THE LOST PROPERTY OFFICE​
A novel of indecent ambitions

​​​When a French gangster tries to strong-arm crypto billionaire Raghu, blood flows on Hoxton’s streets and Raghu turns to JW, dealer in stolen goods and lethal secrets, for help.

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I am JW, owner of the Lost Property Office. People come to me when they have had something stolen and wish it returned. I can often assist, especially if one of my gangs did the pinching it in the first place.

 

Last week I recovered some unfortunate photographs for Raghu, a crypto exchange fellow, that the public, and his father-in-law in particular, should best not see. Now he is back again. La Marseillaise, a brassy gangster from the hottest quarter of France, snips off one of his fingers, wishing him to open the accounts of seven billionaire oligarchs so she can effect a devious scheme in far away Russia. Raghu’s men visit her with guns and suggest she depart and pronto, but her bruisers have guns too. Hoxton’s streets soon run red. Raghu needs expert skills to alleviate his situation and I, JW, am his first call.

 

Take your seat and get cosy. The fireworks are about to start.