He started driving toward Edmund’s house, his mind racing, trying to make connections, thinking about the coincidences and how they now looked like something so much more. Like murder. As he drove, Russell failed to see that a beat-up old Toyota Corolla had pulled out and was following him through the twisty Greenwich back roads.

Edmund had opened his gates and Russell drove directly into the walled courtyard in front of the waterfront mansion. He leaped from the car and bounded up the front steps and impatiently leaned on the doorbell, whose muffled chords he could just make out coming through the massive door. Where was Edmund? He rang the bell again. The only other sound he could hear was the gentle cacophony of songbirds.

At last, Russell heard a bolt being drawn back on the heavy door, then another sound, of a car coming quickly up the drive. He turned and watched bemused as a tan sedan skidded to a halt inches from his own vehicle and two figures jumped out and ran toward him. They were wearing hoods and holding guns. The door opened and Russell twisted his head back and said one word. “Edmund.”

“They sold us out,” Edmund said.

Then the men opened fire, both with pistols muffled with silencers. Russell fell forward the way he was facing, across the threshold of Edmund’s house. Edmund had no time to process what he was seeing, that there were two men firing weapons at him, that he’d gambled on this venture and this was how he lost. He fell backward, propelled by three bullets in the chest. He fell straight back, only the soles of his most comfortable pair of slippers visible.

The first man walked up the stairs, looked at Edmund, leveled his gun, and shot him once more in the forehead. The second man kicked over Russell’s body and did the same to him. The men looked at each other and nodded. They found the spent cartridge cases and picked them up, then walked back to the car, got in, and removed their balaclavas before driving off.

At the wheel, Prek Vllasi navigated the drive out of the gate and turned onto the road. Prek turned to Genti Hajdini and banged once on the steering wheel. Both men smiled.

ALSO BY ROBIN COOK

ALSO BY ROBIN COOK

Cure
Intervention
Foreign Body
Critical
Crisis
Marker
Seizure
Shock
Abduction
Vector
Toxin
Invasion
Chromosome 6
Contagion
Acceptable Risk
Fatal Cure
Terminal
Blindsight
Vital Signs
Harmful Intent
Mutation
Mortal Fear
Outbreak
Mindbend
Godplayer
Fever
Brain
Sphinx
Coma
The Year of the Intern