Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child. Jack Ford

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СКАЧАТЬ guy’s off-white shirt shoulder, he gazed at the girl. Still staring. The look in her eyes making her seem older. Judging him, when her fledgling life gave her no room to judge.

      Christ, it was getting hotter and he could hardly breathe. He scratched hurriedly at his collar as if hands held and throttled, and he pulled at and undid his top shirt button.

      ‘Look, I just need to get my flight.’

      ‘Sir, are you okay?’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      Huck didn’t hear the agent’s reply, as he felt the heat wrap round him like a snake constricting his prey. His panic rose as fast as his heart raced and the sweat rolled down. It was finally happening. This was it. This was the end. This was what his cardiologist had warned him would happen.

      And as Huck waited for his heart to stop, to give up right there in the middle of the white-washed airport, his terror-filled eyes watched the girl undo her button. Undo her jacket. Mirroring his actions…

      Then it suddenly hit him. Relief engulfing him as hard as terror had just done. Goddamn his doctor for fuelling his fears, because right then he understood what was happening. What his trouble actually was… He was just hot… She was hot. Quickly he looked around at the short sleeves and open collars. Everyone was just Goddamn hot. They were in Memphis, for God’s sake.

      Huck exhaled. Wiped the dripping sweat off his face. Laughed into his hands.

      Loud.

      ‘Something amusing you, sir?’

      He’d forgotten about the security with the mean dog eyes. ‘Far from it. I’m just hot, that’s all. Hot!’

      ‘Sir, have you been drinking?’

      Ignoring the guard’s question, Huck’s stare flickered back to the girl. Decided to try a smile. Hell, she was only a kid after all.

      He watched her continue to unfasten the buttons on her ugly, thick, blue jacket. Eyes dilated. Never blinked. Watched her mouth something to him. And Huck thought it was the darnedest of things; he was sure she just mouthed the word, Sorry. He shook his head. Waved abashed and said, ‘It’s fine. Are you okay?’

      The girl reached inside her shirt. Then with only the slightest of pauses, pressed.

      The wave of the bomb mercilessly struck and tore. Showering and scattering flesh like an unlicensed slaughterhouse. Smoke swelled and filled the airport as dozens of body parts lay unrecognisable in their shredded, dismembered, mutilated form. And by the blasted-out water fountain, the severed head of the 14-year-old bomber lay next to that of Huck Barrington Jnr.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

       USA

       2.45 pm

       2

      c4 g6

      The bomb went off at the same time.

      Time difference two hours.

      It struck with indifference. The youngest victim, a 6-month-old boy.

JEFFERSON COUNTY

       COLORADO, USA

       3

      Nc3 Bg7

      Jefferson County, Colorado. Taking the name of the great third President. A place where vast plains collide with the Rocky Mountains. A place of harsh, white-painted winters where summers are reminiscent of Steinbeck novels. A place where thunderstorms catch travelers off guard along the miles of trail ridge roads, curving and snaking along the skyward spans of landscapes with pine trees sweet smelling like candy stores. Jefferson County. A place where the detention center is conveniently situated by the combined court. The court where Thomas J Cooper found himself sitting in with a judge who was swathed with hell and grit-like determination to have his name chalked on a jail cell by the end of the day.

      ‘You don’t just get to ignore a court order, Mr Cooper, no matter what the reasons. It’s clear you have no respect for any kind of authority, which frankly surprises me having read all about your distinguished career in the military… Mr Cooper, are you even listening to me?’

      Cooper nodded. Said nothing. Thought it was best. Ninety milligrams of OxyContin and a hundred of Sertraline mixed with Valium had a way of making him not sound his best.

      Cooper’s lawyer stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Your honor, I object to the insinuation that my client has no respect for authority. As the court knows he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder as well as survivor guilt, in relation to the accident.’

      Looking like he’d just sucked a slice of lime without the gin, the judge shook his head. ‘I take it, counsel, you’re referring to the accident which happened seven, eight years ago?’

      ‘Yes, your honor, but… ’

      ‘Eight years ago, Mr Edwards. We’re talking almost eight years.’

      ‘What the hell has eight years got to do with it?’ Cooper said.

      The judge frowned. Tilted his head as if his hearing was playing tricks on him. ‘Excuse me? Did you say something, Mr Cooper?’

      ‘You’re too damn right I did.’

      So Cooper’s old friend and attorney, Earl Edwards, the only person he knew in the county who was still willing to represent him, barked his orders. ‘Coop…! Shut the hell up. I’ll handle this.’

      And Cooper did what he always did: whatever the hell he wanted. He stood up and then, like a game of Simon says, so did the court’s bailiff, twitching and hovering his fingers over the gun in his holster, that he never got to use but practiced fast-drawing in the mirror every night. But it wasn’t him Cooper was looking at. It was Earl. His deep-lined face, reminding Cooper of the sand ridges along the North Carolina shores, stared into his.

      Cooper watched the perspiration on Earl’s forehead as he felt his own trickle of drug cold sweat trail down his neck.

      ‘Please, Coop. I got this.’

      ‘Is there a problem, counsel?’ the judge asked.

      Earl got there before Cooper did. Diving in like a peregrine falcon.

      ‘No problem, your honor. No problem at all. I just need a minute to speak to my client.’

      Earl dropped his voice. Real low. The kind of low saved for the movie theater.

      ‘Coop, please. You’re making this worse, if it can get any worse. Trust me, man, I’m in your corner, but you got to calm down and let me do my job.’

      ‘I’m not stopping you doing your job, Earl.’

      ‘Then СКАЧАТЬ