This book is a good old-fashioned read.
Pure and simple.
When a serial killer starts preying on young mothers, it’s up to Love, and his sophisticated partner Stuart Le Fanu, to employ their MI6 state-of-the-art equipment along with good old-fashioned detective skills to discover the identity of the killer before he can strike again.
Enigma has the obligatory twists and turns leading up to a hair-raising yet humorous car chase through the stylish streets of south Kensington, London, in addition to placing the reader unreservedly in touch with real life.
And that’s the crux.
Wolf Black has stepped into his character’s shoes and brought them to life. He’s lived them, breathed them, adored them and argued with them. He clothed his characters with authentic attire right down to the sexy underwear hidden underneath their fashionable and not so stylish outerwear.
His fictitious photographic Nicéphore test has its roots based in reality. It’s named in honour after the Frenchman who produced the world’s first photograph. You don’t need to search far in this book for the veritable tie-in.
The author spent weeks trawling through London to find bona fide addresses for his characters and then went on to furnish the properties by patronising existing retailers. He pored over maps working out various routes his detectives would use. He calculated how long each trip would take and then undertook the journey himself. Half of the routes aren’t even mentioned.
But Black needed to know. Because he wanted to lend credence to his story. This, he has achieved.
Wolf Black is a pseudonym.