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Chapters (82)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. FIFTY-FIVE
  59. FIFTY-SIX
  60. FIFTY-SEVEN
  61. FIFTY-EIGHT
  62. FIFTY-NINE
  63. SIXTY
  64. SIXTY-ONE
  65. SIXTY-TWO
  66. SIXTY-THREE
  67. SIXTY-FOUR
  68. SIXTY-FIVE
  69. SIXTY-SIX
  70. SIXTY-SEVEN
  71. SIXTY-EIGHT
  72. SIXTY-NINE
  73. SEVENTY
  74. SEVENTY-ONE
  75. SEVENTY-TWO
  76. SEVENTY-THREE
  77. SEVENTY-FOUR
  78. SEVENTY-FIVE
  79. SEVENTY-SIX
  80. Praise for Blood in the Water
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  82. Newsletter Sign-up

He had read the news about Cormack O’Connell first thing that morning. It took him several minutes to digest the concept of a world without his old boss. Cicero hadn’t seen Cormack in over a year, but for close to a decade he hadn’t made a move without the Irishman’s say-so. Boston’s hardscrabble underworld was full of micks and spics and Russians. The FBI and Whitey Bulger’s crew had run the Anguilo family and most of the other Italian gangsters out of the city in the eighties, and Boston could now be a difficult place for someone as Italian as Cicero, but Cormack had never discriminated. He recognized Cicero’s abilities, and gave him a chance to thrive in the rackets, passing on information and opportunities that only someone in Cormack’s position could provide. More than anyone else, Cicero owed Cormack O’Connell for his place in the world.

He turned into the drive that led to Mass General’s entrance. The place was shielded from the wind by the horseshoe of buildings that ensured traffic flowed only one way to and from the front doors. It was desolate. There was no one on the street this early in the morning, and Cicero had an eerie feeling about the hospital. He’d left his gun at home, but he fished into his pocket and felt the stiletto that he had carried with him since he was nine. There was no reason that he would need it, he knew, and yet just feeling the shape of the handle gave him comfort.

He hated hospitals. They were weigh stations for the infirm. Cicero believed in his heart that men were not supposed to live forever, and odds being what they were, he was unlikely to live as long as most. He was fine with that. Immortality was never his aspiration. He had vowed, though, that he would never die in a hospital. When the angel of death came for him, he wanted to be on his feet with a weapon in his hand.

He paused only slightly at the front door, and took a deep breath as though if he held it for long enough he could keep all the disease and death and despair that seeped out of the building from invading his lungs.

The automatic doors slid open with a pneumatic whir, and slowly, reluctantly, he stepped inside.

FIFTEEN

Kit had arrived at Mass General by five in the morning, long before Cicero showed up. On the drive in from FMC Devens, she had made several calls to confirm the report. No one she knew was on duty at the Charlestown precinct, but they were able to confirm the basic facts. Cormack O’Connell had been pulled from the harbor, unresponsive, and was DOA at the hospital.

DOA.

Dead on arrival.