The Last Queen of England (Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery)
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While on a visit to London, American genealogist Jefferson Tayte’s old friend and colleague dies in his arms. Before long, Tayte and a truth-seeking historian, Professor Jean Summer, find themselves following a corpse-ridden trail that takes them to the Royal Society of London, circa 1708.
What to make of the story of five men of science, colleagues of Isaac Newton and Christopher Wren, who were mysteriously hanged for high treason?
As they edge closer to the truth, Tayte and the professor find that death is once again in season. A new killer, bent on restoring what he sees as the true, royal bloodline, is on the loose...as is a Machiavellian heir-hunter who senses that the latest round of murder, kidnapping, and scandal represents an unmissable business opportunity.
The Last Queen of England is a racing thriller with a heart-stopping conclusion. It follows on from In the Blood and To the Grave but can be enjoyed as a stand-alone novel.
Revised edition: Previously published as part of the Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery series, this edition of The Last Queen of England includes editorial revisions.
believe could be a threat to our country’s national security. I’m sorry the matter wasn’t treated with more urgency when he first made contact with us, and I can assure you that will be addressed. But, since he was murdered before we had the opportunity to speak to him, we have to suppose that the threat is real until proven otherwise.’ ‘And you want me to help identify that threat for you?’ It was clear to Tayte that these were the people Marcus was going to meet—the people who liked to
all wanted to know who he was and where he fitted into the picture. As they paced beside a large rectangular pond towards the building’s main entrance—a tall cube-shaped glass appendage with a pyramidal roof—Tayte kept turning the data over in his head to keep it fresh. He had the charts in his briefcase, but he wanted to commit the information to memory. Charles Naismith. Born 1668. Died 1708. The reverend was their way in, he’d told them, and he hoped he was right. In the foyer, Tayte
important.’ A black Range Rover caught Tayte’s eye as it drew level with them and slowly mounted the kerb. It had blacked out windows and brand new plates, and Tayte instinctively stood in front of Jean as the nearside rear door opened. A man he’d seen recently got out and stepped towards them. ‘Michel Levant,’ the man announced. He grabbed Tayte’s hand before he had time to react and pumped it lightly but exuberantly. Tayte did little to return the gesture. It was the man Marcus had
entirely evident. Almost everyone he could see was eating, which did nothing to stay his own appetite. ‘This doesn’t look promising either,’ Tayte said as they walked. He couldn’t see a single memorial, upright or vertical. ‘We’ll go straight in this time,’ he added. ‘Keep your fingers crossed.’ As they drew closer, Tayte heard a familiar sound that made him think of Marcus. It was a street performer talking and laughing into a PA system in the piazza on the other side of the church. It
asked. He felt more than a little responsible. ‘He should make it,’ Jackson said, stone-faced as ever. ‘Services are on their way.’ Another bullet clipped the taxi with a dull thump, letting them know this wasn’t over. ‘This guy’s persistent,’ Tayte said. Jackson snorted. ‘Yeah, well, he’s going to have more heat than he can handle in a minute. All we’ve got to do is stay put.’ ‘Is that a good idea?’ Jean said. ‘He knows where we are.’ ‘We stay put,’ Jackson said again.