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Back Vortex Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

Olivia opened her eyes, blinked several times, and smiled. “So it’s about some kind of missile technology, and it’s French.”

Savich smiled at her. “Yes, that’s what Hashem told you and Mike. You did it, Olivia.”

Olivia looked at Dr. Hicks and said with wonder in her voice, “I remembered everything, all of it. Thank you, Dr. Hicks. Will you give me tickets to your next Elvis performance?”

26

Mia

Bennington Prep

Glenbridge, Connecticut

Wednesday afternoon

Mia canceled her afternoon plane reservation to La Guardia, rented a bright blue Audi after she left Juliet, and drove two and a half hours from Boston down I-95 to Bennington Prep, a half hour north of New Haven. She didn’t expect Bennington to look as glorious as the pictures she’d seen, all taken in the fall to show off the incredible autumn leaves. Now, toward the tail end of winter, the campus looked starker, all the plants and trees hunkered down in survival mode. It was still a marvel in person. Stately was the word that suited it perfectly. Bennington was known to be everything a parent could possibly want for their child, the incredible campus itself, the quality education, and the all-important “snoot” factor. If you went to Bennington Prep, enough said. It was part of the pedigree for politics, for Wall Street, for making it big in whatever you wanted to do.

She drove slowly, admiring the classical-style redbrick buildings, the open vistas. Students weren’t strolling to their classes, they were rushing, it was that cold, the wind sharp as a knife. She drove slowly by thick stands of maple trees, their branches swaying in the wind in a silent winter dance, and parked her Audi in a visitor’s space in front of a state-of-the-art athletic complex. She looked beyond toward a football field surrounded by high bleachers that doubled as their lacrosse field, she guessed.

Is this the beautiful place where you and Kent got started, Alex?

Mia pulled on all her winter gear, braced herself, and walked toward the main athletic building where she’d managed to snag an appointment with one of the two lacrosse coaches at Bennington who’d been there long enough to have coached Alex Harrington and Kent Harper.

She had to get through a department secretary and a student trainee before she was shown to Mr. Hodge Wiliker’s small office that looked toward the tennis courts. He was a big man, well into his fifties, still trim and fit, his black-framed glasses pushed up on his bald head. He beamed at her, greeted her enthusiastically, pumped her hand. Mia imagined he rarely got to take center stage at Bennington Prep, and now he was meeting a reporter who was interested in writing about him and about lacrosse because he’d coached Alex Harrington sixteen years before.