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Back The Counterfeit Candidate Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Prologue
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Chapter Sixteen
  18. Chapter Seventeen
  19. Chapter Eighteen
  20. Chapter Nineteen
  21. Chapter Twenty
  22. Chapter Twenty-One
  23. Chapter Twenty-Two
  24. Chapter Twenty-Three
  25. Chapter Twenty-Four
  26. Chapter Twenty-Five
  27. Chapter Twenty-Six
  28. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  29. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  30. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  31. Chapter Thirty
  32. Chapter Thirty-One
  33. Chapter Thirty-Two
  34. Chapter Thirty-Three
  35. Chapter Thirty-Four
  36. Chapter Thirty-Five
  37. Chapter Thirty-Six
  38. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  39. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  40. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  41. Chapter Forty
  42. Chapter Forty-One
  43. Chapter Forty-Two
  44. Chapter Forty-Three
  45. Chapter Forty-Four
  46. Chapter Forty-Five
  47. Chapter Forty-Six
  48. Chapter Forty-Seven
  49. Chapter Forty-Eight
  50. Chapter Forty-Nine
  51. Chapter Fifty
  52. Chapter Fifty-One
  53. Chapter Fifty-Two
  54. Chapter Fifty-Three
  55. Chapter Fifty-Four
  56. Chapter Fifty-Five
  57. Chapter Fifty-Six
  58. Epilogue
  59. Author’s Note
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. About the Author

At precisely ten o’clock in the morning, Vargas and Torres entered García’s cell. He was perched on the edge of his bed.

“Pedro, last chance before we head off to court. Where have you stashed your share?”

“Share of what, chief inspector?”

Vargas let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, García. Let’s go.”

* * *

The Ghost glanced down at the display on his black digital watch. It showed 11.26, meaning García was due to arrive in the next four minutes. He leaned forward and peered through the telescopic sight. It was perfectly focused on a press photographer standing at the top of the steps. He could feel pure adrenalin coursing through his veins. It was moments like this he lived for. No nerves, no guilt, just pure excitement.

In fact, the police van containing García was running about five minutes late due to unexpected traffic. A large crowd had gathered outside the front of the courthouse and, hidden among the news reporters, camera operators and press photographers stood an interested observer, Matias Paz. A few yards away from him, another figure, who also shared a special interest in García’s arrival, surveyed the scene. Vargas looked around for any sign of obvious danger as he waited for the police van to arrive.

Inside the back of the transit, Pedro sat on a raised ledge above the rear wheel arch, facing the two armed officers who had escorted him from his cell a few minutes earlier. His hands were cuffed, resting on his thighs, and he kept his head bowed to avoid eye contact with the policemen. He was deep in thought, contemplating his options, which were narrowing by the minute. Pedro figured there was probably enough evidence to convict him for the robbery, which meant he faced a minimum of ten years in Devoto Prison. That was bad enough, but even worse was the thought of being cleared, released and then being tracked down by the relentless psychopaths who had tortured and killed his friends. He concluded that the only rational option left open to him was to cut a deal, give up his share of the heist and hopefully source a new identity, courtesy of the police. There and then he vowed he would speak with his pro bono lawyer to request a pretrial meeting with Vargas. His life had spectacularly imploded, so it was time to make the best of a bad situation.