Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Foreword
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Praise for Linwood Barclay
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
Who had to enter full phone numbers for people you called all the time? Who had to remember them? Sandra concentrated, came up with a number she was confident was the one for her son’s phone, and entered it.
She put the phone to her ear and waited for the ring.
Seventeen
Brandon Kyle headed for Garrett Harbor.
The previous week, Derek, using a false name, had reserved, in Falmouth, a thirty-three-foot Egg Harbor yacht for the day. There was no predicting, a week out, what the weather would be, but Derek was confident the Egg Harbor would be adequate, even if the seas got choppy. Derek had done some sailing back in his youth, and was not at all worried that he’d be able to navigate the craft.
At one point, Derek had proposed renting a helicopter and, once the Arrivals were in full clusterfuck, swooping in quickly and scooping up his boss. But Kyle believed a helicopter would attract too much attention, and they would have had to hire someone to pilot it. Derek could sail, but he had no pilot’s license. Bringing in yet another person, making them privy to the plan, was deemed unwise.
What Kyle looked forward to was returning to the mainland, getting home, taking a cold one from the fridge, putting his feet up, and watching how CNN covered the story. (The news would take some sting out of the home he was returning to—a shitty condo in Boston’s North End.) At some point, the media would be looking for an on-camera interview, and when they did, he wanted to be as far away from the action as possible.
He’d been rehearsing, in his mind, what he’d say. After all the nasty accusations he’d made about Lisa Carver, he couldn’t be too conciliatory. No one would buy that. He needed to strike a balance, say something along the lines of “While I am not withdrawing my accusations of corporate sabotage against the Arrival corporation, and continue to seek redress, I would not wish on anyone the horrific events that ended the life of Arrival CEO Lisa Carver. As one of the automotive world’s first female CEOs, she was an inspiration to many and my heart goes out to her family. This is a tragedy for those close to her. It’s also, I would suspect, a fatal blow for the Arrival corporation. Perhaps another company, one with a greater moral compass, will rise from its ashes and help deliver us into a new age of personal transportation.”
Could he say that last part? It was hard not to get his digs in. He’d have to think about that.
But first he had to make the trek from the community center to Garrett Harbor.