Contents ( 84)
- 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
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
In other words, Nicolas Dupart did not ‘do’ personal.
‘I know you were close to my father, Kelvin. But I assure you, everything that needed to be done has been done.’
‘The trusts?’
‘All in my name as of noon today.’
‘And the companies?’
‘Unaffected. All owned by blind trusts. No one has any idea that title has passed from him to me.’
From him to me.
Cunningham considered the words. Had he been as cold when his own parents had died? Maybe. Maybe not. But then his parents had birthed him dirt poor, they had raised him dirt poor and they had left him dirt poor. What the hell did he have to thank them for?
Theseus Dupart? He had left his son one of the richest men on the planet.
‘And your mother?’
‘I doubt she’ll miss their arrangement,’ Dupart replied.
Cunningham understood the answer. He had been close friends with Theseus Dupart for twenty years. And he had worked for him for much longer still. He regarded him as the father he should have had. The man his own father should have been.
It was a delusion. He knew that. Theseus Dupart had his son. His heir. He did not need another. But still, Cunningham had worked hard. He had used their connections to succeed. To put him in a place that would attract the attention of the organisation.
And look where I am now. Feet from the Oval Office. The power behind the throne.
‘As I said, I know you were close to my father.’ There was no break in Dupart’s voice. ‘Closer than I ever was. So do you need any help with this? Some time, perhaps?’
‘No.’ Cunningham’s answer was firm. Perhaps too firm; it suggested he was concealing his emotion. His tone was softer when he spoke again. ‘No. With everything that’s happening, there’s no time for that.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Good.’ Dupart rose to his feet. ‘There’s no use letting something like this distract us. Not now.’
‘Agreed.’
It was all Cunningham could think to say. Theseus Dupart had been a cold man. A ruthless man. The man from whom Cunningham had learned his own skills. But his son?
From what Cunningham could now see, Nicolas Dupart was a robot.
What more is there to say?
The thought was in Cunningham’s head, but somehow Dupart seemed to hear it. And with a final nod of the head and the smallest of false smiles, he turned and left Cunningham’s office.
FORTY-FOUR
The call had come three minutes before. From The Stratford’s head doorman, Freddie Garcia. Of the building’s doormen, it was Garcia whom Dempsey had come to know well, and he had informed Dempsey that there was a woman in the lobby who wished to see him.
A woman from the US Government.
Has to be the one from the Lincoln, Dempsey deduced. Unless there’s even more of them I didn’t spot. Maybe five on one wasn’t good enough odds.