman approaches him with a distressing case: two local nuns have been bludgeoned by a mysterious man wielding a hammer, and more are sure to follow. As the police fail to act while the violence against the Sisters escalates, Jack seems like their only hope. Initially wary of becoming involved in the investigation, Jack finds he cannot stay away from the mystery surrounding these vicious attacks. He also cannot shake a feeling of darkness that has haunted him since he awoke from his coma―a darkness that is far too close for comfort. Luckily an old friend is there to help see him through and there is always Jack’s dark wit and a drink to help shore up his mood. "The raffish hero’s world feels like an unusually sordid theme park attraction. Just be sure to wipe your hands when you exit." ― Kirkus "Satisfyingly complex . . . All the usual elements of a Jack Taylor novel―terse prose, muscular action, and plenty of Jameson―are on offer in spades. . . . This will more than satisfy series fans." ― Publishers Weekly "At a time when it seems as if the world is spinning out of control, steeped in anonymous violence, a Jack Taylor novel provides a front and center opportunity to contemplate doing something about the issues in our own backyard." ― The Arts Fuse "Hard-hitting . . . Like his main character's favorite whiskey, Ken Bruen's strong prose demands savoring. The abundance of brutality in his stories is matched with such wit that it's impossible for readers to avoid becoming blissfully intoxicated." ― Shelf Awareness "A brilliant addition to the long-running Jack Taylor series, arguably the best of Irish noir . . . Bruen is absolutely essential reading. Highly recommended." ― Deadly Pleasures Magazine Ken Bruen received a doctorate in metaphysics, taught English in South Africa, and then became a crime novelist. The critically acclaimed author of the Jack Taylor novels and the White Trilogy, he is the recipient of two Barry Awards and two Shamus Awards, and he has twice been a finalist for the Edgar Award. He lives in Galway, Ireland. The Mother Superior was having a frustrating morning. The pipes had burst, flooding a large part of the convent. Trying to get a plumber was testing her limited patience. The plumber said, “If I come today, it’s double rate.” She bit down on her lip. “Why?” He said, “See, Sister, I had another job lined up.” Pause. “A highly lucrative gig but I cancelled it to agree to help you.” She didn’t believe a word of it, took a deep breath, said, “Very well, what time might we expect you?” He sighed, said, “I’m running late but I should get there round three.” She wanted to scream but held it in. “We’ll see you then.” He said, “I’ll want paying up front.” She was outraged. “That’s a little out of the usual way of business.” He gave a nasty chuckle. “I’ve been stiffed by the clergy before. One chancer told me he’d pray for me.” The Mother Superior thought, You won’t be in my prayers. Asked, “Might I inquire the cost?” He reeled off the figure and she said, “That’s very steep.” There was bitterness in his voice when he spoke. “The price of doing business, Sister.” And clicked off. She was just drawing breath when the phone shrilled again. She grabbed it, said tersely, “Yes?” A man’s voice. “Whoa, not a very nunny opening.” Something in his tone put her in mind of slithery things. She asked, “Who is this?” He hummed the opening bars of “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones. Then said, “Allow me to introduce myself.” Pause. “How is your flock doing? Missing three, I daresay?” She felt a kick to the stomach, tried, “Is this some macabre joke?” He snickered, said, “Depends on who is laughing; are you laughing, babe?” She thought she might throw up but managed, “Who are you?” A beat. Then, “Think of a number.” “What?” “A number, Sister, give me a digit or I’ll bring the wrath of hell to your door.” Without even thinking she said, “Six.” Why on earth she said that she would agonize over through the years. The man said, “Good choice, leaves us with three to go, and I think that’s doable, yeah?” In desperation she begged, “Who are you and what are these numbers?” He laughed. “Nuns. Three down and three to wallop.” She muttered, “Sweet Lord in heaven.” The man said, “God has left the building, or, rather, the convent.” She m